its full height. My windows were so hot that I could not bear my hand on
them. I opened one and felt the woodwork, which was equally hot. I had
buckets of water in the front and rear rooms, with an improvised swab,
made by tying up a feather duster, ready to put out any small fire which
would be within my reach. I watched the situation for an hour, and as
the flames died down a little I had hope, and at 10 P. M. I felt
satisfied that it would not cross Van Ness Avenue, and neither would it
cross Clay Street. At this time, as the heat had somewhat subsided, I
ventured out, and saw a small flame, about as large as my two hands,
just starting on the tower of Mrs. Schwabacher's house, which is next to
mine on Clay Street. A very few people were around. James Walton of the
Twenty-eighth Coast Artillery, was there, also C. C. Jones, of 2176
Fulton Street, and David Miller Ferguson, of Oakland. I said I would
give any man ten dollars who would go up and put out that fire. They
went into the house with a can of water, climbed the stairs and opened a
window, and in a few minutes put it out. Two of the men would accept
nothing; the soldier, the next day, accepted ten dollars. I later
presented Ferguson with a gold matchbox as a reminder of that eventful
night. Had Mrs. Schwabacher's house gone, all in the block would have
gone; the fire would have crossed to the north, up Pacific, Broadway,
and Vallejo, and probably over to Fillmore, when very little would have
been left of the residence portion of the city.

Now again another danger came. Another tier of blocks, from Leavenworth
to Van Ness, between Jackson and Pacific, had taken fire. This was about
10:15 P. M.. At 11:15 it had got to Van Ness, and Bothin's house, which
was at the corner of Van Ness and Jackson, was fully on fire, but
although it was entirely consumed, the fire did not cross to the west
side of Van Ness. The wind during all the day and evening was steady
from the northwest, - not a very strong wind, but it helped protect the