I had not been there for more than two minutes before a soldier on the
opposite side of the street leveled his gun and cried out, "Get out of
that old man, and go up on to Gough Street." As he had a loaded gun, and
appeared very important, I quickly obeyed his polite order. As I
reluctantly ascended Clay Street in charge of the soldier, I held back
long enough to see the steeple of the Presbyterian Church fall. I stayed
at Gough Street a while, looking down upon my house, expecting every
minute to see the flames coming out of it. I watched from Gough Street
with much anxiety, and made up my mind that I would see if I could not
get back into my house, for I believed I could save it. The heat was so
intense that it had driven the guards away from Van Ness Avenue; so,
seeing no one near, I quietly slipped down the north side of Washington
Street to Franklin. As no one was around there, I continued to
Washington and Van Ness and, putting up my coat-collar and protecting
the side of my face with my hat, I ran along Van Ness to my front door
and quickly got into the house again at 5:40, being kept out fifty-five
minutes. My clothing got very hot but was not scorched. This I did at a
great risk of my life, for these soldiers were very arrogant and
consequential at having a little brief authority, and I was afraid they
would not hesitate to shoot on slight provocation.
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