It sounded rather harsh to the ear of the mourner, to have the lid nailed over the bodies of their loved ones but it was the best that could be done. But they rallied nobly and worked day and night, making pine and walnut boxes, fastening them together with the burnt nails gathered from the ruins of the stores. Many carpenters were killed and most of the living had lost their tools. The work of burying was sad and wearying. In almost every house could be heard the wail of the widow and orphan. From every quarter they were being brought in, until the floor of the Methodist Church, which was taken as a sort of a hospital, was covered with dead and wounded. The work of gathering and burying the dead soon began. Almost the first sight that met our gaze, was a father almost frantic, looking for the remains of his son among the embers of his office. On two sides of another block lay seventeen bodies. Here and there among the embers could be seen the bones of those who had perished in the buildings and had been consumed. The dead lay all along the side-walk, many of them so burned that they could not be recognized, and could scarcely be taken up. On this street seventy-five buildings, containing at least twice that number of places of business and offices, were destroyed. Massachusetts Street was one bed of embers. As the scene at their entrance was one of the wildest, the scene after their departure was one of the saddest that ever met mortal gaze.
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