A PIG'S SOUVENIR

About the only thing left standing unharmed on the Island the day succeeding the storm was the row of Lovingston flats on A street. They are wooden structures, about ten in number, one story high, and are so situated that the wind seems to have sailed on its airy way above them.

Some are inclined to believe that the cyclone overlooked the row in its baste, and did not have time to go back and pick it up. Perhaps it did not consider it worth while, as everything else was gone.

Thirty-one tents were in use on the Island, and it was surprising to note the respectable appearance of several families who were occupying them.

Some of them spoke cheerfully of the situation, and an indefinite kind of a hope that they would come out all right. One old woman who had seen better days was not so well satisfied. Near by was standing a small house occupied by negroes. The roof was off, but the vacancy was supplied by a tarpaulin.

"Look at them niggers!!' exclaimed the old woman. "Seems to me that they fare the best all the time."

Running loose on the island was a drove of fine Berkshire hogs. One of them carried with him a piece of tar roofing, which was blown squarely into his left shoulder. It protruded about eight inches, and though it shakes constantly with every movement of the muscles, the animal did not seem to suffer pain.

All attempts to capture the pig and remove the paper were futile.