stoutfellow

I'm currently reading Simon Winchester's A Crack in the Edge of the World, which centers on the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire. I may say more about the book later, but just now I ran across a passage which... amuses? shocks? somethings me.

Winchester is quoting from the report of Bishop William Nichols on the quake. Nichols comments on the damage he saw in and around his house:

A look out of the windows brought evidence of the disasters abroad, in streets littered with fallen bricks, tall chimney stacks toppled over, the streets ominously astir with refugees from houses, and a general sort of anxiety in the air. And when I went to take my bath and no water ran, another phase of what had happened dawned on me.

The city has been struck by a massive quake. There are frightened crowds in the street. One of the bedrooms is littered with bricks from a chimney, that had caromed in through an open window. And the good bishop goes to take a bath....

There is a passage from Boswell that comes to mind. (Johnson has just recounted a lark from his younger days.)