Transcriber's Note

The punctuation and spelling from the original text have been faithfullypreserved. Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected. 

 DEDICATION. 

 TO THE SURVIVING SUFFERERS OF THE APPALLING CALAMITY AT JOHNSTOWN AND NEIGHBORING VILLAGES THIS WORK WHICH RELATES THE THRILLING STORY OF THE GREAT DISASTER IS DEDICATED. 

 THE JOHNSTOWN HORROR!!!

 OR

 VALLEY OF DEATH, BEING

 A COMPLETE AND THRILLING ACCOUNT OF THE AWFUL FLOODS AND THEIR APPALLING RUIN, CONTAINING

 Graphic Descriptions of the Terrible Rush of Waters; the great Destruction of Houses, Factories, Churches, Towns, and Thousands of Human Lives; Heartrending Scenes of Agony, Separation of Loved Ones, Panic-stricken Multitudes and their Frantic Efforts to Escape a Horrible Fate. 

 COMPRISING

 THRILLING TALES OF HEROIC DEEDS; NARROW ESCAPES FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH; FRIGHTFUL HAVOC BY FIRE; DREADFUL SUFFERINGS OF SURVIVORS; PLUNDERING BODIES OF VICTIMS, ETC. 

 TOGETHER WITH

 Magnificent Exhibitions of Popular Sympathy; Quick Aid from every City and State; Millions of Dollars Sent for the Relief of the Stricken Sufferers. 

 By JAMES HERBERT WALKER, THE WELL KNOWN AUTHOR. 

 FULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES OF THE GREAT CALAMITY. 

 H. J. SMITH & CO. , 249 South Sixth St. , Philadelphia

 CHICAGO, ILL. : NOS. 341-351 DEARBORN ST. 

 KANSAS CITY, MO. : NO. 614 EAST SIXTH ST. 

 OAKLAND, CAL. NO. 1605 TELEGRAPH AVE. 

COPYRIGHTED, 1889. 

PREFACE

The whole country has been profoundly startled at the Terrible Calamitywhich has swept thousands of human beings to instant death at Johnstownand neighboring villages. The news came with the suddenness of alightning bolt falling from the sky. A romantic valley, filled with busyfactories, flourishing places of business, multitudes of happy homes andfamilies, has been suddenly transformed into a scene of awfuldesolation. Frightful ravages of Flood and Fire have produced in oneshort hour a destruction which surpasses the records of all moderndisasters. No calamity in recent times has so appalled the civilizedworld. What was a peaceful, prosperous valley a little time ago isto-day a huge sepulchre, filled with the shattered ruins of houses, factories, banks, churches, and the ghastly corpses of the dead. 

This book contains a thrilling description of this awful catastrophe, which has shocked both hemispheres. It depicts with graphic power theterrible scenes of the great disaster, and relates the fearful storywith masterly effect. 

The work treats of the great storm which devastated the country, deluging large sections, sweeping away bridges, swelling rivulets torivers, prostrating forests, and producing incalculable damage to lifeand property; of the sudden rise in the Conemaugh River and tributarystreams, weakening the dam thrown across the fated valley, andendangering the lives of 50, 000 people; of the heroic efforts of alittle band of men to stay the flood and avert the direful calamity; ofthe swift ride down the valley to warn the inhabitants of theirimpending fate, and save them from instant death; of the breaking awayof the imprisoned waters after all efforts had failed to hold them back;of the rush and roar of the mighty torrent, plunging down the valleywith sounds like advancing thunder, reverberating like the booming ofcannon among the hills; of the frightful havoc attending the mad flooddescending with incredible velocity, and a force which nothing couldresist; of the rapid rise of the waters, flooding buildings, driving theterrified inhabitants to the upper stories and roofs in the desperateeffort to escape their doom; of hundreds of houses crashing down thesurging river, carrying men, women and children beyond the hope ofrescue; of a night of horrors, multitudes dying amid the awful terrorsof flood and fire, plunged under the wild torrent, buried in mire, orconsumed in devouring flames; of helpless creatures rending the air withpitiful screams crying aloud in their agony, imploring help withoutstretched hands, and finally sinking with no one to save them. 

Whole families were lost and obliterated, perishing together in a waterytomb, or ground to atoms by floating timbers and wreck; households weresuddenly bereft--some of fathers, others of mothers, others of children, neighbors and friends; frantic efforts were made to rescue the victimsof the flood, render aid to those who were struggling against death, andmitigate the terrors of the horrible disaster. There were noble acts ofheroism, strong men and frail women and children putting their own livesin peril to save those of their loved ones. 

The terrible scene at Johnstown bridge, where thousands were consumedwas the greatest funeral pyre known in the history of the world. It wasghastly work--that of recovering the bodies of the dead; dragging themfrom the mire in which they were imbedded, from the ruins in which theywere crushed, or from the burning wreck which was consuming them. Hundreds of bodies were mutilated and disfigured beyond the possibilityof identifying them, all traces of individual form and features utterlydestroyed. There were multitudes of corpses awaiting coffins for theirburial, putrefying under the sun, and filling the air with the sickeningstench of death. There were ghouls who robbed the bodies of the victims, stripping off their jewels--even cutting off fingers to obtain rings, and plundering pockets of their money. 

Summary vengeance was inflicted upon prowling thieves; some of whom weredriven into the merciless waters to perish, while others were shot orhanged by the neck until they were dead. The burial of hundreds of theknown and unknown, without minister or obsequies, without friend ormourner, without surviving relatives to take a last look or shed a tear, was one of the appalling spectacles. There was the breathless suspenseand anxiety of those who feared the worst, who waited in vain for newsof the safety of their friends, and at last were compelled to believethat their loved ones had perished. 

The terrible shock attending the horrible accounts of the greatcalamity, was followed by the sudden outburst and exhibition ofuniversal grief and sympathy. Despatches from the President, Governorsof States, and Mayors of Cities, announced that speedy aid would befurnished. The magnificent charity that came to the rescue with millionsof dollars, immense contributions of food and clothing, personalservices and heroic efforts, is one impressive part of this graphicstory. Rich and poor alike gave freely, many persons dividing their lastdollar to aid those who had lost their all. 

These thrilling scenes are depicted, and these wonderful facts arerelated, in THE JOHNSTOWN HORROR, by eye-witnesses who saw the fatalflood and its direful effects. No book so intensely exciting has everbeen issued. The graphic story has an awful fascination, and will beread throughout the land. 

CONTENTS. 

 PAGE CHAPTER I. 

 The Appalling News, 17

 CHAPTER II. 

 Death and Desolation, 50

 CHAPTER III. 

 The Horrors Increase, 74

 CHAPTER IV. 

 Multiplication of Terrors, 104

 CHAPTER V. 

 The Awful Work of Death, 116

 CHAPTER VI. 

 Shadows of Despair, 129

 CHAPTER VII. 

 Burial of the Victims, 146

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 Johnstown and its Industries, 154

 CHAPTER IX. 

 A View of the Wreck, 164

 CHAPTER X. 

 Thrilling Experiences, 182

 CHAPTER XI. 

 New Tales of Horror, 208

 CHAPTER XII. 

 Pathetic Scenes, 246

 CHAPTER XIII. 

 Digging for the Dead, 270

 CHAPTER XIV. 

 Hairbreadth Escapes, 288

 CHAPTER XV. 

 Terrible Pictures of Woe, 334

 CHAPTER XVI. 

 Stories of the Flood, 380

 CHAPTER XVII. 

 One Week after the Great Disaster, 432

 CHAPTER XVIII. 

 A Walk Through the Valley of Death, 455

 CHAPTER XIX. 

 A Day of Work and Worship, 479

 CHAPTER XX. 

 Millions of Money for Johnstown, 489

[Illustration: RECOVERING THE BODIES OF VICTIMS. ]

[Illustration: THE BREAK IN THE SOUTH FORKS DAM. ]

[Illustration: IN THE PACK-SADDLE, ON THE CONEMAUGH, PENNSYLVANIARAILROAD. ]

[Illustration: RUINS IN MAIN STREET, JOHNSTOWN. ]

[Illustration: A GRAVEL-TRAIN RUNS AWAY FROM THE ADVANCING FLOOD. ]

[Illustration: IMMENSE GAP IN THE BROKEN DAM, AS SEEN FROM THE INSIDE. ]

[Illustration: FRIGHTFUL STRUGGLES FOR LIFE. ]

[Illustration: THE FLOOD STRIKES THE CAMBRIA IRON WORKS. ]

[Illustration: HOUSES AND HUMAN BEINGS LOST IN THE FLOOD. ]

[Illustration: TEARING DOWN HOUSES IN JOHNSTOWN. ]

[Illustration: SOLDIERS GUARDING A HUNGARIAN THIEF. ]

[Illustration: DISTRIBUTING RELIEF AT THE PENNSYLVANIA RAILROADSTATION. ]

[Illustration: IDENTIFYING THE DEAD. ]

[Illustration: RELIEF CORPS CROSSING THE ROPE BRIDGE. ]

[Illustration: SEARCHING FOR LOST RELATIVES. ]

[Illustration: MAIN STREET, JOHNSTOWN, IN FRONT OF MERCHANT'S HOTEL. ]

THE JOHNSTOWN HORROR

or

Valley of Death. 

CHAPTER I. 

The Appalling News. 

On the advent of Summer, June 1st, the country was horror-stricken bythe announcement that a terrible calamity had overtaken the inhabitantsof Johnstown, and the neighboring villages. Instantly the whole land wasstirred by the startling news of this great disaster. Its appallingmagnitude, its dreadful suddenness, its scenes of terror and agony, thefate of thousands swept to instant death by a flood as frightful as thatof the cataract of Niagara, awakened the profoundest horror. No calamityin the history of modern times has so appalled the civilized world. 

The following graphic pen-picture will give the reader an accurate ideaof the picturesque scene of the disaster:

Away up in the misty crags of the Alleghanies some tiny rills trickleand gurgle from a cleft in the mossy rocks. The drippling waters, timidperhaps in the bleak and lonely fastness of the heights, hug and coddleone another until they flash into a limpid pool. A score of rivuletsfrom all the mountain side babble hither over rocky beds to join theircompanions. Thence in rippling current they purl and tinkle down thegentle slopes, through bosky nooks sweet with the odors of fir tree andpine, over meads dappled with the scarlet snap-dragon and purple heathbuds, now pausing for a moment to idle with a wood encircled lake, nowtumbling in opalescent cascade over a mossy lurch, and then on again incheerful, hurried course down the Appalachian valley. 

None stays their way. Here and there perhaps some thrifty PennsylvaniaDutchman coaxes the saucy stream to turn his mill-wheel and every leagueor so it fumes and frets a bit against some rustic bridge. From thesetrifling tourneys though, it emerges only the more eager and impetuousin its path toward the towns below. 

The Fatal River. 

Coming nearer, step by step, to the busy haunts of men, the dashingbrook takes on a more ambitious air. Little by little it edges itsnarrow banks aside, drinks in the waters of tributaries, swells with thecopious rainfall of the lower valley. From its ladder in the Alleghaniesit catches a glimpse of the steeples of Johnstown, red with the glow ofthe setting sun. Again it spurts and spreads as if conscious of its newimportance, and the once tiny rill expands into the dignity of a river, a veritable river, with a name of its own. Big with this sounding symbolof prowess it rushes on as if to sweep by the teeming town in a flood ofmajesty. To its vast surprise the way is barred. The hand of man hasdared to check the will of one that up to now has known no curb savethose the forest gods imposed. For an instant the waters, taken aback bythis strange audacity, hold themselves in leash. Then, like erl-king inthe German legends, they broaden out to engulf their opponent. In vainthey surge with crescent surface against the barrier of stone. By day, by night, they beat and breast in angry impotence against the ponderouswall of masonry that man has reared, for pleasure and profit, to stemthe mountain stream. 

The Awful Rush of Waters. 

Suddenly, maddened by the stubborn hindrance, the river grows black andturgid. It rumbles and threatens as if confident of an access ofstrength that laughs at resistance. From far up the hillside comes asound, at first soft and soothing as the fountains of Lindaraxa, thenrolling onward it takes the voluminous quaver of a distant waterfall. Louder and louder, deeper and deeper, nearer and nearer comes an awfulcrashing and roaring, till its echoes rebound from the crags of theAlleghanies like peals of thunder and boom of cannon. 

On, on, down the steep valley trumpets the torrent into the river atJamestown. Joined to the waters from the cloud kissed summits of itssource, the exultant Conemaugh, with a deafening din, dashes its waythrough the barricade of stone and starts like a demon on its path ofdestruction. 

Into its maw it sucks a town. A town with all its hundreds of men andwomen and children, with its marts of business, its homes, its factoriesand houses of worship. Then, insatiate still, with a blast like thechaos of worlds dissolved, it rushes out to new desolation, until Natureherself, awe stricken at the sight of such ineffable woe, blinds hereyes to the uncanny scene of death, and drops the pall of night upon theearth. 

Destruction Descended as a Bolt of Jove. 

A fair town in a western valley of Pennsylvania, happy in the arts ofpeace and prospering by its busy manufactures, suddenly swept out ofexistence by a gigantic flood and thousands of lives extinguished as byone fell stroke--such has been the fate of Johnstown. 

Never before in this country has there happened a disaster of suchappalling proportions. It is necessary to refer to those which haveoccurred in the valleys of the great European rivers, where there is adensely crowded population, to find a parallel. 

The Horrors Unestimated. 

At first the horror was not all known. It could only be imperfectlysurmised. Until a late hour on the following night there was nocommunication with the hapless city. All that was positively known ofits fate was seen from afar. It was said that out of all thehabitations, which had sheltered about twelve thousand people beforethis awful doom had befallen, only two were visible above the water. Allthe rest, if this be true, had been swallowed up or else shattered intopieces and hurled downward into the flood-vexed valley below. 

What has become of those twelve thousand inhabitants? Who can tell untilafter the waters have wholly subsided?

Of course it is possible that many of them escaped. Much hope is to bebuilt upon the natural exaggeration of first reports from the sorelydistressed surrounding region and the lack of actual knowledge, in theabsence of direct communication. But what suspense must there be betweennow and the moment when direct communication shall be opened!

Heedless of Fate. 

The valley of the Conemaugh in which Johnstown stood lies between thesteep walls of lofty hills. The gathering of the rain into torrents inthat region is quick and precipitate. The river on one side roared outits warning, but the people would not take heed of the danger impendingover them on the other side--the great South Fork dam, two and a halfmiles up the valley and looming one hundred feet in height from base totop. Behind it were piled the waters, a great, ponderous mass, like thetreasured wrath of fate. Their surface was about three hundred feetabove the deserted town. 

If Noah's neighbors thought it would be only a little shower the peopleof Johnstown were yet more foolish. The railroad officials hadrepeatedly told them that the dam threatened destruction. They stillperversely lulled themselves into a false security. The blow came, whenit did, like a flash. It was as if the heavens had fallen in liquid furyupon the earth. It was as if ocean itself had been precipitated into anabyss. The slow but inexorable march of the mightiest glacier of theAlps, though comparable, was not equal to this in force. The whole of aPyramid, shot from a colossal catapult, would not have been the pettycharge of a pea shooter to it. Imagine Niagara, or a greater even thanNiagara, falling upon an ordinary collection of brick and wooden houses. 

An Inconceivable Force. 

The South Fork Reservoir was the largest in the United States, and itcontained millions of tons of water. When its fetters were loosened, crumbling before it like sand, a building or even a rock that stood inits path presented as much resistance as a card house. The dreadexecution was little more than the work of an instant. 

The flood passed over the town as it would over a pile of shingles, covering over or carrying with it everything that stood in its way. Itbounded down the valley, wreaking destruction and death on each hand andin its fore. Torrents that poured down out of the wilds of the mountainsswelled its volume. 

All along from the point of its release it bore débris and corpses asits hideous trophies. In a very brief time it displayed some of both, asif in hellish glee, to the horrified eyes of Pittsburg, seventy-eightmiles west of the town of Johnstown that had been, having danced themalong on its exultant billows or rolled them over and over in the depthsof its dark current all the way through the Conemaugh, the Kiskiminitasand the Allegheny river. 

It was like a fearful monster, gnashing its dripping jaws in the scaredface of the multitude, in the flesh of its victims. 

One eye-witness of the effects of the deluge declares that he saw fivehundred dead bodies. Hundreds were counted by others. It will take manya day to make up the death roll. It will take many a day to make up thereckoning of the material loss. 

If any pen could describe the scenes of terror, anguish and destructionwhich have taken place in Conemaugh Valley it could write an epicgreater than the "Iliad. " The accounts that come tell of hairbreadthescapes, heartrending tragedies and deeds of heroism almost withoutnumber. 

A Climax of Horror. 

As if to add a lurid touch of horror to the picture that might surpassall the rest a conflagration came to mock those who were in fear ofdrowning with a death yet more terrible. Where the ruins of Johnstown, composed mainly of timber, had been piled up forty feet high against arailroad bridge below the town a fire was started and raged with eagerfury. It is said that scores of persons were burned alive, theirpiercing cries appealing for aid to hundreds of spectators who stood onthe banks of the river, but could do nothing. 

Western Pennsylvania is in mourning. Business in the cities is virtuallysuspended and all minds are bent upon this great horror, all heartsconvulsed with the common sorrow. 

Heartrending Scenes and Heroic Struggles for Life. 

Another eye-witness describes the calamity as follows: A flood of deathswept down the Alleghany Mountains yesterday afternoon and last night. Almost the entire city of Johnstown is swimming about in the rushing, angry tide. Dead bodies are floating about in every direction, andalmost every piece of movable timber is carrying from the doomed city acorpse of humanity, drifting with the raging waters. The disasterovertook Johnstown about six o'clock last evening. 

As the train bearing the writer sped eastward, the reports at each stopgrew more appalling. At Derry a group of railway officials were gatheredwho had come from Bolivar, the end of the passable portion of the roadwestward. They had seen but a small portion of the awful flood, butenough to allow them to imagine the rest. Down through the Packsaddlecame the rushing waters. The wooded heights of the Alleghanies lookeddown in wonder at the scene of the most terrible destruction that everstruck the romantic valley of the Conemaugh. 

The water was rising when the men left at six o'clock at the rate offive feet an hour. Clinging to improvised rafts, constructed in thedeath battle from floating boards and timbers, were agonized men, womenand children, their heartrending shrieks for help striking horror to thebreasts of the onlookers. Their cries were of no avail. Carried along atrailway speed on the breast of this rushing torrent, no human ingenuitycould devise a means of rescue. 

With pallid face and hair clinging wet and damp to her cheek, a motherwas seen grasping a floating timber, while on her other arm she held herbabe, already drowned. With a death-grip on a plank a strong man justgiving up hope cast an imploring look to those on the bank, and aninstant later he had sunk into the waves. Prayers to God and cries tothose in safety rang above the roaring waves. 

The special train pulled into Bolivar at half-past eleven last night, and the trainmen were there notified that further progress wasimpossible. The greatest excitement prevailed at this place, and partiesof citizens are out all the time endeavoring to save the poorunfortunates that are being hurled to eternity on the rushing torrent. 

Attempts at Rescue. 

The tidal wave struck Bolivar just after dark, and in five minutes theConemaugh rose from six to forty feet and the waters spread out over thewhole country. Soon houses began floating down, and clinging to thedébris were men, women and children shrieking for aid. A large numberof citizens at once gathered on the county bridge, and they werereinforced by a number from Garfield, a town on the opposite side of theriver. 

They brought a number of ropes and these were thrown over into theboiling waters as persons drifted by in efforts to save some poorbeings. For half an hour all efforts were fruitless, until at last, whenthe rescuers were about giving up all hope, a little boy, astride ashingle roof, managed to catch hold of one of the ropes. He caught itunder his left arm and was thrown violently against an abutment, butmanaged to keep hold, and was successfully pulled on to the bridge amidthe cheers of the onlookers. His name was Hessler and his rescuer was atrainman named Carney. The lad was at once taken to the town of Garfieldand was cared for. The boy was aged about sixteen. His story of thefrightful calamity is as follows:

The Alarm. 

"With my father I was spending the day at my grandfather's house inCambria City. In the house at the time were Theodore, Edward and JohnKintz, and John Kintz, Jr. ; Miss Mary Kintz, Mrs. Mary Kintz, wife ofJohn Kintz, Jr. ; Miss Treacy Kintz, Mrs. Rica Smith, John Hirsch andfour children, my father and myself. Shortly after five o'clock therewas a noise of roaring waters and screams of people. We looked out thedoor and saw persons running. My father told us to never mind, as thewaters would not rise further. 

"But soon we saw houses being swept away, and then we ran up to thefloor above. The house was three stories, and we were at last forced tothe top one. In my fright I jumped on the bed. It was an old fashionedone, with heavy posts. The water kept rising and my bed was soon afloat. Gradually it was lifted up. The air in the room grew close and the housewas moving. Still the bed kept rising and pressed the ceiling. At lastthe posts pushed against the plaster. It yielded and a section of theroof gave way. Then suddenly I found myself on the roof, and was beingcarried down stream. 

Saved. 

"After a little this roof began to part, and I was afraid I was going tobe drowned, but just then another house with a shingle roof floated by, and I managed to crawl on it, and floated down until nearly dead withcold, when I was saved. After I was freed from the house I did not seemy father. My grandfather was on a tree, but he must have been drowned, as the waters were rising fast. John Kintz, Jr. , was also on a tree. Miss Mary Kintz and Mrs. Mary Kintz I saw drown. Miss Smith was alsodrowned. John Hirsch was in a tree, but the four children were drowned. The scenes were terrible. Live bodies and corpses were floating downwith me and away from me. I would see persons, hear them shriek, andthen they would disappear. All along the line were people who weretrying to save us, but they could do nothing, and only a few werecaught. "

This boy's story is but one incident, and shows what happened to onefamily. No one knows what has happened to the hundreds who were in thepath of the rushing water. It is impossible to get anything in the wayof news save meagre details. 

An eye-witness at Bolivar Block Station tells a story of unparalleledheroism that occurred at the lower bridge which crosses the Conemaugh atthis point. A. Young, with two women was seen coming down the river on apart of the floor. At the upper bridge a rope was thrown down to them. This they all failed to catch. Between the two bridges he was noticed topoint towards the elder woman, who, it is supposed, was his mother. Hewas then seen to instruct the women how to catch the rope that waslowered from the other bridge. Down came the raft with a rush. The braveman stood with his arms around the two women. 

Unavailing Courage. 

As they swept under the bridge he seized the rope. He was jerkedviolently away from the two women, who failed to get a hold on the rope. Seeing that they would not be rescued, he dropped the rope and fell backon the raft, which floated on down the river. The current washed theirfrail craft in toward the bank. The young man was enabled to seize holdof a branch of a tree. He aided the two women to get up into the tree. 

He held on with his hands and rested his feet on a pile of driftwood. Apiece of floating débris struck the drift, sweeping it away. The manhung with his body immersed in the water. A pile of drift sooncollected and he was enabled to get another insecure footing. Up theriver there was a sudden crash, and a section of the bridge was sweptaway and floated down the stream, striking the tree and washing it away. All three were thrown into the water and were drowned before the eyes ofthe horrified spectators just opposite the town of Bolivar. 

Early in the evening a woman with her two children was seen to passunder the bridge at Bolivar clinging to the roof of a coal house. A ropewas lowered to her, but she shook her head and refused to desert thechildren. It was rumored that all three were saved at Cokeville, a fewmiles below Bolivar. A later report from Lockport says that theresidents succeeded in rescuing five people from the flood, two womenand three men. One man succeeded in getting out of the water unaided. They were taken care of by the people of the town. 

A Child's Faith. 

A little girl passed under the bridge just before dark. She was kneelingon a part of a floor and had her hands clasped as if in prayer. Everyeffort was made to save her, but they all proved futile. A railroaderwho was standing by remarked that the piteous appearance of the littlewaif brought tears to his eyes. All night long the crowd stood about theruins of the bridge which had been swept away at Bolivar. The waterrushed past with a roar, carrying with it parts of houses, furniture andtrees. The flood had evidently spent its force up the valley. No moreliving persons were being carried past. Watchers with lanterns remainedalong the banks until daybreak, when the first view of the awfuldevastation of the flood was witnessed. 

Along the bank lay remnants of what had once been dwelling houses andstores; here and there was an uprooted tree. Piles of drift lay about, in some of which bodies of the victims of the flood will be found. Rescuing parties are being formed in all towns along the railroad. Houses have been thrown open to refugees, and every possible means isbeing used to protect the homeless. 

Wrecking Trains to the Rescue. 

The wrecking trains of the Pennsylvania Railroad are slowly making theirway east to the unfortunate city. No effort was being made to repair thewrecks, and the crews of the trains were organized into rescuingparties, and an effort will be made to send out a mail train thismorning. The chances are that they will go no further east thanFlorence. There is absolutely no news from Johnstown. The little city isentirely cut off from communication with the outside world. The damagedone is inestimable. No one can tell its extent. 

The little telegraph stations along the road are filled with anxiousgroups of men who have friends and relatives in Johnstown. The smallestitem of news is eagerly seized upon and circulated. If favorable theyhave a moment of relief, if not their faces become more gloomy. HarryFisher, a young telegraph operator who was at Bolivar when the firstrush began, says:--"We knew nothing of the disaster until we noticed theriver slowly rising and then more rapidly. News then reached us fromJohnstown that the dam at South Fork had burst. Within three hours thewater in the river rose at least twenty feet. Shortly before six o'clockruins of houses, beds, household utensils, barrels and kegs camefloating past the bridges. At eight o'clock the water was within sixfeet of the road-bed of the bridge. The wreckage floated past withoutstopping for at least two hours. Then it began to lessen, and nightcoming suddenly upon us we could see no more. The wreckage was floatingby for a long time before the first living persons passed. Fifteenpeople that I saw were carried down by the river. One of these, a boy, was saved, and three of them were drowned just directly below the town. It was an awful sight and one that I will not soon forget. "

Hundreds of animals lost their lives. The bodies of horses, dogs andchickens floated past. The little boy who was rescued at Bolivar had twodogs as companions during his fearful ride. The dogs were drowned justbefore reaching the bridge. One old mule swam past. Its shoulders weretorn, but it was alive when swept past the town. 

Saved from a Watery Grave to Perish by Flames. 

After a long, weary ride of eight or nine miles over the worst ofcountry roads New Florence, fourteen miles from Johnstown, was reached. The road bed between this place and Bolivar was washed out in manyplaces. The trackmen and the wreck crews were all night in the mostdangerous portions of the road. 

The last man from Johnstown brought the information that scarcely ahouse remained in the city. The upper portion above the railroad bridgehad been completely submerged. The water dammed up against the viaduct, the wreckage and débris finishing the work that the torrent had failedto accomplish. The bridge at Johnstown proved too stanch for the fury ofthe water. It is a heavy piece of masonry, and was used as a viaduct bythe old Pennsylvania Canal. Some of the top stones were displaced. 

The story reached here a short time ago that a family consisting offather and mother and nine children were washed away in a creek atLockport. The mother managed to reach the shore, but the husband andchildren were carried out into the Conemaugh to drown. The woman iscrazed over the terrible event. 

A Night of Horror. 

After night settled down upon the mountains the horror of the scenes wasenhanced. Above the roar of the water could be heard the piteous appealsfrom the unfortunate as they were carried by. To add also to the terrorof the night, a brilliant illumination lit up the sky. This illuminationcould be plainly seen from this place. 

A message received from Sang Hollow stated that this light came from ahundred burning wrecks of houses that were piled upon the JohnstownBridge. A supervisor from up the road brought the information that thewreckage at Johnstown was piled up forty feet above the bridge. 

The startling news came in that more than a thousand lives had beenlost. This cannot be substantiated. By actual count one hundred and tenpeople had been seen floating past Sang Hollow before dark. Forty-sevenwere counted passing New Florence and the number had diminished to eightat Bolivar. The darkness coming on stopped any further count, and it wasonly by the agonizing cries that rang out above the waters that it wasknown that a human being was being carried to death. 

An Irresistible Torrent. 

The scenes along the river were wild in the extreme. Although the waterwas subsiding, still as it dashed against the rocks that filled thenarrow channel of the Conemaugh its spray was carried high up on theshore. The towns all along the line of the railroad from Johnstown westhad received visitations. Many of the houses in New Florence werepartially under water. At Bolivar the whole lower part of the town wassubmerged. 

The ride over the mountain road gave one a good idea of the cause ofthis disaster. Every creek was a rushing river and every rivulet araging torrent. The ground was water soaked, and when the immensemountain district that drains into the Conemaugh above South Fork istaken into consideration the terrible volume of water that must haveaccumulated can be realized. Gathering, as it did, within a fewminutes, it came against the breast of the South Fork dam withirresistible force. The frightened inhabitants along the Conemaughdescribe the flood as something awful. The first rise came almostwithout warning, and the torrent came roaring down the mountain passesin one huge wave, several feet in height. After the first swell thewater continued to rise at a fearful rate. 

Daylight Brings No Relief. 

The gray morning light does not seem to show either hope or mitigationof the awful fears of the night. It has been a hard night to everybody. The overworked newspaper men, who have been without rest and food sinceyesterday afternoon, and the operators who have handled the messages arealready preparing for the work of the day. There has been a long wrangleover the possession of a special train for the press between rivalnewspaper men, and it has delayed the work of others who are anxious toget further east. 

Even here, so far from the washed-out towns, seven bodies have beenfound. Two were in a tree, a man and a woman, where the flood hadcarried them. The country people are coming into the town in largenumbers telling stories of disaster along the river banks in sequesteredplaces. 

Floating Houses. 

John McCarthey, a carpenter, who lives in Johnstown, reached here aboutfour o'clock. He left Johnstown at half-past four yesterday afternoonand says the scene then was indescribable. The people had been warnedearly in the morning to move to the highlands, but they did not heed thewarning, although it was repeated a number of times up to one o'clock, when the water poured into Cinder street several feet deep. Then thehouses began rocking to and fro, and finally the force of the currentcarried buildings across streets and vacant lots and dashed them againsteach other, breaking them into fragments. These buildings were full ofthe people who had laughed at the cry of danger. McCarthey says that insome cases he counted as many as fifteen persons clinging to buildings. McCarthey's wife was with him. She had three sisters, who lived nearher. They saw the house in which these girls lived carried away, andthen they could endure the situation no longer and hurried away. Thehusband feared his wife would go crazy. They went inland along countryroads until they reached here. 

It is said to be next to impossible to get to Johnstown proper to-day inany manner except by rowboat. The roads are cut up so that even thecountrymen refuse to travel over them in their roughest vehicles. Theonly hope is to get within about three miles by a special train or byhand car. 

The Dead Cast Up. 

Nine dead bodies have been picked up within the limits of this boroughsince daylight. None of them has yet been recognized. Five are women. One woman, probably twenty-five years old, had clasped in her arms ababe about six months old. The body of a young man was discovered in thebranches of a huge tree which had been carried down the stream. All theorchard crops and shrubbery along the banks of the river have beendestroyed. 

The body of another woman has just been discovered in the river here. Her foot was seen above the surface of the water and a rope was fastenedabout it. 

A Roof as a Raft. 

John Weber and his wife, an old couple, Michael Metzgar and John Forneywere rescued near here early this morning. They had been carried fromtheir home in Cambria City on the roof of the house. There were sevenothers on the roof when it was carried off, all of whom were drowned. They were unknown to Weber, having drifted on to the roof from floatingdébris. Weber and wife were thoroughly drenched and were almost helplessfrom exposure. They were unable to walk when taken off the roof at thisplace. They are now at the hotel here. 

Hundreds of people from Johnstown and up river towns are hurrying herein search of friends and relatives who were swept away in last night'sflood. The most intense excitement prevails. The street corners arecrowded with pale and anxious people who tell of the calamity with batedbreath. Squire Bennett has charge of the dead bodies, and he is havingthem properly cared for. They are being prepared for burial, but will beheld here for identification. 

Four boys have just come from the river bank above here. They say thaton the opposite side a number of bodies can be seen lying in the mud. They found the body of a woman on this side badly bruised. 

R. B. Rodgers, Justice of the Peace at Nineveh, has wired the Coroner atGreensburg that one hundred dead bodies have been found at that place, and he asks what is to be done with them. From this one can estimatethat the loss of life will reach over one thousand. 

A report has just been received that twenty persons are on an islandnear Nineveh and that men and women are on a partly submerged tree. 

A report has just reached here that at least one hundred people wereconsumed in the flames at Johnstown last night, but it cannot beverified here. The air is filled with thrilling and most incrediblestories, but none of them have as yet been confirmed. It is certain, however, that even the worst cannot be imagined. 

Warnings Remembered Too Late. 

It is very evident that more lives have been lost because of foolishincredulity than from ignorance of the danger. For more than a yearthere have been fears of an accident of just such a character. Thefoundations of the dam were considered to be shaky early last spring andmany increasing leakages were reported from time to time. 

According to people who live in Johnstown and other towns on the lineof the river, ample time was given to the Johnstown folks by therailroad officials and by other gentlemen of standing and reputation. Indozens, yes, hundreds of cases, this warning was utterly disregarded, and those who heeded it early in the day were looked upon as cowards, and many jeers were uttered by lips that now are cold among the rankgrass beside the river. 

There has grown up a bitter feeling among the surviving sufferersagainst those who owned the lake and dam, and damage suits will beplentiful by and by. 

The dam in Stony Creek, above Johnstown, broke about noon yesterday andthousands of feet of lumber passed down the stream. It is impossible totell what the loss of life will be, but at nine o'clock the Coroner ofWestmoreland county sent a message out saying that 100 bodies had beenrecovered at Nineveh, halfway from here to Johnstown. Sober mindedpeople do not hesitate to say that 1, 200 is moderate. 

Fire's Awful Work. 

"How can anybody tell how many are dead?" said a railroad engineer thismorning. "I have been at Long Hollow with my train since eleven o'clockyesterday, and I have seen fully five hundred persons lost in theflood. "

J. W. Esch, a brave railroad employee, saved sixteen lives at Nineveh. 

The most awful culmination of the awful night was the roasting of ahundred or more persons in mid-flood. The ruins of houses, old buildingsand other structures swept against the new railroad bridge atJohnstown, and from an overturned stove or some such cause the upperpart of the wreckage caught fire. 

There were crowds of men, women and children on the wreck, and theirscreams were soon heard. They were literally roasted on the flood. Soonafter the fire burned itself out other persons were thrown against themass. There were some fifty people in sight when the ruins suddenlybroke up and were swept under the bridge into the darkness. 

The latest news from Johnstown is that but two houses could be seen inthe town. It is also said that only three houses remain in Cambria City. 

The first authentic news was from W. N. Hays, of the PennsylvaniaRailroad Company, who reached New Florence at nine o'clock. He says thevalley towns are annihilated. 

Destruction at Blairsville. 

The flood in the Conemaugh River at this point is the heaviest everknown here. At this hour the railroad bridge between here andBlairsville intersection has been swept away, and also the new bridge atCoketon, half a mile below. It is now feared that the iron bridge at thelower end of this town will go. A living woman and dead man, supposed tobe her husband, were seen going under the railroad bridge. They wereseen to come from under the bridge safely, but shortly disappeared andwere seen no more. 

A great many families lose their household goods. The river is runningfull of timber, houses, goods, etc. The loss will be heavy. Theexcitement here is very great. The river is still rising. There are somefamilies below the town in the second story of their houses who cannotget out. It is feared that if the water goes much higher the loss oflife will be very great. The railroad company had fourteen cars of coalon their bridge when it went down, and all were swept down the river. 

The town bridge has just succumbed to the seething floods, whose roarcan be heard a long distance. The water is still rising and it isthought that the West Pennsylvania Railroad will be without a singlebridge. It is reported that a man went down with the Blairsville bridgewhile he was adjusting a headlight. 

Havoc about Altoona. 

The highest and most destructive flood that has visited this place forfifty years occurred yesterday. It has been raining continuously for thepast twenty-four hours. The Juniata river is ten feet above low watermark and is still rising. The lower streets of Gaysport bordering on theriver bank are submerged, and the water is two feet deep on the firstfloors of the houses there. The water rose so rapidly that the peoplehad to be removed from the houses in boats and wagons. Three railroadtrestles and a number of bridges over the streams have been carriedaway, and railroad travel between this place and the surrounding townshas been interrupted. 

Property of all kinds was carried off. The truck gardens and grainfields along the river were utterly destroyed, and the fences carriedaway. The iron furnaces and rolling mills at this place and Duncanvillewere compelled to shut down on account of the high water. Keene &Babcock lost 300, 000 brick in the kiln ready to burn, G. W. Rhodes350, 000, and Joseph Hart 15, 000. It is estimated that the flood has doneover $50, 000 damage in this vicinity. The fences of the Blair CountyAgricultural Society were destroyed. 

Alarm at York. 

Last night was one of great alarm here. It rained steadily all day, someof the showers being severe. The great flood of 1884 is forciblyrecalled. Many families are moving out. At half-past one A. M. A generalalarm was sounded on the bells of the city. 

The flood in the Susquehanna River here reached its greatest heightabout six o'clock this morning, when all bridges save one were underwater. Business places and residences in the low section were flooded toa great extent, and the damage in this city alone amounts to $25, 000 sofar. The injury to the Spring Grove paper mills near this city is heavy. By noon the water had fallen sufficiently to restore travel over nearlyall the bridges. 

A number of bridges in the county have been swept away, and the loss inthe county exclusive of the city is estimated at $100, 000. 

In attempting to catch some driftwood James McIlvaine lost his balanceand fell into the raging current and was drowned. 

Seven bodies have been taken from the water and débris on the riverbanks at New Florence. One body has also been taken from the river atthis point, that of a young girl. None of them have been identified. 

The whole face of the country between here and New Florence is underwater, and houses, bridges and buildings fill the fields and even perchupon the hillside all the way to Johnstown. Great flocks of crows arealready filling the valley, while buzzards are almost as frequentlyseen. The banks of the river are lined with people who are looking aswell for booty as for bodies. Much valuable property was carried away inthe houses as well as from houses not washed away. 

The river has fallen again into its channel, and nothing in the streamitself except its red, angry color shows the wild horror of last night. It has fallen fully twenty feet since midnight, and by to-night it willhave attained its normal depth. 

Painful Scenes. 

At all points from Greensburg to Long Hollow, the limit of the presenttrouble, scores of people throng the stations begging and beseechingrailroad men on the repair trains to take them aboard, as they arealmost frenzied with anxiety and apprehension in regard to their friendswho live at or near Johnstown. Strong men are as tearful as the womenwho join in the request. 

Pitiable sights and scenes multiply more and more rapidly. TheConemaugh is one great valley of mourning. Those who have not lostfriends have lost their house or their substance, and apparently thegrief for the one is as poignant as for the other. 

They Were Warned. 

The great volume of water struck Johnstown about half-past five in theafternoon. It did not find the people unprepared, as they had had noticefrom South Fork that the dam was threatening to go. Many, however, disregarded the notice and remained in their houses in the lower part ofthe city and were caught before they could get out. 

Superintendent Pitcairn, of the Pennsylvania Railroad, who has spent theentire day in assisting not only those who were afflicted by the flood, but also in an attempt to reopen his road, went home this morning. Before he left he issued an order to all Pennsylvania Railroad employeesto keep a sharp lookout for bodies, both in the river and in the bushes, and to return them to their friends. 

Assistant Superintendent Trump is still on the ground near Lone Hollowdirecting the movements of gravel and construction trains, which arearriving as fast as they can be fitted up and started out. The roadbedsof both the Pennsylvania and the West Pennsylvania railroads are badlydamaged, and it will cost the latter, especially from the BolivarJunction to Saltsburg, many thousands of dollars to repair injuries toembankments alone. 

In Pittsburg there was but one topic of conversation, and that was theJohnstown deluge. Crowds of eager watchers all day long besieged thenewspaper bulletin boards and rendered streets impassable in theirvicinity. Many of them had friends or relatives in the strickendistrict, and "Names!" "Names!" was their cry. But there were no names. The storm which had perhaps swept away their loved ones had also carriedaway all means of communication and their vigil was unrewarded. It isnot yet known whether the telegraph operator at Johnstown is dead oralive. The nearest point to that city which can be reached to-night isNew Florence, and the one wire there is used almost constantly by ordersfor coffins, embalming fluid and preparing special cars to carry therecovered dead to their homes. 

Along the banks of the now turbulent Allegheny were placed watchers fordead bodies, and all wreckage was carefully scanned for the dead. Theresult of this vigilance was the recovery of one body, that of a womanfloating down on a pile of débris. Seven other bodies were seen, butcould not be reached owing to the swift moving wreckage by which theywere surrounded. 

A Heartrending Sight. 

A railroad conductor who arrived in the city this morning said:--"Thereis no telling how many lives are lost. We got as far as Bolivar, and Itell you it is a terrible sight. The body of a boy was picked up by someof us there, and there were eleven bodies recovered altogether. I donot think that anyone got into Johnstown, and it is my opinion that theywill not get in very soon. No one who is not on the grounds has any ideaof the damage done. It will be at least a week before the extent of thisflood is known, and then I think many bodies will never be recovered. "

Assistant Superintendent Wilson, of the West Pennsylvania Railroad, received the following despatch from Nineveh to-day:--

"There appears to be a large number of people lodged in the trees andrubbish along the line. Many are alive. Rescuing parties should beadvised at every station. "

Another telegram from Nineveh said that up to noon 175 bodies had beentaken from the river at that point. 

The stage of water in the Allegheny this afternoon became so alarmingthat residents living in the low-lying districts began to remove theirhousehold effects to a higher grade. The tracks of the Pittsburgh andWestern Railroad are under water in several places, and greatinconvenience is felt in moving trains. 

Criminal Negligence. 

It was stated at the office of the Pennsylvania Railroad early thismorning that the deaths would run up into the thousands rather thanhundreds, as was at first supposed. Despatches received state that thestream of human beings that was swept before the floods was pitiful tobehold. Men, women and children were carried along frantically shriekingfor help. Rescue was impossible. 

Husbands were swept past their wives, and children were borne along ata terrible speed to certain death before the eyes of their terrorizedand frantic parents. It was said at the depot that it was impossible toestimate the number whose lives were lost in the flood. It will simplybe a matter of conjecture for several days as to who was lost and whoescaped. 

The people of Johnstown were warned of the possibility of the burstingof the dam during the morning, but very few if any of the inhabitantstook the warning seriously. Shortly after noon it gave way about fivemiles above Johnstown, and sweeping everything before it burst upon thetown with terrible force. 

Everything was carried before it, and not an instant's time was given toseek safety. Houses were demolished, swept from their foundations andcarried in the flood to a culvert near the town. Here a mass of allmanner of débris soon lodged, and by evening it had dammed the waterback into the city over the tops of many of the still remainingchimneys. 

The Dam Always a Menace. 

Assistant Superintendent Trump, of the Pennsylvania, is at Conemaugh, but the officials at the depot had not been able to receive a line fromhim until as late as half-past two o'clock this morning. It was saidalso that it will be impossible to get a train through either one way orthe other for at least two or three days. This applies also to themails, as there is absolutely no way of getting mails through. 

"We were afraid of that lake, " said a gentleman who had lived inJohnstown for years, "we were afraid of that lake seven years ago. Noone could see the immense height to which that artificial dam had beenbuilt without fearing the tremendous power of the water behind it. Idoubt if there was a man or woman in Johnstown who at some time or otherhad not feared and spoken of the terrible disaster that has now come. 

"People wondered and asked why the dam was not strengthened, as itcertainly had become weak, but nothing was done, and by and by theytalked less and less about it as nothing happened, though now and thensome would shake their heads as though conscious that the fearful daywould come some time when their worst fears would be transcended by thehorror of the actual occurrence. 

Converted Into a Lake. 

"Johnstown is in a hollow between two rivers, and that lake must haveswept over the city at a depth of forty feet. It cannot be, it isimpossible that such an awful thing could happen to a city of tenthousand inhabitants, and if it has, thousands have lost their lives, and men are to blame for it, for warnings have been uttered a thousandtimes and have received no attention. "

The body of a Welsh woman, sixty years of age, was taken from the rivernear the suspension bridge, at ten o'clock this morning. Four otherbodies were seen, but owing to the mass of wreckage which is comingdown they could not be recovered, and passed down the Ohio River. 

A citizens' meeting has been called to devise means to aid thesufferers. The Pennsylvania Railroad officials have already placed carson Liberty street for the purpose of receiving provisions and clothing, and up to this hour many prominent merchants have made heavy donations. 

Anxiety of the People. 

The difficulty of obtaining definite information added tremendously tothe excitement and apprehension of the people in Pittsburgh who hadrelatives and friends at the scene of the disaster. 

Members of the South Fork Club, and among them some of the most eminentmen in the Pittsburgh financial and mercantile world, were in or nearJohnstown, and several of them were accompanied by their wives andfamilies. There happened to be also quite a number of residents ofJohnstown in Pittsburgh, and when the news of the horror was confirmedand the railroads bulletined the fact that no trains would go east lastnight the scene at Union Depot was profoundly pathetic and exciting. Buttwo trains were sent out by the Pennsylvania road from the Union stationat Pittsburgh. 

A despatch states that the Cambria Iron Company's plant on the northside of the Conemaugh River at Johnstown is a complete wreck. Until thisdespatch was received it was not thought that this portion of the planthad been seriously injured. It was known that the portion of the plantlocated on the south bank of the river was washed away, and this wasthought to be the extent of the damage to the property of that immensecorporation. The plant is said to be valued at $5, 000, 000. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II. 

Death and Desolation. 

The terrible situation on the second day after the great disaster onlyintensifies the horror. As information becomes more full and accurate, it does not abate one tittle of the awful havoc. Rather it adds to it, and gives a thousand-fold terror to the dreadful calamity. 

Not only do the scenes which are described appear all the more dreadful, as is natural, the nearer they are brought to the imagination, but itseems only too probable that the final reckoning in loss of life andmaterial wealth will prove far more stupendous than has even yet beensupposed. 

The very greatness of the destruction prevents the possibility of anaccurate estimate. Beneath the ghastly ruins of the once happy towns andvillages along the pathway of the deluge, who shall say how many victimslie buried? Amid the rocks and woods that border the broad track of thewaters, who shall say how many lie bruised and mangled andunrecognizable, wedged between boulders or massed amid débris andrubbish, or hidden beneath the heaped-up deposits of earth, and whetherall of them shall ever be found and given the last touching rites?

Already the air of the little valley, which four days ago was smilingwith all the health of nature and the contentment of industrious man, is waxing pestiferous with the awful odor of decaying human bodies. Buzzards, invited by their disgusting instinct, gather for a promisedfeast, and sit and glower on neighboring perches or else circle roundand round in the blue empyrean over the location of unfriended corpses, known only to their keen sense of smell or vision. 

But another kind of buzzard, more disgusting, more hideous, more vile, has hastened to this scene of woe and anguish and desolation to exultover it to his profit. Thugs and thieves in unclean hordes havemysteriously turned up at Johnstown and its vicinity, as hyenas in thedesert seem to spring bodily out of the deadly sand whenever the corpseof a gallant warrior, abandoned by his kind, lies putrefying in thenight. 

There is a cry from the afflicted community for the policing of thedevastated region, and there is no doubt it is greatly needed. Happily, Nemesis does not sleep this time in the face of such provocation as isgiven her by these atrociously inhuman human beings. It is asatisfaction to record that something more than a half dozen of themhave been dealt with as promptly and as mercilessly as they deserve. Forsuch as they there should be no code of pity. 

There is an inexhaustible store of pathos and heroism in the tale ofthis disaster. Of course, in all of its awful details it never can befitly written. One reason is that too many of the witnesses of its morefearful phases "sleep the sleep that knows not waking. " But there is agreater reason, and that is that there is a point in the intenseractuality of things at which all human language fails to do justice toit. Yet--as simply told as possible--there are many incidents of thisgreat tragedy which nothing has ever surpassed or ever can surpass inimpressiveness. It is a consolation, too, that human nature at suchtimes does betray here and there a gleam of that side of it which givesforth a reflection of the ideal manhood or womanhood. Bits of heroismand of tender devotedness scattered throughout this dark, dismal pictureof destruction and despair light it up with wonderful beauty, and whilethey bring tears to the eyes of the sternest reader, will serve as agrateful relief from the pervading hue of horror and blackness. 

There is the very gravest need of vigorous relief measures in favor ofthe survivors of the flood. A spontaneous movement in that direction hasbeen begun, but as yet lacks the efficiency only to be derived from ageneral and organized co-operation. 

Complete Annihilation. 

When Superintendent Pitcairn telegraphed from Johnstown to PittsburghFriday night that the town was annihilated he came very close to thefacts of the case, although he had not seen the ill-fated city. To saythat Johnstown is a wreck is but stating the facts of the case. Nothinglike it was ever seen in this country. Where long rows of dwellinghouses and business blocks stood forty-eight hours ago, ruin anddesolation now reign supreme. 

The losses, however, are as nothing compared to the frightfulsacrifices of precious human lives. During Sunday Johnstown has beendrenched with the tears of stricken mortals, and the air is filled withsobs that come from breaking hearts. There are scenes enacted here everyhour and every minute that affect all beholders profoundly. When bravemen die in battle, for country or for principle, their loss can bereconciled to the stern destinies of life. When homes are torn asunderin an instant, and the loved ones hurled from the arms of loving anddevoted mothers, there is an element of sadness connected with thetragedy that touches every heart. 

_The loss of life is simply dreadful. The most conservative peopledeclare that the number will reach 5000, while others confidently assertthat 8000 or 10, 000 have perished. _

How Johnstown Looks after Flood and Fire Have DoneTheir Worst. 

An eye-witness writing from Pittsburgh says:--We have just returned froma trip through what is left of Johnstown. The view from beyond is almostimpossible to describe. To look upon it is a sight that neither war norcatastrophe can equal. House is piled upon house, not as we have seen inoccasional floods of the the Western rivers, but the remains of two andfour storied buildings piled upon the top of one another. 

The ruins of what is known as the Club House are in perhaps the bestcondition of any in that portion of the town, but it is certainlydamaged beyond possibility of repair. _On the upper floor five bodiesare lying unidentified. _ One of them, a woman of genteel birth, judgingby her dress, is locked in one of the small rooms to prevent apossibility of spoliation by wreckers, who are flocking to the spot fromall directions and taking possession of everything they can get hold of. 

Here and there bodies can be seen sticking in the ruins. Some of themost prominent citizens are to be seen working with might and main toget at the remains of relatives whom they have located. 

_There is no doubt that, wild as the estimates of the loss of life anddamage to property have been, it is even larger than there is any ideaof. _

Close on to 2, 000 residences lie in kindling wood at the lower end ofthe town. 

Freaks of the Flood. 

An idea of the eccentricity of the flood may be gathered from the factthat houses that were situated at Woodvale and points above Johnstownare piled at the lower end of the town, while some massive houses havebeen lifted and carried from the lower end as far as the cemetery at theextreme upper portion of the town. All through the ruins are scatteredthe most costly furniture and store goods of all kinds. 

Thieves are Busy. 

I stood on the keyboard and strings of a piano while I watched a numberof thieves break into the remnants of houses and pilfer them, whileothers again had got at a supply of fine groceries and had broken intoa barrel of fine brandy, and were fairly steeping themselves in it. Imet quite a number of Pittsburghers in the ruins looking for friends andrelatives. If the skiffs which were expected from Pittsburgh were therethey would be of vast assistance in reaching the ruins, which areseparated by the stream of water descending from the hills. A great fearis felt that there will be some difficulty in restoring the stream toits proper channel. Its course now lies right along Main street, and itis about two hundred yards wide. 

Something should be done to get the bodies of the dead decently takencare of. The ruins are reeking with the smell of decaying bodies. Rightat the edge of the ruins the decaying body of a stout colored woman islying like the remains of an animal, without any one to identify andtake care of it. 

Lynching the Ghouls. 

A number of Hungarians collected about a number of bodies at Cambriawhich had been washed up and began rifling the trunks. After they hadsecured all the contents they turned their attention to the dead. 

The ghastly spectacle presented by the distorted features of those whohad lost their lives during the flood had no influence upon the ghouls, who acted more like wild beasts than human beings. They took everyarticle from the clothing on the dead bodies, not leaving anything ofvalue or anything that would serve to identify the remains. 

After the miscreants had removed all their plunder to dry ground adispute arose over a division of the spoils. A pitched battle followedand for a time the situation was alarming. Knives and clubs were usedfreely. As a result several of the combatants were seriously wounded andleft on the ground, their fellow countrymen not making any attempt toremove them from the field of strife. 

JOHNSTOWN, PA. , June 2, 11 A. M. 

_They have just hung a man over near the railroad to the telegraph polefor cutting the finger off of a dead woman in order to get a ring. _

Vengeance, Swift and Sure. 

The way of the transgressor in the desolated valley of the Conemaugh ishard indeed. Each hour reveals some new and horrible story of sufferingand outrage, and every succeeding hour brings news of swift and meritedpunishment meted out to the fiends who have dared to desecrate the stiffand mangled corpses in the city of the dead, and torture the alreadyhalf crazed victims of the cruelest of modern catastrophes. 

As the roads to the lands round about are opened tales of almostindescribable horror come to light, and deeds of the vilest nature, perpetrated in the darkness of the night, are brought to light. 

Followed by Avenging Farmers. 

Just as the shadows began to fall upon the earth last evening a party ofthirteen Hungarians were noticed stealthily picking their way along thebanks of the Conemaugh toward Sang Hollow. Suspicious of their purpose, several farmers armed themselves and started in pursuit. Soon theirmost horrible fears were realized. The Hungarians were out for plunder. 

Lying upon the shore they came upon the dead and mangled body of a womanupon whose person there were a number of trinkets and jewelry and twodiamond rings. In their eagerness to secure the plunder, the Hungariansgot into a squabble, during which one of the number severed the fingerupon which were the rings, and started on a run with his fearful prize. The revolting nature of the deed so wrought upon the pursuing farmers, who by this time were close at hand, that they gave immediate chase. Some of the Hungarians showed fight, but being outnumbered werecompelled to flee for their lives. Nine of the brutes escaped, but fourwere literally driven into the surging river and to their death. Theinhuman monster whose atrocious act has been described was among thenumber of the involuntary suicides. Another incident of even greatermoment has just been brought to notice. 

Anxious to be a Murderer. 

At half-past eight this morning an old railroader who had walked fromSang Hollow stepped up to a number of men who were congregated on theplatform stations at Curranville and said:--"Gentlemen, had I a shotgunwith me half an hour ago I would now be a murderer, yet with no fear ofever having to suffer for my crime. 

"Two miles below here I watched three men going along the banks_stealing the jewels from the bodies of the dead wives and daughters ofmen who have been robbed of all they held dear on earth. _"

He had no sooner finished the last sentence than five burly men, withlooks of terrible determination written on their faces, were on theirway to the scene of plunder, one with a coil of rope over his shoulderand another with a revolver in his hand. In twenty minutes, so it isstated, they had overtaken two of the wretches, who were then in the actof cutting pieces from the ears and fingers from the hands of the bodiesof two dead women. 

Brutes at Bay. 

With revolver leveled at the scoundrels the leader of the posse shouted, "Throw up your hands or I'll blow your heads off!" With blanched facesand trembling forms they obeyed the order and begged for mercy. Theywere searched, and as their pockets were emptied of their ghastly findsthe indignation of the crowd intensified, and when _a bloody finger ofan infant, encircled with two tiny gold rings_, was found among theplunder in the leader's pocket, a cry went up "_Lynch them! Lynchthem!_" _Without a moment's delay ropes were thrown around their necksand they were dangling to the limbs of a tree, in the branches of whichan hour before were entangled the bodies of a dead father and son. _

After the expiration of a half hour the ropes were cut, and the bodieslowered and carried to a pile of rocks in the forest on the hill above. It is hinted that an Allegheny county official was one of the mostprominent actors in this justifiable homicide. 

Another case of attempted lynching was witnessed this evening nearKernville. The man was observed stealing valuable articles from thehouses. He was seized by a mob, a rope was placed around his neck and hewas jerked up into the air. The rope was tied to the tree and hiswould-be lynchers left him. Bystanders cut him down before he was dead. The other men did not interfere and he was allowed to go. The man was sobadly scared that he could not give his name if he wanted to do so. 

Two colored men were shot while robbing the dead bodies, by thePittsburgh police, who are doing guard about the town. 

Fiends in Human Form. 

To one who saw bright, bustling Johnstown a week ago the sight of itspresent condition must cause a thrill of horror, no matter how calloushe might be. I doubt if any incident of war or flood ever caused a moresickening sight. Wretchedness of the most pathetic kind met the gaze onevery side. 

_Unlawfulness runs riot. _ If ever military aid was needed now is thetime. _The town is perfectly overrun with thieves_, many of them fromPittsburgh. The Hungarians are the worst. They seem to operate inregular organized bands. In Cambria City this morning they entered ahouse, drove out the occupants at the point of revolvers and tookpossession. They can be constantly seen carrying large quantities ofplunder to the hills. 

The number of drunken men is remarkable. Whiskey seems marvelouslyplenty. Men are actually carrying it around in pails. Barrels of thestuff are constantly located among the drifts, and men are scramblingover each other and fighting like wild beasts in their mad search forit. 

At the cemetery, at the upper end of the town, I saw a sight that rivalsthe inferno. A number of ghouls had found a lot of fine groceries, amongthem a barrel of brandy, with which they were fairly stuffingthemselves. One huge fellow was standing on the strings of an uprightpiano singing a profane song, every little while breaking into a wilddance. A half dozen others were engaged in a hand-to-hand fight over thepossession of some treasure stolen from a ruined house, and the crowdaround the barrel were yelling like wild men. 

The cry for help increases every hour. Something must be done to get thebodies decently taken care of. The ruins are reeking with the smell ofdecaying bodies. At the very edge of the ruins the body of a largecolored woman, in an advanced state of decomposition, is lying like thebody of an animal. 

Watched Their Friends Die. 

The fire in the drift above the bridge is still burning fiercely andwill continue to do so for several days. The skulls of six people can beseen sticking up out of the ruins just above the east end of the bridge. Nothing but the blackened skulls can be seen. They are all together. 

The sad scenes will never all be written. One lady told me this morningof seeing her mother crushed to pieces just before her eyes and themangled body carried off down the stream. William Yarner lost sixchildren and saved a baby about eighteen months old. His wife died justthree weeks ago. An aged German, his wife and five daughters floateddown on their house to a point below Nineveh, where the house waswrecked. The five daughters were drowned, but the old man and his wifestuck in a tree and hung there for twenty-four hours before they couldbe taken off. 

Died Kissing Her Babe. 

One of the most pitiful sights of this terrible disaster came to mynotice this afternoon, when the body of a young lady was taken out ofthe Conemaugh River. The woman was apparently quite young, though herfeatures were terribly disfigured. Nearly all the clothing except theshoes was torn off the body. The corpse was that of a mother, foralthough cold in death the woman clasped a young male babe apparentlynot more than a year old tightly in her arms. The little one was huddledclose up to its mother's face, who when she realized their terriblefate, had evidently raised the babe to her lips to imprint upon itslittle lips the last motherly kiss it was to receive in this world. Thesight was a pathetic one and turned many a stout heart to tears. 

Among the miraculous escapes to be recorded in connection with the greatdisaster is that of George J. Leas and his family. He resided on Ironstreet. When the rush of water came there were eight people on theroof. The little house swung around off its moorings and floated aboutfor nearly half an hour before it came up against the bank of driftabove the stone bridge. A three-year-old girl with sunny golden hair anddimpled cheeks prayed all the while that God would save them, and itseemed that God really answered the prayer of this innocent little girland directed the house against the drift, enabling every one of theeight to get off. Mrs. Leas carried the little girl in her arms, and howshe got off she doesn't know. Every house around them, she said, wascrushed, and the people either killed or drowned. 

Thugs at Their Work. 

One of the most dreadful features of this catastrophe has been themiserable weakness displayed by the authorities of Johnstown and thesurrounding boroughs. Johnstown needed them sadly for forty-eight hours. There is supposed to be a Burgess, but like most burgesses he is ashadowy and mythical personage. If there had been concerted andintelligent action the fire in the débris at the dam could have beenextinguished within a short time after it started. Too many cooksspoiled this ghastly broth. 

Even now if dynamite or some other explosive was intelligently appliedthe huge mass of wreckage which has up to the present time escaped theflame, and no doubt contains a number of bodies, could be saved fromfire. 

This, however, is a matter of small import compared with the immunitygranted the outrageous and open graveyard robbery and disgustingthievery which have thriven bravely since Friday morning. 

Foreigners and natives carrying huge sacks, and in some instances evenbeing assisted by horses and carts, have been busily engaged huntingcorpses and stealing such valuables as were to be found in the wreckage. 

Dozens of barrels of strong liquor have been rescued by the Hungarianand Polish laborers from among the ruins of saloons and hotels and thecontents of the same have been freely indulged in. This has led to analarming debauchery, which is on the increase. All day the numbers ofthe drunken crowd have been augmented from time to time by fresharrivals from the surrounding districts. 

Those who have suffered from the tidal wave have become much embitteredagainst the law breakers. There have been many small fights and severalsmall riots in consequence. This has been regarded with apprehension bythe State authorities, and Adjutant General Hastings has arrived atJohnstown to examine into the condition of affairs and to guard thedesolated district with troops. The Eighteenth regiment, of Pittsburgh, has tendered its services to this work, but has received no reply to itstender. 

General Hastings estimates that the loss of life is at least eightthousand. 

An employee of J. L. Gill, of Latrobe, says he and thirty-five other menwere in a three-story building in Johnstown last night. They had beengetting out logs for the Johnstown Lumber Company. The man says thatthe building was swept away and all the men were drowned except Gill andhis family. 

Handling the Dead. 

The recovery of bodies has taken up the time of thousands all day. Thetheory now is that most of those killed by the torrent were buriedbeneath the débris. To-day's work in the ruins in a large degreejustifies this assumption. I saw six bodies taken out of one pile ofrubbish not eight feet square. 

The truth is that bodies are almost as plentiful as logs. The whirl ofthe waters puts the bodies under and the logs and boards on top. Therigidity of arms standing out at right angles to the bloated and bruisedbodies show that death in ninety-nine out of a hundred cases took placeamid the ruins--that is after the wreck of houses had closed over them. 

Dr. D. G. Foster, who has been here all day, is of the opinion that mostof the victims were killed by coming into violent contact with objectsin the river and not by drowning. He found many fractured skulls and onmost heads blows that would have rendered those receiving them instantlyunconscious, and the water did the rest. 

_Not fewer than three hundred bodies have been taken from the river andrubbish to-day. _ It has been the labor of all classes of citizens, andmarvellous work has been accomplished. The eastern end of Main street, through which the waters tore most madly and destructively, and in whichthey left their legacy of wrecked houses, fallen trees and dead bodiesin a greater degree than in any other portion of the city, has beencleared and the remains of over fifty have been taken out. 

All over town the searchers have been equally successful. As soon as abody is found it is placed on a litter and sent to the Morgue, where itis washed and placed on a board for several hours to awaitidentification. 

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE MORGUE. ]

The Morgue is the Fourth-ward school house, and it has been surroundedall day by a crowd of several thousand people. At first the crowd weredisposed to stop those bearing the stretchers, uncover the remains andview them, but this was found to be prolific not only of great delay, also scenes of agony that not even the bearers could endure. 

Now a litter is guarded by a file of soldiers with fixed bayonets, andthe people are forced aside until the Morgue is reached. It isastonishing to find how small a number of injured are in the city. Fewsurvived. It was death or nothing with the demon of the flood. 

Now that an adequate idea of what has befallen them has been reached, and the fact that a living has still to be made, that plants must betaken care of, that contracts must be filled, the business people of thecity are giving their attention to the future. Vice President andDirector James McMillan, of the Cambria Iron Company, says their losshas been well nigh incalculable. They are not daunted, but willto-morrow begin the work of clearing up the ruins of their millspreparatory to rebuilding and repairing their works. They will alsoimmediately rebuild the Gautier Iron Works. This is the disposition ofall. 

"Our pockets are light, " they say, "but if nothing happens all of uswill be in business again. " The central portion of Johnstown is ascompletely obliterated as if it had never had foundation. The river hasmade its bed upon the sites of hundreds of dwellings, and a vast area ofsand, mud and gravel marks the old channel. 

It is doubtful whether it will be possible even to reclaim what was oncethe business portion of the city. The river will have to be returned toits old bed in order to do this. 

Among the lost is H. G. Rose, the District Attorney of Cambria county, whose body was among the first discovered. 

Governor Foraker, of Ohio, this afternoon sent five hundred tents tothis city. They will be pitched on the hillside to-morrow. They aresadly needed, as the buildings that are left are either too damp or toounsafe for occupancy. 

Burying the Dead. 

The work of burying the dead began this morning and has been kept uptill late this evening. The bruising of the bodies by logs and trees andother débris and other exposure in the water have tended to hastendecomposition, which has set in in scores of cases, making intermentinstantly necessary. 

Bodies are being buried as rapidly as they are identified. The work ofPittsburgh undertakers in examining the dead has rendered it possible tokeep all those embalmed two or three days longer, but this is desirableonly in cases where identification is dubious and no claimants appear atall. 

To-day the cars sent out from Pittsburgh with provisions for the livingwere hastily cleared in order to contain the bodies of the dead intendedfor interment in suburban cemeteries and in graveyards handy to thecity. 

Formality is dispensed with. In some instances only the undertaker andhis assistants are present, and in others only one or two members ofthe family of the dead. 

The dead are more plentiful than the mourners. 

Death has certainly dealt briefly with the stricken city. "Let the deadbury the dead" has been more nearly exemplified in this instance than inany other in this country's history. The magnitude of the horrorincreases with the hours. It is believed that not less than two thousandof the drowned found lodgment beneath the _omnium gatherum_ in thetriangle of ground that the Conemaugh cut out of the bank between theriver and the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge. 

The Greatest Funeral Pyre in History. 

The victims were not upon it, but were parts of it. Whole houses werewashed into the apex of the triangle. Hen coops, pigstys and stableswere added to the mass. Then a stove ignited the mass and the work ofcremation began. It was a literal breast of fire. The smoke arose in ahuge funnel-shaped cloud, and at times it changed to the form of an hourglass. At night the flames united would light up this misty remnant ofmortality. The effect upon the living, both ignorant and intelligent, was the same. That volume of smoke with its dual form, produced afeeling of awe in many that was superior in most cases to that felt inthe awful moment of the storm's wrath on Friday. 

Hundreds stood for hours regarding the smoke and wondering whether itforeboded another visitation more dire than its predecessor. 

The people hereabouts this morning awoke to find that nothing was leftbut a mass of ashes, calcined human bones, stoves, old iron and otherapproximately indestructible matter, from which only a light blue vaporwas arising. General Hastings took precautions to prevent the extensionof the fire to another huge pile, a short distance away, and this willbe rummaged to-day for bodies of flood victims. 

The Pittsburgh undertakers have contributed more to facilitate thepreparation of the dead for the graves than all others besides. 

There was a disposition on the part of many foreigners and negroes toraid the houses, and do an all around thieving business, but themeasures adopted by the police had a tendency to frighten them off innearly every case. 

One man was caught in the act of robbing the body of an old woman, buthe protested that he had got nothing and was released. He immediatelydisappeared, and it was found afterward that he had taken $100 from thepocket of the corpse. 

A half-breed negro yesterday and this morning was doing a thrivingbusiness in collecting hams, shoulders, chickens and even furniture. Hehad thieves in his employ, and while to some of them he was payingregular salaries, others were doing the work for a drink of whiskey. Theauthorities stopped this thing very suddenly, but not until a number ofthe people threatened to lynch the half breed. In one or two instancevery narrow escapes from the rope were made. 

Thousands of coffins and rough boxes have already arrived, and stillthe supply is short. They are brought in marked to some undertaker, whohas a list of his dead, and as fast as the coffins come he writes thename of its intended tenant and tells the friends (when there are any)where to find it. 

How a Funeral Takes Place. 

Two of them go after it, and, carrying it between them to the Morgue orto their homes, place the body in it and take it to the burial grounds. 

One unfortunate feature of the destruction is the fact that some one hasbeen drowned from nearly every house in the city, and teams areprocurable only with the greatest difficulty. 

Dead horses are seen everywhere. In one stable two horses, fullyharnessed, bridled and ready to be taken out, stand dead in theirstable, stiff and upright. In a sand pile near the Pennsylvania Railroaddepot a horse's hind feet, rump and tail are all that can be seen ofhim. He was caught in the rapidly running waters and had been driveninto the sand. 

The following telegram from Johnstown has been received at Pittsburg:

"For God's sake tell the sight-seers to keep away from Johnstown for thepresent. What we want is people to work, not to look on. Citizen'sCommittee. "

Three trains have already been sent out with crowded cargoes ofsight-seers. At every station along the road excited crowds are waitingfor an opportunity to get aboard. 

That's what would have happened to the owners of South Fork if they hadput in an appearance. 

There is great indignation among the people of Johnstown at the wealthyPittsburghers who own South Fork. They blame them severely for havingmaintained such a frightfully dangerous institution there. The feelingamong the people was intense. If any of the owners of the dam had put inan appearance in Johnstown they would have been lynched. 

The dam has been a constant menace to this valley ever since it has beenin existence, and the feeling, which has been bitter enough on theoccasion of every flood hitherto, after this horrible disaster is now atfever heat. 

Without seeing the havoc created no idea can be given of the area of thedesolation or the extent of the damage. 

Only One Left to Mourn. 

An utterly wretched woman stood by a muddy pool of water, trying to findsome trace of a once happy home. She was half crazed with grief, and hereyes were red and swollen. As I stepped to her side she raised her paleand haggard face, crying:

"They are all gone. Oh God be merciful to them. My husband and my sevendear little children have been swept down with the flood and I am leftalone. We were driven by the raging flood into the garret, but thewaters followed us there. Inch by inch it kept rising until our headswere crushing against the roof. It was death to remain. So I raised awindow and one by one placed my darlings on some drift wood, trustingto the Great Creator. As I liberated the last one, my sweet little boy, he looked at me and said:

'Mamma, you always told me that the Lord would care for me; will he lookafter me now?'

"I saw him drift away with his loving face turned toward me, and with aprayer on my lips for his deliverance he passed from sight forever. Thenext moment the roof crashed in and I floated outside to be rescuedfifteen hours later from the roof of a house in Kernville. If I couldonly find one of my darlings, I could bow to the will of God, but theyall are gone. I have lost everything on earth now but my life, and Iwill return to my old Virginia home and lay me down for my last greatsleep. "

A handsome woman, with hair as black as a raven's wing, walked throughthe depot, where a dozen or more bodies were awaiting burial. Passingfrom one to another, she finally lifted the paper covering from the faceof a woman, young and with traces of beauty showing through the stainsof muddy water. With a cry of anguish she reeled backward, to be caughtby a rugged man who chanced to be passing. In a moment or so she hadcalmed herself sufficiently to take one more look at the features of herdead. She stood gazing at the unfortunate as if dumb. Finally turningaway with another wild burst of grief she said:--

"And her beautiful hair all matted and her sweet face bruised andstained with mud and water. "

The dead woman was the sister of the mourner. The body was placed in acoffin a few minutes later and sent away to its narrow house. 

These incidents are but fair samples of the scenes familiar to everyturn in this stricken city. 

[Illustration: THE AWFUL RUSH OF WATERS. ]

CHAPTER III. 

The Horror Increases. 

During the night thirty-three bodies were brought to one house. As yetthe relief force is not perfectly organized and bodies are lying aroundon boards and doors. Within twenty feet of where this was written thedead body of a colored woman lies. 

Provision has been made by the Relief Committee for the sufferers tosend despatches to all parts of the country. The railroad company has atrack through to the bridge. The first train arrived about half-pastnine o'clock this morning. A man in a frail craft got caught in therapids at the railroad bridge, and it looked as if he would increase thealready terrible list of dead, but fortunately he caught on a rock, where he now is and is liable to remain all day. 

The question on every person's lips is--Will the Cambria Iron Companyrebuild? The wire mill is completely wrecked, but the walls of therolling mill are still standing. If they do not resume it is a questionwhether the town will be rebuilt. The Hungarians were beginning topillage the houses, and the arrival of police was most timely. Word hadjust been received that all the men employed by Peabody, the Pittsburghcontractor, have been saved. 

The worst part of this disaster has not been told. Indeed, the mostgraphic description that can be written will not tell half the tale. Nopen can describe nor tongue tell the vastness of this devastation. 

I walked over the greater part of the wrecked town this morning, and onecould not have pictured such a wreck, nor could one have imagined thatan entire town of this size could be so completely swept away. 

A. J. Haws, one of the prominent men of the town, was standing on thehillside this morning, taking a view of the wreck. He said:

"I never saw anything like this, nor do I believe any one else ever did. No idea can be had of the tremendous loss of property here. It amountsup into the millions. I am going to leave the place. I never will buildhere. "

I heard the superintendents and managers of the Cambria Iron Workssaying they doubted if the works will be rebuilt. This would mean thedeath blow to the place. Mr. Stackhouse, first vice-president of theiron works, is expected here to-day. Nothing can be done until a meetingof the company is held. 

Preparations for Burial. 

Adjutant General Hastings, who is in charge of the relief corps at therailroad station, has a force of carpenters at work making rough boxesin which to bury the dead. They will be buried on the hill, just abovethe town, on ground belonging to the Cambria Iron Company. The graveswill be numbered. No one will be buried that has not been identifiedwithout a careful description being taken. General Hastings drovefifty-eight miles across the country in order to get here, and as soonas he came took charge. He has the whole town organized, and inconnection with L. S. Smith has commenced the building of bridges andclearing away the wrecks to get out the dead bodies. 

[Illustration: PREPARATIONS FOR BURIAL. ]

General Hastings has a large force of men clearing private tracks of theCambria Iron Company in order that the small engines can be put to workbringing up the dead that have been dragged out of the river at pointsbelow. 

The bodies are being brought up and laid out in freight cars. Mr. Kittle, of Ebensburg, has been deputized to take charge of the valuablestaken from the bodies and keep a registry of them, and also to note anymarks of identification that may be found. A number of the bodies havebeen stripped of rings or bracelets and other valuables. 

Over six hundred corpses have now been taken out on the south side ofStony Creek, the greater portion of which have been identified. 

Send Us Coffins. 

Preparations for their burial are being carried on as rapidly aspossible, and "coffins, coffins, " is the cry. No word has been receivedanywhere of any being shipped. Even rough boxes will be gladly received. Those that are being made, and in which many of the bodies are beingburied, are of rough unplaned boards. One hundred dead bodies are laidout at the soap factory, while two hundred or more people are gatheredthere that are in great distress. Boats are wanted. People have thegreatest difficulty in getting to the town. 

Struggling for Order. 

Another account from Johnstown on the second day after the disastersays:

The situation here has not changed, and yesterday's estimates of theloss of life do not seem to be exaggerated. Six hundred bodies are nowlying in Johnstown, and a large number have already been buried. Fourimmense relief trains arrived last night, and the survivors are beingwell cared for. 

Adjutant General Hastings, assisted by Mayor Sanger, has taken commandat Johnstown and vicinity. Nothing is legal unless it bears thesignature of the former. The town itself is guarded by Company H, Sixthregiment, Lieutenant Leggett in command. New members were sworn in byhim, and they are making excellent soldiers. 

Special police are numerous, and the regulations are so strict that eventhe smoking of a cigar is prohibited. General Hastings expresses theopinion that more troops are necessary. 

Mr. Alex. Hart is in charge of the special police. He has lost his wifeand family. Notwithstanding his great misfortune he is doing the work ofa Hercules in his own way. 

Firemen and Soldiers Arriving. 

Chief Evans, of the Pittsburgh Fire Department, arrived this eveningwith engines and several hose carts, with a full complement of men. Alarge number of Pittsburgh physicians came on the same train. 

A squad of Battery B, under command of Lieutenant Brown, the forerunnersof the whole battery, arrived at the improvised telegraph office athalf-past six o'clock. Lieutenant Brown went at once to Adjutant GeneralHastings and reported for duty. 

A portion of the police force of Pittsburgh and Alleghany are on duty, and better order is maintained than prevailed yesterday. Communicationhas been restored between Cambria City and Johnstown by a foot bridge. 

The work of repairing the tracks between Sang Hollow and Johnstown isgoing on rapidly, and trains will probably be running by to-morrowmorning. Not less than fifteen thousand strangers are here. 

The unruly element has been put down and order is now perfect. TheCitizen's Committee are in charge and have matters well organized. 

A proclamation has just been issued that all men who are able to workmust report for work or leave the place. "We have too much to do tosupport idlers, " says the Citizen's Committee, "And will not abuse thegenerous help that is being sent by doing so. " From to-morrow all willbe at work. 

Money now is greatly needed to meet the heavy pay rolls that will beincurred for the next two weeks. W. C. Lewis, Chairman of the FinanceCommittee, is ready to receive the same. 

Fall of the Wall of Water. 

Mr. Crouse, proprietor of the South Fork Fishing Club Hotel, came toJohnstown this afternoon. He says:--

"When the dam of Conemaugh Lake broke the water seemed to leap, scarcelytouching the ground. It bounded down the valley, crashing and roaring, carrying everything before it. For a mile its front seemed like a solidwall twenty feet high. "

Freight Agent Dechert, when the great wall that held the body of waterbegan to crumble at the top sent a message begging the people ofJohnstown for God's sake to take to the hills. He reports no seriousaccidents at South Fork. 

Richard Davis ran to Prospect Hill when the water raised. As to Mr. Dechert's message, he says just such have been sent down at each floodsince the lake was made. The warning so often proved useless that littleattention was paid to it this time. "I cannot describe the mad rush, " hesaid. "At first it looked like dust. That must have been the spray. Icould see houses going down before it like a child's play blocks set onedge in a row. As it came nearer I could see houses totter for a moment, then rise and the next moment be crushed like egg shells against eachother. "

To Rise Phoenix-like. 

James McMillin, vice-president of the Cambria Iron Works, was met thisafternoon. In a conversation he said:

"I do not know what our loss is. I cannot even estimate, as I have notthe faintest idea what it may be. The upper mill is totallywrecked--damaged beyond all possibility of repairs. The lower mill isdamaged to such an extent that all machinery and buildings are useless. 

"The mills will be rebuilt immediately. I have sent out orders that allmen that can must report at the mill to-morrow to commence cleaning up. I do not think the building was insured against a flood. The great thingwe want is to get the mill in operation again. "

[Illustration: THE BRIDGE, WHERE A THOUSAND HOUSES, JAMBED TOGETHER, CAUGHT FIRE. ]

[Illustration: IN THE VALLEY OF DEATH. ]

[Illustration: A MOTHER AND CHILD PERISH TOGETHER. ]

[Illustration: SWEPT AWAY BY THE TORRENT. ]

[Illustration: LYNCHING AND DROWNING THIEVES. ]

[Illustration: DISTRIBUTING SUPPLIES TO THE DESTITUTE. ]

[Illustration: A CRAZED SOLDIER COMMITS SUICIDE. ]

[Illustration: MADE ORPHANS BY THE FLOOD. ]

[Illustration: A FATHER'S DESPAIR AT THE LOSS OF HIS FAMILY. ]

[Illustration: VALLEY OF THE CONEMAUGH NEAR JOHNSTOWN. ]

[Illustration: MEETING OF FRIENDS AND RELATIVES AFTER THE FLOOD. ]

[Illustration: MOTHER AND BABE CAST UP BY THE WATERS. ]

[Illustration: RELIEF FOR JOHNSTOWN-PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD STATION, PHILADELPHIA. ]

[Illustration: THE MILITIA AT REST. ]

The Gautier Wire Works was completely destroyed. The buildings will beimmediately rebuilt and put in operation as soon as possible. The lossat this point is complete. The land on which it stood is to-day asbarren and desolate as if it were in the midst of the Sahara Desert. 

The Cambria Iron Company loses its great supply stores. The damage tothe stock alone will amount to $50, 000. 

The building was valued at $150, 000, and is a total loss. The companyoffices which adjoins the store was a handsome structure. It wasprotected by the first building, but nevertheless is almost totallydestroyed. 

The Dartmouth Club, at which employees of the works boarded, was carriedaway in the flood. It contained many occupants at the time. None weresaved. 

Estimates of the losses of the Cambria Iron Company given are from$2, 000, 000 to $2, 500, 000. But little of this can be recovered. 

History of the Works. 

The Cambria Iron Works at Johnstown were built in 1853. It was thesecond largest plant of its kind in the country, and was completelyswept away. Its capacity of finished steel per annum was 180, 000 nettons of steel rails and 20, 000 net tons of steel in other shapes. Themill turned out steel rails, spike bars, angles, flats, rounds, axles, billets and wire rods. There were nine Siemens and forty-two reverbatoryheating furnaces, one seven ton and two 6, 000 pound hammers and threetrains of rolls. 

The Bessemer Steel Works made their first blow July 10, 1871, and theycontained nine gross ton converters, with an annual capacity of 200, 000net tons of ingots. In 1878 two fifteen gross tons Siemens open-hearthsteel furnaces were built, with an annual capacity of 20, 000 net tons ofingots. 

The Cambria Iron Company also owns the Gautier Steel Works at Johnstown, which were erected in 1878. 

The rolling mill produced annually 30, 000 net tons of merchant bar steelof every size and for every purpose. The wire mill had a capacity aloneof 30, 000 tons of fence wire. 

There are numerous bituminous coal mines near Johnstown, operated by theCambria Iron Company, the Euclid Coal Company and private persons. Therewere three woolen mills, employing over three hundred hands andproducing an annual product valued at $300, 000. 

Awful Work of the Flames. 

Fifty acres of town swept clean. One thousand two hundred buildingsdestroyed. Eight thousand to ten thousand lives lost. 

That is the record of the Johnstown calamity as it looked to me justbefore dark last night. Acres of the town were turned into cemeteries, and miles of the river bank were involuntary storage rooms for householdgoods. 

From the half ruined parapet at the end of the stone railroad bridge, inJohnstown proper, one sees sights so gruesome that none but thesoulless Hungarian and Italian laborers can command his emotions. 

_At my right is a fiery pit that is now believed to have been thefuneral pyre of almost a thousand persons. _

Streets Obliterated. 

The fiercest rush of the current was straight across the lower, levelpart of Johnstown, where it entirely obliterated Cinder, Washington, Market, Main and Walnut streets. These streets were from a half tothree-quarters of a mile in length, and were closely crowded along theirentire course with dwellings and other buildings, and there is now nomore trace of streets or houses than there is at low tide on the beachat Far Rockaway. 

In the once well populated boroughs of Conemaugh and Woodvale there areto-night literally but two buildings left, one the shell of the WoodvaleWoolen Mill and the other a sturdy brick dwelling. 

The buildings which were swept from twenty out of the thirty acres ofdevastated Johnstown were crowded against the lower end of the big stonebridge in a mass 200 yards wide, 500 yards broad and from 60 to 100 feetdeep. They were crushed and split out of shape and packed together likeplaying cards. 

When you realize that in nearly every one of these buildings there wereat least one human being, while in some there were as many asseventy-five, it is easy to comprehend how awful it was when this massbegan to burn fiercely last night. It was known that a large number ofpersons were imprisoned in the débris, for they could be plainly seenby those on shore, but it was not until people stopped to think and toask themselves questions, which startled them in a ghastly way, that thefact became plain that instead of a pitiful hundred or two of victims atleast a thousand were in that roaring, crackling, loathsome, blazingmass upon the surface of the water and in the huge, inaccessible archesof the big bridge. 

Charred Bodies. 

Charred bodies could be seen here and there all through the glowingembers. There was no attempt to check the fire by the authorities, norfor that matter did they try to stop the robbing of the dead, nor anyother glaring violation of law. The fire is spreading toward a largeblock of crushed buildings further up the stream. There is a broadstretch of angry water above and below, while over there, just oppositethe end of the bridge, is the ruin of the great Cambria Iron Works, which have been damaged to the extent of over $1, 000, 000. 

The Gautier Steel Works have been wiped away, and are represented by aloss of $1, 000, 000 and a big hole. 

The Holbert House, owned by Renford Brothers, has entirely disappeared. It was a five story building, was the leading hotel of Johnstown, andcontained a hundred rooms. Of the seventy-five guests who were in itwhen the flood came, only eight have been saved. Most of them werecrushed by the fall of the walls and flooring. 

Hundreds of searching parties are looking in the muddy ponds and amongthe wreckage for bodies and they are being gathered in ghastly heaps. 

In one building among the bloated victims, I saw a young andwell-dressed man and woman, still locked in each other's arms, a youngmother with her babe pressed with delirious tenacity to her breast, andon a small pillow was a tiny babe a few hours old, which the doctorssaid must have been born in the water. It is said that 720 bodies haveso far been recovered, or have been located. 

The coroner of Westmoreland county is ordering coffins by the carload. 

In the Raging Waters. 

A dispatch from Derry says: In this city the poor people in the ragingwaters cried out for aid that never came. More than one brave man riskedhis life in trying to save those in the flood. Every hour details ofsome heroic action are brought to light. In many instances the victimsdisplayed remarkable courage and gave their chances for rescue tofriends with them. Sons stood back for mothers, and were lost whiletheir parents were taken out. Many a son went down to a watery gravethat a sister or a father might be saved. Such instances of sacrifice inthe face of fearful danger are numerous. 

The Force of the Waters. 

One can estimate the force of the water when it is known that it carriedlocomotives down the mountain side and turned them upside down wherethey are now lying. Long trains of cars have been derailed and carriedgreat distances from the railroads. 

The first sight that greeted the men at nine this morning was the bodyof a beautiful woman lying crushed and mangled under the ponderouswheels of a gondola car. The clothing was torn to shreds. Dr. Berry saidthat he never saw such intense pain pictured on a face before. 

Terrible Stories. 

At this time of writing it is impossible to secure the names of any ofthe lost. Every person one meets along the road has some horrible taleof drowned and dead bodies recovered. 

One thousand people or more were buried and crushed in the great fire. The flats below Conemaugh are full of cars with many dead bodies lyingunder them. At Sang Hollow a man named Duncan sat on the roof of a houseand saw his father and mother die in the attic below him. The poorfellow was powerless to help them, and he stood there wringing his handsand tearing his hair. 

A man was seen clinging to a tree, covered with blood. He was lost withthe others. 

Long after dark the flames of fire shot high above the burning mass oftimber, lighting the vast flood of rushing waters on all sides. 

The Dead. 

Dead bodies are being picked up. The train master, E. Pitcairn, has beenworking manfully directing the rescuing of dead bodies at Nineveh. In aten acre field seventy-five bodies were taken out within a half mile ofeach other. Of this number only five were men, the rest being women andchildren. Many beautiful young girls, refined in features and handsomelydressed, were found, and women and young mothers with their hair mattedwith roots and leaves are constantly being removed. 

The wrecking crew which took out these bodies are confident that 150bodies are lying buried in the sand and under the débris on thoselow-lying bottom lands. Some of the bodies were horribly mangled, andthe features were twisted and contorted as if they had died in the mostexcrutiating agony. Others are found lying stretched out with calmfaces. 

Many a tear was dropped by the men as they worked away removing thebodies. An old lady with fine gray hair was picked up alive, althoughevery bone in her body was broken. Judging from the number of women andchildren found in the swamps of Nineveh, the female portion of thepopulation suffered the most. 

A Fatal Tree. 

Mr. O'Conner was at Sang Hollow when the flood began. He remained therethrough the afternoon and night, and he states that there was a fataltree on the island against which a number of people were dashed andinstantly killed. Their bodies were almost tied in a knot doubled overthe tree by the force of the current. Mr. O'Conner says that the firstman who came down had his brains knocked out against this obstruction. In fact, those who hit the tree met the same fate and were instantlykilled under the pile of driftwood collected there. He could give noestimate of the number lost at this point, but says that it is certainlylarge. 

Braves Death for His Family. 

One of the most thrilling incidents of the disaster was the performanceof A. J. Leonard, whose family reside in Morrellville, a short distancebelow this point. He was at work here, and hearing that his house hadbeen swept away determined at all hazards to ascertain the fate of hisfamily. The bridges having been carried away he constructed a temporaryraft, and clinging to it as close as a cat to the side of a fence, hepushed his frail craft out in the raging torrent and started on a chasewhich, to all who were watching, seemed to mean an embrace in death. 

Heedless of cries "For God's sake go back, you will be drowned, " and"Don't attempt it, " he persevered. As the raft struck the current hethrew off his coat and in his shirt sleeves braved the stream. Downplunged the boards and down went Leonard, but as it rose he was seenstill clinging. A mighty shout arose from the throats of the hundreds onthe banks, who were now deeply interested, earnestly hoping he wouldsuccessfully ford the stream. 

Down again went his bark, but nothing, it seemed, could shake Leonardoff. The craft shot up in the air apparently ten or twelve feet, andLeonard stuck to it tenaciously. Slowly but surely he worked his boatto the other side of the stream, and after what seemed an awfulsuspense he finally landed amid ringing cheers of men, women andchildren. 

The last seen of him he was making his way down a mountain road in thedirection of the spot where his house had lately stood. His familyconsisted of his wife and three children. 

An Angel in the Mud. 

The Pennsylvania Railroad Company's operators at Switch Corner, which isnear Sang Hollow, tell thrilling stories of the scenes witnessed by themon Friday afternoon and evening. Said one of them:

"In order to give you an idea of how the tidal wave rose and fell, letme say that I kept a measure and timed the rise and fall of the water, and in forty-eight minutes it fell four and a half feet. 

"I believe that when the water goes down about seventy-five children andfifty grown persons will be found among the weeds and bushes in the bendof the river just below the tower. 

"There the current was very strong, and we saw dozens of people sweptunder the trees, and I don't believe that more than one in twenty cameout on the other side. "

"They found a little girl in white just now, " said one of the otheroperators. 

"Good God!" said the chief operator, "she isn't dead, is she!"

"Yes; they found her in a clump of willow bushes, kneeling on a board, just about the way we saw her when she went down the river. " Turning tome he said:--

"That was the saddest thing we saw all day yesterday. Two men came downon a little raft, with a little girl kneeling between them, and herhands raised and praying. She came so close to us we could see her face, and that she was crying. She had on a white dress and looked like alittle angel. She went under that cursed shoot in the willow bushes atthe bend like all the rest, but we did hope she would get throughalive. "

"And so she was still kneeling, " he said to his companion, who hadbrought the unwelcome news. 

"She sat there, " was the reply, "as if she were still praying, and therewas a smile on her poor little face, though her mouth was full of mud. "

All agreed in saying that at least one hundred people were drowned belowNineveh. 

Direful Incidents. 

The situation at Johnstown grows worse as fuller particulars are beingreceived in Pittsburgh. 

This morning it was reported that three thousand people were lost in theflood. In the afternoon this number was increased to six thousand, andat this writing despatches place the number at ten thousand. 

It is the most frightful destruction of life that has ever been known inthe United States. 

Vampires at Hand. 

It is stated that already a large gang of thieves and vampires havedescended on and near the place. Their presumed purpose is to rob thedead and ransack the demolished buildings. 

The Tenth regiment of the Pennsylvania National Guard has been orderedout to protect property. 

A telegram from Bolivar says Lockport did not suffer much, but thatsixty-five families were turned out of their homes. The school at thatplace is filled with mothers, fathers, daughters and children. 

Noble Acts of Heroism. 

Edward Dick, a young railroader living in the place, saw an old manfloating down the river on a tree trunk whose agonized face andstreaming gray hair excited his compassion. He plunged into the torrent, clothes and all, and brought the old man safely ashore. Scarcely had hedone this when the upper story of a house floated by on which Mrs. Adams, of Cambria, and her two children were borne. He plunged in again, and while breaking through the tin roof of the house cut an artery inhis left wrist, but, although weakened with loss of blood, succeeded insaving both mother and children. 

George Shore, another Lockport swimmer, pulled out William Jones, ofCambria, who was almost exhausted and could not possibly have survivedanother twenty minutes in the water. 

John Decker, who has some celebrity as a local pugilist, was alsosuccessful in saving a woman and boy, but was nearly killed in a thirdattempt to reach the middle of the river by being struck by a huge log. 

The most miraculous fact about the people who reached Bolivar alive washow they passed through the falls halfway between Lockport and Bolivar. The seething waters rushed through that barrier of rock with a noisewhich drowned that of all the passing trains. Heavy trees were whirledhigh in the air out of the water, and houses which reached there wholewere dashed to splinters against the rocks. 

A Tale of Horror. 

On the floor of William Mancarro's house, groaning with pain and grief, lay Patrick Madden, a furnace man of the Cambria Iron Company. He toldof his terrible experience in a voice broken with emotion. He said:"When the Cambria Iron Company's bridge gave way I was in the house of aneighbor, Edward Garvey. We were caught through our own neglect, like agreat many others, and a few minutes before the houses were struckGarvey remarked that he was a good swimmer, and could get away no matterhow high the water rose. Ten minutes later I saw him and his son-in-lawdrowned. 

"No human being could swim in that terrible torrent of débris. After theSouth Fork reservoir broke I was flung out of the building and saw, whenI rose to the surface of the water, my wife hanging upon a piece ofscantling. She let it go and was drowned almost within reach of my armand I could not help or save her. I caught a log and floated with itfive or six miles, but it was knocked from under me when I went over thedam. I then caught a bale of hay and was taken out by Mr. Morenrow. "

A despatch from Greensburg says the day express, which left Pittsburghat eight o'clock on Friday morning was lying at Johnstown in the eveningat the time the awful rush of waters came down the mountains. We havebeen informed by one who was there that the coach next to the baggagecar was struck by the raging flood, and with its human freight cut loosefrom the rest of the train and carried down the stream. All on board, itis feared, perished. Of the passengers who were left on the track, fifteen or more who endeavored to flee to the mountains were caught, itis thought, by the flood, and likewise carried to destruction. SamuelBell, of Latrobe, was conductor on the train, and he describes the sceneas the most appalling and heartrending he ever witnessed. 

A special despatch from Latrobe says:--"The special train which left theUnion Station, Pittsburgh, at half-past one arrived at Nineveh Station, nine miles from Johnstown, last evening at five o'clock. The train wascomposed of four coaches and locomotive, and carried, at the lowestcalculation, over nine hundred persons, including the members of thepress. The passengers were packed in like sardines and many werecompelled to hang out upon the platform. A large proportion of thepassengers were curiosity seekers, while there was a large sprinkling ofsuspicious looking characters, who had every appearance of being crooksand wreckers, such as visit all like disasters for the sole purpose ofplundering and committing kindred depredations. "

When the train reached Nineveh the report spread through it that anumber of bodies had been fished out of the water and were awaitingidentification at a neighboring planing mill. I stopped off toinvestigate the rumor, while the balance of the party journeyed ontoward Sang Hollow, the nearest approach to Johnstown by rail. I visitedMumaker's planing mills and found that the report was true. 

[Illustration: TAKING DEAD BODIES FROM A ROOF. ]

All day long the rescuers had been at work, and at this writing (sixo'clock) they have taken out seventy-eight dead bodies, the majority ofwhom are women and children. The bodies are horribly mutilated andcovered with mud and blood. Fifteen of them are those of men. Theirterribly mutilated condition makes identification for the present almostimpossible. One of the bodies found was that of a woman, apparentlyabout thirty-five years of age. 

Every conveyance that could be used has been pressed into service. Latrobe is all agog with excitement over the great disaster. Almostevery train takes out a load of roughs and thugs who are bent onmischief. They resemble the mob that came to Pittsburgh during theriots. 

Measures of Relief. 

Pittsburgh is in a wild state of excitement. A large mass meeting washeld yesterday afternoon and in a short space of time $1, 000 wassubscribed for the sufferers. 

The Pennsylvania company has been running trains every hour to the sceneof the disaster or as near it as they can get. Provisions and a largevolunteer relief corps have been sent up. The physicians have had anenthusiastic meeting at which one and all freely offered their services. 

The latest project is to have the wounded and the survivors who fled tothe hillsides from the angry rush of waters brought to Pittsburgh. TheExposition Society has offered the use of its splendid new building as atemporary hospital. All the hospitals in the city have also offered tocare for the sufferers free of charge to the full limit of theircapacity. 

Word has been received at Allegheny Junction, twenty-two miles abovePittsburgh, from Leechburg that a woman and two children were seenfloating past there at five o'clock yesterday morning on top of somewreckage. They were alive, and their pitiful cries for help drew theattention of the people on the shore. Some men got a boat and endeavoredto reach the sufferers. 

As they rowed out in the stream the woman could be heard calling to themto save the children first. 

The men made a gallant effort. It was all without avail, as the strongcurrent and floating masses of débris prevented them from reaching thevictims, and the latter floated on down the stream until theirdespairing cries could no longer be heard. 

Mrs. Chambers, of Apollo, was swept away when her house was wreckedduring the night. She had gone to bed when the flood came and she hadnot time to dress. Fortunately she managed to secure a hold on somewreckage which was being carried past her. She kept her hold until hercries were heard by some men a short distance above Leechburg. They gotout a boat and succeeded in reaching her, and took her to a house nearthe bank of the river. When they got her there it was found that she wasbadly bruised and all her clothing had been torn off by the débris withwhich she had come in contact, leaving her entirely naked. She was alsorescued at Natrona. 

A Lucky Change of Residence. 

Mr. F. J. Moore, of the Western Union office in this city, is givingthanks to-day for the fortunate escape of his wife and two childrenfrom the devastated city. As if by some foreknowledge of the impendingdisaster, Mr. Moore had arranged to have his family move yesterday fromJohnstown and join him in this city. Their household goods were shippedon Thursday, and yesterday just in time to save themselves, the littleparty departed in the single train which made the trip between Johnstownand Pittsburgh. I called on Mrs. Moore at her husband's apartments, No. 4 Webster avenue, and found her completely prostrated by the news of thefinal catastrophe, coupled with the dangerous experience through whichshe and her little ones had passed. 

"Oh, it was terrible, " she said. "The reservoir had broken, and beforewe got out of the house the water filled the cellar, and on the way tothe depot it was up to the carriage bed. Our train left at a quarter totwo P. M. , and at that hour the flood had commenced to rise with terriblerapidity. Houses and sheds were carried away, and two men were drownedalmost under our very eyes. People gathered on the roofs to take refugefrom the water which poured into the lower rooms of their dwellings, andmany families took fright and became scattered beyond hope of beingreunited. Just as the train pulled out I saw a woman crying bitterly. Her house had been flooded and she had escaped, leaving her husbandbehind, and her fears for his safety made her almost crazy. Our housewas in the lower part of the town, and it makes me shudder to think whatwould have happened had we remained in it an hour longer. So far as Iknow we were the only passengers from Johnstown on the train, andtherefore I suppose we are the only persons who got away in time toescape the culminating disaster. "

Mrs. Moore's little son told me how he had seen the rats driven out oftheir holes by the flood and running along the tops of the fences. Mr. Moore endeavored to get to Johnstown yesterday, but was prevented by thesuspension of traffic and says he is very glad of it. 

What the Eye Hath Seen. 

The scenes at Heanemyer's planing mill at Nineveh, where the dead bodiesare lying, are never to be forgotten. The torn, bruised and mutilatedbodies of the victims are lying in a row on the floor of the planingmill which looks more like the field of Bull Run after that disasterousbattle than a work shop. The majority of the bodies are nude, theirclothing having been torn off. All along the river bits of clothing--atiny shoe, a baby dress, a mother's evening wrapper, a father's coat, and in fact every article of wearing apparel imaginable may be seenhanging to stumps of trees and scattered on the bank. 

One of the most pitiful sights of this terrible disaster came to mynotice this afternoon when the body of a young lady was taken out of theConemaugh river. The woman was apparently quite young, though herfeatures were terribly disfigured. Nearly all the clothing excepting theshoes was torn off the body. The corpse was that of a mother, foralthough cold in death she clasped a young male babe, apparently notmore than a year old, tightly in her arms. The little one was huddledclose up to the face of the mother, who when she realized their terriblefate had evidently raised it to her lips to imprint upon its lips thelast kiss it was to receive in this world. The sight forced many a stoutheart to shed tears. The limp bodies, with matted hair, some with holesin their heads, eyes knocked out and all bespattered with blood were aghastly spectacle. 

Story of The First Fugitives. 

The first survivors of the Johnstown wreck who arrived in the city lastnight were Joseph and Henry Lauffer and Lew Dalmeyer, three well knownPittsburghers. They endured considerable hardship and had several narrowescapes with their lives. Their story of the disaster can best be toldin their own language. Joe, the youngest of the Lauffer brothers, said:--

"My brother and I left on Thursday for Johnstown. The night we arrivedthere it rained continually, and on Friday morning it began to flood. Istarted for the Cambria store at a quarter past eight on Friday, and infifteen minutes afterward I had to get out of the store in a wagon, thewater was running so rapidly. We then arrived at the station and tookthe day express and went as far as Conemaugh, where we had to stop. Thelimited, however got through, and just as we were about to start thebridge at South Fork gave way with a terrific crash, and we had to staythere. We then went to Johnstown. This was at a quarter to ten in themorning, when the flood was just beginning. The whole city of Johnstownwas inundated and the people all moved up to the second floor. 

Mountains of Water. 

"Now this is where the trouble occurred. These poor unfortunates did notknow the reservoir would burst, and there are no skiffs in Johnstown toescape in. When the South Fork basin gave way mountains of water twentyfeet high came rushing down the Conemaugh River, carrying before themdeath and destruction. I shall never forget the harrowing scene. Justthink of it! thousands of people, men, women and children, strugglingand weeping and wailing as they were being carried suddenly away in theraging current. Houses were picked up as if they were but a feather, andtheir inmates were all carried away with them, while cries of 'God helpme!' 'Save me!' 'I am drowning!' 'My child!' and the like were heard onall sides. Those who were lucky enough to escape went to the mountains, and there they beheld the poor unfortunates being crushed among thedébris to death without any chance of being rescued. Here and there abody was seen to make a wild leap into the air and then sink to thebottom. 

"At the stone bridge of the Pennsylvania company people were dashed todeath against the piers. When the fire started there hundreds of bodieswere burned. Many lookers-on up on the mountains, especially the women, fainted. "

Mr. Lauffer's brother, Harry, then told his part of the tale, which wasnot less interesting. He said:--"We had the most narrow escapes ofanybody, and I tell you we don't want to be around when anything of thatkind occurs again. 

"The scenes at Johnstown have not in the least been exaggerated, andindeed the worst is to be heard. When we got to Conemaugh and just as wewere about to start the bridge gave way. This left the day express, theaccommodation, a special train and a freight train at the station. Abovewas the South Fork water basin, and all of the trains were well filled. We were discussing the situation when suddenly, without any warning, thewhistles of every engine began to shriek, and in the noise could beheard the warning of the first engineer, 'My God! Rush to the mountains, the reservoir has burst. ' Then, with a thundering like peal came the madrush of waters. No sooner had the cry been heard than those who couldwith a wild leap rushed from the train and up the mountains. To tellthis story takes some time, but the moments in which the horrible scenewas enacted were few. Then came the tornado of water, leaping andrushing with tremendous force. The waves had angry crests of white andtheir roar was something deafening. In one terrible swath they caughtthe four trains and lifted three of them right off the track, as if theywere only a cork. There they floated in the river. Think of it, threelarge locomotives and finely varnished Pullmans floating around, andabove all the hundreds of poor unfortunates who were unable to escapefrom the car swiftly drifting toward death. Just as we were about toleap from the car I saw a mother, with a smiling, blue eyed baby in herarms. I snatched it from her and leaped from the train just as it waslifted off of the track. The mother and child were saved, but if onemore minute had elapsed we all would have perished. "

Beyond the Power of Words. 

During all of this time the waters kept rushing down the Conemaugh andthrough the beautiful town of Johnstown, picking up everything andsparing nothing. 

The mountains by this time were black with people, and the moans andsighs from those below brought tears to the eyes of the most stonyhearted. There in that terrible rampage were brothers, sisters, wivesand husbands, and from the mountain could be seen the panic strickenmarks in the faces of those who were struggling between life and death. I really am unable to do justice to the scene, and its details arealmost beyond my power to relate. Then came the burning of the débrisnear the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge. The scene was too sickening toendure. We left the spot and journeyed across country and delivered manynotes, letters, etc. , that were intrusted to us. 

We rode thirty-one miles in a buckboard, then walked six miles, reachedBlairsville and journeyed again on foot to what is called the "Bow, " andfrom thence we arrived home. On our way we met Mr. F. Thompson, afriend of ours, who resides in Nineveh, and he stated that rescuingparties were busy all day at Annom. One hundred and seventy-five bodieswere recovered at that place. An old couple about sixty years of agewere rescued from a tree, on which they came floating down the stream. They were clasped in each other's arms. 

President Harrison's private secretary, Elijah Halford, and wife, wereon the train which was swept away, but escaped and were in the mountainswhen I left. 

Among the lost are Colonel John P. Linton and his wife and children. Colonel Linton was prominent in the Grand Army of the Republic and inthe Knights of Pythias and other orders. He was formerly Auditor Generalof Pennsylvania. 

[Illustration: NINEVEH STATION, WHERE TWO HUNDRED BODIES WERE FOUND. ]

CHAPTER IV. 

Multiplication of Terrors. 

The handsome brick High School Building is damaged to such an extentthat it will have to be rebuilt. The water attained the height of thewindow sills of the second floor. Its upper stories formed a refuge formany persons. All Saturday afternoon two little girls could be seen atthe windows frantically calling for aid. They had spent all night andthe day in the building, cut off from all aid. Without food and drinkingwater their condition was lamentable. Late in the evening the childrenwere removed to higher ground and properly cared for. 

A number of persons had been taken from this building earlier in theday, but in the excitement the children were forgotten. Their namescould not be obtained. 

Death in Many Forms. 

Morrell Institute, a beautiful building and the old homestead of theMorrell family, is totally ruined. The water has weakened the walls andfoundations to such an extent that there is danger of its collapsing. Many families took refuge in this building and were saved. Now that thewaters have receded there is danger from falling walls. All day long thecrashing of walls could be heard across the river. Before daybreak thismorning the sounds could not but make one shudder at the very thoughtof the horrible deaths that awaited many who had escaped the devastatingflood. 

Library Hall was another of the fine buildings of the many in the citythat is destroyed. Of the Episcopal church not a vestige remains. Whereit once stood, there is now a placid lake. The parsonage is swept away, and the rector of the church, Rev. Mr. Diller, was drowned. 

Buried Under Falling Buildings. 

The church was one of the first buildings to fall. It carried with itseveral of the surrounding houses. Many of them were occupied. Thevictims were swept into the comparatively still waters at the bridge, and there met death either by fire or water. 

James M. Walters, an attorney, spent the night in Alma Hall and relatesa thrilling story. One of the most curious occurrences of the wholedisaster was how Mr. Walters got to the hall. He has his office on thesecond floor. His home is at No. 135 Walnut street. He says he was inthe house with his family when the waters struck it. All was carriedaway. Mr. Walters' family drifted on a roof in another direction. Hepassed down several streets and alleys until he came to the hall. Hisdwelling struck that edifice and he was thrown into his own office. 

Long, Dark Night of Terror. 

About two hundred persons had taken refuge in the hall, and were on thesecond, third and fourth stories. The men held a meeting and drew upsome rules, which all were bound to respect. Mr. Walters was chosenpresident. Rev. Mr. Beale was put in charge of the first floor, A. M. Hart of the second floor, Doctor Matthews of the fourth floor. No lightswere allowed, and the whole night was spent in darkness. The sick werecared for. The weaker women and children had the best accommodationsthat could be had, while the others had to wait. The scenes were mostagonizing. Heartrending shrieks, sobs and moans pierced the gloomydarkness. The crying of children mingled with the suppressed sobs of thewomen. Under the guardianship of the men all took more hope. No oneslept during all the long dark night. Many knelt for hours in prayer, their supplications mingling with the roar of the waters and the shrieksof the dying in the surrounding houses. In all this misery two womengave premature birth to children. 

Here is a Hero. 

Dr. Matthews is a hero. Several of his ribs were crushed by a fallingtimber and his pains were most severe, yet through all he attended thesick. When two women in a house across the street shouted for help hewith two other brave young men climbed across the drift and ministeredto their wants. No one died during the night, but women and childrensurrendered their lives on the succeeding day as a result of terror andfatigue. Miss Rose Young, one of the young ladies in the hall, wasfrightfully cut and bruised. Mrs. Young had a leg broken. All of Mr. Walters' family were saved. 

While the loss of property about Brookville, the lumber centre ofPennsylvania, by the great flood has been enormous, variously estimatedat from $250, 000 to $500, 000, not a single life has been lost. At leastthere have been none reported so far, and I have travelled over the linefrom Red Bank, on the Valley road, to Dubois, on the low grade division. Every creek is swollen to many times its natural size. A great deal ofthe low-lying farm lands and roads in places have water enough over themto float an ordinary steamboat. 

Leaving Pittsburgh Saturday morning on the valley road, we ran pastmillions and millions of feet of lumber. From the city to the junctionopposite Freeport the river was almost choked with débris of broken andshattered houses. In places the river was fairly black with floatingmasses of lath, shingles, roofs, floors and other lumber that hadformerly been houses. The sight was appalling and spoke louder than anypen can describe. 

At Red Bank the river was filled with a different kind of lumber, including huge saw logs ready for cutting. From the estimates of an oldlumber man who was on the train I was told that between the stationsnamed we passed at least ten million feet of lumber, which means a lossof fully $100, 000 to the owners. A big portion of this came out of theClarion river, the estimated money loss from that section alone beinganywhere from $500, 000 to $750, 000. 

All along the Allegheny river were gathered people trying to catch thelogs, risking their lives, for the logs swept down the river in acurrent that was running fully ten miles an hour. The work was veryhazardous. The catchers are allowed by law six and a quarter cents foreach log captured, and the river was almost lined with people trying tosave the property. 

At Red Bank, which we left at noon, there were at least six feet ofwater expected from Oil City, and with it, according to the reports fromup the river, was an immense amount of lumber. Leaving the valley roadat Red Bank we went up the low grade division to Bryant, where immensesawmills, the largest in the vicinity are located. The current wasrushing along at a rate anywhere from twelve to fifteen miles an hour, tossing the huge logs around like so many toothpicks and carryingeverything before them. So great was the current and mass of logs thatthe big iron bridge at Reynoldsville, sixteen miles above Brookville, was swept away, as were two wagon bridges and several small footbridges. 

Hundreds Homeless and Suffering. 

Many houses here and there along Red Bank Creek were turned upside down, some of them floating clear away, while the more secure ones wereflooded with water clear into the second floors. Many of the smallercottages and shanties were covered, leaving only the peaks of the roofssticking out to show the spots that families had but a few hours beforecalled home. All along the railroad track was piled the few householdeffects, furniture, bedding, tables and clothes which the poor ownershad saved before they were forced out on the high ground. These samepeople had gone to bed last evening thinking themselves safe from thehigh water, only to be wakened about midnight by the noise of therushing floods and the huge saw logs bumping against their homes. Thevery narrow escapes that some of them made while getting their familiesinto places of safety would fill many pages of this book. 

Floating to Safety on Saw Logs. 

One man had to mount the different members of his family on logs. Themother and children alike sat astride of them, and then, with the fatheron the other end, were poled across to the high ground. 

Another man, whose house was in a worse place, swam ashore and, throwinga rope back to the mother, who was surrounded on the porch of the houseby the children, yelled for her to tie one end to the little ones so hecould pull them over the fast running water. This operation wascontinued until the entire family was rescued. 

Willing workers from the neighborhood were not long in getting hugebonfires started, and with the aid of these and dry clothing brought inhaste by people whose homes stood on higher ground the family were soonwarmed. 

The same willing hands hastily constructed sheds, and with immensebonfires the people were kept warm till daylight. Others, morefortunate, were able to save enough from their houses to makethemselves comfortable for a short season of camping. One poor family Inoticed had saved enough carpet to make a tent out of, and under thistemporary shelter the mother was doing her best to prepare a meal andattend to her other household duties. 

Sheltered by Friendly Neighbors. 

In Brookville a great many houses were submerged, but no lives werelost. While the people were driven from their homes, they were morefortunate than the people of Bryants, because they could at once findshelter under the roofs of the neighbors' houses. 

All of the saw mills, the chief industry of the town, were closed down. Some because the water was over the first floor, and others becausetheir entire working force were on the creek trying to constructtemporary booms, by which they expected to save at least a portion ofthe property from being swept away. One man rigged a boom with the aidof a cable 1, 600 feet long and thick enough to hold the heavieststeamer. About fifty logs were chained together for further protection. This arrangement for a time checked the mass of logs, but just wheneverybody was thinking it would stop the output a small dam gave way, bringing down with it another half million feet of lumber. When thisstruck the temporary boom it parted, as if the huge cable was a piece ofthread, and the logs shot past. 

Just at Bryants, however, a gorge formed shortly after two o'clockFriday afternoon, and within a remarkably short time there was a pile oflogs wedged in that stretched back fully a quarter of a mile and thetop of which was more than ten feet high. This of course changed thecourse of the stream a little, but the natural gorge had saved enoughlogs to amount to more than $100, 000 in money. 

The following comments by one of our journals sum up the situation afterreceiving the dreadful news of the three preceding days:

The Great Calamity. 

The appalling catastrophy which has spread such awful havoc through theteeming valley of the Conemaugh almost surpasses belief and fairlystaggers imagination. Without yet measuring its dire extent, enough isknown to rank it as the greatest calamity of the natural elements whichthis country has ever witnessed. Nothing in our history short of thedeadly blight of battle has approached this frightful cataclysm, and nobattle, though destroying more life, has ever left such a ghastly trailof horror and devastation. It seems more like one of those terribleconvulsions of nature from which we have hitherto been happily spared, but which at rare intervals have swallowed up whole communities inremote South American or oriental lands. 

Ingenious and masterful as the human intellect is in guiding andcontrolling the ordinary forces of nature, how impotent andinsignificant it appears in the presence of such a transcendentdisaster! It is well nigh inconceivable that a great section throbbingwith populous towns, and resonant with the hum of industry, should bewiped out in the twinkling of an eye by a mighty, raging torrent, moreconsuming than fire and more violent than the earthquake. The suddennessof the blow and the impossibility of communicating with the scene add tothe terror of the event. The sickening spectacle of ruin and death whichwill be revealed when the veil of darkness is lifted is left toconjecture. The imagination can scarcely picture the dread realities, and it would be difficult to overdraw the awful features of a calamitywhich has every element of horror. 

The River and Lake. 

Nature is so framed at the fated point for such a disaster that man wascalled upon for unceasing vigilance. The Conemaugh makes its channelthrough a narrow valley between high ranges. Numerous streams drain thesurrounding mountains into its current. Along its course swarm frequenthamlets busy with the wealth dug from the seams of the earth. The chiefof these towns, the seat of an immense industry, lies in a little basinwhere the gap broadens to take in a converging stream and thenimmediately narrows again, no outlet save the constricted waterway. Highabove stands a great lake which is held in check only by an artificialbarrier, and which, if once unchained, must pour its resistless torrentthrough this narrow gorge like a besom of destruction overwhelmingeverything before it. There were all the elements of an unparalleleddisaster. Years of immunity had given a feeling of security for all timewithout some extraordinary and unexpected occasion. But the occasionappeared when in unforseen force the rains descended and the floodscame, and to-day desolation reigns. 

A Direful Calamity. 

It is impossible yet to measure the extent of the calamity. But thedestruction of life and property must be something that it is appallingto think of, and the sorrow and suffering to follow are incalculable. Asolemn obligation devolves upon the people of the whole country. We cannot remedy the past but we can alleviate the present and the future. Thousands of families are homeless and destitute; thousands are withoutmeans of support; perchance, thousands are bereft of the strong armsupon which they have relied. There is an instant, earnest demand forhelp. Let there be immediate, energetic, generous action. Let us do ourpart to relieve the anguish and mitigate the suffering of a communityupon whom has fallen the most terrible visitation in all our history. 

An Historic Catastrophe. 

When an American Charles Reade wishes in the future to weave into thewoof of his novel the account of some great public calamity he willportray the misfortune which overwhelmed the towns and villages lying inthe valley of the Conemaugh River. The bursting of a reservoir, and theensuing scenes of death and destruction, which are so vividly describedin "Put Yourself in His Place, " were not the creatures of Mr. Reade'simagination, but actual occurrences. The novelist obtained facts andincidents for one of the most striking chapters in all of his worksfrom the events which followed the breaking of the Dale Dyke embankmentat Sheffield, England, in March, 1864, when 238 lives were lost andproperty valued at millions was destroyed. 

It will need even more vivid and vigorous descriptive powers than Mr. Reade possessed to adequately delineate the scene of destruction anddeath now presented in Johnstown and the adjacent villages. TheSheffield calamity, disastrous as it proved to be, was a small affairwhen compared with this latest reservoir accident. The Mill Riverreservoir disaster of May, 1874, with its 200 lives lost and $1, 500, 000of property destroyed, almost sinks into insignificance beside it. Theonly recorded calamity of the kind which anywhere approaches it occurredin Estrecho de Rientes, in Spain, in April, 1802, when a dam burst anddrowned 600 persons and swept $7, 000, 000 worth of property away. Butabove all these calamities in sad pre-eminence will stand the Conemaughdisaster. 

But dark as the picture is, it will doubtless be relieved by many actsof heroism. The world will wait to learn if there was not present atConemaugh some Myron Day, whose ride on his bareback steed before theadvancing wall of water that burst from Mill River Dam in 1874, shoutingto the unsuspecting people as he rode: "The reservoir is breaking! Theflood is coming! Fly! Fly for your lives, " was the one mitigatingcircumstance in that scene of woe and destruction. When the full storyof the Conemaugh calamity is told it will, doubtless, be found thatthere were many deeds of heroism performed, many noble sacrifices madeand many an act as brave as any performed on the field of battle. Already we are told of husbands and mothers who preferred to share awatery grave with their wives and children sooner than accept safetyalone. 

Such a calamity, while it makes the heart sick with its story of deathand suffering, always serves to bring out the better and higherqualities in men and women, and to illustrate how closely all mankindare bound together by ties of sympathy and compassion. This fact will bemade evident now by the open-handed liberality which will quickly flowin to relieve the suffering, and, as far as possible, to repair the losscaused by this historic calamity. 

CHAPTER V. 

The Awful Work of Death. 

The record of June 3rd continues as follows: The horror of the situationdoes not lessen. The latest estimate of the number of dead is anofficial one by Adjutant General Hastings, and it places the numberbetween 12, 000 and 15, 000. 

The uncovering of hundreds of bodies by the recession of the waters hasalready filled the air with pestilential odors. The worst is feared forthe surviving population, who must breathe this poisoned atmosphere. Sharp measures prompted by sheer necessity have resulted in an almostcomplete subsidence of cowardly efforts to profit by the results of thedisaster. Thieves have slunk into places of darkness and are no longerto be seen at their unholy work. 

All thoughts are now fixed upon the hideous revelation that awaits thelight of day, when the waters shall have entirely quitted the ruins thatnow lie beneath them, and shall have exposed the thousands uponthousands of corpses that are massed there. 

A sad and gloomy sky, almost as sad and gloomy as the human faces underit, shrouded Johnstown to-day. Rain fell all day and added to themiseries of the wretched people. The great plain where the best part ofJohnstown used to stand was half covered with water. The few sidewalksin the part that escaped the flood were inches thick with black, stickymud, through which tramped a steady procession of poor women who areleft utterly destitute. The tents where the people are housed who cannotfind other shelter were cold and cheerless. 

A Great Tomb. 

The town seemed like a great tomb. The people of Johnstown have suppedso full of horrors that they go about in a sort of a daze and only halfconscious of their griefs. Every hour, as one goes through the streets, he hears neighbors greeting each other and then inquiring without showof feeling how many each had lost in his family. To-day I heard a grayhaired man hail another across the street with this question. 

"I lost five; all are gone but Mary and I, " was the reply. 

"I am worse off than that, " said the first old gentleman. "I have onlymy grandson left. Seven of us gone. "

And so they passed on without apparent excitement. They and everyoneelse had heard so much of these melancholy conversations that somehowthe calamity had lost its significance to them. They treat it exactly asif the dead persons had gone away and were coming back in a week. 

The Ghastly Search. 

The melancholy task of searching the ruins for more bodies went onto-day in the soaking rain. There were little crowds of morbid curiosityhunters around each knot of workingmen, but they were not residents ofJohnstown. All their curiosity in that direction was satiated long ago. Even those who come in from neighboring towns with the idea of a day'sstrange and ghastly experiences did not care to be near after they hadseen one body exhumed. There were hundreds and thousands of thesevisitors from the country to-day. The effect of the dreadful things theysaw and heard was to drive most of them to drink. By noon the streetswere beginning to be full of boisterous and noisy countrymen, who weretrying to counteract the strain on their nerves with unnaturalexcitement. Then the chief of police, foreseeing the unseemly sightsthat were likely to disgrace the streets, drove out and kept out all thevisitors who had not some good reason for their presence. After that andfar into the evening all the country roads were filled with drunkenstragglers, who were trying to forget what they had seen. 

One thing that makes the work of searching for the bodies very slow isthe strange way that great masses of objects were rolled into intricatemasses of rubbish. 

Horrible Masses. 

As the flood came down the valley of the South Fork it obliterated thesuburb of Woodvale, where not a house was left, nor a trace of one. Thematerial they had contained rolled on down the valley, over and over, grinding it up to pulp and finally leaving it against an unusually firmfoundation or in the bed of an eddy. The masses contain human bodies, but it is slow work to pick them to pieces. In the side of one of themI saw the remnants of a carriage, the body of a harnessed horse, a babycradle and a doll, a tress of woman's hair, a rocking horse, and a pieceof beefsteak still hanging on a hook. 

[Illustration: THE REMAINS OF CAMBRIA CITY. ]

The city is now very much better patrolled than it has been at any timesince the flood occurred. Many members of the police force of Pittsburghcame in and offered their services. One of them showed his spiritduring the first hour by striking a man, whom he saw opening a trunkamong the rubbish, a tremendous blow over the head which knocked himsenseless. Several big trunks and safes lie in full sight on thedesolate plain in the lower part of the town, but no one dared to touchthem after that. 

The German Catholic Church at Cambria City, a short distance west ofJohnstown, is almost a complete wreck. Rather a singular coincidence inconnection with the destruction of the above is that the ImmaculateConception, that stood in the northwest corner of the lecture rooms, stands just as it was when last seen. The figure, which is wax, was noteven scratched, and the clothes, which are made of white silk and deepduchess lace, were spotless. This seems strange, when the raging waterdestroyed everything else in the building. Hundreds of persons visitedthe place during the day. 

Ten Bodies an Hour. 

Bodies are now being brought in at lower Cambria at the rate of ten perhour. 

A man named Dougherty tells a thrilling story of a ride down the riveron a log. When the waters struck the roof of the house on which he hadtaken shelter he jumped astride a telegraph pole, riding a distance ofsome twenty-three miles, from Johnstown to Bolivar, before he wasrescued. 

Many inquiries have been made as to why the militia did not respond whenordered out by Adjutant General Hastings. "In the first place it isbeyond the General's authority to order troops to a scene of this kindunless the Governor first issues a proclamation, then it becomes hisduty to issue orders. " The General said he was notified that thePittsburgh troops, consisting of the Fourteenth and Eighteenthregiments, had tendered their services, and no doubt would have been ofgreat service. The General consulted with the Chief Burgess of Johnstownand Sheriff of Cambria county in regard to calling the troops to thescene, but both officials strenuously objected, as they claimed thepeople would object to anything of this kind. As a proof of this not abreach of peace was committed last night in Johnstown and vicinity. 

It has not been generally believed that the district in the neighborhoodof Kernville would be so extremely prolific of corpses as it has provento be. I visited that part of the town where both the river and StonyCreek have done their worst. I found that within the past twenty-fourhours almost one thousand bodies had been recovered or were in sight. The place is one great repository of the dead. 

The Total May Never be Known. 

The developments of every hour make it more and more apparent that theexact number of lives lost in the Johnstown horror will never be known. All estimates made to this time are conservative, and when all is knownwill doubtless be found to have been too small. Over one thousand bodieshave been found since sunrise to-day, and the most skeptical concedethat the remains of thousands more rest beneath the débris above theJohnstown bridge. The population of Johnstown, the surrounding towns andthe portion of the valley affected by the flood is, or was, from 50, 000to 55, 000. Numerous leading citizens of Johnstown, who survived theflood, have been interviewed, and the concensus of opinion was thatfully thirty per cent of the residents of Johnstown and Cambria had beenvictims of the continued disasters of fire and water. If this be true, the total loss of life in the entire valley cannot be less than seven oreight thousand and possibly much greater. Of the thousands who weredevoured by the flames and whose ashes rest beneath the smoking débrisabove Johnstown bridge, no definite information can ever be obtained. 

Hundreds Carried Miles Away. 

As little will be learned of hundreds that sank beneath the current andwere borne swiftly down the Conemaugh only to be deposited hundreds ofmiles below on the banks and in the driftwood of the raging Ohio. Probably one-third of the dead will never be recovered, and it will takea list of the missing weeks hence to enable even a close estimate to bemade of the number of lives that were lost. That this estimate can neverbe accurate will be understood when it is remembered that in manyinstances whole families and their relatives were swept away, and founda common grave beneath the wild waste of waters. The total destructionof the city leaves no data to even demonstrate that the names of theseunfortunates ever found place on the pages of eternity's history. 

"All indications point to the fact that the death list will reach overfive thousand names, and in my opinion the missing will reach eightthousand in number, " declared General D. H. Hastings to-night. 

At present there are said to have been twenty-two hundred bodiesrecovered. The great difficulties experienced in getting a correct listis the great number of morgues. There is no central bureau ofinformation, and to communicate with the different dead houses is thework of hours. The journey from the Pennsylvania Railroad morgue to theone in the Fourth ward school house in Johnstown occupies at least onehour. This renders it impossible to reach all of them in one day, particularly as some of the morgues are situated at points inaccessiblefrom Johnstown. At six o'clock in the evening the 630th body had beenrecovered at the Cambria depository for corpses. 

None Left to Care for the Dead. 

Kernville is in a deplorable condition. The living are unable to takecare of the dead. The majority of the inhabitants of the town weredrowned. A lean-to of boards has been erected on the only streetremaining in the town. This is the headquarters for the committee thatcontrols the dead. As quickly as the dead are brought to this point theyare placed in boxes and then taken to the cemetery and buried. 

A supply store has opened in the town. A milkman who was overchargingfor milk narrowly escaped lynching. The infuriated men appropriated allhis milk and distributed it among the poor and then drove him out ofthe town. The body of the Hungarian who was lynched in an orchard wasremoved by his friends during the night. 

There is but one street left in the town. About one hundred andfifty-five houses are standing where once there stood a thousand. Noneof the large buildings in what was once a thriving little borough haveescaped. One thousand people is a low estimate of the number of liveslost from this town, but few of the bodies have been recovered. It isdirectly above the ruins and the bodies have floated down into them, where they burned. A walk through the town revealed a desolate sight. Only about twenty-five able-bodied men have survived and are able torender any assistance. Men and women can be seen with black eyes, bruised faces and cut heads. 

Useless Calls for Help. 

The appearance of some of the ladies is heartrending. They were injuredin the flood, and since that have not slept. Their faces have turned asickly yellow and dark rings surround the eyes. Many have succumbed tonervous prostration. For two days but little assistance could berendered them. The wounded remained uncared for in some of the housescut off by the water, and died from their injuries alone. Some werealive on Sunday, and their shouts could be heard by the people on theshore. 

A man is now in a temporary jail in what is left of the town. He wascaught stealing a gold watch. A shot was fired at him but he was notwounded. The only thing that saved him from lynching was the smallnessof the crowd. His sentence will be the heaviest that can be given him. 

Services in the chapel from which the bodies were buried consistedmerely of a prayer by one of the survivors. No minister was present. Each coffin had a descriptive card on it, and on the graves a similarcard was placed, so that bodies can be removed later by friends. 

There are about thirty Catholic priests and nuns here. The sisters aredevoting themselves to the cure of the sick and injured in thehospitals, while the priests are doing anything and everything andmaking themselves generally useful. Bishop Phelan, who reached here onSunday evening, returned to Pittsburgh on the three o'clock trainyesterday afternoon. He has organized the Catholic forces in thisneighborhood, and all are devoting themselves to hard work assiduously. 

Mr. Derlin, who heeded the warning as to the danger of the dam, hadhurried his wife and two children to the hills, but returned himself tosave some things from his house. While in the building the flood struckit and swept it away, jamming it among a lot of other houses and hurlingthem all around with a regular churning motion. Mr. Derlin was in a fix, but went to his top story, clambered to the roof and escaped from thereto solid structures and then to the ground. His property was entirelyruined, but he thinks himself fortunate in saving his family. 

Where Woodvale once stood there is now a sea of mud, broken but rarelyby a pile of wreckage. I waded through mud and water up the valleyto-day over the site of the former village. As has been often stated, nothing is standing but the old woollen mills. The place is swept bareof all other buildings but the ruins of the Gautier wire mill. Theboilers of this great works were carried one hundred yards from theirfoundations. Pieces of engines, rolls and other machinery were swept faraway from where they once stood. The wreck of a hose carriage issticking up out of the mud. It belonged to the crack company ofJohnstown. The engine house is swept away and the cellar is filled withmud, so that the site is obliterated. 

A German watchman was on guard at the mill when the waters came. He ranfor the hillside and succeeded in escaping. He tells a graphic story ofthe appearance of the water as it swept down the valley. He declaresthat the first wave was as high as the third story of a house. 

The place is deserted. No effort is being made to clean off the streets. The mire has formed the grave for many a poor victim. Arms and legs areprotruding from the mud and it makes the most sickening of pictures. 

General Hastings' Report. 

In answer to questions from Governor Beaver, Adjutant-General Hastingshas telegraphed the following:

"Good order prevailed throughout the city and vicinity last night. Police arrangements are excellent. Not one arrest made. No need ofsending troops. The Mayor of Johnstown and the Sheriff of Cambriacounty, with whom I am in constant communication, request that no troopsbe sent. I concur in their judgment. There is a great outside clamor fortroops. Do not send tents. Have nine hundred here, which are sufficient. I advise you to make a call on the general public for money and otherassistance. 

"About two thousand bodies have been rescued and the work of embalmingand burying the dead is going on with regularity. There is plenty ofmedical assistance. We have a bountiful supply of food and clothingto-day, and the fullest telegraphic facilities are afforded and allinquiries are promptly answered. 

"Have you any instructions or inquiries? The most conservative estimateshere place the number of lives lost at fully 5, 000. The prevailingimpression is that the loss will reach from 8, 000 to 10, 000. There aremany widows and orphans and a great many wounded--impossible to give anestimate. Property destroyed will reach $25, 000, 000. The popularestimate will reach $40, 000, 000 to $50, 000, 000. 

"I will issue a proclamation to-night to the people of the country andto all who sympathize with suffering to give aid to our deeply afflictedpeople. Tell them to be of good cheer, that the sympathies of all ourpeople, irrespective of section, are with them, and wherever the news oftheir calamity has been carried responses of sympathy and aid are comingin. A single subscription from England just received is for $1, 000. "

Grand View Cemetery has three hundred buried in it. All met death in theflood. They have thirty-five men digging graves. Seven hundred deadbodies in the hospital on Bedford street, Conneaut. One hundred deadbodies in the school-house hospital, Adam street, Conneaut. Threehundred bodies found to-day in the sand banks along Stony Creek, vicinity of the Baltimore and Ohio; 182 bodies at Nineveh. 

[Illustration: ON A MISSION OF MERCY. ]

CHAPTER VI. 

Shadows of Despair. 

Another graphic account of the fearful calamity is furnished by aneye-witness: The dark disaster of the day with its attendant terrorsthrilled the world and drew two continents closer together in the bondsof sympathy that bind humanity to man. The midnight terrors of Ashtabulaand Chatsworth evoked tears of pity from every fireside in Christendom, but the true story of Johnstown, when all is known, will stand solitaryand alone as the acme of man's affliction by the potent forces to whichhumanity is ever subject. 

The menacing clouds still hover darkly over the valley of death, and themuttering thunder that ever and anon reverberates faintly in thedistance seems the sardonic chuckle of the demon of destruction as hepursues his way to other lands and other homes. 

The Waters Receding. 

But the modern deluge has done its worst for Johnstown. The waters arerapidly subsiding, but the angry torrents still eddy around Ararat, andthe winged messenger of peace has not yet appeared to tell the pathetictale of those who escaped the devastation. 

It is not a hackneyed utterance to say that no pen can adequately depictthe horrors of this twin disaster--holocaust and deluge. The deepemotions that well from the heart of every spectator find most eloquentexpression in silence--the silence that bespeaks recognition of man'ssubserviency to the elements and impotence to avert catastrophe. Theinsignificance of human life is only fully realized by those who witnesssuch scenes as Johnstown, Chatsworth and Ashtabula, and to those whosememory retains the picture of horror the dread experience cannot fail tobe a fitting lesson. 

A Dreary Morning. 

This morning opened dark and dreary. Great drops of rain felloccasionally and another storm seems imminent. Every one feels thankfulthough that the weather still remains cold, and that the gradualputrefaction of the hundreds of bodies that still line the streams andlie hidden under the miles of driftwood and débris is not undulyhastened. 

The peculiar stench of decaying human flesh is plainly perceptible tothe senses as one ascends the bank of Stony Creek for a half mile alongthe smouldering ruins of the wreck, and the most skeptical now conceivethe worst and realize that hundreds--aye, perhaps thousands--of bodieslie charred and blackened beneath this great funeral pyre. Searcherswander wearily over this smoking mass, and as occasionally a suddenshout comes over the waters, the patient watchers on the hill realizethat another ghastly discovery has been added to that long list ofrevelations that chill every heart and draw tears to the eyes ofpessimists. 

From the banks many charred remains of victims of flames and flood areplainly visible to the naked eye, as the retreating waters reluctantlygive up their dead. Beneath almost every log or blackened beam aglistening skull or the blanched remnants of ribs or limbs mark all thatremains of life's hopes and dreams. 

Since ten o'clock last night the fire engines have been busy. Water hasbeen constantly playing on the burning ruins. At times the fire seemsalmost extinguished, but fitful flames suddenly break out afresh in somenew quarter, and again the water and flames wage fierce combat. 

The Count is Still Lacking. 

As yet there is no telling how many lives have been lost. AdjutantGeneral Hastings, who has charge of everything, stated this morning thathe supposed there were at least two thousand people under the burningdébris, but the only way to find out how many lives were lost was totake a census of the people now living and subtract that from the censusbefore the flood. Said he, "In my opinion there are any way from twelvethousand to fifteen thousand lost. "

Up to this morning people living here who lost whole families or partsof families hardly seemed to realize what a dreadful calamity hadbefallen them. To-day, however, they are beginning to understand thesituation. Agony is stamped on the faces of every one, and it is truly acity of mourning. 

The point of observation is on the hillside, midway between the woolenmills of Woodvale and Johnstown proper, which I reached to-day after ajourney through the portions of the city from which the waters, recedingfast, are revealing scenes of unparalleled horror. From the point on thehillside referred to an excellent view of the site of the town can beobtained. Here it can be seen that from the line of the PennsylvaniaRailroad, which winds along the base of Prospect Hill, to a point atwhich St. John's Catholic Church formerly stood, and from the stonebridge to Conemaugh, on the Conemaugh River, but twelve houses by actualcount remain, and they are in such a condition as to be practicallyuseless. To any one familiar with the geography of the iron city ofCambria county this will convey a vivid idea of a swarth averagingone-half mile in width and three miles in length. In all the length andbreadth of the most peaceful and costly portion of Johnstown not ashingle remains except those adhering to the buildings mentioned. 

Houses Upside Down. 

But do not think for an instant that this comprehends in full theawfulness of the scene. What has just been mentioned is a large waste ofterritory swept as clean as if by a gigantic broom. In the otherdirection some few of the houses still remain, but they are upside down, piled on top of each other, and in many ways so torn asunder that not asingle one of them is available for any purpose whatever. It is in thisdistrict that the loss of life has been heartrending. Bodies are beingdug up in every direction. 

On the main street, from which the waters have receded sufficiently torender access and work possible, bodies are being exhumed. They are asthick as potatoes in a field. Those in charge seem to have the utmostdifficulty in securing the removal of bodies after they have been found. 

The bodies are lying among the mass of wrecked buildings as thick asflies. The fire in the drift above the bridge is under control and isbeing rapidly smothered by the Pittsburgh firemen in charge of the work. About seven o'clock this morning a crowd of Battery B boys discovered afamily of five people in the smoking and burned ruins above the bridge. They took out father, mother and three children, all terribly burned andmutilated. The little girl had an arm torn off. 

Finding the Dead. 

The work of rescuing the bodies from the mud and débris has only fairlybegun, and yet each move in that direction reveals more fully thehorrible extent of the calamity. It is estimated that already 1, 800corpses have been found in all parts of the valley and given some littleattention. Many of them were so mangled as to be beyond identification. 

A regularly organized force of men has been at work most of the day uponthe mass of débris about the stone bridge. Early in the forenoon tenbodies were found close together. There was nothing to identify them, asthey were burnt almost to a crisp. Several of them must have belonged toone household, as they were taken from under the blackened timbers of asingle roof. 

[Illustration: THE VILLAGE OF JOHNSTOWN BEFORE THE FLOOD. ]

Soon after a man, woman and child were taken from the ruins. The childwas clasped in the arms of the woman, and the trio were evidentlyhusband, wife and child. 

It is a most distressing sight to see the relatives of people supposedto be lost standing around and watching every body as it is pulled out, and acting more like maniacs than sensible people. 

As the work progressed the number of the ghastly finds increased. Thevarious parties of workmen turned out from ten to fifteen bodies andfragments of bodies an hour all day long. 

Many of the corpses found had valuables still clasped in their hands. One woman taken from the mill this morning had several diamond rings andearrings, a roll of government bonds and some money clasped in herhands. She was a widow, and was very wealthy. Her body has been embalmedand is at the house of relatives. 

Suicide Brought Relief. 

From under the large brick school-house 124 bodies were taken last nightand to-day, and in every corner and place the bodies are being found andburied as fast as possible. The necessity for speedy burial is becomingmanifest, and the stench is sickening. A number of bodies have beenfound with a bullet hole in them, showing conclusively that in theirmaddening fright suicide was resorted to by many. 

Work was commenced during the day on the south side of the town. It issupposed that five hundred or six hundred bodies will be found in thatlocality. 

About twelve o'clock ten bodies were taken out of the wreck near theCambria Library. On account of the bruised and mangled condition, somehaving faces crushed in, it was impossible to identify them. It issupposed they were guests at the Hurlbert House, which is completelydemolished. 

Eight bodies were recovered near the Methodist Church at eleven o'clock. It is said that fully one hundred and fifty bodies were found lastevening in a sort of pocket below the Pennsylvania Railroad signal towerat Sang Hollow, where it was expected there would be a big find. 

Kernville One Vast Morgue. 

Over one thousand bodies have been taken from the river, dragged fromthe sluggish pools of mud or dug out of the sand about Kernville duringthe day. Three hundred of them were spread out upon the dry sand alongthe river's bank at one time this afternoon. The sight is one thatcannot be described, and is one of the most distressing ever witnessed. A crowd of at least five hundred were gathered around, endeavoring tofind the bodies of some friends or relatives. There were no coffinsthere at the time and the bodies had to be laid on the ground. However, five hundred coffins are on the way here, and the undertakers have sentfor five hundred additional ones. Kernville from now on will be theplace where most of the bodies will be found. The water has fallen somuch that it is possible to get at the bodies. However, all the bodieshave to be dug out of the sand, and it causes no end of work. 

It is thought that most of the bodies that will be found at Kernvilleare under a large pile of débris, about an acre in length. This is wheremost of the buildings drifted, and it is natural to suppose that thebodies floated with them. A rain is now falling, but this does notinterfere with the work. Most of the rescuing party have been up for twodays, yet they work with a determination that is wonderful. 

Nineveh, the City of the Dead. 

Nineveh is literally a city of the dead. The entire place is filled withcorpses. At the depot eighty-seven coffins were piled up and boxed. Onthe streets coffin boxes covered the sidewalks. Improvised undertakingshops have embalmed and placed in their shrouds 198 persons. The deadwere strewn about the town in all conceivable places where their bodieswould be protected from the thoughtless feet of the living. 

Most of the bodies embalmed last night had been taken out of the riverin the morning by the people at Nineveh, who worked incessantly nightand day searching the river. The bodies when found were placed in afour-horse wagon, frequently twelve at a time, and driven away. Of thebodies taken out near Moorhead fully three-fourths are women and therest children. But few men are found there. In one row at the planingmill to-day were eighteen children's bodies awaiting embalming. Next tothem was a woman whose head had been crushed in so as to destroy herfeatures. On her hand were three diamond rings. 

Dr. Graff, of the State Board of Health, stationed at Nineveh, statesthat up till ten o'clock this morning they had embalmed about twohundred bodies, and by noon to-day would about double that number, asthey were fishing bodies out of the river at this point at the rate ofone every five minutes. In the driftwood and débris bodies are beingexhumed, and an additional force of undertakers has been despatched tothis place. 

In a Charnel House. 

At the public school-house the scene beggars description. Boards havebeen laid from desk to desk, and as fast as the hands of a large body ofmen and women can put the remains in recognizable shape they are laidout for possible identification and removed as quickly as possible. Seventy-five still remain, although many have been taken away, and theyare being brought in every moment. It is something horrifying to see oneportion of the huge school taken up by corpses, each with a clean whitesheet covering it, and on the other side of the room a promiscuous heapof bodies in all sorts of shapes and conditions, looking for all theworld like decaying tree trunks. Among the number identified are twobeautiful young ladies named respectively Mrs. Richardson, who was ateacher in the kindergarten school, and Miss Lottie Yost, whose sister Iafterwards noticed at one of the corners near by, weeping as if her veryheart was broken. Not a single acquaintance did she count in all of thegreat throng who passed her by, although many tendered sinceresympathy, which was accentuated by their own losses. 

Lost and Found. 

At the station of Johnstown proper this morning the following names wereadded to the list of bodies found and identified: Charles Marshall, oneof the engineers Cambria Company. A touching incident in connection withhis death is that he had been married but a short time and his widow isheartbroken. 

Order at any Cost. 

Ex-Sheriff C. L. Dick, who was at one time Burgess of Johnstown, hascharge of a large number of special deputies guarding the river atvarious points. He and a posse of his men caught seven Hungariansrobbing dead bodies in Kernville early this morning, and threw them allinto the river and drowned them. He says he has made up his mind tostand no more nonsense with this class of persons, and he has givenorders to his men to drown, shoot or hang any man caught stealing fromthe dead. He said the dead bodies of the Huns can be found in the creek. 

Sheriff Dick, or "Chall" as he is familiarly called, is a tall, slimman, and is well known in Pittsburgh, principally to sportsmen. He is afirst-class wing shot, and during the past year he has won several livebird matches. He is slow to anger, but when forced into a fight hiscourage is unfailing. 

Shooting Looters on the Wing. 

Dick wears corduroy breeches, a large hat, a cartridge belt, and isarmed with a Winchester rifle. He is a crack shot and has taken chargeof the deputies in the wrecked portion of the city. Yesterday afternoonhe discovered two men and a woman cutting the finger from a dead womanto get her rings. The Winchester rifle cracked twice in quicksuccession, and the right arm of each man dropped, helplessly shatteredby a bullet. The woman was not harmed, but she was so badly frightenedthat she will not rob corpses again. Some five robbers altogether wereshot during the afternoon, and two of them were killed. 

The lynchings in the Johnstown district so far number from sixteen totwenty. 

Treasure Lying Loose. 

Notwithstanding this, and the way that the town is most thoroughly undermartial law, the pilfering still goes on. The wreck is a gold mine forpilferers. A Hungarian woman fished out a trunk down in Cambria Cityyesterday, and on breaking it open found $7, 500 in it. Another womanfound a jewel box containing several rings and a gold watch. In onehouse in Johnstown there is $1, 700 in money, but it is impossible to getat it. 

Hanged and Riddled with Bullets. 

Quite an exciting scene took place in the borough of Johnstown lastnight. A Hungarian was discovered by two men in the act of blowing upthe safe in the First National Bank Building with dynamite. A cry wasraised, and in a few minutes a crowd had collected and the cry of "Lynchhim!" was raised, and in less time than it takes to tell it the man wasstrung up to a tree in what was once about the central portion ofJohnstown. Not content with this the Vigilance Committee riddled theman's body full of bullets. He remained hanging to the tree for severalhours, when some person cut him down and buried him with the other dead. 

The stealing by Hungarians at Cambria City and points along the railroadhas almost ceased. The report of several lynchings and the drowning oftwo Italians while being pursued by citizens yesterday, put an end tothe pilfering for a time. 

While Deputy Sheriff Rose was patrolling the river bank he found twoHungarians attempting to rob several bodies, and at once gave chase. Themen started for the woods when he pulled out a pistol and shot twice, wounding both men badly. From the latest reports the men are stillliving, but they are in a critical condition. 

Cutting Off a Head for a Necklace. 

It is reported that two Hungarians found the body of a lady betweenWoodvale and Conemaugh who had a valuable necklace on. The devilsdragged her out of the water and severed her head from her body to getthe necklace. At eleven o'clock to-day the woods were being scoured forthe men who are supposed to be guilty of the crime. 

Pickets Set, Strangers Excluded. 

Up till noon to-day General Hastings has had his headquarters on theeast side of the river, but this morning he came over to the burningdébris, followed by about one hundred and twenty-five men carryingcoffins. He started to work immediately, and has ordered men fromPhiladelphia, Harrisburg, and all eastern towns to do laboring work. 

The Citizen's Committee are making desperate efforts to preserve peace, and the Hungarians at Cambria City are being kept in their houses by menwith clubs, who will not permit them to go outside. There seemsconsiderable race prejudice at Cambria City, and trouble may follow, asboth the English and Hungarians are getting worked up to a considerableextent. 

The Sheriff has taken charge of Johnstown and armed men are this morningpatrolling the city. The people who have been properly in the limits arepermitted to enter the city if they are known, but otherwise it isimpossible to get into the town. The regulation seems harsh, but it is anecessity. 

Troops Sent Home. 

Battery B, of Pittsburgh, arrived in the city this morning under commandof Lieutenant Sheppard, who went to the quarters of Adjutant-GeneralHastings in the railroad watch tower. The General had just got up, andas the officer approached the General said:--

"Who sent you here?"

"I was sent here by the Chamber of Commerce, " replied the Lieutenant. 

"Well, I want to state that there are only four people who can order youout, viz. :--The Governor, Adjutant-General, Major General and theCommander of the Second Brigade. You have committed a serious breach ofdiscipline, and my advice to you is to get back to Pittsburgh as soon aspossible, or you may be mustered out of service. I am surprised that youshould attempt such an act without any authority whatever. "

This seemed to settle the matter, and the battery started back toPittsburgh. In justice to Lieutenant Sheppard it might be stated that hewas told that an order was issued by the Governor. General Hastingsstated afterwards that the sending down of the soldiers was like wavinga red flag, and it would only tend to create trouble. He said everythingwas quiet here, and it was an insult to the citizens of Johnstown tosend soldiers here at present. 

Extortioners Held in Check. 

A riot was almost caused by the exorbitant prices that were charged forfood. One storekeeper in Millville borough was charging $5 a sack forflour and seventy-five cents for sandwiches on Sunday. This causedconsiderable complaint and the citizens grew desperate. They promptlytook by force all the contents of the store. As a result this morningall the stores have been put under charge of the police. An inventorywas taken and the proprietor was paid the market price for his stock. 

A strong guard is kept at the office of the Cambria Iron Company. Saturday was pay day at the works, and $80, 000 is in the safe. Thisbecame known, and the officials are afraid that an attempt would bemade to rob the place. 

Sheriff Dick and a posse of his men got into a riot this afternoon witha crowd of Hungarians at Cambria City. The Hungarians got the better ofhim, and he called on a squad of Battery B boys, who charged with drawnsabres, and soon had the crowd on the run. 

Men Hard at Work. 

Order is slowly arising out of chaos. The survivors are slowly realizingwhat is the best course to pursue. The great cry is for men. Men whowill work and not stand idly by and do nothing but gaze at the ruins. The following order was posted on a telegraph pole in Johnstownto-day:--

"Notice--During the day men who have been idle have been begged to aidus in clearing the town, and many have not refused to work. We are nowso organized that employment can be found for every man who wants towork, and men offered work who refuse to take the same and who are ableto work must leave Johnstown for the present. We cannot afford to feedmen who will not work. All work will be paid for. Strangers and idlerswho refuse to work will be ejected from Johnstown. 

"By order of Citizens' Committee. "

Turning Away the Idlers. 

Officers were stationed at every avenue and railroad that enters thetown. All suspicious looking characters are stopped. But one question isasked. It is, "Will you work?" If an affirmative answer is given a manescorts him to the employment bureau, where he is put to work. If not, he is turned back. The committee has driven one or two men out of thetown. There is a lot of idle vagabond negroes in Johnstown who will notwork. It is likely that a committee will escort them out of town. Theyhave caused the most trouble during the past terrible days. 

It is a fact, although a disagreeable one to say, that not a few of therelief committees who came to this city, came only out of curiosity andpositively refused to do any work, but would hang around the cars eatingfood. The leaders of the committee then had to do all the work. Theydeserve much credit. 

Begging for Help. 

An old man sat on a chair placed on a box at the intersection of twostreets in Johnstown and begged for men. "For God's sake, " he said, "canwe not find men. Will not some of you men help? Look at these men whohave not slept for three days and are dropping with fatigue. We will paywell. For God's sake help us. " Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke. Then he would threaten the group of idlers standing by and again pleadwith them. Every man it seems wants to be a policeman. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Burial of the Victims. 

Hundreds have been laid away in shallow trenches without forms, ceremonies or mourners. All day long the work of burial has been goingon. There was no time for religious ceremonies or mourning and many amangled form was coffined with no sign of mourning save the honestsympathy of the brave men who handled them. As fast as the wagons thatare gathering up the corpses along the stream arrive with their ghastlyloads they are emptied and return again to the banks of the mercilessConemaugh to find other victims among the driftwood in the underbrush, or half buried in the mud. The coffins are now beginning to arrive, andon many streets on the hillside they are stacked as high as the secondand third story windows. 

At Kernville the people are not so fortunate. It would seem that everyman is his own coffin maker, and many a man can be seen here and thereclaiming the boards of what remains of his house in which perhaps he hasfound the remains of a loved one, and busily patching them together withnails and hoops or any available thing to hold the body. 

When the corpses are found they are taken to the nearest dead house andare carefully washed. They are then laid out in rows to awaitidentification. Cards are pinned to their breasts as soon as they areidentified, and their names will be marked on the headboards at thegraves. 

Wholesale Funerals. 

There were many rude funerals in the upper part of the town. The coffinswere conveyed to the cemeteries in wagons, each one carrying two, threeor more. 

At Long View Cemetery and at one or two other points long trenches havebeen dug to receive the coffins. The trenches are only about three feetdeep, it being thought unnecessary to bury deeper, as almost all thebodies will be removed by friends. Nearly three hundred bodies wereburied thus to-day. 

There will be no public ceremony, no funeral dirge, and but few weepingmourners. The people are too much impressed with the necessity ofimmediate and constant work to think of personal grief. 

The twenty-six bodies taken to the hose house in Minersville were buriedshortly after ten o'clock yesterday morning. Of the twenty-six, thirteenwere identified. Eight women, a baby and four men were buried withouthaving been identified. 

All day yesterday men were engaged in burying the dead. They ran shortof coffins, and in order to dispose of the rapidly decomposing bodiesthey built rough boxes out of the floating lumber that was caught. Inthis way they buried temporarily over fifty bodies in the cemetery justabove the town. 

Putrefaction of dead bodies threatens the health of the whole region. Now that the waters are fast shrinking back from the horrid work oftheir own doing and are uncovering thousands of putrid and ill-smellingcorpses the fearful danger of pestilence is espied, stalking in the wakeof more violent destruction. 

The air is already reeking with infectious filth, and the alarm iswidespread among the desolated and overwrought population. 

Cremation Best. 

Incident to this phase of the situation the chief sensation of themorning was the united remonstrance of the physicians against theextinguishment of the burning wreck of the demolished town which ispiled up against the bridge. They maintain, with a philosophy that toanxious searchers seems heartless, that hundreds, if not thousands, oflifeless and decaying bodies lie beneath this mass of burning ruins. 

"It would be better, " they say, "to permit Nature's greatestscavenger--the flames--to pursue his work unmolested than to expose tofurther decay the horde of putrefying bodies that lie beneath thisdébris. There can be but one result. Days will elapse before the rubbishcan be sufficiently removed to permit the recovery of these bodies, andlong before that every corpse will be a putrid mass, giving forth thosefrightful emanations of decaying human flesh that in a crowded communitylike this can have but one result--the dreadful typhus. Everybattlefield has demonstrated the necessity of the hasty interment ofdecaying bodies, and the stench that already arises is a forerunner ofimpending danger. Burn the wreck, burn the wreck. "

Sorrow Rejects Safety. 

A loud cry of indignation arose from the lips of the vast multitude andthe warnings of science were lost in the eager demands of those thatsought the remains of the near and dear. The hose was again turned uponthe hissing mass, and rapidly the flames yielded to the supremacy ofwater. 

It is almost impossible to conceive the extent of these smoking ruins. An area of eight or ten acres above the dam is covered to a depth offorty feet with shattered houses, borne from the resident centre ofJohnstown. In each of these houses, it is estimated, there were from oneto twenty or twenty-five people. This is accepted as data upon which toestimate the number that perished on this spot, and if the data becorrect the bodies that lie beneath these ruins must run well up intothe thousands. 

Members of the State Board of Health arrived in Nineveh this morning anddetermined to proceed at once to dredge the river, to clean it of thedead and prevent the spreading of disease. To this end they have wiredthe State Department to furnish them with the proper appliances. 

Drinking Poisoned Water. 

From other points in this and connecting valleys the same fear ofpestilence is expressed. The cities of Pittsburgh and Allegheny, whichhave a population of three hundred and fifty thousand and drink thewaters of the Allegheny River, down which corpses and débris fromJohnstown must flow unless stopped above, are in danger of an epidemic. The water is to-day thick with mud, and bodies have been found as farsouth of here as Beaver, a distance of thirty miles below Pittsburgh. Togo this distance the bodies followed the Conemaugh from Johnstown to theKiskiminetas, at Blairsville, joining the Allegheny at Freeport, and theOhio here, the entire distance from this point being about one hundredand fifty miles. 

"This is a very serious matter, " said a prominent Pittsburgh physicianwho is here to me to-day, "and one that demands the immediate attentionof the Board of Health officials. The flood of water that swept throughJohnstown has cleaned out hundreds of cesspools. These and thebarnyards' manure and the dirt from henneries and swamps that were sweptby the waters have all been carried down into the Allegheny River. Inaddition to this there are the bodies of persons drowned. Some of thesewill, in all likelihood, be secreted among the débris and never befound. Hundreds of carcasses of animals of various kinds are also in theriver. 

Typhus Dreaded. 

"These will decay, throwing out an animal poison. This filth andpoisonous matter is being carried into the Allegheny, and will be pumpedup into the reservoir and distributed throughout the city. The result isa cause for serious apprehension. Take, for example, the town ofHazleton, Pa. There the filth from some outhouse was carried into thereservoir and distributed through the town. The result was a typhoidfever epidemic and hundreds of people lost their lives. The water thatwe are drinking to-day is something fearful to behold. "

The municipal authorities of Pittsburgh have issued a notice embodyingthe above facts. 

Sanitary Work. 

A message was received by the Relief Committee this morning confirmingthe report that for the health of the cities of Pittsburgh and Alleghenyit is absolutely necessary that steps be taken immediately to remove thebodies and drift from the river, and begging the committee to take earlyaction. The contract for clearing the river was awarded to CaptainJutte, and he will start up the Allegheny this afternoon as far asFreeport, and then work down. His instructions are to clear the riverthoroughly of anything that might in any way affect the water supply. 

Helping Hands. 

The work of relief at the scene of the great disaster is going onrapidly. The Alliance (Ohio) Relief Committee arrived here this morningon a special train with five carloads of provisions. The party iscomposed of the most prominent iron and steel merchants of Alliance. 

They have just returned from a tour of the ruined town. They have beenup to Stony Creek, a distance of five miles and up the Conemaugh Rivertoward South Fork, a distance of two miles. 

[Illustration: DISTRIBUTING SUPPLIES FROM THE RELIEF TRAIN. ]

In describing their trip, one of their number said:--"I tell you thehalf has never been told. It is impossible to tell the terrible tale. Ithought I had seen horrible sights, and I served five years in the Warof the Rebellion, but in all my life it has never been my lot to lookupon such ghastly sights as I have witnessed to-day. 

"While making the circuit of the ruined places we saw 103 bodies takenout of the débris along the bank of the river and Stony Creek. Of thisnumber, we identified six of the victims as our friends. "

[Illustration: SCENE ON SOUTH CLINTON STREET. ]

CHAPTER VIII. 

Johnstown and Its Industries. 

At this point of our narrative a sketch of Johnstown, where the mostfrightful havoc of the flood occurred, will interest the reader. 

The following description and history of the Cambria Iron Company'sWorks, at Johnstown, is taken from a report prepared by the State Bureauof Industrial Statistics:

The great works operated by the Cambria Iron Company originated in a fewwidely separated charcoal furnaces, which were built by pioneer ironworkers in the early years of this century. It was chartered under thegeneral law authorizing the incorporation of iron manufacturingcompanies, in the year 1852. The purpose was to operate fourold-fashioned charcoal furnaces, located in and about Johnstown, some ofwhich had been erected many years before. Johnstown was then a villageof 1300 inhabitants. The Pennsylvania Railroad had only been extendedthus far in 1852, and the early iron manufacturers rightly foresaw agreat future for the industry at this point. 

Immense Furnaces. 

Coal, iron and limestone were abundant, and the new railroad wouldenable them to find ready markets for their products. In 1853 theconstruction of four coke furnaces was commenced, and it was two yearsbefore the first was completed, while some progress was made on theother three. England was then shipping rails into this country under alow duty, and the iron industry, then in its infancy, was struggling forexistence. 

The furnaces at Johnstown labored under greater difficulties in theyears between 1852 and 1861 than can be appreciated at this late day. Had it not been for a few patriotic citizens in Philadelphia, who loanedtheir credit and means to the failing company, the city of Johnstownwould possibly never have been built. Notwithstanding the protectingcare of the Philadelphia merchants, the company in Johnstown was unableto continue in business, and suspended in 1854. Among its heaviestcreditors in Philadelphia were Oliver Martin and Martin, Morrell & Co. More money was subscribed, but the establishment failed again in 1855. D. J. Morrell, however, formed a new company with new credit. 

Recovery From a Great Fire. 

The year of 1856, the first after the lease was made, was one of greatfinancial depression, and the following year was worse. To render thesituation still more gloomy a fire broke out in June, 1857, and in threehours the large mill was a mass of ruins. Men stood in double rankspassing water from the Conemaugh river, 300 yards distant, with which tofight the flames. So great was the energy, determination and financialability of the new company that in one week after the fire the furnacesand rolls were once more in operation under a temporary structure. Atthis early stage in the manufacturing the management found it advisableto abandon the original and widely separated charcoal furnaces anddepend on newly constructed coke furnaces. As soon as practicable afterthe fire a permanent brick mill was erected, and the company was oncemore fully equipped. When the war came and with it the Morrill tariff of1861 a broader field was opened up. Industry and activity in businessbecame general; new life was infused into every enterprise. In 1862 thelease by which the company had been successfully operated for sevenyears expired, and by a reorganization the present company was formed. 

Advent of Steel Rails. 

A new era in the manufacture of iron and steel was now about to dawnupon the American people. In this year 1870 there were 49, 757 tons ofsteel produced in the United States, while in 1880 the production was1, 058, 314 tons. Open hearth steel, crucible steel and blister steel, prior to this, had been the principal products, but were manufactured byprocesses too slow and too expensive to take the place of iron. Thedurability of steel over iron, particularly for rails, had long beenknown, but its cost of production prevented its use. In 1857 one steelrail was sent to Derby, England, and laid down on the Midland Railroad, at a place where the travel was so great that iron rails then in use hadto be renewed sometimes as often as once in three months. In June, 1873, after sixteen years of use, the rail, being well worn, was taken out. During its time 1, 250, 000 trains, not to speak of the detached engines, etc. , had passed over it. This was the first steel rail, now calledBessemer rail, ever used. 

[Illustration: MAP OF THE CONEMAUGH VALLEY. ]

About ten years ago the Cambria Iron Company arranged with Dr. J. H. Gautier & Sons, of Jersey City, to organize a limited partnershipassociation under the name of "The Gautier Steel Company, Limited, " tomanufacture, at Johnstown, wire and various other forms of merchantsteel. Within less than a mile from the main works extensive mills wereerected and the business soon grew to great proportions. In a few yearsso much additional capital was required, owing to the rapidly increasingbusiness, that Dr. Gautier, then far advanced in life, wished to berelieved of the cares and duties incident to the growing trade, and theCambria Iron Company became the purchaser of his works. "The GautierSteel Company, Limited, " went out of existence and the works are nowknown as the "Gautier Steel Department of Cambria Iron Company. "

Description of the Works. 

The blast furnaces, steel works and rolling mills of the company aresituated upon what was originally a river flat, where the valley of theConemaugh expanded somewhat just below the borough of Johnstown, and nowforming part of Millville Borough. The arrangement of the works has beennecessarily governed by the fact that they have gradually expanded fromthe original rolling-mill and four old style blast furnaces to theirpresent character and capacity of which some idea may be obtained by thecondensed description given below. 

The Johnstown furnaces, Nos. 1, 2, 3 and 4, form one complete plant, with stacks seventy-five feet high, sixteen feet diameter of bosh. Steamis generated in forty boilers, fired by furnace gas, for eight verticaldirect-acting blowing engines. Nos. 5 and 6 blast furnaces form togethera second plant with stacks seventy-five feet high, nineteen feetdiameter of bosh. No. 5 has iron hot blast stoves and No. 6 has fourWhitwell fire-brick hot blast stoves. The furnaces have together sixblowing engines exactly like those at Nos. 1, 2, 3 and 4 furnaces. Theengines are supplied with steam by thirty-two cylinder boilers. 

Marvelous Machinery. 

The Bessemer plant was the sixth started in the United States (July, 1871). The main building is 102 feet in width by 165 feet in length. Thecupolas are six in number. Blast is supplied from eight Baker rotarypressure blowers driven by engines sixteen inches by twenty-four inches, at 110 revolutions per minute. The cupolas are located on either side ofthe main trough, into which they are tapped, and down which the meltedmetal is directed into a ten-ton ladle set on a hydraulic weighingplatform, where it is stored until the converters are ready to receiveit. There are two vessels of eight and a half tons capacity each, theproducts being distributed by a hydraulic ladle crane. The vessels areblown by three engines. The Bessemer works are supplied with steam by abattery of twenty-one tubular boilers. 

The best average, although not the very highest work done in theBessemer department is 103 heats of eight and a half tons each fortwenty-four hours. The best weekly record reached 1, 847 tons of ingots, the best monthly record of 20, 304 tons, and the best daily output, 900tons ingots. All grades of steel are made in the converters from thesoftest wire and bridge stock to spring steel. All the special stock, that is other than rails, is carefully analyzed by heats, and thephysical properties are determined by a tension test. 

Ponderous Steam-Hammers. 

The open hearth building, 120 feet in width by 155 feet in length, contains three Pernot revolving hearth furnaces of fifteen tons capacityeach, supplied with natural gas. A separate pit with a hydraulic ladlecrane of twenty tons capacity is located in front of each pan. In aportion of the mill building, originally used as a puddle mill, islocated the bolt and nut works, wherein are made track bolts and machinebolts. This department is equipped with bolt-heading and nut makingmachines, cutting, tapping and facing machines, and produces about onethousand kegs of finished track bolts, of 200 pounds each, per month, besides machine bolts. Near this, also, are located the axle and forgingshops, in the old puddle mill building. The axle shop has three steamhammers to forge and ten machines to cut off, centre and turn axles. Thecapacity of this shop is 100 finished steel axles per day. All axles aretoughened and annealed by a patented process, giving the strongest axlepossible. In the forging plant, located in the same building, there isan 18, 000 pound Bement hammer, and a ten-ton traveling crane to conveyforgings from the furnaces to the hammer. There are two furnaces forheating large ingots and blooms for forgings. 

A ventilating fan supplies fresh air to the mills through pipes locatedoverhead, and having outlets near the heating furnaces. One hundredthousand cubic feet of fresh air per minute is distributed throughoutthe mills. The mill has in addition to its boilers, over theheating-furnaces, a brick and iron building, located near the rail mill, 205 feet long and 45 feet wide, containing twenty-four tubular boilers, aggregating about 2000 horse-power. 

Tons of Barbed Wire. 

The "Gautier Steel Department" consists of a brick building 200 feet by500 feet, where the wire is annealed, drawn and finished; a brickwarehouse 373 feet by 43 feet; many shops, offices, etc. ; the barb wiremill, 50 feet by 256 feet, where the celebrated Cambria Link barb wireis made; and the main merchant mill, 725 feet by 250 feet. These millsproduce wire, shafting, springs, plowshare, rake and harrow teeth andother kinds of agricultural implement steel. In 1887 they produced50, 000 tons of this material, which was marketed mainly in the Westernstates. 

Grouped with the principal mills are the foundries, pattern and othershops, drafting offices, time offices, etc. , all structures being of afirm and substantial character. The company operates about thirty-fivemiles of railroad tracks, employing in this service twenty-fourlocomotives, and it owns 1500 cars. 

In the fall of 1886 natural gas was introduced into the works. 

Building up Johnstown. 

Anxious to secure employment for the daughters and widows of theemployees of the company who were willing to work, its managementerected a woolen mill which now employs about 300 persons. Amusementswere not neglected, and the people of Johnstown are indebted to thecompany for the erection of an opera house, where dramaticentertainments are given. 

The company owns 700 houses, which are rented exclusively to employees. The handsome library erected by the company and presented to the townwas stocked with nearly 7000 volumes. The Cambria Hospital is also underthe control of the beneficial association of the works. The CambriaClubhouse is a very neat pressed brick building on the corner of Mainand Federal streets. It was first operated in 1881, and is usedexclusively for the entertainment of the guests of the company and suchof their employees as can be accommodated. The store building occupiedby Wood, Morrell & Co. , limited, is a four-story brick structure onWashington street, with three large store rooms on the first floor, theremainder of the building being used for various forms of merchandise. 

Including the surrounding boroughs, Kernville, Morrellville and CambriaCity, all of which are built up solidly to Johnstown proper, thepopulation is about 30, 000. The Cambria Iron Company employs, inJohnstown, about 7500 people, which would certainly indicate apopulation of not less than 20, 000 depending upon the company for alivelihood. 

A large proportion of the population of Johnstown are citizens offoreign birth, or their immediate descendants. Those of German, Irish, Welsh and English birth or extraction predominate, with a few Swedes andFrenchmen. As a rule the working people and their families are welldressed and orderly; in this they are above the average. Most of theolder workmen of the company, owing largely to its liberal policy, owntheir houses, and many of them have houses for rent. 

CHAPTER IX. 

View of the Wreck. 

Each visitor to the scene of the great disaster witnessed sights andreceived impressions different from all others. The following graphicaccount will thrill every reader:

The most exaggerative imagination cannot too strongly picture the awfulharvest of death, the wreck which accompanied that terrible deluge lastFriday afternoon. I succeeded in crossing from the north side of theLittle Conemaugh, a short distance above the point, to the sandy muddydesert strewn with remnants of the buildings and personal property ofthose who know not their loss. 

It is almost an impossibility to gain access to the region, and it wasaccomplished only after much difficulty in crossing the swiftly runningstream. 

Standing at a point in this abode of thousands of dead the work of thegreat flood can be more adequately measured than from any one place inthe devastated region. Here I first realized the appalling loss of lifeand the terrible destruction of property. 

It was about ten o'clock when the waters of Stony Creek rose, overflowedtheir banks and what is known as the "flats, " which includes the entirebusiness portion of the city of Johnstown. The Little Conemaugh wasrunning high at the same time, and it had also overreached the limit ofits banks. The water of both streams soon submerged the lower portion ofthe town. Up to this time there was no intimation that a terribledisaster was imminent. The water poured into the cellars of the housesin the lower districts and rose several inches in the streets, but asthat had occurred before the people took no alarm. 

Shortly after twelve o'clock the first drowning occurred. This was notbecause of the deluge, it was simply the carelessness of the victim, whowas a driver for the Cambria Iron Company, in stepping into a cellarwhich had been filled with water. The water continued to rise, and attwelve o'clock had reached that part of the city about a block from thepoint between Stony Creek and the Little Conemaugh. 

Topography of the Place. 

The topography of Johnstown is almost precisely like that of Pittsburgh, only in a diminished degree. Stony Creek comes in from the mountains onthe northeast, and the Little Conemaugh comes in from the northwest, forming the Conemaugh at Johnstown, precisely as the Allegheny andMonongahela form the Ohio at Pittsburgh. On the west side of Stony Creekare mountains rising to a great height, and almost perpendicularly fromthe water. On the north side of the Conemaugh River mountains equally ashigh as those on Stony Creek confine that river to its course. The hillsin Johnstown start nearly a half mile from the business section of thecity. This leaves a territory between the two rivers of about fourhundred acres. This was covered by costly buildings, factories and otherimportant manufactories. 

When the waters of South Fork and Little Conemaugh broke over theirbanks into that portion of the city known as the "flats, " the businesscommunity turned its attention to putting endangered merchandise in aplace of safety. 

First Alarm. 

In the homes of the people the women began gathering household articlesof any kind that may have been in the cellar. Little attention was paidto the water beyond this. 

Looking from the "flats" at Johnstown toward and following thePennsylvania Railroad tracks, which wind along the Little Conemaugh, thevillage of Woodville stands, or did stand, within sight of the "flats, "and is really a continuation of the city at this point. 

The mountains on the south side of the Little Conemaugh rise here andform a narrow valley where Woodville was located. Next joining this, without any perceptible break in the houses, was the town of EastConemaugh. The extreme eastern limit of East Conemaugh is about a mileand a half from Johnstown "flats. "

A Narrow Chasm. 

The valley narrows as it reaches eastward, and in a narrow chasm threemiles from Johnstown "flats" is the little settlement of Mineral Point. A few of the houses have found a place on the mountain side out ofharm's way, and so they still stand. 

At East Conemaugh there is located a roundhouse of the PennsylvaniaRailroad, for the housing of locomotives used to assist trains over themountains. The inhabitants of this place were all employees of thePennsylvania and the Gautier Steel Works, of the Cambria Iron Company. The inhabitants numbered about 1, 500 people. Like East Conemaugh, 2, 000or 2, 500 people, who lived at Woodville, were employees of the samecorporation and the woolen mills located there. 

Just below Woodville the mountains upon the south bank of the Conemaughdisappear and form the commencement of the Johnstown "flats. " TheGautier Steel Works of the Cambria Iron Company are located at thispoint, on the south bank. The Pennsylvania Railroad traverses theopposite bank, and makes a long curve from this point up to EastConemaugh. 

Timely Warning to Escape. 

At what is known as the point where Stony Creek and the Little Conemaughform the Conemaugh the mountains followed by Stony Creek take an abruptturn northward, and the waters of the Little Conemaugh flow into theConemaugh at right angles with these mountains. 

A few hundred feet below this point the Pennsylvania Railroad bridgecrosses the Conemaugh River. The bridge is a massive stone structure. From the east end of the bridge there is a heavy fill of from thirty toforty feet high to Johnstown Station, a distance of a quarter of a mile. 

Within a few feet of the station a wagon bridge crosses the LittleConemaugh, five hundred feet above the point connecting the "flats" andthe country upon the north side of the river. 

The Cambria Iron Company's Bessemer department lies along the north bankof the Conemaugh, commencing at the fill, and extends for over two milesdown the Conemaugh River upon its northern bank. 

Below the Cambria Iron Company's property is Millville Borough, and onthe hill back of Millville Borough is Minersville properly--the Secondward of Millville Borough. 

The First ward of Millville was washed away completely. 

While the damage from a pecuniary sense was large, the loss of life wasquite small, inasmuch as the people had timely warning to escape. 

Below the Pennsylvania Railroad Bridge at Johnstown, upon the south bankof the Conemaugh, was the large settlement of Cambria. It had apopulation of some five thousand people. At Cambria the mountainretreats for several hundred feet, leaving a level of two or threehundred acres in extent. Just below the bridge the Conemaugh River makesa wide curve around this level. About eight or nine hundred houses stoodupon this level. 

Below Cambria stands Morrellville, a place about equal in size toCambria. 

From this description of the location of Johnstown and neighboringsettlements the course of the waters may be better understood whendescribed. It was about ten minutes to three o'clock Friday afternoonwhen Mr. West, of the local office of the Pennsylvania Railroad atJohnstown, received a dispatch from the South Fork station, advising himto notify the inhabitants that the big dam in the South Fork, above thecity, was about to break. He at once despatched couriers to variousparts of the city, and a small section was notified of the impendingdanger. The messenger was answered with, "We will wait until we see the water. "

Others called "Chestnuts!" and not one in fifty of the people whoreceived the warning gave heed to it. 

The Débris of Three Towns. 

With the waters standing several inches deep in the streets of the"flats" of the city the deluge from South Fork Lake, burst the dam andrushed full upon Johnstown shortly after five o'clock on Fridayafternoon the last day of May. 

First it swept the houses from Mineral Point down into East Conemaugh. When the flood reached East Conemaugh the town was wiped out. This massof débris was borne on to Johnstown, reinforced by the material of threetowns. 

The Gautier steel department of the Cambria Iron Company was the firstproperty attacked in the city proper. Huge rolls, furnaces and all themachinery in the great mills, costing $6, 000, 000, were swept away in amoment, and to-day there is not the slightest evidence that the millever stood there. 

Swept From the Roofs. 

Westward from this point the flood swept over the flats. The houses, assoon as the water reached them, were lifted from their foundation andhurled against their neighbors'. The people who at the first crash oftheir property managed to reach the roof or some other floating materialwere carried on until their frail support was driven against the nextobstruction, when they went down in the crash together. 

The portion of the "flats" submerged is bounded by Clinton street to theLittle Conemaugh River, to the point at Stony Creek, then back toClinton street by way of Bedford. 

This region has an area of one mile square, shaped like a heart, and inthis district there are not more than a dozen buildings that are nottotal wrecks. 

Ten per cent. Of this district is so covered with mud, stones, rocks andother material, where costly buildings once stood, that it will requireexcavating from eight to twenty feet to reach the streets of the city. 

Remnants of the City. 

Of the houses standing there is the Methodist church, the club house, James McMillen's residence, the Morrell mansion, Dr. Lohman's house andthe First ward school building. 

The Fourth ward school house and the Cambria Iron Works' general officebuilding are the only buildings standing on the north side of the riverfrom the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge to the limits of the "flats. "

The Pennsylvania Railroad, from its station in Johnstown City nearly toWilmore, a distance of seven miles, had a magnificent road bed of solidrock. From East Conemaugh to the point in Johnstown opposite the GautierSteel Works, this road bed, ballast and all are gone. Only a few railsmay occasionally be seen in the river below. 

Freaks of the Flood. 

When the crash came in Johnstown the houses were crushed as easily bythe huge mass as so many buildings of sand, making much the same soundas if a pencil were drawn over the slats of a shutter. Houses were tornfrom their foundations and torn to pieces before their occupantsrealized their danger. Hundreds of these people were crushed to death, while others were rescued by heroic men; but the lives of the majoritywere prolonged a few minutes, when they met a more horrible deathfurther down the stream. 

There is a narrow strip extending from the club house to the pointwhich, in some singular manner, escaped the mass of filling that wasdistributed on the flats. This strip is about 200 feet wide, 300 longand from 3 to 20 feet deep. What queer turn the flood took to thus sparethis section, when the surrounding territory was covered with mud, stones and other material, is a mystery. It is, however, one of theremarkable turns of the flood. 

The German Catholic Church is standing, but is in an exceedingly shakycondition and may fall at any minute. This and Dr. Lohman's residenceare the only buildings on the plot standing between Main street, Clintonstreet, Railroad street and the Little Conemaugh. 

The destruction of life in this district was too awful to contemplate. It is estimated that not more than one thousand people escaped withtheir lives, and it is believed that there were fully five thousandpersons remaining in the district when the flood came down. The floodwiped out the "flat" with the exception of the buildings noted. Thewater was twenty feet high here and hurled acres upon acres of housesagainst the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge which held it and dammed thewater up until it was forty feet high. The mass accumulated until theweight became so great that it broke through the fill east of the bridgeand the débris started out of the temporary reservoir with an awfulrush. 

It was something near five o'clock when the fill broke. The water rushedacross the Cambria flats and swept every house away with the exceptionof a portion of a brewery. There is nothing else standing in thisdistrict which resembles a house. 

The Johnstown Post Office Building, with all the office money andstamps, was carried away in the flood. The Postmaster himself escapedwith great difficulty. 

The dam broke in the centre at three o'clock on Friday afternoon, andat four o'clock it was dry. That great body of water passed out in onehour. Park & Van Buren, who are building a new draining system at thelake, tried to avert the disaster by digging a sluiceway on one side toease the pressure on the dam. They had about forty men at work and didall they could, but without avail. The water passed over the dam about afoot above its top, beginning at about half-past two. Whatever happenedin the way of a cloud burst took place during the night. There had beenbut little rain up to dark. When the workmen woke in the morning thelake was very full and was rising at the rate of a foot an hour. It kepton rising until at two o'clock it first began breaking over the dam andundermining it. Men were sent three or four times during the day to warnpeople below of their danger. 

The Break Two Hundred Feet Wide. 

When the final break came, at three o'clock, there was a sound liketremendous and continued peals of thunder; rocks, trees and earth wereshot up into mid-air in great columns, and then the wave started downthe ravine. A farmer, who escaped, said that the water did not come downlike a wave, but jumped on his house and beat it to fragments in aninstant. He was safe upon the hillside, but his wife and two childrenwere killed. At the present time the lake looks like a cross between thecrater of a volcano and a huge mud puddle with stumps of trees and rocksscattered over it. There is a small stream of muddy water runningthrough the centre of the lake site. The dam was seventy feet high andthe break is about two hundred feet wide, and there is but a smallportion of the dam left on either side. No damage was done to any of thebuildings belonging to the club. The whole south fork is swept, with nota tree standing. There are but one or two small streams showing here andthere in the lake. A great many of the workmen carried off baskets fullof fish caught in the mud. 

Three Millions Indemnity. 

It is reported that the Sportsman's Association, which owned the SouthFork dam, was required to file an indemnity bond of $3, 000, 000 beforetheir charter was issued. When the bill granting them these privilegeswas before the Legislature the representatives from Cambria and Blaircounties vigorously opposed its passage and only gave way, it is said, upon condition that such an indemnifying bond was filed. This bond wasto be filed with the prothonotary of Cambria county. 

Father Boyle, of Ebensburg, said the records at the county seat had notrace of such a bond. He found the record of the charter, but nothingabout the bond. As the association is known to be composed of verywealthy people, there is much talk here of their being compelled to payat least a part of the damages. 

The Rain Did It. 

It begins to dawn on us that the catastrophe was brought about notmerely by the bursting of the dam of the old canal reservoir, but by arainfall exceeding in depth and area all previously recorded phenomenaof the kind. The whole drainage basin of the Kiskiminetas, and moreparticularly that of the Conemaugh, was affected. An area of probablymore than 600 square miles poured its precipitation through the narrowvalley in which Johnstown and associate villages are located. It is easyto see how, with a rainfall similar to that which caused the Butcher Rundisaster of a few years ago, fully from thirty to fifty times as muchwater became destructive. The whole of the water of the lake would passSuspension Bridge at Pittsburgh inside of from seven to ten minutes, while the gorge at Johnstown, narrowed by the activity of mines forgenerations past, was clearly insufficient to allow a free course forStony Creek alone, which is a stream heading away up in Somerset county, twenty-five or thirty miles south of Johnstown. That the rainfall of theentire Allegheny Mountain system was unprecedented is clearlydemonstrated to any one who has watched the Allegheny and Monongahelarivers for the past three days, and this view may serve to correct theimpression in the public mind that would localize the causes of thewidespread disaster to the bursting of any single dam. 

Danger Was Anticipated. 

Charles Parke, of Philadelphia, the civil engineer in the employ of theSouth Fork Fishing Club, in company with George C. Wilson, ex-UnitedStates District Attorney, and several other members of the club, reachedJohnstown and brought with them the first batch of authoritative newsfrom Conemaugh Lake, the bursting of which, it is universally conceded, caused the disaster. 

Mr. Parke was at first averse to talking, and seemed more interested ininforming his friends in the Quaker City that he was still in the landof the living. On being pressed he denied most emphatically that the damhad burst, and proceeded to explain that he first commenced toanticipate danger on Friday morning, when the water in the lakecommenced to rise at a rapid rate. Immediately he turned his force oftwenty-five Italians to opening an extra waste sluiceway in addition tothe one that had always answered before. 

The five members of the club on hand all worked like horses, but theirefforts were in vain, and at three o'clock the supporting wall gave waywith a sound that seemed like distant thunder and the work was done. 

The Governor's Appeal. 

HARRISBURG, Pa. , June 3, 1886. --The Governor issued the following:--

"COMMONWEALTH OF PENNSYLVANIA, }"EXECUTIVE CHAMBER, }"HARRISBURG, Pa. , June 3, 1889. }

"TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES:--

"The Executive of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania has refrainedhitherto from making any appeal to the people for their benefactions, inorder that he might receive definite and reliable information from thecentres of disaster during the late floods, which have beenunprecedented in the history of the State or nation. Communication bywire has been established with Johnstown to-day. The civil authoritiesare in control, the Adjutant General of the State cooperating with them;order has been restored and is likely to continue. Newspaper reports asto the loss of life and property have not been exaggerated. 

"The valley of the Conemaugh, which is peculiar, has been swept from oneend to the other as with the besom of destruction. It contained apopulation of forty thousand to fifty thousand people, living for themost part along the banks of a small river confined within narrowlimits. The most conservative estimates place the loss of life at 5, 000human beings, and of property at twenty-five millions. [The reader willunderstand that this and previous estimates were the first and were fartoo small. ] Whole towns have been utterly destroyed. Not a vestigeremains. In the more substantial towns the better buildings, to acertain extent, remain, but in a damaged condition. Those who are leastable to bear it have suffered the loss of everything. 

"The most pressing needs, so far as food is concerned, have beensupplied. Shoes and clothing of all sorts for men, women and childrenare greatly needed. Money is also urgently required to remove thedébris, bury the dead, and care temporarily for the widows and orphansand for the homeless generally. Other localities have suffered to someextent in the same way, but not in the same degree. 

"Late advices seem to indicate that there is great loss of life anddestruction of property along the west branch of the Susquehanna and inlocalities from which we can get no definite information. What doescome, however, is of the most appalling character, and it is expectedthat the details will add new horrors to the situation. 

Generous Responses. 

"The responses from within and without the State have been most generousand cheering. North and South, East and West, from the United States andfrom England, there comes the same hearty, generous response of sympathyand help. The President, Governors of States, Mayors of cities, andindividuals and communities, private and municipal corporations, seem tovie with each other in their expressions of sympathy and in theircontributions of substantial aid. But, gratifying as these responsesare, there is no danger of their exceeding the necessities of thesituation. 

Organized Distribution. 

"A careful organization has been made upon the ground for thedistribution of whatever assistance is furnished. The Adjutant Generalof the State is there as the representative of the State authorities andgiving personal attention, in connection with the Chief Burgess ofJohnstown and a committee of relief to the distribution of the helpwhich is furnished. 

"A large force will be employed at once to remove the débris and burythe dead, so as to avoid disease and epidemic. 

"The people of the Commonwealth and others whose unselfish generosityis hereby heartily appreciated and acknowledged may be assured thattheir contributions will be made to bring their benefactions to theimmediate and direct relief of those for whose benefit they areintended. 

"JAMES A. BEAVER. 

"By the Governor, CHARLES W. STONE, Secretaryof the Commonwealth. "

Alive to the Situation. 

The Masonic Relief Committee which went from Pittsburgh to Johnstowntelegraphed President Harrison, urging the appointment of a nationalcommission to take charge of sanitary affairs at the scene of thedisaster. It was urged that the presence of so many decaying corpseswould breed a pestilence there, besides polluting the water of thestreams affecting all the country between Pittsburgh and New Orleans. 

The disasters in Pennsylvania were the subject of a conference at theWhite House between the President, General Noble, the Secretary of theInterior, and Surgeon General Hamilton. The particular topic whichengaged their attention was the possibility of the pollution of thewater-supply of towns along the Conemaugh river by the many dead bodiesfloating down the stream. 

The President was desirous that this new source of danger should be cutoff, if any measures which could be taken by the government couldaccomplish it. It was suggested that the decomposition of so much humanflesh and the settling of the decomposing fragments into the bed of thestream might make the water so foul as to breed disease and scatterdeath in a new form among the surviving dwellers in the valley. 

Not Afraid of a Plague. 

Surgeon General Hamilton expressed the opinion that the danger was notso great as might be supposed. There would be no pollution from thosebodies taken from the river before decomposition set in, and the forceof the freshet would tend to clear the river bed of any impurities in itrather than make new deposits. The argument which had the most weight, however, with the President was the efficiency of the local authorities. Pennsylvania has a State Board of Health and is a State with ample meansat her disposal, both in money and men, and if there is any danger ofthis sort her local officials were able to deal with it. This waspractically the decision of the conference. The gentlemen will meetagain, if necessary, and stand ready to render every assistance whichthe situation calls for, but they will leave the control of the matterwith the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania until it appears that she isunable to cope with it. 

Governor Beaver to the President. 

The following telegram was received by President Harrison from GovernorBeaver, who made his way from York to Harrisburg:--

"HARRISBURG, Pa. , June 3, 1889. 

"To the PRESIDENT, Washington:--

"The Sheriff of Cambria county says everything is quiet and that he cancontrol the situation without the aid of troops. The people are fairlyhoused and good order prevails. The supply of food so far is equal tothe demand, but supplies of food and clothing are still greatly needed. 

"Conservative estimates place the loss of life at from five thousand toten thousand, and loss of property at from $25, 000, 000 to $40, 000, 000. The people are at work heroically, and will have a large force to-morrowclearing away the débris. 

"The sympathies of the world are freely expressed. One telegram fromEngland gives $1, 000. I will issue a general appeal to the publicto-night. Help comes from all quarters. Its universality greatlyencourages our people. I will communicate with you promptly if anythingunusual occurs. 

"JAMES A. BEAVER. "

CHAPTER X. 

Thrilling Experiences. 

JOHNSTOWN, Pa. , June 3, 1889. --Innumerable tales of thrilling individualexperiences, each one more horrible than the others, are told. 

Frank McDonald, a conductor on the Somerset branch of the Baltimore andOhio, was at the Pennsylvania Railroad depot in this place when theflood came. He says that when he first saw the flood it was thirty feethigh and gradually rose to at least forty feet. 

"There is no doubt that the South Fork Dam was the cause of thedisaster, " said Mr. McDonald. "Fifteen minutes before the flood cameDecker, the Pennsylvania Railroad agent read me a telegram that he hadjust received saying that the South Fork Dam had broken. As soon as heheard this the people in station, numbering six hundred, made a rush fora hill. I certainly think I saw one thousand bodies go over the bridge. The first house that came down struck the bridge and at once took fire, and as fast as the others came down they were consumed. 

Saw a Thousand Persons Burn. 

"I believe I am safe in saying that I saw one thousand bodies burn. Itreminded me of a lot of flies on fly paper struggling to get away, withno hope and no chance to save them. 

[Illustration: THE WRECKED HOUSES BURNING AT THE PENNSYLVANIA RAILROADBRIDGE. ]

"I have no idea that had the bridge been blown up the loss of lifewould have been any less. They would have floated a little further withthe same certain death. Then, again, it was impossible for any one tohave reached the bridge in order to blow it out, for the waters came sofast that no one could have done it. 

"I saw fifteen to eighteen bodies go over the bridge at the same time. 

"I offered a man $20 to row me across the river, but could get no one togo, and finally had to build a boat and get across that way. "

It required some exercise of acrobatic agility to get into or out of thetown. A slide, a series of frightful tosses from side to side, a run andyou had crossed the narrow rope bridge which spanned the chasm dug bythe waters between the stone bridge and Johnstown. Crossing the bridgewas an exciting task. Yet many women accomplished it rather than remainin Johnstown. The bridge pitched like a ship in a storm. Within twoinches of your feet rushed the muddy waters of the Conemaugh. There wereno ropes to guide one and creeping was more convenient than walking. 

One had to cross the Conemaugh at a second point in order to reachJohnstown proper. This was accomplished by a skiff ferry. The ferrymanclung to a rope and pulled the load over. 

Confusion Worse Confounded. 

It is impossible to describe the appearance of Main street. Whole houseshave been swept down this one street and become lodged. The wreck ispiled as high as the second story windows. The reporter could step fromthe wreck into the auditorium of the Opera House. The ruins consists ofparts of houses, trees, saw logs, reels from the wire factory. Manyhouses have their side walls and roofs torn up, and you can walkdirectly into what had been second story bedrooms, or go in by way ofthe top. Further up town a raft of logs lodged in the street and didgreat damage. 

The best way to get an idea of the wreck is to take a number ofchildren's blocks, place them closely together and draw your handthrough them. 

At the commencement of the wreckage, which is at the opening of thevalley of the Conemaugh, one can look up the valley for miles and notsee a house. Nothing stands but an old woolen mill. 

As Seen by an Eye-Witness. 

Charles Luther is the name of the boy who stood on an adjacent elevationand saw the whole flood. He said he heard a grinding noise far up thevalley, and looking up he could see a dark line moving slowly towardhim. He saw that it was made up of houses. On they came like the hand ofa giant clearing off his tables. High in the air would be tossed a logor beam, which fell back with a crash. Down the valley it moved sedatelyand across the little mountain city. For ten minutes nothing but movinghouses were seen, and then the waters came with a roar and a rush. Thislasted for two hours, and then it began to flow more steadily. 

The pillaging of the houses in Johnstown is something awful tocontemplate and describe. It makes one feel almost ashamed to callhimself a man and know that others who bear the same name have convertedthemselves into human vultures, preying on the dead. Men are carryingshotguns and revolvers, and woe betide the stranger who looks evensuspiciously at any article. Goods of great value were being sold intown to-day for a drink of whiskey. 

A supply store has been established in the Fourth ward in Johnstown. Aline of men, women and children, extending for a square, waitedpatiently to have their wants supplied. 

An Improvised Morgue. 

The school house has been converted into a morgue, and the dead arebeing buried from this place. A hospital has been opened near by and isfull of patients. One of the victims was removed from a piece ofwreckage in which he had been imprisoned three days. His leg was brokenand his face badly bruised. He was delirious when rescued. 

In some places it is said the railroad tracks were scooped out to adepth of twenty feet. A train of cars, all loaded, were run on theConemaugh bridge. They, with the bridge, now lie in the wreckage at thispoint. The Pennsylvania Railroad loses thirty-five engines and manycars. 

Fire Still Raging. 

The cling-cling-clang of the engines has a homelike sound. The fire hasspread steadily all day and the upper part of the drift is burningto-night. The fire engine is stationed on the river bank and a line ofhose laid far up the track to the coal mine. The flames to-night arehigher than ever before, and by its light long lines of the curious canbe seen along the banks. 

[Illustration: FIREMEN ON DUTY AT THE BRIDGE. ]

The natural gas has been shut off, owing to the many leaks in Johnstown. No fire is allowed in the city. The walls of many houses are falling. Their crash can be heard across the river, where the newspaper men arelocated. In the walk through the town to-day the word "danger, " could benoticed, painted by the rescuers on the walls. 

Cremated. 

One of the Catholic churches in the town was burned on Saturday. A housedrifted down against it and set it on fire. A funeral was being held atthe church at the time of the flood. The congregation deserted thechurch and the body was burned with the building. Two large trees passedentirely through a brick Catholic church located near the centre of thetown. The building still stands, but is a total wreck. 

Colonel Norman M. Smith, of Pittsburgh, while returning from Johnstownafter a visit to Adjutant General Hastings, was knocked from thetemporary bridge into the river and carried down stream a couple ofhundred yards before he was able to swim ashore. He was not hurt. 

A Lucky Escape. 

O. J. Palmer, travelling salesman for a Pittsburgh meat house, was on theill-fated day express, one car of which was washed away. He narrowlyescaped drowning, and tells a horrible tale of his experience on thatoccasion. The engineer, the fireman and himself, when they saw the floodcoming, got upon the top of the car, and when the coach was carried awaythey caught the driftwood, and fortunately it was carried near the shoreand they escaped to the hills. Mr. Palmer walked a distance of twentymiles around the flooded district to a nearby railroad station on thisside. 

Freaks of the Disaster. 

A novel scene was witnessed yesterday near Johnstown borough. Some womenwho managed to escape from the town proper had to wear men's clothes, astheir own had been torn off by the flood. 

The force of the flood can be estimated by the fact that it carriedthree cars a mile and a half and the tender of an engine weighing twelvetons was carried fourteen miles down the river. A team of horses whichwas standing on Main street just before the flood was found a mile and aquarter below the town yesterday. 

The damage to the Cambria Iron Works was not so great as at firstreported. The ends of the blooming mill and open hearth furnacebuildings were crushed in by the force of the flood. The water rushedthrough the mill and tore a great pile of machinery from its fasteningsand caused other damage. The Bessemer steel mill is almost a ruin. Therolling and wire mills and the six blast furnaces were not much damaged. This morning the company put a large force of men at work and are makingstrenuous efforts to have at least a portion of the plant in operationwithin a few weeks. This has given encouragement to the stricken peopleof Johnstown, and they now seem to have some hope, although so many oftheir loved ones have met their death. The mill yard, with its numerousrailroad tracks, is nothing but a waste. Large piles of pig metal werescattered in every direction. All the loose débris is being gatheredinto heaps and burned. 

Hurled to a Place of Safety. 

A pitiful sight was that of an old, gray haired man named Norn. He waswalking around among the mass of débris, looking for his family. He hadjust sat down to eat his supper when the crash came, and the wholefamily, consisting of wife and eight children, were buried beneath thecollapsed house. He was carried down the river to the railroad bridge ona plank. Just at the bridge a cross-tie struck him with such force thathe was shot clear upon the pier and was safe. But he is a mass ofbruises and cuts from head to foot. He refused to go to the hospitaluntil he found the bodies of his loved ones. 

Heroism in Bright Relief. 

A Paul Revere lies somewhere among the dead. Who he is is now known, andhis ride will be famous in history. Mounted on a grand, big bay horse, he came riding down the pike which passes through Conemaugh toJohnstown, like some angel of wrath of old, shouting his warning: "Runfor your lives to the hills! Run to the hills!"

A Cloud of Ruin. 

The people crowded out of their houses along the thickly settled streetsawe-struck and wondering. No one knew the man, and some thought he was amaniac and laughed. On and on, at a deadly pace, he rode, and shrillyrang out his awful cry. In a few moments, however, there came a cloud ofruin down the broad streets, down the narrow alleys, grinding, twisting, hurling, overturning, crashing--annihilating the weak and the strong. Itwas the charge of the flood, wearing its coronet of ruin anddevastation, which grew at every instant of its progress. Forty feethigh, some say, thirty according to others, was this sea, and ittravelled with a swiftness like that which lay in the heels of Mercury. 

On and on raced the rider, on and on rushed the wave. Dozens of peopletook heed of the warning and ran up to the hills. 

Poor, faithful rider, it was an unequal contest. Just as he turned tocross the railroad bridge the mighty wall fell upon him, and horse, rider and bridge all went out into chaos together. 

A few feet further on several cars of the Pennsylvania Railroad trainfrom Pittsburgh were caught up and hurried into the caldron, and theheart of the town was reached. 

The hero had turned neither to right nor left for himself, but rode onto death for his townsmen. He was overwhelmed by the current at thebridge and drowned. A party of searchers found the body of this man andhis horse. He was still in the saddle. In a short time the man wasidentified as Daniel Periton, son of a merchant of Johnstown, a youngman of remarkable courage. He is no longer the unknown hero, for thename of Daniel Periton will live in fame as long as the history of thiscalamity is remembered by the people of this country. 

A Devoted Operator. 

Mrs. Ogle, the manager of the Western Union, who died at her post, willgo down in history as a heroine of the highest order. Notwithstandingthe repeated notifications which she received to get out of reach of theapproaching danger, she stood by the instruments with unflinchingloyalty and undaunted courage, sending words of warning to those indanger in the valley below. When every station in the path of the comingtorrent had been warned she wired her companion at South Fork, "This ismy last message, " and as such it shall always be remembered as her lastwords on earth, for at that very moment the torrent engulfed her andbore her from her post on earth to her post of honor in the greatbeyond. 

Another Hero. 

A telegraph operator at the railroad station above Mineral Point, whichis just in the gorge a short distance below the dam, and the lasttelegraph station above Conemaugh, had seen the waters rising, and hadheard of the first break in the dam. Two hours before the final breakcame he sent a message to his wife at Mineral Point to prepare for theflood. It read: "Dress the three children in their best Sunday clothes. Gather together what valuables you can easily carry and leave the house. Go to the stable on the hillside. Stay there until the water reachesit; then run to the mountain. The dam is breaking. The flood is coming. Lose no time. "

His wife showed the message to her friends, but they laughed at her. They even persuaded her to not heed her husband's command. The wife wenthome and about her work. Meanwhile the telegraph operator was busy withhis ticker. Down to Conemaugh he wired the warning. He also sent it onto Johnstown, then he ticked on, giving each minute bulletins of thebreak. As the water came down he sent message after message, telling itsprogress. Finally came the flood. He saw houses and bodies swept pasthim. His last message was: "The water is all around me; I cannot staylonger, and, for God's sake, all fly. " Then he jumped out of his towerwindow and ran up the mountain just in time to save himself. A wholetown came past as he turned and looked. Great masses of houses plungedup. He saw people on roofs yelling and crying, and then saw collisionsof houses, which caused the buildings to crush and crumble like paper. 

Racing with Death. 

All the time he felt that his family were safe. But it was not so withthem. When the roar of approaching water came the people of MineralPoint thought of their warning. The wife gathered her children andstarted to run. As she went she forgot her husband's advice to go to themountain and fled down the street to the lowlands. Suddenly sheremembered she had left the key of her home in the door. She took thechildren and ran back. As she neared the house the water came and forcedthem up between the two houses. The only outlet was toward the mountain, and she ran that way with her children. The water chased her, but sheand the children managed to clamber up far enough to escape. Thus it wasthat an accident saved their lives. Only three houses and a school-housewere saved at Mineral Point. 

A Dangerous Venture. 

One of the most thrilling incidents of the disaster was the performanceof A. J. Leonard, whose family reside in Morrellville. He was at work, and hearing that his house had been swept away determined at all hazardsto ascertain the fate of his family. The bridges having been carriedaway he constructed a temporary raft, and clinging to it as close as acat to the side of a fence, he pushed his frail craft out into theraging torrent and started on a chase which, to all who were watching, seemed to mean an embrace in death. 

Heedless of cries "For God's sake go back, you will be drowned. " "Don'tattempt it, " he persevered. As the raft struck the current he pulled offhis coat and in his shirt sleeves braved the stream. Down plunged theboards and down went Leonard, but as it arose he was seen stillclinging. A mighty shout arose from the throats of the hundreds on thebanks, who were now deeply interested, earnestly hoping he wouldsuccessfully ford the stream. 

Down again went his bark, but nothing, it seemed, could shake Leonardoff. The craft shot up in the air apparently ten or twelve feet, andLeonard stuck to it tenaciously. Slowly but surely he worked his boat tothe other side of the stream, and after what seemed an awful suspense hefinally landed amid ringing cheers of men, women and children. 

The last seen of him he was making his way down a mountain road in thedirection of the spot where his house had lately stood. His familyconsisted of his wife and three children. 

A Thrilling Escape. 

Henry D. Thomas, a well-known dry goods merchant, tells the followingstory: "I was caught right between a plank and a stone wall and was heldin that position for a long time. The water came rushing down and forcedthe plank against my chest. I felt as if it were going through me, whensuddenly the plank gave way, and I fell into the water. I grabbed theplank quickly and in some unaccountable way managed to get the forepartof my body on it, and in that way I was carried down the stream. Allaround me were people struggling and drowning, while bodies floated likecorks on the water. Some were crying for help, others were praying aloudfor mercy and a few were singing as if to keep up their courage. 

A large raft which went by bore a whole family, and they were singing, 'Nearer my God to Thee. ' In the midst of their song the raft struck alarge tree and went to splinters. There were one or two wild cries andthen silence. The horror of that time is with me day and night. It wouldhave driven a weak-minded person crazy. 

"The true condition of things that night can never be adequatelydescribed in words. The water came down through a narrow gorge, which inplaces was hardly two hundred feet wide. The broken dam was at anelevation of about five hundred feet above Johnstown. The railroadbridge across the Conemaugh River is at the lower side of Johnstown, andthe river is joined there by another mountain stream from the northeast. It was here that the débris collected and caught fire, and I doubt if itwill ever be known how many perished there. The water came down with thespeed of a locomotive. The people there are absolutely paralyzed--somuch so that they speak of their losses in a most indifferent way. Iheard two men in conversation. One said: 'Well, I lost a wife and threechildren. ' 'That's nothing, ' said the other; 'I lost a wife and sixchildren. '"

The Sudden Break. 

A man named Maguire was met on his way from South Fork to Johnstown. Hesaid he was standing on the edge of the lake when the walls burst. Thewaters were rising all day and were on a level with a pile of dirt whichhe said was above the walls of the dam. All of a sudden it burst with areport like a cannon and the water started down the mountain side, sweeping before it the trees as if they were chips. Bowlders were rolleddown as if they were marbles. The roar was deafening. The lake wasemptied in an hour. 

At the time there were about forty men at work up there, building a newdraining system at the lake for Messrs. Parke and Van Buren. They didall they could to try and avert the disaster by digging a sluiceway onone side to ease the pressure on the dam, but their efforts werefruitless. 

"It was about half-past two o'clock when the water reached the top ofthe dam. At first it was just a narrow white stream trickling down theface of the dam, soon its proportions began to grow with alarmingrapidity, and in an extremely short space of time a volume of water afoot in thickness was passing over the top of the dam. 

"There had been little rain up to dark. Whatever happened in the way ofa cloud burst took place during the night. When the workmen woke in themorning the lake was very full and was rising at the rate of a foot anhour. 

"When at two o'clock the water began to flow over the dam, the work ofundermining began. Men were sent three or four times during the day

To Warn the People

below of their danger. At three o'clock there was a sound liketremendous and continued peals of thunder. The earth seemed to shake andvibrate beneath our feet. 

"There was a rush of wind, the trees swayed to and fro, the air was fullof fine spray or mist: then looking down just in front of the dam we sawtrees, rocks and earth shot up into mid-air in great columns. It seemedas though some great unseen force was at work wantonly destroyingeverything; then the great wave, foaming, boiling and hissing, dashingclouds of spray hundreds of feet in height as it came against someobstruction in the way of its mad rush, clearing everything away beforeit, started on its terrible death-dealing mission down the fatalvalley. "

Engineer Henry's Awful Race. 

Engineer Henry, of the second section of the express train, No. 8, whichwas caught at Conemaugh, tells a thrilling story. His train was caughtin the midst of the wave and were the only cars that were not destroyed. "It was an awful sight, " he said. "I have often seen pictures of floodscenes, and I thought they were exaggerations, but what I witnessed lastFriday changes my former belief. To see that immense volume of water, fully fifty feet high, rushing madly down the valley, sweepingeverything before it, was a thrilling sight. It is engraved indelibly onmy memory. Even now I can see that mad torrent carrying death anddestruction before it. 

"The second section of No. 8, on which I was, was due at Johnstown about10. 15 in the morning. We arrived there safely, and were told to followthe first section. When we arrived at Conemaugh the first section andthe mail were there. Washouts further up the mountain prevented ourgoing, so we could do nothing but sit around and discuss the situation. The creek at Conemaugh was swollen high, almost overflowing. The heavenswere pouring rain, but this did not prevent nearly all the inhabitantsof the town from gathering along its banks. They watched

The Waters Go Dashing

by and wondered whether the creek could get much higher. But a fewinches more and it would overflow its banks. There seemed to be afeeling of uneasiness among the people. They seemed to fear thatsomething awful was going to happen. Their suspicions were strengthenedby the fact that warning had come down the valley for the people to beon the lookout. The rains had swelled everything to the bursting point. The day passed slowly, however. 

"Noon came and went, and still nothing happened. We could not proceed, nor could we go back, as the tracks about a mile below Conemaugh hadbeen washed away, so there was nothing for us to do but to wait and seewhat would come next. 

"Some time after 3 o'clock Friday afternoon I went into the traindespatcher's office to learn the latest news. I had not been there longwhen I heard a fierce whistling from an engine away up the mountain. Rushing out I found dozens of men standing around. Fear had blanchedevery cheek. The loud and continued whistling had made every one feelthat something serious was going to happen. In a few moments I couldhear a train rattling down the mountain. About five hundred yards aboveConemaugh the tracks make a slight curve and we could not see beyondthis. The suspense was something awful. We did not know what was coming, but no one could get rid of the thought that something was wrong at thedam. 

"Our suspense was not very long, however. Nearer and nearer the traincame, the thundering sound still accompanying it. There seemed to besomething behind the train, as there was a dull, rumbling sound which Iknew did not come from the train. Nearer and nearer it came; a momentmore and it would reach the curve. The next instant there burst upon oureyes a sight that made every heart stand still. Rushing around thecurve, snorting and tearing, came an engine and several gravel cars. Thetrain appeared to be putting forth every effort to go faster. Nearer itcame, belching forth smoke and whistling long and loud. But

The Most Terrible Sight

was to follow. Twenty feet behind came surging along a mad rush of waterfully fifty feet high. Like the train, it seemed to be putting forthevery effort to push along faster. Such an awful race we never beforewitnessed. For an instant the people seemed paralyzed with horror. Theyknew not what to do, but in a moment they realized that a second's delaymeant death to them. With one accord they rushed to the high lands a fewhundred feet away. Most of them succeeded in reaching that place andwere safe. 

[Illustration: AN ENGINEER'S TERRIFIC RACE IN THE VALLEY OF DEATH. ]

"I thought of the passengers in my train. The second section of No. 8had three sleepers. In these three cars were about thirty people, whorushed through the train crying to the others 'Save yourselves!' Thencame a scene of the wildest confusion. Ladies and children shrieked andthe men seemed terror-stricken. I succeeded in helping some ladies andchildren off the train and up to the highlands. Running back, I caughtup two children and ran for my life to a higher place. Thank God, I wasquicker than the flood! I deposited my load in safety on the high landjust as it swept past us. 

"For nearly an hour we stood watching the mad flood go rushing by. Thewater was full of débris. When the flood caught Conemaugh it dashedagainst the little town with a mighty crash. The water did not lift thehouses up and carry them off, but crushed them one against the other andbroke them up like so many egg shells. Before the flood came there was apretty little town. When the waters passed on there was nothing but

Few Broken Boards

to mark the central portion of the city. It was swept as clean as anewly brushed floor. When the flood passed onward down the valley I wentover to my train. It had been moved back about twenty yards, but it wasnot damaged. About fifty persons had remained in the train and they weresafe. Of the three trains ours was the luckiest. The engines of both theothers had been swept off the track and one or two cars in each trainhad met the same fate. 

"What saved our train was the fact that just at the curve which Imentioned the valley spread out. The valley is six or seven hundredyards broad where our train was standing. This, of course, let thefloods pass out. It was only twenty feet high when it struck our train, which was about in the middle of the valley. 

"This fact, together with the elevation of the track, was all that savedus. We stayed that night in the houses in Conemaugh that had not beendestroyed. The next morning I started down the valley and by 4 o'clockin the afternoon had reached Conemaugh furnace, eight miles west ofJohnstown. Then I got a team and came home. 

"In my tramp down the valley I saw some awful sights. On the treebranches hung shreds of clothing torn from the unfortunates as they werewhirled along in the terrible rush of the torrent. Dead bodies werelying by scores along the banks of the creeks. One woman I helped dragfrom the mud had tightly clutched in her hand a paper. We tore it out ofher hand and found it to be a badly water-soaked photograph. It wasprobably a picture of the drowned woman. "

Over the Bridge. 

Frank McDonald, a railroad conductor, says: "I certainly think I saw1, 000 bodies go over the bridge. The first house that came down struckthe bridge and at once took fire, and as fast as they came down theywere consumed. I believe I am safe in saying I saw 1, 000 bodies burn. Itreminded me of a lot of flies on fly-paper struggling to get away, withno hope and no chance to save them. I have no idea that had the bridgebeen blown up the loss of life would have been any less. They wouldhave floated a little further with the same certain death. Then, again, it was impossible for any one to have reached the bridge in order toblow it up, for the waters came so fast that no one could have done it. I saw fifteen to eighteen bodies go over the bridge. At the same time Ioffered a man twenty dollars to row me across the river, but could getno one to go, and I finally had to build a boat and get across thatway. "

Nothing seems to have withstood the merciless sweep of the mightyon-rush of pent-up Conemaugh. As for the houses of the town a thousandof them lie piled up in a smouldering mass to the right of Conemaughbridge. 

At the present moment, away down in its terrible depths, this mass oftorn and twisted timbers and dead humanity is slowly burning, and thelight curling smoke that rises as high almost as the mountain, and thesickening smell that comes from the centre of this fearful funeral piletell that the unseen fire is feeding on other fuel than the rafters androofs that once sheltered the population of Johnstown. 

A Ghastly Scene. 

The mind is filled with horror at the supreme desolation that pervadesthe whole scene. It is small wonder that the pen cannot in the hands ofthe most skillful even pretend to convey one-hundredth part of what isseen and heard every hour in the day in this fearful place. At thepresent moment firemen and others are out on that ghastly aggregation ofwoodwork and human kind jammed against the unyielding mass of archedmasonry. 

Round them curls the white smoke from the smouldering interior of theheaped up houses of Johnstown. Every now and then the gleam of an axeand a group of stooping forms tell that another ghastly find has beenmade, and a whisper goes round among the hundreds of watchers that otherbodies are being brought to light. 

How many hundreds or thousands there are who found death by fire at thisawful spot will never be known, and the people are already giving uphopes of ever reaching the knowledge of how their loved and lost onesmet their doom, whether in the fierce, angry embrace of the waters ofConemaugh, or in the deadly grip of the fire fiend, who claimed thehomes of Johnstown for his own above the fatal bridge. 

Every hour it becomes more and more apparent that the exact number oflives lost will never be known. Up to the present time the dispositionhas been to under rather than overestimate the number of livessacrificed. 

A Mother Rescued by Her Daughter. 

A daughter of John Duncan, superintendent of the Johnstown Street CarCompany, had an awful struggle in rescuing her mother and baby sister. Mrs. Duncan and family had taken refuge on a roof, when a large log camefloating down the river, striking the house with immense force, knockingMrs. Duncan and daughter into the fast running river. Seeing what hadhappened, Alvania, her fifteen-year-old daughter, leaped into the water, and after a hard struggle landed both on the roof of the house. 

The members of the Cambria Club tell of their battle for life in thefollowing manner: They were about to sit down to dinner when they heardthe crash, and knowing what had occurred they started for the attic justas the flood was upon them. When the members were assured of theirsafety they at once commenced saving others by grasping them as theyfloated by on tree tops, houses, etc. In this manner they saved seventypersons from death. 

The Clock Stopped at 5. 20. 

One of the queerest sights in the centre of the town is a three-storybrick residence standing with one wall, the others having disappearedcompletely, leaving the floors supported by the partitions. In one ofthe upper rooms can be seen a mantel with a lambrequin on it and a clockstopped at twenty minutes after five. In front of the clock is a lady'sfan, though from the marks on the wall-paper the water has been over allthese things. 

In the upper part of the town, where the back water from the flood wentinto the valley with diminished force, there are many strange scenes. There the houses were toppled over one after another in a row, and leftwhere they lay. One of them was turned completely over and stands withits roof on the foundations of another house and its base in the air. The owner came back, and getting into his house through the windowswalked about on his ceiling. Out of this house a woman and her twochildren escaped safely and were but little hurt, although they werestood on their heads in the whirl. Every house has its own story. Fromone a woman shut up in her garret escaped by chopping a hole in theroof. From another a Hungarian named Grevins leaped to the shore as itwent whirling past and fell twenty-five feet upon a pile of metal andescaped with a broken leg. Another is said to have come all the way fromvery near the start of the flood and to have circled around with theback water and finally landed on the flats at the city site, where it isstill pointed out. 

CHAPTER XI. 

New Tales of Horror. 

The accounts contained in the foregoing chapters bring this appallingstory of death down to June 4th. We continue the narrative as given fromday to day by eye-witnesses, as this is the only method by which a fulland accurate description of Johnstown's unspeakable horror can beobtained. 

On the morning of June 5th one of the leading journals contained thefollowing announcements, printed in large type, and preceding its vividaccount of the terrible situation at Johnstown. 

Death, ruin, plague! Threatened outbreak of disease in the fate strickenvalley. Awful effluvia from corpses! Swift and decisive means must betaken to clear away the masses of putrefying matter that underlie thewreck of what was once a town. Proposed use of explosives. Crowds ofrefugees are already attacked by pneumonia and the germs of typhuspervade both air and water. Victims yet unnumbered. Dreadful discoverieshourly made! Heaps of the drowned, the mangled and the burned are foundin pockets between rocks and under packed accumulations of sand!Pennsylvania regiments ordered to the scene to keep ward over anafflicted and heartbroken people. Blame where it belongs. The ears ofthe inhabitants were dulled to fear by warnings many timesrepeated--forty-two years ago the dam broke--vivid stories of witnessesof the great tragedy--the owners of the lake must bear a gigantic burdenof remorse--sufferings of survivors!

These were the terrible headings in a single issue of a newspaper. 

A registry of the living who were residents of Johnstown prior to theflood was begun to-day. Out of a total population of 39, 400 the names ofonly 10, 600 have been recorded. This may give an approximate idea of thenumber of those who lost their lives. 

Gaunt Menace of Pestilence. 

The most important near fact of to-day is the increasing danger ofpestilence. 

As the work of disengaging the bodies of the dead progresses thehorrible peril becomes more and more apparent. There is need of thespeediest possible measures to offset the gravity of the sanitarysituation. 

From every part of the stricken valley the same cry of alarm arises, forat every point where the dead are being discovered, as the waterscontinue to abate, the same peril exists. 

The use of explosives, especially dynamite, has been discussed. There issome opposition to it, but it may yet be resorted to. The great mass ofruins at the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge, which is still smoking andsmouldering, is a ghastly mine of human flesh and bones in all sorts ofhideous shapes, and unless desperate means are employed, cannot becleared away in weeks to come. 

[Illustration: READING THE HORRIBLE NEWS. ]

Still, vigorous work in that direction is being performed, andexplosives will be used in a limited degree to further it. This greatwork may be divided into two parts--the clearing away of the mass ofdébris lodged against the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge, and theexamination and removal of the many wrecked buildings which mark thesite of Johnstown. 

Order Out of Chaos. 

Slowly something like order is beginning to appear in the chaos ofdestruction. Enough militia came to-day to put the town under strictmartial law. Four hundred men of the Fourteenth regiment, of Pittsburgh, are here. There will be no more tramping over the ruins by ungovernedmobs. There will be no more fears of rioting. 

The supplies of food are constantly growing. The much needed money isbeginning to come in, though not at all needless relief committees arebeginning to go out. Better quarters for the sufferers are beingprovided. Better arrangements for systematic relief are made. Somethingof the deep gloom has been dispelled, though Johnstown is still thesaddest spot on earth. 

The systematic attempt to clear up the ruins at the gorge and get outthe bodies imprisoned there began to-day. The expectations of ghastlydiscoveries were more than realized. Scores of burned and mangled bodieswere removed. 

Freaks of the Torrent. 

The great waste where the city stood looked a little different to-day. Some attempt was made to clear up the rubbish, and fires were burning ina dozen places to get rid of it. Tents for the soldiers and some of thesufferers were put up in the smooth stretch of sand where a great, fivestory hardware store used to stand. The dead animals that were here andthere in the débris were removed, to the benefit of the towns-people'shealth. 

Curious things come to light where the rubbish was cleared away. Thesolid cobblestone pavement had been scooped up by the force of the waterand in some places swept so far away that there was not a sign of it. Behind a house that was resting on one corner was found a wickerworkbaby carriage full of mud, but not injured or scratched in the least noryet buried in the mud, but looking as if it had been rolled there andleft. Very close to it was a piece of railroad iron that must have beencarried half a mile, bent as it it were but common wire. Exactly on thesite of a large grocery store was a box of soap and a bundle ofclothespins, while of all the brick and stone, of which the store wasbuilt, and all the heavy furniture it contained there was not theslightest trace. 

Many articles of wearing apparel were found here, but no bodies could bediscovered in the whole stretch of the plain, from which it is inferredthat most of the deaths occurred at the gorge or else the flood sweptthem far away. 

Reminders of a Broken Home. 

One of the few buildings that are left in this part of town is the finehouse of Mr. Geranheiser, of the Cambria Iron Company. It presents aqueer spectacle--that is common here but has not often been seen before. The flood reached almost to the second floor and was strong enough tocut away about half the house, leaving the rest standing. The wholeinterior of the place can be seen just as the frightened inmates leftit. The carpets are torn up from the first floor, but the pictures arestill hanging on the walls and an open piano stands against the wallfull of mud; a Brussels carpet being halfway out of the second story onthe side where the wreck was and showing exactly how high the watercame. There was a centre table in the room and an open book on it. Chairs stood about the room and the pictures were on the walls, and halfof the room was gone miles away. 

Seven Acres of Wreckage. 

Just below the bare plain where the business block of Johnstown stood, and above the stone arch bridge on which the Pennsylvania Railroadcrossed the river, are seven acres of the wreckage of the flood. Thehorrors that have been enacted in that spot, the horrors that are seenthere every hour, who can attempt to describe? Under and amid that massof conglomerate rubbish are the remains of at least one thousand personswho died the most frightful of deaths. 

This is the place where the fire broke out within twenty minutes afterthe flood. It has burned ever since. The stone arch bridge acted as adam to the flood, and five towns were crushing each other against it. Athousand houses came down on the great wave of water, and were heldthere a solid mass in the jaws of a Cyclopean vise. 

A kitchen stove upset. The mass took fire. A thousand people wereimprisoned in these houses. A thousand more were on the roofs. For mostof them there was no escape. The fire swept on from house to house. Theprisoners saw it coming and shrieked and screamed with terror, and ranup and down their narrow quarters in an agony of fear. 

Sights to Freeze Their Blood. 

Thousands of people stood upon the river bank and saw and heard it alland still were powerless to help. They saw people kneeling in the flamesand praying. They saw families gathered together with their arms aroundeach other and waiting for death. They saw people going mad and tearingtheir hair and laughing. They saw men plunge into the narrow crevicesbetween the houses and seek death in the water rather than wait itscoming in the flames. Some saw their friends and some their wives andchildren perishing before them, and some in the awful agony of the hourwent mad themselves and ran shrieking to the hillsides, and stronger menlaid down on the ground and wept. 

All that night and all the next day, and far into the morning of Monday, these dreadful shrieks resounded from that place of doom. The fireburned on, aided by the fire underneath, added to by fresh fuel comingdown the river. All that time the people stood helpless on the bank andheard those heartrending sounds. What could they do? They could notfight the fire. Every fire engine in the town lay in that mass ofrubbish smashed to bits. For hours they had to wait until they could gettelegraph word to surrounding towns, and hours more until the fireengines arrived at noon on Monday. 

Wrecks of Five Iron Bridges. 

The shrieks ceased early in the morning. Men had began to search theruins and had taken out the few that still lived. The fire engines beganto play on the still smouldering fire. Other workmen began to remove thebodies. The fire had swept over the whole mass from shore to shore andburned it to the water. A great field of crushed and charred timbers wasall that was left. The flood had gorged this in so tightly that it madea solid bridge above the water. A tremendous, irresistible force hadground and churned and macerated the débris until it was a confused, solid, almost welded, conglomerate, stretching from shore to shore, jammed high up against the stone bridge and extending up the river aquarter of a mile, perhaps half as wide. In this tangled heap and crushof matter were the twisted wrecks of five iron bridges, smashedlocomotives, splintered dwellings and all their contents; human beingsand domestic animals, hay and factory machinery; the rich contents ofstores and brick walls ground to powder--all the products of humanindustry, all the elements of human interests, twisted, turned, brokenin a mighty mill and all thrown together. 

A Sickening Spectacle. 

I walked over this extraordinary mass this morning and saw the fragmentsof thousands of articles. In one place the roofs of forty frame houseswere packed in together just as you would place forty bended cards oneon top of another. The iron rods of a bridge were twisted into a perfectspiral six times around one of the girders. Just beneath it was awoman's trunk, broken up and half filled with sand, with silk dressesand a veil streaming out of it. From under the trunk men were liftingthe body of its owner, perhaps, so burned, so horribly mutilated, sotorn from limb to limb, that even the workmen, who have seen so many ofthese frightful sights that they have begun to get used to them, turnedaway sick at heart. 

I saw in one place a wrecked grocery store--bins of coffee and tea, flour, spices and nuts, parts of the counter and safe mingled together. Near it was the pantry of the house, still partly intact, the plates andsaucers regularly piled up, a waiter and a teapot, but not a sign of thewoodwork, not a recognizable outline of a house. In another place ahalter, with a part of a horse's head tied to a bit of a manger, and amass of hay and straw about, but no other signs of the stable in whichthe horse was burned. Two cindered towels, a cake of soap in a dish, anda bit of carpet were taken to indicate the location of a hotel. I saw achild's skull in a bed of ashes, but no sign of a body. 

Recognized by Fragments. 

In another place was a human foot and crumbling indications of a boot, but no signs of a body. A hay rick, half ashes, stood near the centre ofthe gorge. Workmen who dug about it to-day found a chicken coop, and init two chickens, not only alive but clucking happily when they werereleased. A woman's hat, half burned; a reticule, with a part of a handstill clinging to it; two shoes and part of a dress told the story ofone unfortunate's death. Close at hand a commercial traveller hadperished. There was his broken valise, still full of samples, fragmentsof his shoes and some pieces of his clothing. 

Scenes like these were occurring all over the charred field where menwere working with pick and axe and lifting out the poor, shatteredremains of human beings, nearly always past recognition oridentification, except by guesswork, or the locality where they werefound. Articles of domestic use scattered through the rubbish helped totell who some of the bodies were. Part of a set of dinner plates toldone man where in the intangible mass his house was. In one place was aphotograph album with one picture recognizable. From this the body of achild near by was identified. A man who had spent a day and all nightlooking for the body of his wife, was directed to her remains by part ofa trunk lid. 

Dead Bodies Caressed. 

Poor old John Jordan, of Conemaugh! Many a tear ran over swarthy cheeksfor him to-day. All his family, his wife and children, had been sweptfrom his sight in the flood. He wandered over the gorge yesterdaylooking for them, and last night the police could not bring him away. Atdaylight he found his wife's sewing machine and called the workmen tohelp him. First they found a little boy's jacket that he recognized andthen they came upon the rest of them all buried together, the mother'sburned arms still clinging to the little children. Then the white headedold man sat down in the ashes and caressed the dead bodies and talked tothem just as if they were alive until some one came and led him quietlyaway. Without a protest he went to the shore and sat down on a rock andtalked to himself, and then got up and disappeared on the hills. 

To Blow Up the Gorge. 

Was this the only such scene the day saw? There were scores like it. People worked in ruins all day to find their relatives and then wenthome with horrible uncertainty. People found what they were looking forand fainted at the sight. People looked and cried aloud and came andstood on the banks all day, afraid to look and still afraid to go away. The burned bodies are not the only ones in the gorge. Under the timbersand held down in the water there must be hundreds that escaped the fire, but were drowned. To get at these the gorge is to be blown up withdynamite. The sanitary reasons for such a step are becoming hourly moreapparent. It is the belief of the physicians that a pestilence will beadded to the other horrors of the place if such a thing is not done. Allday the bodies have been brought to shore. Those that were notrecognized were carried on stretchers to the Morgue. One hundred andtwenty of the identified bodies were carried over the bridge in oneprocession. 

Relief work for the suffering goes on at the headquarters of the ReliefCommittee on that little, muddy, rubbish-filled street which escapeddestruction at the edge of the flood. 

The building is a wretched shanty, once a Hungarian boarding-house, anda long line of miserable women stretches out in front of it all daywaiting for relief. They are the unfortunate who have lost everything inthe flood. 

Quarters for five thousand of these people are provided in tents on thehillside. For provisions they are dependent on the charity of thecountry. Bread and meat are served out to them on the committee's order. 

They are the most mournful and pitiable sight. There was not one in theline who had not lost some one dear to her. Most of them were the wivesof merchants or laborers who went down in the disaster. They were thesole survivors of their families. Very few had any more clothes thanthey wore when their houses were washed away. They stood there for hoursin the rain yesterday without any protection, soaked with the drizzle, squalid and utterly forlorn--a sight to move a heart of stone. 

Silent Sufferers. 

They did not talk to one another as women generally do even when theyare not acquainted. They got no words of sympathy from any one, and theygave none. Not a word was spoken along the whole line. They simply stoodand waited. In truth there is nothing about the survivors of thedisaster that strikes one so forcibly as their evident inability tocomprehend their misfortune and the absence of sympathetic expressionsamong them. It is not because they are naturally stolid, but the wholething is so vast and bears upon them so heavily they cannot grasp it. 

People in California know much more about the disaster than any residentof Johnstown knows; more information about it can be gotten fromtowns-people forty miles away than from those who saw it. The peoplehere are not at all lacking in sympathy or kindliness of heart, but whatwords of sympathy would have any meaning in such a tremendouscatastrophe? Every person of Johnstown has lost a relative or a friend, and so has every other resident he meets. They seem to see instinctivelythat condolence would be meaningless. 

Famine Happily Averted. 

On the west side of the lower town one or two little streets are leftfrom the flood. They are crowded all the time with the survivors. As Ihave gone among them I have heard nothing but such conversations asthis, which is literally reproduced:--

"Hello, Will! Where's Jim?"

"He's lost. "

"Is that so! Goodby. "

Another was:--

"Good morning, Mr. Holden; did you save Mrs. Holden?"

"No; she went with the house. You lost your two boys, didn't you?"

"Yes. Good morning. "

Two women met on the narrow rope bridge which spans the creek. As theypassed one said:--

"How about Aunt Mary?"

"Oh, she's lost; so is Cousin Hattie. "

It gives an outside listener a strange sensation to hear people talkthus with about as little emotion as they would talk about the weather. But the people of Johnstown had so much to do with death that they thinkabout nothing else. I will undertake to say that half the people havenot the slightest idea what day of the week or month this is. 

A Rope Bridge of Sighs. 

To get from one part of the town to another it is necessary to cross theriver or creek which is now flowing over the sites of business blocks. Of course every vestige of a bridge was swept far away, and to taketheir places two ropes have been hung from high timbers built upon thesandy island that was the city's site. On these ropes narrow boards aretied. The whole structure is not more than four feet wide, and it hangstrembling over the water in a way that makes nervous people shudder. Over this frail thing hundreds of people crowd every hour, and why therehas not been another disaster is something no one can understand. 

The river is rising steadily, and all the afternoon the middle of thebridge sagged down into the water, but the people kept on strugglingacross. Many of them carried coffins containing bodies from the Morgue. There are no express wagons, no hearses--scarcely any vehicles of anykind in the town--and all the coffins have to be carried on theshoulders of the men. 

Coffins are a dreadfully common sight. It is impossible to move a dozensteps in any direction without meeting one or very likely a processionof of them. One hundred of them were piled up in front of the Morguethis morning. Twice as many more were on the platform of thePennsylvania station. Carloads of coffins were being unloaded fromfreight cars below town and carried along the roads. Almost every househas a coffin in it. Every boat that crosses the river carries one, androws of them stood by the bank to receive the bodies. 

Merely a Mud Plain. 

There is a narrow fringe of houses on each side of the empty plain, which escaped because they were built on higher ground. Fine brickblocks and paved streets filled the business part of the town, which wasabout a mile long and half a mile wide. Where these blocks stood mud isin some places six feet deep. Over and through it all is scattered anextraordinary collection of rubbish--boilers, car wheels, fragments oflocomotives, household furniture, dead animals, clothing, sewingmachines, goods from stores, safes, passenger and street cars, some halfburied in the sand, some all exposed, helter-skelter. 

It is simply impossible to realize the tremendous force exercised by theflood, though the imagination is assisted by the presence of heavy ironbeams twisted and bent, railroad locomotives swept miles away, railstorn up, the rocks and banks slashed away, and brick walls carried away, leaving no traces of their foundations. The few stone houses thatresisted the shock were completely stripped of all their contents andfilled four feet deep with sand and powdered débris. 

A Glimpse from a Window. 

As I write this, seated within a curious circular affair, which was oncea mould for sewer pipe, are two operators busy with clickinginstruments. The floor is a foot deep with clay. There are no doors. There are no windows which boast of glass or covering of any kind. Thelookout embraces the bulk of the devastated districts. Just below thewindows are the steep river banks, covered with a miscellaneous massthrown up by the flood. The big stone bridge is crowded with freightcars loaded with material for repairing the structure and with peoplewho are eager to see something horrible. 

That Funeral Pyre. 

The further half of the bridge which was swept away has been replaced bya trembling wooden affair, wide enough only for two persons to walkabreast. To the left of the bridge and across the river are the greatbrick mills of the Cambria Iron and Steel Company, crushed and torn outof a semblance to workshops. Just in front of the office is what hasbeen called the "funeral pyre, " and which threatens to become averitable breeding spot of pestilence. 

Just before me a group of red-capped firemen are directing a stream ofwater upon such portions of the mass as can be reached from the shore. 

Where Death Was Busiest. 

Over to the right, at the edge of a muddy lagoon which marks the limitof the levelling rush of the mad torrent, there are dozens and dozens ofbuildings leaning against each other in the oddest sort of jumble. Thespectacle would be ludicrous if it were not so awfully suggestive of thetragic fate of the inmates. Behind this border land are the regionswhere death was wofully busy. In some streets a mile from any railroadtrack locomotives and cars are scattered among the smouldering ruins. Inthe river the rescuers are busy, and so are the Hungarians and nativeborn thieves. 

Men take queer souvenirs away sometimes. One came up the bank a shorttime ago with a skull and two leg bones, all blackened and burned by thefire. 

There is, of course, no business done, and those who have been sparedhave little to do save watch for a new phase of the greatest tragedy ofthe kind in modern history. On Prospect Hill is a town of tents wherethe homeless are housed and fed, and where also a formidable city of thedead has been just prepared. Such are some of the scenes visible fromthe window. 

The Skeleton of Its Former Self. 

The water has receded in the night almost as rapidly as it came, andbehind it remains the sorriest sight imaginable. The dove that has comehas no green leaf of promise, for its wings are draped with the hue ofmourning and desolation. There now lies the great skeleton of deadJohnstown. The great ribs of rocky sand stretch across the chest scarredand covered with abrasions. Acres of mud, acres of wreckage, acres ofunsteady, tottering buildings, acres of unknown dead, of ghastly objectswhich have been eagerly sought for since Friday; acres of smoky, streaming ruin, of sorrow for somebody, lie out there in the sunshine. 

Like Unto Arcadia After the Fire. 

The awful desolation of the scene has been described often enoughalready to render a repetition of the attempt here unnecessary. Thesedescriptions have been as truthful and graphic as it is possible for manto make them; but none have been adequate--none could be. Where oncestood solid unbroken blocks for squares and squares, with basements andsubcellars, there is now a level plain as free from obstruction orexcavation as the fair fields of Arcadia after they had been swept bythe British flames. The major and prettier portion of the beautiful cityhas literally been blotted from the face of the earth. 

Disease Succeeds to Calamity. 

Up the ragged surface of Prospect Hill, whither hundreds of terrifiedpeople fled for safety Friday night, I scrambled this afternoon. I cameupon a pneumonia scourge which bids fair to do for a number of theescaped victims what the flood could not. Death has pursued them totheir highest places, and terror will not die. Every little house onthe hill--and there are a hundred or two of them--had thrown its doorsopen to receive the bruised, half-clad fugitives on the dark day of thedeluge, and every one was now a crude hospital. Half the women who hadscaled the height were so overcome with fright that they have beenbedridden ever since. There had been pneumonia on the hill, but only afew cases. To-day, however, several fresh cases developed among the theflood fugitives, and a local physician said the prospects for a scourgeare all too promising. The enfeebled condition of the patients, theunhealthy atmosphere pervading the valley and the necessarily closequarters in which the people are crowded render the spread of thedisease almost certain. 

The Military Called Out. 

At the request of the Sheriff, Adjutant General Hastings called out theFourteenth regiment of Pittsburgh, who are to be stationed at Johnstownproper, to guard the buildings and against emergencies. Other reasonsare known to exist for this precaution. Bodies were recovered to-daythat have been robbed by the ghouls. It is known that one lady hadseveral hundred dollars in her possession just before the disaster, butwhen the body was recovered there was not a cent in her pocket. 

The Hungarians attacked a supply wagon between Morrellville and CambriaCity to-day. The drivers of the wagon repulsed them, but they againreturned. A second fight ensued, but after lively scrambling theHungarians were again driven away. After that drivers and guards ofsupply wagons were permitted to go armed. 

General Hastings was seen later in the day, and when asked what causedhim to order the militia said: "There is no need of troops to quellanother disturbance, but now there are at least two thousand men at workin Johnstown clearing up the débris, and I think that it will not hurtto have the Fourteenth regiment here, as they can guard the banks andall valuables. The Sheriff consulted me in the matter. He stated thathis men were about worn out, and he thought that we had better have somesoldiers. So I ordered them. "

The people, aroused by repeated outrages, are bitterly hounding theHungarians, and a military force is essential to see that both sidespreserve order. 

Indignant Battery B. 

A number of the members of Battery B and the Washington infantry, whowere ordered back from Johnstown, are very indignant at Adjutant GeneralHastings, who gave the order. They claim that General Hastings not onlyacted without a particle of judgment, but when they offered to act aspicket, do police duty or anything else that might be required of them, they state that they were treated like dogs. 

They also insist that their services are badly needed for the reasonthat the hills surrounding Johnstown are swarming with tramps, who areavailing themselves of every opportunity to secure plunder from thenumerous wrecks or dead bodies. 

They told the General that they came more as private citizens than assoldiers, and were willing to do what they could. The General abruptlyordered them back to Pittsburgh. Lieutenant Gammel, who had charge ofthe men, said: "We would like to have stayed but we had to obey ordersand we took the first train for home. Even the short time we were therethe fifty-five men had pulled out thirty-five bodies. "

Members of the battery said: "This is a fine Governor we have, and asfor Hastings, the least said about his actions the better. "

The Adjutant General's order calling out the Fourteenth regiment andordering them to this place is not looked upon as being altogether awise move by many citizens. 

Narrow Escape from Lynching. 

About eleven o'clock this morning, Captain W. R. Jones, of Braddock, andhis men discovered a man struggling in the hands of an angry crowd onMain street. The crowd were belaboring the man with sticks and fists, and Captain Jones entered the house where the disturbance occurred, andthe man shouted: "I have a right here, and am getting what belongs to myfolks!"

The crowd then demanded that he show what he had in his possession. Hereluctantly produced a handful of jewelry from his pocket, among whichwas a gold watch, which was no sooner shown than a gentleman who wasstanding nearby claimed it as his own, saying that the house where theywere standing was the residence of his family. He then proceeded toidentify clearly the property. The crowd, convinced of the thief'sguilt, wanted to lynch him, but after an exciting scene Captain Jonespacified them. The man was escorted out of town by officers, releasedand ordered not to return. 

Johnstown Succored. 

There will be no more charity except for the helpless. The lengtheningof the death roll has fearfully shortened the list to be provided for. There is now an abundance of food and clothing to satisfy the presentnecessities of all who are in need. Beginning to-morrow morning, June5th, aid will not be extended to any who are able to work except inpayment for work. All the destitute who are able and willing will be putto work clearing up the wreck in the river and the wastes where thestreets stood. They will be paid $2. 50 and $3. 00 per day for ordinarylaboring work, and thus obtain money with which to buy provisions, whichwill be sold to them at reduced prices. 

Those who will not work will be driven off. The money collected will bepaid out in wages, in defraying funeral expenses and in relieving thosewhose bread providers have been taken away. 

Dainties Not Wanted. 

The supplies of food and clothing are far in excess of the demandto-day. The mistake of sending large quantities of dainties has beenmade by some of the relief committees. Bishop Phelan has been on theground all day in company with a number of Catholic priests fromPittsburgh. 

He has ordered provisions for all the sufferers who have taken shelterin the buildings over which he has placed the Little Sisters of thePoor. There are several hundred people now being cared for by the reliefcorps, and as the work of rescue goes on the number increases. 

Bent on Charity. 

Mrs. Campbell, president of the Allegheny Woman's Christian TemperanceUnion, arrived this morning, and with Miss Kate Foster, of Johnstown, organized a temporary home for destitute children on Bedford street. Onthe same train came a delegation from the Smithfield Methodist EpiscopalChurch. They began relieving the wants of the suffering Methodists. 

Committees from the Masonic and Odd Fellows from Pittsburgh are lookingafter their brethren. 

Mr. Moxham, the iron manufacturer, is Mayor pro. Tem. Of Johnstownto-day. He is probably the busiest man in the United States; althoughfor days without sleep, he still sticks nobly to his task. Hundreds ofothers are like him. Men fall to the earth from sheer fatigue. There aremany who have not closed an eye in sleep since they awoke on Fridaymorning; they are hollow-eyed and pitiful looking creatures. Many havelost near relatives and all friends. 

Shylocks. 

Men and horses are what are most needed to-day. Some of the unfortunateswho could not go to the relief trains endeavored to obtain flour fromthe wrecked stores in Johnstown. One dealer was charging $5 a sack forflour, and was getting it in one or two cases. Suddenly the crowd heardof the occurrence. 

Several desperate men went to the store and doled the flour gratuitouslyto the homeless and stricken. Another dealer was selling flour at $1. 50a sack. He refused to give any away, but would sell it to any one whohad the money. Otherwise he would not allow any one to go near it, guarding his store with a shotgun. 

Masons on the Field. 

The special train of the Masonic Relief Association which leftPittsburgh at one o'clock yesterday afternoon on the Baltimore and OhioRailroad did not reach here until just before midnight, at which time itwas impossible to do anything. Under the circumstances, the partyconcluded to pass the night in the cars, making themselves ascomfortable as possible with packing boxes for beds and candle boxes forpillows. 

They spent the morning distributing the food and clothing among theMasonic sufferers. In addition to a large quantity of cooked food, sandwiches, etc. , as well as flour and provisions of every description, the Relief Committee brought up 100 outfits of clothing for women and asimilar number for girls, and a miscellaneous lot for men and boys. Thewomen's outfits are complete, and include underwear, stockings, shoes, dresses, wraps and hats. They are most acceptable in the present crisis, and much suffering has already been relieved by them. 

The Knights of Pythias have received a large donation of money fromPittsburgh lodges. 

Appeal to President Harrison. 

Adjutant General Hastings yesterday afternoon telegraphed to PresidentHarrison requesting that government pontoons be furnished to enable asafe passageway to be made across the field of charred ruins aboveJohnstown Bridge for the purpose of prosecuting search for the dead. Late last night an answer was received from the President stating thatthe pontoons would be at once forwarded by the Secretary of War. 

A despatch of sympathy has been received by Adjutant General Hastingsfrom the Mayor of Kansas City, who states that the little giant of theWest will do her duty in this time of need. 

Fraternities Uniting. 

The various fraternities, whose work has been referred to in variousdespatches, have established headquarters and called meetings ofsurviving local members. These meetings are held in Alma Hall, belongingto the Odd Fellows, which, owing to its solid construction, withstoodthe pressure of the flood. From the headquarters at Alma Hall most ofthe committees representing the various secret societies aredistributing relief. 

The first hopeful view of the situation taken by the Odd Fellows'Committee has been clouded by the dismal result of furtherinvestigations. At last night's meeting at the old school-house onProspect Hill definite tidings were received from but thirty membersout of a total of 501. 

Cambria Lodge, with a membership of eighty-five, mostly Germans, seemsto have been entirely wiped out, not a single survivor having yetreported. 

Call for Workers. 

Last night Robert Bridgard, a letter carrier of Johnstown, marched atthe head of three hundred men to the corner of Morrell avenue andColumbia street, where he mounted a wagon and made a speech on the needsof the hour. Chiefest of these, he considered, was good workmen to clearaway the débris and extract the bodies from the wreckage. 

He closed with a bitter attack on the lazy Huns and Poles, who refusedto aid in the work of relief and yet are begging and even stealing theprovisions that are sent here to feed the sufferers. The crowd numberednearly one thousand, and greeted Bridgard's words with cheers. 

Another resident of the city then mounted a barrel and made a ringingspeech condemning the slothful foreigners, who have proven themselves amenace to the valley and its inhabitants. The feelings of the crowd werearoused to such an alarming extent that it was feared it would culminatein an attack on the worthless Poles and Hungarians. 

The following resolution was adopted with a wild shout of approval, andthe meeting adjourned:--

"_Resolved_, That we, the citizens of Johnstown, in public meetingassembled, do most earnestly beg the Relief Corps of the Johnstownsufferers to furnish no further provisions to the Hungarians and Polesof this city and vicinity except in payment of services rendered by themfor the relief of their unfortunate neighbors. 

"_Resolved_, Further, that in case of their refusal to render suchservice they be driven from the doors of the relief trains and warned tovacate the premises. "

Hospitals and Morgues. 

Those who doubt that many thousands lost their lives in this disasterhave not visited the morgues. There are three of these dreadful placescrowded so full of the unidentified dead that there is scarcely room tomove between the bodies. To the largest morgue, which I visited thismorning, one hundred and sixty bodies have been brought foridentification. When it is remembered that most of the bodies were sweptbelow the limits of Johnstown, that many more found here have beenidentified at once by their friends and that it is certain that manybodies were consumed entirely in the fire at the gorge, the fact givessome idea of the extent of the calamity. 

The largest morgue is at the Fourth ward school-house, a two-story brickbuilding which stands just at the edge of the high mark of the flood. The bodies were laid across the school children's desks until they gotto be so numerous that there was not room for them, excepting on thefloor. Soldiers with crossed bayonets keep out the crowd of curiouspeople who have morbid appetites to gratify. None of these people areof Johnstown. People of Johnstown do not have time to come to look forfriends, and they give the morgue a wide berth. Those who do come havethat dazed, miserable look that has fallen to all the residents of theunhappy town. They walk through slowly and look at the bodies and goaway looking no sadder nor any less perplexed than when they came in. One of the doctors in charge at the morgue told me that many of thesepeople had come in and looked at the bodies of their own fathers andbrothers and gone away without recognizing them, though not at alldisfigured. 

"That's Jim. "

In some instances it had been necessary for other persons, who knew thepeople, to point out the dead to the living and assure them positivelyof the identification before they could be aroused. I saw a railroadlaborer who had come in to look for a friend. He walked up and down theaisles like a man in a trance. He looked at the bodies, and took noapparent interest in any of them. At last he stopped before one of themwhich he had passed twice before, muttered, "That's Jim, " and went outjust as he had come in. Two other identifications I saw during the hourI was there were just like this. There was no shedding of tears norother showing of emotion. They gazed upon the features of their dead asif they were totally unable to comprehend it all, and reported theiridentification to the attendants and watched the body as it was put intoa coffin and went away. Many came to look for their loved ones, but Idid not see one show more grief or realization of the dreadful characterof their errand than this. Arrangements with the morgues are completeand efficient. The bodies are properly prepared and embalmed and adescription of the clothing is placed upon each. 

Hospital Arrangements. 

The same praise cannot be given the hospital arrangements. The onlyhospital is a small wooden church, in which apartments have been roughlyimprovised, with blankets for partitions. Only twenty patients can becared for here, and the list of wounded is more than two hundred. Therest have been taken to the private houses that were not overcrowdedwith the homeless survivors, to farmers in the country and to outlyingtowns. Two have died. It did not occur to any one until lately to getany nurses from other places to take care of the patients, and even nowmost of the nurses are Johnstown people who have lost relatives and havetheir own cares. These persons sought out the hospital and volunteeredfor the work. 

A Procession of Coffins. 

A sight most painful to behold was presented to view about noon to-day, when a procession of fifty unidentified coffined bodies started up thehill above the railroad to be buried in the improvised cemetery there. Not a relation, not a mourner was present. In fact, it is doubtful ifthese dead have any surviving relatives. 

The different graveyards are now so crowded that it will take severaldays to bury all the bodies that have been deposited in them. This wasthe day appointed by the Citizens' Committee for burying all theunidentified dead that have been laying in the different morgues sinceSunday morning, and about three hundred bodies were taken to thecemeteries to-day. 

It was not an unusual sight to see two or three coffins going along, oneafter another. It is impossible to secure wagons or conveyances of anykind, consequently all funeral processions are on foot. 

Several yellow flags were noticed sticking up from the black wreckageabove the stone bridge. This was a new plan adopted by the sanitarycorps to indicate at what points bodies had been located. As it growsdark the flags are still up, and another day will dawn upon theimprisoned remains. People who had lost friends, and supposed they haddrifted into this fatal place, peered down into the charred mass in avain endeavor to recognize beloved features. 

Unrecognizable Victims of Fire. 

There are now nearly two thousand men employed in different parts of thevalley clearing up the ruins and prosecuting diligent search for theundiscovered dead, and bodies are discovered with undiminishedfrequency. It becomes hourly more and more apparent that not a singlevestige will ever be recognized of hundreds that were roasted in theflames above the bridge. 

A party of searchers have just unearthed a charred and unsightly massfrom the smouldering débris. The leader of the gang pronounced theremains to be a blackened leg, and it required the authoritative verdictof a physician to demonstrate that the ghastly discovery was the charredremains of a human being. Only the trunk remained, and that was roastedbeyond all semblance to flesh. Five minutes' search revealed fragmentsof a skull that at once disintegrated of its own weight when exposed toair, no single piece being larger than a half dollar, and the wholeresembling the remnants of shattered charcoal. 

Within the last hour a half dozen discoveries in no way less horrifyingthan this ghastly find have been made by searchers as they rake withsticks and hooks in the smouldering ruins. So difficult is it at timesto determine whether the remains are those of human beings that it isapparent that hundreds must be burned to ashes. The number that havefound a last resting place beneath these ruins can at the best never bemore than approximated. 

A Vast Charnel House. 

Every moment now the body of some poor victim is taken from the débris, and the town, or rather the remnants of it, is one vast charnel house. The scenes at the extemporized morgue are beyond powers of descriptionin their ghastliness, while the moans and groans of the sufferingsurvivors, tossing in agony, with bruised and mangled bodies, orscreaming in a delirium of fever as they issue from the numeroustemporary hospitals, make even the stoutest hearted quail with terror. Nearly two thousand bodies have already been recovered, and as the workof examining the wreckage progresses the conviction grows that themagnitude of the calamity has not yet been approximated. 

The Pile of Débris Still Burning. 

The débris wedged against the big Pennsylvania Railroad stone bridge isstill burning, and the efforts of the firemen to quench or stay theprogress of the flames are as futile as were those of Gulliver'sLilliputian firemen. The mass, which unquestionably forms a funeral pyrefor thousands of victims who lie buried beneath it, is likely to burnfor weeks to come. The flames are not active, but burn away in a sullen, determined fashion. 

There are twenty-six firemen here now--all level-headed fellows--whokeep their unwieldy and almost exhausted forces under masterful control. 

Although they were scattered all over the waste places to-day, the heavywork was done in the Point district, where a couple hundred mansions liein solid heaps of brick, stone and timbers. 

One Corpse Every Five Minutes. 

Here the labors of the searchers were rewarded by the discovery of acorpse about every five minutes. As a general thing the bodies weremangled and unrecognizable unless by marks or letters on their persons. In every case decomposition has set in and the work of the searchers isbecoming one that will test their stomachs as well as their hearts. Wherever one turns Pittsburghers of prominence are encountered. Theyare busy, determined men, rendering valuable service. 

Chief Evans, of the Pittsburgh Fire Department, was hustling around witha force of twenty-four more firemen, just brought up to relieve thosewho have been working so heroically since Saturday. Morris M. Mead, superintendent of the Bureau of Electricity, headed a force of sixteensanitary inspectors from Pittsburgh, who are doing great work among thedead. 

How Bodies are Treated. 

There are six improvised morgues now in Johnstown. They are in churchesand school-houses, the largest one being in the Fourth Wardschool-house, where planks have been laid over the tops of desks, onwhich the remains are placed. A corpse is dug from the bank. It iscovered with mud. It is taken to the anteroom of the school, where it isplaced under a hydrant and the muck and slime washed off. With the slashof a knife the clothes are ripped open and an attendant searches thepockets for valuables or papers that would lead to identification. Fourmen lift the corpse on a rude table, and there it is thoroughly washedand an embalming fluid injected in the arm. With other grim bodies thecorpse lies in a larger room until it is identified or becomesoffensive. In the latter case it is hurried to the large grave, a gravethat will hereafter have a monument over it bearing the inscription"Unknown Dead. "

The number of the latter is growing hourly, because pestilence stalksin Johnstown, and the bloated, disfigured masses of flesh cannot be heldmuch longer. 

Levelled by Death. 

Bodies of stalwart workmen lie beside the remains of refined ladies, many of whom are still decked with costly earrings and have jewelsglittering on the fingers. Rich and poor throng these quarters and gazewith awe-struck faces at the masses of mutilations in the hope ofrecognizing a missing one, so as to accord the body a decent burial. 

From Death's Gaping Jaws. 

We give here the awful narrative of George Irwin's experience. Irwin isa resident of Hillside, Westmoreland county, and was discovered in adying condition in a clump of bushes just above the tracks of thePennsylvania Railroad, about a mile below Johnstown. When stretched upontwo railroad ties near the track his tongue protruded from his mouth andhe gasped as if death was at hand. With the assistance of brandy andother stimulants he was in a degree revived. He then told the followingstory:

"I was visiting friends in Johnstown on Friday when the flood came up. We were submerged without a moment's warning. I was taken from thewindow of the house in which I was then a prisoner by Mr. Hay, thedruggist at Johnstown, but lost my footing and was not rescued. I clungto a saw log until I struck the works of the Cambria Iron Company, whenI caught on the roof of the building. I remained there for nearly anhour, when I was knocked again from my position by a piece of a raft. Ifloated on top of this until I got down here and I stuck in an appletree. 

Preferred Death to Such Sights. 

"I saw and heard a number of other unfortunate victims when swept by meappealing for some one to save them. One woman and two children werefloating along in apparent safety; then they struck the corner of abuilding and all went down together. 

"I would rather have died than have been compelled to witness thatsight. 

"I have not had a bit to eat since Friday night, but I don't feelhungry. I am afraid my stomach is gone and I am about done for. "

He was taken to a hospital by several soldiers and railroad men whorescued him. 

A Young Lady's Experiences. 

Miss Sue Caddick, of Indiana, who was stopping at the Brunswick Hotel, on Washington street, and was rescued late Friday evening, returned hometo-day. She said she had a premonition of danger all day and had triedto get Mrs. Murphy to take her children and leave the house, but thelady had laughed at her fears and partially dissipated them. 

Miss Caddick was standing at the head of the second flight of stairswhen the flood burst upon the house. She screamed to theMurphys--father, mother and seven children--to save themselves. She ranup stairs and got into a higher room, in which the little children, theoldest of whom was fourteen years, also ran. The mother and father werecaught and whirled into the flood and drowned in an instant. 

The waters came up and the children clung to the young lady, who sawthat she must save herself, and she was compelled to push the littleones aside and cling to pieces of the building, which by this time hadcollapsed and was disintegrating. All of the children were drowned savethe oldest boy, who caught a tree and was taken out almost unhurt nearBlairsville. Miss Caddick clung to her fraction of the building, whichwas pushed into the water out of the swirl, and in an hour she was takenout safe. She said her agony in having to cut away from the children wasgreater than her fear after she got into the water. 

An Old Lady's Great Peril. 

Mrs. Ramsey, mother of William Ramsey and aunt of Lawyer Cassidy, ofPittsburgh, was alone in her house when the flood came. She ran to thethird story, and although the house was twisted off its foundation, itremained intact, and the old lady was rescued after being tossed aboutfor twenty-four hours. 

James Hines, Jr. , of Indiana, one of the survivors, to-day said that heand twelve of the other guests took refuge on the top of the Merchants'Hotel. They were swept off and were carried a mile down the stream, thenthrown on the shore. One of the party, James Ziegler, he said, wasdrowned while trying to get to the top of the building. 

One hundred and seventy-five of the corpses brought to Nineveh by theflood were buried this afternoon and to-night on the crest of a hillbehind the town. Three trenches were dug two hundred feet long, sevenfeet wide and four feet deep. The coffins were packed in very much asgrocers' boxes are stored in a warehouse. Of the two hundred bodiespicked up in the fields after the waters subsided 117 were unidentifiedand were buried marked "Unknown. " Twenty-five were shipped to relativesat outside points. In many cases friends of those who were recognizedwere unable to do anything to prevent their consignment to the trenches. Altogether twenty-seven were identified to-day. The bodies as fast asthey were found were taken to the storehouse of Theodore F. Nimawaker, the station agent here, and laid out on boards. It was impossible onaccount of their condition to keep them any longer. The CountyCommissioners bought an acre of ground for $100, out of which they madea cemetery. 

By Locomotive Headlights. 

It was sad to see the coffins going up the steep hill on farm wagons, two or three on each wagon. No tender mourners followed the mud-coveredhearses. Enough laborers sat on each load to handle it when it reachedits destination. The Commissioners of Cumberland county have certainlybehaved very handsomely. The coffins ordered were of the best. Someeconomical citizens suggested that they buy an acre of marsh land by theriver, which could be had for a few dollars, but they declared that theremains should be placed in dry ground. The lifeless clay reposes nowfar out of the reach of the deadly waters which go suddenly down theConemaugh Valley. It is a pretty spot, this cemetery, and one that apoet would choose for a resting place. Mountains well wooded are onevery hand; no black factory smoke defaces the sky line. 

Two locomotive headlights shed their rays over the cemetery to-night andgave enough light for the men to work by. They rapidly shoveled in thedirt. No priests were there to consecrate the ground or say a prayerover the cold limbs of the unknown. Upon the coffins I noticed suchinscriptions as these: "No. 61, unknown girl, aged eight years, supposedto be Sarah Windser. " "No. 72, unknown man, black hair, aged aboutthirty-five years, smooth face. " Some of the bodies were morespecifically described as "fat, " "lean, " and to one I saw the term"lusty" applied. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Pathetic Scenes. 

Some of the really pathetic scenes of the flood are just coming to thepublic ear. John Henderson, his wife, his three children, and the motherof Mrs. Henderson remained in their house until they were carried out bythe flood, when they succeeded in getting upon some drift. Mr. Hendersontook the babe from his wife, but the little thing soon succumbed to thecold and the child died in its father's arms. He clung to it until itgrew cold and stiff and then, kissing it, let it drop into the water. His mother-in-law, an aged lady, was almost as fragile as the babe, andin a few minutes Mr. Henderson, who had managed to get near to the boardupon which she was floating saw that she, too, was dying. He did whatlittle he could to help her, but the cold and the shock combined weretoo much. Assuring himself that the old lady was dead, Mr. Hendersonturned his attention to his own safety and allowed the body to floatdown the stream. 

In the meantime Mrs. Henderson, who had become separated from herhusband, had continued to keep her other two children for some time, butfinally a great wave dashed them from her arms and out of her sight. They were clinging to some driftwood, however, and providentially weredriven into the very arms of their father, who was some distance downthe stream quite unconscious of the proximity of his loved ones. Anotherwhirl of the flood and all were driven over into some eddying water inStony Creek and carried by backing water to Kernville, where all wererescued. Mrs. Henderson had nearly the same experience. 

Dr. Holland's Awful Plunge. 

Dr. Holland, a physician who lived on Vine street, saw both of hischildren drown before his eyes, but they were not washed out of thebuilding. He took both of them in his arms and bore them to the roof, caring nothing for the moment for the rising water. Finally composinghimself, he kissed them both and watched them float away. His fatherarrived here to-day to assist his son and take home with him the bodiesof the children, which have been recovered. Dr. Holland, after the deathof his children, was carried out into the flood and finally to abuilding, in the window of which a man was standing. The doctor held uphis hands; the man seized them and dextrously slipping a valuable ringfrom the finger of one hand, brutally threw him out into the currentagain. The physician was saved, however, and has been looking for thethief and would-be murderer ever since. 

Crushed in His Own House. 

David Dixon, an engineer in the employ of the Cambria Iron Works, waswith his family in his house on Cinder Street, when the flood struck thecity. The shock overturned his house against that of his neighbor, Evans, and he, with his infant daughter, Edith, was pinned between thehouses as a result of the upturning. Both houses were carried downagainst the viaduct of the Pennsylvania Railroad and there, in sight ofhis wife and children, excepting a 15-year-old lad, he was drowned, thewater rising and smothering him because of his inability to get frombetween the buildings. His wife was badly crushed and it is thought willbe an invalid the remainder of her days. The children, including thebabe in its father's arms, were all saved, and the other boy, Joe, oneof the brightest, bravest, handsomest little fellows in the world, wasin his news-stand near the Pennsylvania passenger station, and wasrescued with difficulty by Edward Decker, another boy, just as thedriftwood struck the little store and lifted it high off its foundation. 

Babies who Died Together. 

This morning two little children apparently not over three and fouryears old, were taken from the water clasped in each other's arms sotightly that they could not be separated, and they were coffined andburied together. 

A bright girl, in a gingham sun-bonnet and a faded calico dress came outof the ruins of a fine old brick house next the Catholic church onJackson street this afternoon. She had a big platter under her arm andannounced to a bevy of other girls that the china was all right in thecupboard, but there was so much water in there that she didn't dare goin. She chatted away quite volubly about the fire in the Catholicchurch, which also destroyed the house of her own mother, Mrs. Foster. "I know the church took fire after the flood, " she said, "for motherlooked out of the window and said: 'My God! Not only flood, but fire!'"It was a burning house from Conemaugh that struck the house the otherside of the church and set it on fire. 

Aunt Tabby's Trunk. 

"I didn't think last Tuesday I'd be begging to-day, Emma, " interrupted ayoung man from across the stream of water which ran down the centre ofMain Street. "I'm sitting on your aunt Tabby's trunk. " The girl gave acry, half of pained remembrance, half of pleasure. "Oh, my dear AuntTabby!" she cried, and, rushing across the rivulet, she threw herselfacross the battered leather trunk--sole surviving relic of Aunt Tabby;but Aunt Tabby and the finding thereof was a light among other shadowsof the day. 

Nothing but a Baby. 

Gruesome incidents came oftener than pathetic ones or serio-comic. General Axline, the Adjutant General of Ohio, was walking down thestation platform this afternoon, when a boy came sauntering up from theviaduct with a bundle in a handkerchief. The handkerchief dripped water. "What have you there, my boy?" asked the General. The boy cowered aminute, though the General's tone was kindly, for the boy, like everyone else in Johnstown, was prepared for a gruff accostal every fiveminutes from some official, from Adjutant General to constable. Finallyhe answered: "Nothing but a baby, sir, " and began to open his bundle inproof of the truth of his statement. But the big soldier did not put himto the proof. He turned away sick at heart. He did not even ask the boyif he knew whose baby it was. 

How the Coffins Were Carried. 

A strangely utilitarian device was that of a Pittsburgh sergeant ofBattery B. With one train from the West came several hundred of themorbidly curious, bent upon all the horrors which they could stomach. Acrowd of them crossed the viaduct and stopped to gaze round-eyed upon apile of empty coffins meant for the bodies of the identified dead foundup and across the river in the ruins of Johnstown proper. As they gazedthe Sergeant, seeking transportation for the coffins, came along. Asomewhat malicious inspiration of military genius lighted his eye. Withthe best imitation possible of a regular army man, he shouted to theidlers, "Each of you men take a coffin. " The idlers eyed him. 

"What for?" one asked. 

"You want to go into town, don't you?" replied the Sergeant. "Well, notone of you goes unless he takes a coffin with him. "

In ten minutes time way was made at the ticklish rope bridge for a fileof sixteen coffins, each borne by two of the Sergeant's unwillingconscripts, while the Sergeant closed up the rear. 

Some of the scenes witnessed here were heartrending in the extreme. Inone case a beautiful girl came down on the roof of a building which wasswung in near the tower. She screamed to the operator to save her andone big, brave fellow walked as far into the river as he could andshouted to her to try to guide herself into the shore with a bit ofplank. She was a plucky girl, full of nerve and energy, and stood uponher frail support in evident obedience to the command of the operator. She made two or three bold strokes and actually stopped the course ofthe raft for an instant. 

Then it swerved and went out from under her. She tried to swim ashore, but in a few seconds she was lost. Something hit her, for she layquietly on her back, with face pallid and expressionless. Men and womenin dozens, in pairs and singly; children, boys, big and little, and weebabies were there in among the awful confusion of water, drowning, gasping, struggling and fighting desperately for life. 

Two men on a tiny raft shot into the swiftest part of the current. Theycrouched stolidly, looking at the shores, while between them, dressed inwhite and kneeling with her face turned heavenward was a girl sevenyears old. She seemed stricken with paralysis until she came oppositethe tower and then she turned her face to the operator. She was so closethey could see big tears on her cheeks and her pallor was as death. Thehelpless men on shore shouted to her to keep up courage, and she resumedher devout attitude and disappeared under the trees of a projection ashort distance below. "We could not see her come out again, " said theoperator, "and that was all of it. "

"Do you see that fringe of trees?" said the operator, pointing to theplace where the little girl had gone out of sight. 

"Well, we saw scores of children swept in there. I believe that when thetime comes they will find almost a hundred bodies of children in thereamong those bushes. "

Floated to their Death. 

A bit of heroism is related by one of the telegraph operators atBolivar. He says: "I was standing on the river bank about 7. 30 lastevening when a raft swept into view. It must have been the floor of adismantled house. Upon it were grouped two women and a man. They wereevidently his mother and sister, for both clung to him as thoughstupefied with fear as they were whirled under the bridge here. The mancould save himself if he had wished by simply reaching up his hand andcatching the timber of the structure. He apparently saw this himself, and the temptation must have been strong for him to do so, but in onesecond more he was seen to resolutely shake his head and clasp the womentighter around the waist. 

"On they sped. Ropes were thrown out from the tree tops, but they wereunable to catch them, though they grasped for the lines eagerly enough. Then a tree caught in their raft and dragged after them. In this waythey swept out of view. "

Still finding bodies by scores in the burning débris; still burying thedead and caring for the wounded; still feeding the famishing and housingthe homeless, and this on the fourth day following the one on whichJohnstown was swept away. The situation of horror has not changed; thereare hundreds, and it is feared thousands, still buried beneath thescattered ruins that disfigure the V-shaped valley in which Johnstownstood. A perfect stream of wagons bearing the dead as fast as they arediscovered is constantly filing to the improvised morgues, where thebodies are taken for identification. Hundreds of people are constantlycrowding to these temporary houses, one of which is located in each ofthe suburban boroughs that surround Johnstown. Men armed with muskets, uniformed sentinels, constituting the force that guard the city while itis practically under martial law, stand at the doors and admit the crowdby tens. 

In the Central Dead House. 

In the Central dead house in Johnstown proper, as early as 9 o'clockto-day there lay two rows of ghastly dead. To the right were twentybodies that had been identified. They were mostly women and children andthey were entirely covered with white sheets, and a piece of paperbearing the name was pinned at the feet. To the left were eighteenbodies of the unknown dead. As the people passed they were hurried alongby an attendant and gazed at the uncovered faces seeking to identifythem. All applicants for admission if it is thought they are promptedby idle curiosity, are not allowed to enter. The central morgue wasformerly a school-house, and the desks are used as biers for the deadbodies. Three of the former pupils yesterday lay on the desks dead, withwhite pieces of paper pinned on to the white sheets that covered them, giving their names. 

Looking for Their Loved Ones. 

But what touching scenes are enacted every hour about this mournfulbuilding. Outside the sharp voices of the sentinels are constantlyshouting: "Move on. " Inside, weeping women and sad-faced, hollow-eyedmen are bending over loved and familiar faces. Back on the steep grassyhill which rises abruptly on the other side of the street are crowds ofcurious people who come in from the country round about to look at thewreckage strewn around where Johnstown was. "Oh, Mr. Jones, " apale-faced woman asks, walking up, sobbing, "can't you tell me where wecan get a coffin to bury Johnnie's body?"

"Do you know, " asks a tottering old man, as the pale-faced woman turnsaway, "whether they have found Jennie and the children?"

"Jennie's body has just been found at the bridge, " is the answer, "butthe children can't be found. " Jennie is the old man's married daughter, and she was drowned, with her two children, while her husband was atwork over at the Cambria Mills. 

They Ran for Their Lives. 

Miss Jennie Paulson, who was on the Chicago day express, is dead. Shewas seen to go back with a companion into the doomed section of the dayexpress in the Conemaugh Valley, and is swept away in the flood. 

Last evening, after the evening train had just left Johnstown forPittsburgh, it was learned that quite a number of the survivors of thewrecked train, who have been at Altoona since last Saturday, were onboard. After a short search they were located, and quite an interestingtalk was the result. Probably the most interesting interview, at leastto Pittsburghers, was that had with Mrs. Montgomery Wilcox, ofPhiladelphia, who was on one of the Pullman sleepers attached to thelost express train. She tells a most exciting tale and confirms beyondthe shadow of a doubt the story of Miss Jennie Paulson's tragic death. 

A Fatal Pair of Rubbers. 

She says: "We had been making but slow progress all the day. Our trainlaid at Johnstown nearly the whole day of Friday. We then proceeded asfar as Conemaugh, and had stopped for some cause or other, probably onaccount of the flood. Miss Paulson and a Miss Bryan were seated in frontof me. Miss Paulson had on a plaid dress with shirred waist of red clothgoods. Her companion was dressed in black. Both had lovely corsagebouquets of roses. I had heard that they had been attending a weddingbefore they left Pittsburgh. The Pittsburgh lady was reading a novel. Miss Bryan was looking out of the window. When the alarm came we allsprang toward the door, leaving everything behind us. I had justreached the door when poor Miss Paulson and her friend, who were behindme, decided to return for their rubbers, which they did. 

Chased as by a Serpent. 

"I sprang from the car into a ditch next the hillside in which the waterwas already a foot and a half deep and with the others climbed up themountainside for our very lives. We had to do so as the water glided upafter us like a huge serpent. Any one ten feet behind us would have beenlost beyond a doubt. I glanced back at the train when I had reached aplace of safety, but the water already covered it and the Pullman car inwhich the ladies were was already rolling down the valley in the graspof the angry waters. Quite a number of us reached the house of a Mr. Swenzel, or some such name, one of the railroad men, whom we afterwardlearned had lost two daughters at Johnstown. We made ourselves ascomfortable as possible until the next day, when we proceeded byconveyances as far as Altoona, having no doubt but what we couldcertainly proceed east from that point. We found the middle division ofthe Pennsylvania Railroad was, if anything, in a worse condition thanthe western, so we determined to go as far as Ebensburg by train, whencewe reached Johnstown to-day by wagon. "

Mrs. G. W. Childs' Escape. 

Mrs. George W. Childs, of Philadelphia, was also a member of the party. She was on her way West, and reached Altoona on Friday, after untolddifficulties. She is almost prostrated by the severe ordeal throughwhich she and many others have passed, and therefore had but little tosay, only averring that Mrs. Wilcox and her friends, who were on thelost train, had passed through perils beside which her own sank intoinsignificance. 

[Illustration: SWEPT AWAY ON THE TRAIN. ]

Assistant Superintendent Crump telegraphs from Blairsville Junction thatthe day express, eastbound from Chicago to New York, and the mail trainfrom Pittsburgh bound east, were put on the back tracks in the yard atConemaugh when the flooded condition of the main tracks made itapparently unsafe to proceed further. When the continued rise of thewater made their danger apparent, the frightened passengers fled fromthe two trains to the hills near by. Many in their wild excitement threwthemselves into the raging current and were drowned. It is supposed thatabout fifteen persons lost their lives in this way. 

After the people had deserted the cars, the railroad officials state, the two Pullman cars attached to the day express were set on fire andentirely consumed. A car of lime was standing near the train. When thewater reached the lime it set fire to the car and the flames reachingthe sleepers they were entirely consumed. 

Exhuming the Dead. 

Three hundred bodies were exhumed to-day. In one spot at Main and Marketstreets the workmen came upon thirty, among whom were nine members ofthe Fitzparis family--the father, mother, seven children and thegrandfather. Only one child, a little girl of nine years, is left out ofa family of ten. She is now being cared for by the citizens' committee. The body of a beautiful young girl was found at the office of theCambria Iron Company. When the corpse was conveyed to the morgue a manentered in search of some relatives. The first body he came to heexclaimed: "That's my wife, " and a few feet further off he recognized inthe young girl found at the Cambria Iron Company's office his daughter, Theresa Downs. Both bodies had been found within a hundred yards of eachother. 

A dozen instances have occurred where people have claimed bodies andwere mistaken. This is due to the over-zeal of people to get theirrelatives and bury them. Nine children walked into one of the reliefstations this morning, led by a girl of sixteen years. They said thattheir father, mother and two other children had been swallowed up by theflood, the family having originally comprised thirteen persons in all. Their story was investigated by Officer Fowler, of Pittsburgh, and itwas found to be true. Near Main street the body of a woman was taken outwith three children lying on her. She was about to become a mother. 

Nursing Their Sorrows. 

The afflicted people quietly bear their crosses. The calamity has beenso general that the sufferers feel that everybody has been treatedalike. Grouped together, the sorrows of each other assist in keeping upthe strength and courage of all. In the excitement and hurry of thepresent, loss of friends is forgotten, but the time will come when it isall over and the world gradually drifts back to business, forgetful thatsuch a town as Johnstown ever existed. 

Then it is that sufferers will realize what they have lost. Hearts willthen be full of grief and despair and the time for sympathy will be athand. Michael Martin was one of those on the hillside when the water wasrushing through the town. The spectacle was appalling. Women on thehills were shrieking and ringing their hands--in fact, people beyondreach of the flood made more noise than those unfortunate creaturesstruggling in the water. The latter in trying to save themselves hadn'ttime to shriek. 

Michael Martin said: "I was on the hillside and watched the flood. Youask me what it looked like. I can't tell. I never saw such a scenebefore and never expect to again. On one of the first houses that struckthe bridge there was standing a woman wearing a white shawl. When thehouse struck the bridge she threw up her hands and fell back into thewater. A little boy and girl came floating down on a raft from SouthFork. The water turned the raft toward the Kernville hill and as soon asit struck the bank he jumped on the hill, dragging his little sisterwith him. Both were saved. 

"I saw three men and three women on the roof of a house. When they werepassing the Cambria Iron Works the men jumped off and the women werelost. Mr. Overbeck left his family in McM. Row and swam to the clubhouse, then he tried to swim to Morrell's residence and was drowned. Hisfamily was saved. At the corner of the company's store a man called forhelp for two days, but no one could reach him. The voice finally ceasedand I suppose he died. 

A Brave Girl. 

"Rose Clark was fastened in the débris at the bridge. Her coolness wasremarkable and she was more calm than the people trying to get her out. She begged the men to cut her leg off. One man worked six hours beforeshe was released. She had an arm and leg broken. I saw three men strikethe bridge and go down. William Walter was saved. He was anchored onMain street and he saw about two hundred people in the water. Hebelieves two-thirds of them were drowned. A frightened woman clung to abush near him and her long hair stood straight out. About twenty peoplewere holding to those in the neighborhood, but most of them were lost. 

"John Reese, a policeman, got out on the roof of his house. In a secondafterward the building fell in on his wife and drowned her. She waved akiss to her husband and then died. Two servant girls were burned in theCatholic priest's house. The church was also consumed. "

Along the Valley of Death. 

Fifteen miles by raft and on foot along the banks of the ragingConemaugh and in the refugee trains between Johnstown and Pittsburgh. Such was the trip, fraught with great danger, but prolific of results, which the writer has just completed. All along the line events ofthrilling interest mingled with those of heartrending sadnesstranspired, demonstrating more than ever the magnitude of the horribletragedy of last Friday. 

Just as the day was dawning I left the desolate city of Johnstown, and, wending my way along the shore of the winding Conemaugh to Sheridan, Isucceeded in persuading a number of brave and stout-hearted men, who hadconstructed a raft and were about to start on an extended search for thelost who are known to be strewn all along this fated stream, to take mewith them. 

The river is still very high, and while the current is not remarkablyswift, the still flowing débris made the expedition one of peril. Between the starting point and Nineveh several bodies were recovered. They were mostly imbedded in the sand close to the shore, which had tobe hugged for safety all the way. Indeed the greater part of the tripwas made on foot, the raft being towed along from the water's edge bythe tireless rescuers. 

Just above Sang Hollow the party stopped to assist a little knot of menwho were engaged in searching amid the ruins of a hut which lay wedgedbetween a mass of trees on the higher ground. A man's hat and coat werefished out, but there was no trace of the human being to whom they oncebelonged. Perhaps he is alive; perhaps his remains are among thehundreds of unidentified dead, and perhaps he sleeps beneath the watersbetween here and the gulf. Who can tell?

Died in Harness. 

A little farther down we came across two horses and a wagon lying in themiddle of the river. The dumb animals had literally died in harness. Oftheir driver nothing is known. At this point an old wooden rocker wasfished out of the water and taken on shore. 

Here three women were working in the ruins of what had once been theirhappy home. When one of them spied the chair it brought back to her awealth of memory and for the first time, probably, since the floodoccurred she gave way to a flood of tears, tears as welcome as sunshinefrom heaven, for they opened up her whole soul and allowed pent-upgrief within to flow freely out and away. 

One Touch of Nature. 

"Where in the name of God, " she sobbed, "did you get that chair? It wasmine--no, I don't want it. Keep it and find for me, if you can, myalbum; in it are the faces of my dead husband and little girl. " When therough men who have worked days in the valley of death turned away fromthis scene there was not a dry eye in the crowd. One touch of nature, and the thought of little ones at home, welded them in heart andsympathy to this Niobe of the valley. 

At Sang Hollow we came up with a train-load of refugees en route forPittsburgh. As I entered the car I was struck by two things. The firstwas an old man, whose silvered locks betokened his four-score years, andthe second was a little clump of children, three in number, playing on aseat in the upper end of the coach. 

Judge Potts' Escape. 

The white-haired patriarch was Judge James Potts, aged 80, one of thebest known residents of Johnstown, who escaped the flood's ravages in amost remarkable manner. Beside him was his daughter, while opposite sathis son. There was one missing to complete the family party, Jennie, theyoungest daughter, who went down with the tide and whose remains havenot yet been found. The thrilling yet pathetic story of the escape ofthe old Judge is best told in his own language. Said he:

"You ask me how I was saved. I answer, God alone knows. With my littlefamily I lived on Walnut street, next door to the residence of PresidentMcMillan, of the Cambria Iron Company. When the waters surrounded us wemade our way to the third floor, and huddled together in one room, determined, if die we must, to perish together. 

Encircled by Water. 

"Higher and higher rose the flood, while our house was almost knockedfrom its foundations by the ever-increasing mountain of débris floatingalong. At last the bridge at Woodvale, which had given way a short timebefore, struck the house and split it asunder, as a knife might havesplit a piece of paper. 

"The force of the shock carried us out upon the débris, and we floatedaround upon it for hours, finally landing near the bridge. When welooked about for Jennie (here the old man broke down and sobbedbitterly) she was nowhere to be seen. She had obeyed the Master'ssummons. "

A Miraculous Escape. 

The three little girls, to whom I have referred, were the children ofAustin Lountz, a plasterer, living back of Water street. They were ashappy as happy could be and cut up in childish fashion all the way down. Their good spirits were easily accounted for when it was learned thatfather, mother, children and all had a miraculous escape, when it lookedas if all would be lost. The entire family floated about for hours onthe roof of a house, finally landing high upon the hillside. 

Elmer G. Speck, traveling salesman of Pittsburgh, was at the Merchants'Hotel when the flood occurred, having left the Hurlburt House but a fewhours before. He said:

"With a number of others I got from the hotel to the hill in a wagon. The sight from our eminence was one that I shall never forget--that Ican never fully describe. The whole world appeared to be topsy-turvy andat the mercy of an angry and destroying demon of the elements. Peoplewere floating about on housetops and in wagons, and hundreds wereclinging to tree-trunks, logs and furniture of every imaginabledescription. 

"My sister, Miss Nina, together with my step-brother and his wife, whomshe was visiting, drifted with the tide on the roof of a house adistance of two blocks, where they were rescued. With a number of othersI built a raft and in a short time had pulled eleven persons from thevery jaws of death. Continuing, Mr. Speck related how a number of folksfrom Woodvale had all come down upon their housetops. Mr. CurtisWilliams and his family picked their way from house to house, finallybeing pulled in the Catholic church window by ropes. "

Three of a Family Drowned. 

William Hinchman, with his wife and two children, reached the stonebridge in safety. Here one of the babies was swept away through thearches. The others were also swept with the current, and when they cameout on the other side the remaining child was missing, while below Mrs. Hinchman disappeared, leaving her husband the sole survivor of a familyof four. 

"Did your folks all escape alive?" I asked of George W. Hamilton, lateassistant superintendent of the Cambria Iron Company, whom I met on theroad near New Florence. 

"Oh, no" was his reply. "Out of a family of sixteen seven are lost. Mybrother, his wife, two children, my sister, her husband and one child, all are gone; that tells the tale. I escaped with my wife by jumpingfrom a second story window onto the moving débris. We landed back of theMorrell Institute safe and sound. "

Hairbreadth Escapes. 

The stories of hairbreadth escapes and the annihilation of familiescontinue to be told. Here is one of them. J. Paul Kirchmann, a youngman, boarded with George Schroeder's family in the heart of the town, and when the flood came the house toppled over and went rushing away inthe swirling current. There were seven in all in the party and Kirchmannfound himself wedged in between two houses, with his head under water. He dived down, and when he again came to the surface succeeded ingetting on the roof of one of them. The others had preceded him there, and the house floated to the cemetery, over a mile and a half away, where all of them were rescued. Kirchmann, however, had fainted, and forseven or eight hours was supposed to be dead. He recovered, and is nowassisting to get at the bodies buried in the ruins. 

Saloon-keeper Fitzharris and his family of six had the lives crushed outof them when their house collapsed, and early this morning all of them, the father, mother and five children were taken from the wreck, and arenow at the morgue. Emil Young, a jeweler, lived with mother, wife, threesons and daughter over his store on Clinton street, near Main. They wereall in the house when the wild rush of water surrounded their home, lifted it from its foundation and carried it away. Young and hisdaughter were drowned and it was then that his mother and wife showedtheir heroism and saved the life of the other members of the family. 

The mother is 80 years of age, but her orders were so promptly given andso ably executed by the younger Mrs. Young that when the house floatednear another in which was a family of nine all were taken off andeventually saved. Even after this trying ordeal the younger woman washedthe bodies of her husband and nineteen others and prepared them forburial. 

The Whole Family Escaped. 

Another remarkable escape of a whole family was that of William H. Rosensteel, a tanner, of Woodvale, a suburb of Johnstown. His house wasin the track of the storm, and, with his two daughters, Tillie andMamie, his granddaughter and a dog, he was carried down on the kitchenroof. They floated into the Bon Ton Clothing House, a mile and a halfaway, on Main street. Here they remained all night, but were taken offby Mrs. Emil Young and went to Pittsburgh. 

Jacob I. Horner and his family of eight had their house in Hornerstownthrown down by the water and took refuge in a tree. After awhile theyreturned to their overturned house, but again got into the tree, fromwhich they were rescued after an enforced stay of a number of hours. 

Charles Barnes, a real estate dealer on Main street, was worth $10, 000last Friday and had around him a family of four. To-day all his lovedones are dead and he has only $6 in his pockets. 

The family of John Higson, consisting of himself, wife, and young son, lived at 123 Walnut street. Miss Sarah Thomas, of Cumberland, was avisitor, and a hired man, a Swede, also lived in the house. The waterhad backed up to the rear second-story windows before the great wavecame, and about 5 o'clock they heard the screaching of a number ofwhistles on the Conemaugh. Rushing to the windows they saw what theythought to be a big cloud approaching them. Before they could reach aplace of safety the building was lifted up and carried up Stony creekfor about one-quarter of a mile. As the water rushed they turned intothe river and were carried about three-quarters of a mile further on. All the people were in the attic and as the house was hurled withterrific force against the wreckage piled up against the PennsylvaniaRailroad bridge Higson called to them to jump. They failed to do so, but at the second command Miss Thomas leaped through the window, theothers followed, and after a dangerous walk over fifty yards of brokenhouses safely reached the shore. 

[Illustration: CHILD FOUND THUMPING ON A WRECKED PIANO. ]

CHAPTER XIII. 

Digging for the Dead. 

A party started in early exploring the huge mass of débris bankedagainst the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge. This collection, consisting oftrees, sides of houses, timber and innumerable articles, varies inthickness from three or four feet to twenty feet. It is about fourhundred yards long, and as wide as the river. There are thousands oftons in this vast pile. How many bodies are buried there it isimpossible to say, but conservative estimates place it at one thousandat least. 

The corps of workmen who were searching the ruins near the MethodistChurch late this evening were horrified by unearthing one hundredadditional bodies. The great number at this spot shows what may beexpected when all have been recovered. 

When the mass which blazed several days was extinguished it was simpleto recover the bodies on the surface. It is now a question, however, ofdelving into the almost impenetrable collection to get at those lodgedwithin. The grinding tree trunks doubtless crushed those beneath intomere unrecognizable masses of flesh. Those on the surface were nearlyall so much burned as to resemble nothing human. 

Meanwhile the searchers after bodies, armed with spikes, hooks andcrowbars, pry up the débris and unearth what they can. Bodies, or ratherfractions of them, are found in abundance near the surface. 

Tracing Bodies by the Smell. 

I was here when the gang came across one of the upper stories of ahouse. It was merely a pile of boards apparently, but small pieces of abureau and a bed spring from which the clothes had been burned showedthe nature of the find. A faint odor of burned flesh prevailed exactlyat this spot. "Dig here, " said the physician to the men. "There is onebody at least quite close to the surface. " The men started in with awill. A large pile of underclothes and household linen was brought upfirst. It was of fine quality and evidently such as would be stored inthe bedroom of a house occupied by people quite well to do. Shovels fullof jumbled rubbish were thrown up, and the odor of flesh became morepronounced. Presently one of the men exposed a charred lump of flesh andlifted it up on the end of a pitchfork. It was all that remained of somepoor creature who had met an awful death between water and fire. 

The trunk was put on a cloth, the ends were looped up making a bag ofit, and the thing was taken to the river bank. It weighed probablythirty pounds. A stake was driven in the ground to which a tag wasattached giving a description of the remains. This is done in many casesto the burned bodies, and they lay covered with cloths upon the bankuntil men came with coffins to remove them. Then the tag was taken fromthe stakes and tacked on the coffin lid, which was immediately closedup, as identification was of course out of the question. There is astack of coffins by the railroad bridge. Sometimes a coffin is carriedto the spot on the charred débris where the find is made. 

Prodding Corpses with Canes. 

The searchers by thrusting down a stick or fork are pretty sure to finda corpse. I saw a man run a cane in the débris down to the hilt and itcame up with human flesh sticking to it. Another ran a stick into thethoroughly cooked skull of a little boy two feet below the surface. There are bodies probably as far down as seventy feet in some cases, andit does not seem plain now how they are to be recovered. One plan wouldbe to take away the top layers of wood with derricks, and of course themass beneath will rise closer to the surface. The weather is coldto-day, and the offensive smell that was so troublesome on the warm daysis not noticeable at a distance. 

Saved From Disfiguration. 

The workers began on the wreck on Main street just opposite the FirstNational Bank, one of the busiest parts of the city. A large number ofpeople were lost here, the houses being crushed on one side of thestreet and being almost untouched on the other, a most remarkable thingconsidering the terrific force of the flood. Twenty-one bodies weretaken out in the early morning and removed to the morgue. They were notvery much injured, considering the weight of lumber above them. In manyinstances they were wedged in crevices. They were all in a good stateof preservation, and when they were embalmed they looked almostlifelike. In this central part of the city examination is sure to resultin the unearthing of bodies in every corner. Cottages which are stillstanding are banked up with lumber and driftwood, and it is like miningto make any kind of a clear space. I have seen relations of people whoare missing, and who are supposed to be in the ruins of their homes, waiting patiently by the hour for men to come and take away the débris. 

When bodies are found, the location of which was known, there arefrequently two or three friends on the spot to see them dug up. Four andfive of the same family have been taken from a space of ten feet square. In one part of the river gorge this afternoon were found the bodies of awoman and a child. They were close together and they were probablymother and infant. Not far away was the corpse of a man looking like agnarled and mis-shapen section of a root of a tree. The bodies from thefire often seem to have been twisted up, as if the victims died in greatagony. 

Rapidly Burying the Dead. 

The order that was issued last night that all unidentified dead beburied to-day is being rapidly carried out. The Rev. Mr. Beall, who hascharge of the morgue at the Fourth ward school-house, which is the chiefplace, says that a large force of men has been put at work digginggraves, and at the close of the afternoon the remains will be laid awayas rapidly as it can be done. 

In the midst of this scene of death and desolation, a relentingProvidence seems to be exerting a subduing influence. Six days haveelapsed since the great disaster, and the temperature still remains lowand chilly in the Conemaugh Valley. When it is remembered that in theordinary June weather of this locality from two to three days aresufficient to bring an unattended body to a state of decay andputrefaction that would render it almost impossible to prevent thespread of disease throughout the valley, the inestimable benefits ofthis cool weather are almost beyond appreciation. 

The emanations from the half mile of débris above the bridge are butlittle more offensive than yesterday, and should this cool weathercontinue a few days longer it is possible hundreds of bodies may yet berecovered from the wreck in such a state of preservation as to renderidentification possible. Many hundreds of victims, however, will beroasted and charred into such shapeless masses as to preclude a hope ofrecognition by their nearest relative. 

Getting Down to Systematic Work. 

The work of clearing up the wreck and recovering the bodies is now beingdone most systematically. Over six thousand men are at work in thevarious portions of the valley, and each little gang of twenty men isdirected by a foreman, who is under orders from the generalheadquarters. As the rubbish is gone over and the bodies and scatteredarticles of value are recovered, the débris is piled up in one highmass and the torch applied. In this way the valley is assuming a lessdevastated condition. In twenty-four hours more every mass of rubbishwill probably have been searched, and the investigations will beconfined to the smoking wreck above Johnstown bridge. 

The Westmoreland Relief Committee complained of the Indiana countyauthorities for not having a committee to search the shores on that sidefor bodies. They say that all that is being done is by parties who arehunting for anything valuable they can find. 

Up to two o'clock this afternoon only eight bodies had been taken out ofthe drift above the bridge. None of them was recognized. The work ofpulling it out goes on very slowly. It has been suggested that astationary engine should be planted on the east side of the pile and arope and pulley worked on it. 

The Keystone Hotel, a huge frame structure, was rapidly being pulled topieces this morning, and when this has been done the work of taking outthe bodies will be begun at this point. 

The immense wreck will most undoubtedly yield up many bodies. The bodiesof a woman and three children were taken from the débris in front of theFirst National Bank at ten o'clock this morning. The woman was themother of the three children, ranging in age from one to five years, andshe had them all clasped in her arms. 

Booth & Flinn, the Pittsburgh contractors, have just put to work anotherlarge force of men. They have divided the town into districts, and thework is being conducted in a systematic manner. Main street is beingrapidly opened up, and scores of bodies have been taken out this morningfrom under the Hurlburt House. 

Only Found One of Her Family. 

The first body taken from the ruins was that of a boy named Davis, whowas found in the débris near the bridge. He was badly bruised andburned. The remains were taken to the undertaking rooms at thePennsylvania Railroad station, where they were identified as those ofWilliam Davis. The boy's mother has been making a tour of the differentmorgues for the past few days, and was just going through theundertaking rooms when she saw the remains of her boy being brought in. She ran up to the remains and demanded the child. She seemed to havelost her mind, and caused quite a scene by her actions. She stated thatshe had lost her husband and six children in the flood, and that thiswas the first one of the family that had been recovered. At the FirstPresbyterian Church, which is being used as a morgue, seventeen bodiestaken from the débris and river have been brought in. 

The relief corps from Altoona found a body near Stony Bridge thismorning. On his person was found a gold watch and chain, and $250 inmoney, which was turned over to the proper authorities. This corps tookout some thirty-two bodies or more from the ruins yesterday. 

A. J. Hayes, whose wife's body was taken out of the river last night, had the body taken up into the mountains where he dug her grave andsaid:--"I buried all that is dear to me. As for myself I don't care howsoon death overtakes me. "

At quarter past one this afternoon, fifty bodies had been taken from thedébris in front of the Catholic Church in Johnstown borough. About fortyof the bodies were those of women. They were immediately removed to themorgue for identification. 

Dr. Beall, who has the supervision of the morgues in Johnstown, saidthat so far 2, 300 bodies had been recovered in Johnstown proper, most ofwhich had been identified and buried. 

Dynamite and Derricks Used. 

At one o'clock this afternoon the use of dynamite was resumed to burstthe logs so that the débris in the dam at the bridge can be loosened andfloated down the river. The dynamite is placed in holes bored into themassive timbers. When the log has been broken a chain is attached to itsparts and it is then hoisted by a machine on the bridge and dropped intothe current of the river. Contractor Kirk has abandoned the idea ofconstructing a dam to overflow the mass of ruins at the bridge. Thewater has fallen and cannot be raised to a serviceable height. Apowerful windlass has been constructed at a point about one hundred feetbelow the bridge, and a rope attached to it is fastened to logs at theedge of the débris. In this way the course between one of the six spansof the railroad bridge has been cleared out. Where dynamite has beenused to burst the logs another span has been freed of the débris, aspace of about twenty by forty feet being cleared. The men are now wellsupplied with tools, but the force is not large enough to make rapidheadway. It is believed that many more bodies will be found when thedébris is loosened and started down the river. 

Dynamite Tears the Bodies. 

Thirteen bodies were taken from the burning débris at the stone bridgeat one time this afternoon. None of the bodies were recognizable, andthey were put in coffins and buried immediately. They were so badlydecomposed that it was impossible to keep them until they could beidentified. During a blast at the bridge this afternoon two bodies werealmost blown to pieces. The blasting has had the effect of opening thechannel under the central portion of the bridge. 

In Unwholesome Company. 

I came up here from Nineveh last night with the most disreputable crowdI ever traveled with. They were human buzzards flocking to the scene ofhorrors. 

There was danger of a fight every moment, and if one had been startedthere is little doubt that it would have been short and bloody, for theconduct of the rowdy portion of the travellers had enraged the decentpersons, to whom the thought of drunkenness and ribaldry at such a timewas abhorrent, and they were quite ready to undertake the work ofpitching the demoralized beings off the cars. 

Wedged in here and there between intoxicated ruffians, who wereindulging in the foulest jests about the corpses on which they wereabout to feast their eyes, were pale faced women, sad and red eyed, wholooked as if they had had little sleep since the horrible collapse ofthe dam. Some of them were bound for Johnstown to claim and bring backbodies already identified, while others were on a trip for the ruins tocommence a long and perhaps fruitless search for whatever might be leftof their relatives. Some of those who misbehaved were friends of thelost, who, worn out with loss of sleep, had taken to drink and becomemadmen, but the greater part were merely sight-seers or robbers of thedead. 

Avaricious Tramps. 

There were many tramps whose avarice had been stimulated by hearing ofdiamond rings and watches found on the dead. There was one littledrunken hunchback who told those in the car who listened to him thatyears ago he had quarrelled with his parents in Johnstown and had notseen them since. He was on the way now to see if anything was left ofthem. One moment he was in maudlin tears and the next he was crackingsome miserable joke about the disaster. He went about the car shakingdice with other inebriated passengers, and in the course of half an hourhad won $6. Over this he exhibited almost the glee of a maniac, and thefate of his people was lost sight of. Then he would presently forget hisgains and go sobbing up the aisle looking for listeners to his pitifulstory. 

There were two sinister looking Hungarians in the smoking car and theirpresence excited the anger of a handful of drunken maniacs. They madeloud speeches, denouncing the conduct of Hungarians who robbed theJohnstown dead, levelling their remarks at the particular two. As theygrew more excited they demanded that the passengers make a move andlynch the fellows. A great deal of trouble would have ensued, doubtless, if the train had not at that moment stopped at Sang Hollow, four milesfrom Johnstown. The conductor shouted out that the passengers must leavethe car and walk along the track the remainder of the distance. 

A Strange Procession. 

We started out in the fast gathering darkness and the loiterers who heldback made a long string. The drunken ruffians staggered along thetracks, howling with glee and talking about corpses, showing what theirobject was in coming. The tired out and disheartened women crowded underthe shelter of the more respectable men. There was one member of thePennsylvania National Guard in the troop with his bayonet, and he seemedto be the rallying point for the timid. 

[Illustration: MAP OF THE DISTRICT SWEPT BY THE FLOOD. ]

When the mob reached the outskirts of Johnstown they came across alittle camp of military with outposts. I had been told that soldierswere keeping people who had no business there out of the lost city, andto insure my passage through the lines I had procured an order from Mr. McCreery, chairman of the Chamber of Commerce Committee at Pittsburgh, stating that I was entitled to go through. I knew that the drunkenlunatics behind me could have no such documents, and I imagined thesoldiers would stop them. Nothing of the kind happened. Whole troopssurged through the line. No passes were asked from them and they showednone. They only quieted down for a moment when they saw the uniforms ofthe National Guard. 

Reinforcing Disorder. 

The mob merely helped to swell the host of thieves, cutthroats andpickpockets with which the region is infested. 

The trains which had passed us, going from Johnstown to Pittsburghlooked as if they might be made up of joyous excursionists. The carswere crowded to the platforms, and for some reason or other dozens ofthe inebriated passengers thought it appropriate to cheer and yell, though God knows the whole surroundings were calculated to make a humanbeing shed tears of anguish. The sight of the coffins in the baggagecars, some of them containing the dead, had no dampening effect upon thespirit of these roysterers. 

The reaction from debauches and excitement is terrible, and there can belittle doubt that many minds will give way under the strain. One of thewonders of the disaster is the absence of suicide and the apparentlycalm way in which the most wofully bereaved support themselves undertheir terrible loss. It must be an unnatural calm. Men have quietly toldme that they have lost their entire families and then have suddenlychanged the subject and talked of some absurdly trivial matter with anair of great interest, but it was easy to see that there was somenumbing influence over the mechanism of the mind. It is unnatural andawful. It is almost impossible to realize that the troops of workmenleisurely digging in the ruins as if engaged in everyday employment arereally digging for the dead, and it is only in the actual sight of deathand its emblems that one can persuade one's self that it is all true. The want of sleep conduces to an unnatural condition of the mind, underwhich these awful facts are bearable to the bereaved. 

Picketing the Ruins. 

It was like a military camp here last night. So many citizens have beenknocked down and robbed that the soldiers had special instructions tosee that no queer characters got through to the centre of the town. Ihad an excellent chance of seeing how impossible it was for anunauthorized person to move about the town easily, although he could getinto the interior. I had been kindly invited to sleep on a wisp of hayin a neighboring barn, but being detained late in the valley reached thepress headquarters after my host had left. It was a question of huntingshelter or sleeping on the ground. 

A gentleman whom I met told me that he was living in a Baltimore andOhio day passenger coach about a mile out, and that if we could find ourway there I was welcome to a soft place on the floor. We spoke to thenearest picket. He told us that it would be madness to try to cross onepart of the ground unless we had revolvers, because a gang of Huns werein hiding ready to knock down passengers and hold up any one who seemeddefenceless. However, after a little cogitating, he said that he wouldescort us to General Hastings' headquarters, and we started, picking ourway over the remains of streets and passing over great obstructions thathad been left by the torrent. Ruin and wreck were on every hand. Youcould not tell where one street began and another left off, and in someplaces there was only soft mud, as devoid of evidence of the formerpresence of buildings as a meadow is, though they had been the sites ofbusiness blocks. It was washed clean. 

A Weird Journey. 

Our guide told us the details of the capture of five marauders who hadbeen robbing the dead. They had cut off the head of a woman found in thedébris to get her earrings. He said that a number of deputy sheriffs haddeclared that at dawn they would march to the place where the prisonerswere and take them out and hang them. My military friend said that heand his comrades would not be particularly anxious to interfere. Thescene as we picked our way was lighted up by camp fires, around whichsat groups of deputy sheriffs in slouch hats. They were a grim lookingset, armed with clubs and guns. A few had rifles and some wore revolversin their belts in regular leather cowboy pockets. The camp fires wereabout two hundred yards apart and to pass them without being challengedwas impossible. At the adjutant general's office we got a pass entitlingus to pass the pickets, and bidding our guardsman good-night we startedoff escorted by a deputy sheriff. There were long lines of camp firesand every few rods we had to produce credentials. It was a pretty effectthat was produced by the blazing logs. They lighted up the valley forsome distance, throwing in relief the windowless ruins of what were oncefine residences, bank buildings or factories. Embedded in the mud werepackages of merchandise, such as sugar in barrels, etc. , and over thesewe stumbled continually. 

A Muddy Desert. 

Streams were running through the principal streets of the city. In someparts all that was left of the thoroughfares were the cobble stones--bywhich it was possible to trace streets for a short distance--and thestreet railway tracks remaining in places for spaces of a hundred feetor so. There were some buildings outside of the track of the full forceof the torrent, the roofs of which seemed not to have been reached. Others had been on fire and had lost parts of their walls. It was adismal sight, this desolation, as shown up by the fitful camp fires. Itwas only after climbing over perilous places, crossing streams andnarrowly escaping with our necks, that we came within sight of the carat two o'clock this morning. We passed by a school house used as amorgue. Several people were inside gazing by lamp light at the silentbodies in a hunt for lost ones. Piles of coffins, brown and white, werein the school playground, which resounded not many days ago with theshouts of children, some of whom lie there now. There are heaps ofcoffins everywhere throughout the city. Conversation with the deputysheriffs showed a deep-rooted hatred against the Huns, and adetermination to shoot them down like dogs if they were caught prowlingabout near the exposed property. While we were toiling over débris weheard three shots about a quarter of a mile off. We could learn nothingof their report. The service done by the deputy sheriffs was excellent. 

Mistaken Identification. 

At St. Columba's Catholic Church the scenes were striking in theirindividual peculiarities. One woman came in and identified a body asthat of Katie Frank. The undertakers labeled it accordingly, but in afew moments another woman entered the church, raised the lid of thecoffin, scanned the face of the corpse, and then tore the label from thecasket. The undertakers were then warned by the woman to be more carefulin labelling coffins in the future. She then began to weep, and left thechurch in despair. She was Katie's mother, and Katie is yet among thewreck in the river below. 

The lot of bodies held and coffined at Morrellville presented adifferent feature. The mud was six inches deep, and the drizzling rainadded gloom to the scene. Here and there could be seen, kneeling in themud, broken hearted wives and mothers who sobbed and prayed. Theincidents here were heartrending. 

At the Fourth ward school-house morgue a woman from Erie, whose namecould not be learned, went to the morgue in search of some one, butfainted on seeing the long line of coffins. At the Kernville morgue onelittle boy named Elrod, on finding his father and mother both dead, seized a hatchet, and for some time would let no one enter the place, claiming that the people were lying to him and wanted to rob him of hisfather and mother. 

One sad incident was the sight of two coffins lying in the Gautiergraveyard with nobody to bury them. A solitary woman was gazing at themin a dazed manner, while the rain beat on her unprotected head. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Hairbreadth Escapes. 

So vast is the field of destruction that to get an adequate idea fromany point level with the town is simply impossible. It must be viewedfrom a height. From the top of Kernville Mountain just at the east ofthe town the whole strange panorama can be seen. 

Looking down from that height many strange things about the flood thatappear inexplicable from below are perfectly plain. How so many houseshappened to be so queerly twisted, for instance, as if the water had awhirling instead of a straight motion, was made perfectly clear. 

The town was built in an almost equilateral triangle, with one anglepointed squarely up the Conemaugh Valley to the east, from which theflood came. At the northerly angle was the junction of the Conemaugh andStony creeks. The Southern angle pointed up the Stony Creek Valley. Nowabout one-half of the triangle, formerly densely covered with buildings, is swept as clean as a platter, except for three or four big brickbuildings that stand near the angle which points up the Conemaugh. 

Course of the Flood. 

The course of the flood from the exact point where it issued from theConemaugh Valley to where it disappeared below in a turn in the riverand above by spreading itself over the flat district of five or sixmiles, is clearly defined. The whole body of water issued straight fromthe valley in a solid wave and tore across the village of Woodvale andso on to the business part of Johnstown at the lower part of thetriangle. Here a cluster of solid brick blocks, aided by theconformation of the land, evidently divided the stream. The greater partturned to the north, swept up the brick block and then mixed with theruins of the villages above down to the stone arch bridge. The otherstream shot across the triangle, was turned southward by the bluffs andwent up the valley of Stony Creek. The stone arch bridge in the meantimeacted as a dam and turned part of the current back toward the south, where it finished the work of the triangle, turning again to thenorthward and back to the stone arch bridge. The stream that went upStony Creek was turned back by the rising ground and then was reinforcedby the back water from the bridge again and started south, where itreached a mile and a half and spent its force on a little settlementcalled Grubbtown. 

Work of the Water. 

The frequent turning of this stream, forced against the buildings andthen the bluffs, gave it a regular whirling motion from right to leftand made a tremendous eddy, whose centrifugal force twisted everythingit touched. This accounts for the comparatively narrow path of the floodthrough the southern part of the town, where its course through thethickly clustered frame dwelling houses is as plain as a highway. Theforce of the stream diminished gradually as it went south, for at theplace where the currents separated every building is ground to piecesand carried away, and at the end the houses were only turned a little ontheir foundations. In the middle of the course they are turned over ontheir sides or upside down. Further down they are not single, but greatheaps of ground lumber that look like nothing so much as enormous pithballs. 

To the north the work of the waters is of a different sort. It picked upeverything except the big buildings that divided the current and piledthe fragments down about the stone bridge or swept them over and soondown the river for miles. This left the great yellow, sandy and barrenplain so often spoken of in the despatches where stood the bestbuildings in Johnstown--the opera house, the big hotel, many wholesalewarehouses, shops and the finest residences. In this plain there are nowonly the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad train, a school-house, the MorrellCompany's stores and an adjoining warehouse and the few buildings at thepoint of the triangle. One big residence, badly shattered, is alsostanding. 

Houses Changed Base. 

These structures do not relieve the shocking picture of ruin spread outbelow the mountain, but by contrast making it more striking. That partof the town to the south where the flood tore the narrow path thereused to be a separate village which was called Kernville. It is nowknown as the South Side. Some of the queerest sights of the wreck arethere, though few persons have gone to see them. Many of the houses thatare there, scattered helter skelter, thrown on their sides and standingon their roofs, were never in that neighborhood nor anywhere near itbefore. They came down on the breast of the wave from as far up asFranklin, were carried safely by the factories and the bridges, by thebig buildings at the dividing line, up and down on the flood and finallysettled in their new resting places little injured. A row of them, packed closely together and every one tipped over at about the sameangle, is only one of the queer freaks the water played. 

I got into one of these houses in my walk through the town to-day. Thelower story had been filled with water, and everything in it had beentorn out. The carpet had been split into strips on the floor by thesheer force of the rushing tide. Heaps of mud stood in the corners. There was not a vestige of furniture. The walls dripped with moisture. The ceiling was gone, the windows were out, and the cold rain blew inand the only thing that was left intact was one of those worked worstedmottoes that you always expect to find in the homes of working people. It still hung to the wall, and though much awry the glass and frame wereunbroken. The motto looked grimly and sadly sarcastic. It was:--

 "There is no place like home. "

A melancholy wreck of a home that motto looked down upon. 

A Tree in a House. 

I saw a wagon in the middle of a side street sticking tongue, and all, straight up into the air, resting on its tail board, with the hindwheels almost completely buried in the mud. I saw a house standingexactly in the middle of Napoleon street, the side stove in by crashingagainst some other house and in the hole the coffin of its owner wasplaced. Some scholar's library had been strewn over the street in thelast stage of the flood, for there was a trail of good books left halfsticking in the mud and reaching for over a block. One house had beenlifted over two others in some mysterious way and then had settled downbetween them and there it stuck, high up in the air, so its formeroccupants might have got into it again with ladders. 

Down at the lower end of the course of the stream, where its force wasgreater, there was a house lying on one corner and held there by beingfastened in the deep mud. Through its side the trunk of a tree had beendriven like a lance, and there it stayed sticking out straight in theair. In the muck was the case and key board of a square piano, and fardown the river, near the débris about the stone bridge, were its legs. An upright piano, with all its inside apparatus cleanly taken out, stoodstraight up a little way off. What was once a set of costly furniturewas strewn all about it, and the house that contained it was nowhere. 

The remarkable stories that have been told about people floating a mileup the river and then back two or three times are easily credible afterseeing the evidences of the strange course the flood took in this partof the town. People who stood near the ruins of Poplar Bridge saw fourwomen on a roof float up on the stream, turn a short distance above andcome back and go past again and once more return. Then they went fardown on the current to the lower part of the town and were rescued asthey passed the second story window of a school house. A man who wasimprisoned in the attic of his house put his wife and two children on aroof that was eddying past and stayed behind to die alone. They floatedup the stream and then back and got upon the roof of the very house theyhad left, and the whole family was saved. 

At Grubbtown there is a house that came all the way from Woodvale. On itwas a man who lived near Grubbtown, but was working at Woodvale when theflood came. He was carried right past his own house and coolly told thepeople at the bridge to bid his wife good-bye for him. The house passedthe bridge three times, the man carrying on a conversation with thepeople on shore and giving directions for his burial if his body shouldbe found. The third time the house went up it grounded at Grubbtown, andin an hour or two the man was safe at home. Three girls who went by on aroof crawled into the branches of a tree and had to stay there all nightbefore they could make any one understand where they were. At one timescores of floating houses were wedged in together near the ruins ofPoplar street bridge. Four brave men went out from the shore, and, stepping from house roof to house roof, brought in twelve women andchildren. 

Starvation Overcomes Modesty. 

Some women crawled from roofs into the attics of houses. In theirstruggles with the flood most of their clothes had been torn from them, and rather than appear on the streets they stayed where they were untilhunger forced them to shout out of the windows for help. At this stageof the flood more persons were lost by being crushed to death than bydrowning. As they floated by on roofs or doors the toppling houses fellover upon them and killed them. 

Nineveh was Spared. 

The valley of death, twenty-three miles long, practically ends atNineveh. It begins at Woodvale, where the dam broke, and for the entiredistance to this point the mountains make a canyon--a water trap, fromwhich escape was impossible. The first intimation this city had of theimpending destruction was at noon on Friday, when Station AgentNunamaker got this despatch:--

"We just received word from South Fork that water is coming over dam atConemaugh Lake, and is liable to burst at any moment. Notify people tolook out. "

"J. C. WAUKEMSHAW, Despatcher at Conemaugh. "

Nunamaker started on a dead run to the water front, along which most ofthe houses are situated, crying:--

"The dam is breaking. Run for your lives!"

Every spring, the station agent tells me, there have been a score ofsuch alarms, and when the people heard Nunamaker they laughed and calledhim an old fogy for his pains. They had run too often to the mountainsto escape some imaginary flood to be scared by anything less than theactual din of the torrent in their ears. Two hours and a half later adespatch came saying that the dam had indeed broken. 

Again the station agent went on a trot to the residential part of thetown. That same despatch had gone thundering down the whole valley. Johnstown heard the news and so did Conemaugh. No one believed it. Itwas what they called "a chestnut. " But the cry had put the people alittle on the alert. One hour after the despatch came the first warningnote of the disaster. Mr. Nunamaker tells me that it took really morethan that time for the head of the leaping cataract to travel thetwenty-three miles. If that is so the people of Johnstown must have hadhalf an hour's warning at least, for Johnstown is half way between hereand the fatal dam. 

Awful Scenes. 

Nineveh is very flat on the river side where the people live, though, fortunately, the main force of the current was not directed on this sideof the stream. In a second the river rose two feet at a jump. It thenreared up like a thing of life, then it steadily rose inches at a time, flooding the whole town. But the people had had warning and savedthemselves. Pitiful cries were heard soon from the river. People werefloating down on barrels, roofs, beds, anything that was handy. Therewere pitiful shrieks from despairing women. The people of Nineveh coulddo nothing. No boat could have stemmed the cataract. During the nightthere were shrieks heard from the flooded meadows. Next morning at nineo'clock the flood had fallen three feet. Bodies could be seen on thetrees by the Nineveh people, who stayed up all night in the hope ofbeing able to do some act of humanity. 

The Living and the Dead. 

Only twenty-five were taken alive from the trees and drift on this side. Across the stream a score were secured and forty-seven corpses takenout. This, with the 200 corpses here, makes a total of 300 people whoare known to have come down to this point. There are perhaps a hundredand fifty bodies within a mile. Only a few were actually taken from theriver bed. They sank in deep water. It is only when they have swollen bythe effect of the water that they rise to the surface. Most of thoserecovered were found almost on dry land or buried in drift. There aretons of wood, furniture, trees, trunks, and everything that is everlikely to float in a river, that must be "dug over. " It will be work ofthe hardest kind to get at the remaining corpses. I went over the wholeground along the river bank between here and Johnstown to-day. 

The Force of the Flood. 

The trees on the banks were levelled as if by battering rams, telegraphpoles were snapped off as a boy breaks a sugar stick, and parts of thePennsylvania Railroad track were wrenched, torn and destroyed. 

Jerry McNeilly, of this place, says he was at the Johnstown station whenthe flood came down, preceded by a sort of cloud or fog. He saw peoplesmoking at their windows up to the last moment, and even when the waterflooded their floors they laughed and seemed to think that the river hadrisen a few feet and that was all. Jerry, however, ran to the hills andsaved himself while the water rose and did its awful work. Some houseswere bowled over like ninepins. Some floated to the surface and startedwith the flood; others stood their ground and were submerged inch byinch, the occupants climbing from story to story, from the top story tothe roof, only to be swept away from their foothold sooner or later. 

The Dam's History. 

I asked a gathering of men here in what light they had been accustomedto look upon the dam. They say that from the time it was built, somewhere about 1831, by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to collectwater for the canals, it has been the "bogie" of the district. Babieswere frightened when naughty by being told the dam would break. Time andtime again the people of Nineveh have risen from their beds in thenight and perched upon the mountains through fear. A body of water sevenmiles or more long, from eighty to one hundred and twenty feet deep, andabout a mile wide, was indeed something to be dreaded. This lake had acircumference of about eighteen miles, which gives some idea of thevolume of water that menaced the population. The dam was thick enoughfor two carriages to drive abreast on its top, but the people alwaysdoubted the stability of that pile of masonry and earth. 

Morrellville was for a few days in a state of starvation, but Sheridan, Sang Hollow and this town are in no distress. 

Nineveh has lost no life, although wild rumors said it had. Though thedamage to property is very great, the Huns have been kept away, androbbers and marauders find nothing to tempt them. 

What "Chal" Dick Saw. 

"I'll kill the first man that dares to cross the bridge. "

"Chal" Dick, lawyer, burgess and deputy sheriff and sportsman, sat uponhis horse with a Winchester rifle across his saddle and a thousand ortwo of fiends dancing a war dance in his eyes. Down in Johnstown properthey think "Chal" Dick is either drunk or crazy. Two newspaper menbunked with him last night and found he was not afflicted in eithersense. He is the only recognized head in the borough of Kernville, whereevery man, woman and child know him as "Chal, " and greet him as hepasses by. 

"Yes, " he said to me last night, "I saw it all. My house was onSomerset street. On Thursday night it rained very hard. My wife woke meand called my attention to the way the water was coming down. I saidnothing, but I got up about five o'clock and took a look around. In alittle while Stony Creek had risen three feet. I then knew that we weregoing to have a flood, but I did not apprehend any danger. The watersoon flooded the streets, and boards and logs began coming down. 

Sport Before Sorrow. 

"A lot of us turned in to have some sport. I gave my watch and whatmoney I had to a neighbor and began riding logs down the stream. I hadlots of company. Old men acted like boys, and shouted and shouted andsplashed about in the water like mad. Finally the water began to rise sorapidly that I became alarmed. I went home and told my wife that it wasfull time to get out. She was somewhat incredulous, but I made her getready, and we took the children and we went to the house of Mr. Bergman, on Napoleon street, just on the rise of Kernville. I got wet from headto foot fooling in the water, and when I got to Bergman's I took achill. I undressed and went to bed and fell asleep. The first thing Iknew I was pulled out of bed on to the floor, by Mr. Bergman, whoyelled, 'the dam has burst. ' I got up, pulled on my pantaloons andrushed down stairs. I got my youngest child and told my wife to followwith the two others. This time the water was three feet in the houseand rising rapidly. We waded up to our waists out through it, up thehill, far beyond the reach of danger. 

A Stupendous Sight. 

"From the time I left Bergman's till I stopped is a blank. I remembernothing. I turned and looked, and may my eyes never rest on another suchsight. The water was above the houses from the direction of the railroadbridge. There came a wave that appeared to be about twelve feet high. Itwas perpendicular in its face and moved in a mist. I have heard themspeak of the death mist, but I then first appreciated what the phrasemeant. It came on up Stony Creek carrying on its surface house afterhouse and moving along faster than any horse could go. In the waterthere bobbed up and down and twisted and twirled the heads of peoplemaking ripples after the manner of shot dropped into the water. The wavestruck houses not yet submerged and cut them down. The frames rose tothe surface, but the bricks, of course, were lost to sight. When theforce of the water spent itself and began retracing its course, then theawfulness of the scene increased in intensity. I have a little nerve, but my heart broke at the sight. Houses, going and coming, crashed upagainst each other and began grinding each other to pieces. Thebuildings creaked and groaned as they let go their fastenings and fairlymelted. 

"At the windows of the dwellings there appeared the faces of peopleequally as ill-fated as the rest. God forbid that I should ever againlook upon such intensity of anguish. Oh, how white and horror-strickenthose faces were, and such appeals for help that could not come. Thewoman wrung their hands in their despair and prayed aloud fordeliverance. Down stream went houses and people at the rate oftwenty-five miles an hour and stopped, a conglomerate mass, at the stoneabutment of the railroad bridge. The first buildings that struck thebridge took fire, and those that came after were swept into a sea offlame. I thought I had already witnessed the greatest possible climax ofanguish, but the scene that followed exceeded in awfulness anything Ihad before looked upon. The flames grew, hundreds of people were wedgedin the driftwood and imprisoned in the houses. Rapidly the fireapproached them, and then they began to cry for aid, and hundreds ofothers stood on the bank, powerless to extend a single comfort. 

Judgment Day. 

"As the fire licked up house after house and pile after pile, I couldsee men and women bid each other good-by, and fathers and mothers kisstheir children. The flames swallowed them up and hid them from my view, but I could hear their shrieks as they roasted alive. The shrieksmellowed into groans, and the groans into silence, only to be followedby more shrieks, more groans and more silence, as the fire caught up anddestroyed its victims. Heavens! but I was glad when the end came. Myonly anxiety was to have it come quickly, and I prayed that it mightcome, oh! so quick! It was a splendid realization of the judgment day. It was a magnificent realization of the impotency of man in a battlewith such a combination of fire and flood. "

Some Have Cause for Joy. 

In the midst of the confusion of the disaster and the strain ofexcitement which followed it was but natural that every one who couldnot readily be found was reported dead. Amid the throng of mourners nowan occasional soul is made happy by finding that some loved one hasescaped death. To-day a few of the living had time to notify theirfriends throughout the country of their safety. 

General Lew Wallace, now at West Point, telegraphed President Harrison, in response to an inquiry last night, that his wife was "coming out ofthe great calamity at Johnstown safe. " Several reports have been sentout from Johnstown, one as late as last night, to the effect that Mrs. Wallace was believed to be among the victims of the disaster. PrivateSecretary Halford received a telegram this afternoon from his wife atAltoona, announcing that Mrs. Lew Wallace was with her and safe. 

Did Not Lose Their Presence of Mind. 

A dispatch from Carthage, Ill. , says:--"Mrs. M. J. Smith, a travelingsaleslady for a book concern in New York city, was at Johnstown at thetime of the flood and was swept away with others. Her brothers, Lieutenant P. And James McKee, received the following telegram atCarthage yesterday from Johnstown:

"Escaped with my life on housetop; am all right. 

"M. J. SMITH. 

"The lady is well known in this county. "

Rich Made Poor. 

John Kelly, the prominent Odd Fellow of Conemaugh, who was supposed tobe lost, escaped with his entire family, though his house and store wereswept down the river. 

John Rowley, who stands high among the Masons and Odd Fellows, tells methat out of $65, 000 worth of property which he could call his own onFriday last he found just two bricks on the site of his residence thismorning. He counts himself wealthy, however, in the possession of hiswife and children who were all saved. His wife, who was very ill, wasdragged through the water in her nightclothes. She is now in a criticalcondition, but has the best of medical attendance and may pull through. 

In a frame house which stood at No. 121 Union street, Johnstown, wereMrs. O. W. Byrose, her daughters Elsie, Bessie and Emma, and sons Samueland Ray. When the flood struck the house they ran to the attic. Thehouse was washed from its foundation and carried with the rushingwaters. Mrs. Byrose and her children then clung to each other, expectingevery minute to meet death. As the house was borne along the chimneyfell and crashed through the floors, and the bricks were strewn alongthe course of the river. The house was caught in the jam and held abouttwo hundred feet above the bridge and one hundred and fifty feet fromthe shore. The terrified inmates did not lose all presence of mind, andthey made their escape to the hole made by the fallen chimney. They wereseen by those on shore, and after much difficulty each was rescued. Afew minutes later the house caught fire from the burning buildings, andwas soon consumed. 

Swept from His Side. 

At ten o'clock this morning an old gray bearded man stood amid theblackened logs and ashes through which the polluted water of theConemaugh made its way, wringing his hands and moaning in a way thatbrought tears to the eyes of all about him. He was W. J. Gilmore, whoseresidence had stood at the corner of Conemaugh and Main streets. Beingon low ground the house was flooded by the first rush of water and thefamily, consisting of Mr. Gilmore, his brother Abraham, his wife, fourchildren and mother-in-law, ran to the second story, where they werejoined by Frances, the little daughter of Samuel Fields, and GrandmotherMaria Prosser. When the torrent from South Fork rushed through the townthe side of the house was torn out and the water poured into the secondfloor. Mr. Gilmore scrambled upon some floating débris, and his brotherattempted to pass the women and children out to him. Before he could doso, however, the building sank and Mr. Gilmore's family was swept fromhis side. His brother disappeared for a moment under the water, but cameto the surface and was hauled upon the roof. The brothers then strovefrantically to tear a hole in the roof of the house with their barehands, but their efforts were, of course, unavailing, and they were soonstruggling for their own lives in the wreck at the viaduct. Both finallyreached the shore. The body of Mrs. Gilmore, when taken from the ruinsthis morning, was but little mutilated, although her body was bloated bythe water. Two of the children had been almost burned to cinders, theirarms and legs alone being something like their original shape. 

Statue of the Virgin. 

St. Mary's German Catholic Church, which is badly wrecked, wastemporarily used as a morgue, but a singular circumstance connected withthe wrecking having been noticed, the duty of becoming a receptacle forthe dead is transferred to the Church of St. Columba. The windows of St. Mary's are all destroyed. The floor for one-third of its extent on St. Mary's side is torn up to the chancel rail in one piece by the water andraised toward the wall. One-half the chancel rail is gone, the mud iseighteen inches deep on the floor, St. Joseph's altar is displaced andthe statue gone. The main altar, with its furniture for Easter, iscovered with mud, and some fine potted flowers are destroyed. Nearly allthe other ornaments are in place, even to the candlesticks. Strange torelate, the statue of the Virgin in her attire is unsoiled; the whitevestments with silken embroidery are untarnished. This discovery led tothe change of morgue. The matter being bruited abroad the desolatedwomen of Cambria and Johnstown, as well as those who had not beensufferers from the flood, visited the church, and with most affectingdevoutness adored the shrine. Some men also were among the devout, andnot one of those who offered their prayers but did it in tears. Forseveral hours this continued to be the wonder of the parishioners of theCatholic churches. 

The entire family of Mr. Howe, the wealthiest man in Cambria, with somevisitors from Pittsburgh and Ohio, were hurried to death by the collapseof their residence on that fatal Friday night. 

In the rubbish heaped high on the shore near the stone arch bridge is aflat freight car banged and shattered and with a hole stove in its side. One of the workmen who were examining the débris to-day got into the carand found a framed and glazed picture of the Saviour. It was restingagainst the side of the car, right side up. Neither frame nor glass wereinjured. When this incident got noised about among the workmen theydropped their pickaxes and ran to look at the wonderful sight with theirhats off. 

Saved His Mother and Sister. 

A man who came up from Lockport to-day told this:--"On the roof of ahouse were a young man, his mother and a young girl apparently hissister. As they passed the Lockport bridge, where the youth hung in aneddy for a moment, the men on the bridge threw them a rope. The youngman on the house caught and tried to make it fast around his mother andthen around his sister. They were afraid to use it or they wereunwilling to leave him, for they would not take the rope. They tried tomake him take it, but he threw it away and stayed on the roof with them. The house was swept onward and in another moment was lodged against atree. The youth seized his mother and sister and placed them in safetyamong the branches. The next instant the house started again. The youngman's foot slipped. He fell into the water and was not seen again. "

Where Death Lay In Wait. 

A great deal has been written and published about the terrible disaster, but in all the accounts nothing has been said about South Fork, where inproportion to its size as much damage has been done as at any otherpoint. 

For the purpose of ascertaining how the place looked which in the annalsof history will always be referred to as the starting point of thisgreat calamity, I came here from Johnstown. I left on Monday morning athalf-past six, and being unable to secure a conveyance of any characterwas compelled to walk the entire distance. Thinking the people ofJohnstown knew whereof they spoke, I started over the Edensburgturnpike, and tramped, as a result, six more miles than was absolutelynecessary. After I left Johnstown it began raining and continued until Ireached South Fork. 

Two miles out from Johnstown I passed the Altoona Relief Committee incarriages, with their supply train following, and from that until Ireached Fair View, where I turned off toward the Conemaugh river, itwas a continuous line of vehicles of all kinds, some containingsupplies, others passengers, many of whom were ladies. I followed acow-path along the mountain until I reached Mineral Point. Here is wherethe flood did its first bad work after leaving South Fork. There hadbeen thirty-three dwelling houses, a store and a large sawmill in thevillage, and in less than one minute after the flood struck the head ofthe place there were twenty-nine of these buildings wiped out; and sosudden had been the coming of the water that but a few of the residentssucceeded in getting away. 

As a Boy would Marbles. 

Jacob Kohler, one of the residents of the place, said he had received atelegram stating that the flood was coming, but paid no attention to itas they did not understand its significance. "I saw it coming, " he said, "with the water reaching a height of at least twenty-five feet, tearingtrees up by the roots and dashing big rocks about as a boy wouldmarbles. I hardly had time to grab a child and run for the hills when itwas upon us, and in less time than it takes for me to tell it ourvillage was entirely wiped out and the inhabitants were struggling inthe water and were soon out of sight. I never want to see such a sightagain. "

From Mineral Point another cow-path was taken over the mountains. I camejust below the viaduct within about one mile of South Fork, and here thework of destruction had been as complete as it was possible for it tobe. The entire road-bed of the Pennsylvania Railroad had been washedaway. 

At this point a freight train had been caught and all the men on itperished, but the names could not be learned. The engine was turnedcompletely upside down and the box cars were lifted off the track andcarried two hundred feet to the side of the hill. Fifteen of them arethere with the trucks, about one hundred feet from the old road-bed, andturned completely upside down. 

Another freight train just ahead of it was also swept away in the samemanner, all excepting two cars and the engine. One of the cars wasloaded with two heavy boilers from the works of James Witherow, Newcastle. 

Rails Twisted Double. 

Coming in to South Fork the work of destruction on the railroad wasfound to be even greater, the rails being almost bent double. The largeiron bridge over the river at this point is gone, as is also one of thepiers. The lower portion of this place is completely wiped out, and twomen were lost. This is all the loss of life here, excepting two Italianswho were working at the lake proper. The loss in individual property tothe people of this place will reach $75, 000, and at Mineral Point$50, 000. 

For the purpose of seeing how the lake looked after all the water wasout of it, a trip was taken to it, fully three miles distant. Thedriveway around it is fully thirty-five feet wide, and that was thewidth at the point of the dam where the break occurred. 

Like a Thunderbolt. 

Imagine, if you can, a solid piece of ground, thirty-five feet wide andover one hundred feet high, and then, again, that a space of two hundredfeet is cut out of it, through which is rushing over seven hundred acresof water, and you can have only a faint conception of the terrible forceof the blow that came upon the people of this vicinity like a clap ofthunder out of a clear sky. It was irresistible in its power and carriedeverything before it. After seeing the lake and the opening through thedam it can be readily understood how that outbreak came to be sodestructive in its character. 

The lake had been leaking, and a couple of Italians were at work justover the point where the break occurred, and in an instant, withoutwarning, it gave way, and they were down in the whirling mass of waterand were swept into eternity. The people of this place had been told bysome of those who had been to the lake that it was leaking, but paid noattention any more than to send telegrams to Johnstown and MineralPoint. 

Here's Another Paul Revere. 

The first intimation the people had of the approach of the water wasfrom the seventeen-year-old son of John Baker. He was on the road onhorseback and noticed the water coming out of a cavity about five feetin diameter, and not waiting to see any more he put spurs to his horseand dashed for the town at breakneck speed. Some of the people of thisplace saw him coming at great speed, waving his hat, and knowingsomething was wrong at once gave the alarm, and grabbing their childrenstarted for the high parts. When he arrived almost at Railroad street, his own home, the water was already in the roadway, and in less than oneminute its whole bulk was coming, twisting trees and rolling rocksbefore it. 

[Illustration: RESCUES AT THE SIGNAL TOWER. ]

In just eight minutes from the time he first saw it the water hadcarried away the bridge and was on its career of death and destruction. A train of Pullman cars for the East, due at South Fork at 2. 55, wasstanding on the track on the west side of the bridge waiting to pullinto the station. At first the engineer paid no attention to the wildgesticulations of the station agent, but finally started out, pullingslowly into the station, and not one moment too soon, for had heremained where he was a minute longer all would have been swept away. 

Thrilling Escapes. 

A local freight train with a passenger coach attached, standing on theeast side of the track, was compelled to run into the rear end of thepassenger train so as to get out of the way of the flood. A young manwho was on the rear end of the train grabbed a young lady who wasfloating by and thus saved her life. The house of an old man, eighty-twoyears of age, was caught in the whirlpool, and he and his aged wifeclimbed on the roof for safety. They were floating down the railroadtrack to certain death, when their son-in-law, from the roof of thePennsylvania Railroad station-house, pulled them off and saved theirlives as the house was dashed to pieces. 

Mr. Brown, a resident of this place, said: "I was just about oppositethe mouth of the lake when it broke. When I first saw it the water wasdashing over the top of the road just where it broke about a foot high, and not eight or ten feet, as has been stated, and I told Mr. Fisher, who lived there, that he had better get his family out at once, which hedid, going to the hillside, and it was lucky for him that he did, because in a half minute after it broke his home was wiped away. "

No Safety Outlet. 

Mr. Burnett, who was born and raised a mile from the lake, and is now aresident of Hazelwood, and who was at South Fork, said: "When the Stateowned this lake they had a tower over the portion that gave way and anumber of pipes by which they were enabled to drive off the surpluswater, and had the present owners had an arrangement of that kind thisaccident would not have occurred. The only outlet there was for thewater was a small waterway around to the right of the lake, which istotally inadequate. The people of this valley have always been afraid ofthis thing, and now that it is here it shows that they had every reasonfor their fears. "

In company with Mr. Burnett I walked all over the place, and am free toconfess that it looks strong, but experience shows the contrary. 

Mr. Moore, who has done nearly all the hauling for the people who livedat the lake in summer, said:--"About eight years ago this dam broke, butthere was not as much water in it as now, and when it broke they wereworking at it and hauled cart load after cart load of dirt, stone andlogs, and finally about ten tons of hay, and by that means any furtherdamage was prevented. That was the time when they should have put forthstrenuous efforts to have that part strengthened where the breakoccurred. This lake is about three miles long and about a mile wide andfully ninety feet deep, and of course when an opening of any kind wasforced it was impossible to stop it. 

Thirsting for Vengeance. 

"The indignation here against the people who owned that place isintense. I was afraid that if the people here were to hear that you werefrom Pittsburgh they would jump to the conclusion that you wereconnected with the association, and I was afraid they would pull youfrom the carriage and kill you. That is the feeling that predominateshere, and we all believe justly. "

Mr. Ferguson, of the firm of J. P. Stevenson & Co. , said: "It is aterrible affair, and shows the absolute necessity of people not foolingwith matters of that kind. We sent telegrams to Mineral Point, Johnstownand Conemaugh, notifying them that the lake was leaking and the waterrising and we were liable to have trouble, and two minutes before theflood reached here a telegram was sent to Mineral Point that the dam hadbroken. But you see for the past five years so many alarms of that kindhave been sent that the people have not believed them. "

Broke Forty-one Years Ago. 

Mrs. McDonald, who lives between Johnstown and South Fork, said: "I aman old woman and lived in Johnstown forty-two year ago, when there buttwo or three houses here. I have always contended, ever since this clubof dudes took charge of this place, that it would end in a terrible lossof life. It broke about forty-one years ago, and I was in my housewashing and it actually took my tub away and I only saved myself after adesperate struggle. At that time there were no lives lost. On Fridaynight, when it was raining so hard, I told my son not to go nearJohnstown, as it was sure, from the telegrams I heard of, which had comein the afternoon, that there would be a terrible disaster. 

"I was told that when the viaduct went a loud report was heard just as acouple of freight cars were dashing against it, and the people say thatthey were loaded with dynamite. "

The Pennsylvania Railroad officials are rushing in all the men at thispoint possible to repair the road and are working day and night, havingelectric lights all along the road; but with all of that it looks asthough it will be utterly impossible to have even a single track readyfor business before ten days or two weeks, as there is not the slightestvestige of a railroad track to be seen. The railroad people around hereare of the opinion that it will take as long as that. The railroad mensay that it is the most complete destruction of the kind that they haveever witnessed. 

Wealth Borne Away. 

I had an interview to-night with Colonel James A. McMillan, theconsulting director and principal owner of the Cambria Iron Works. Hesaid:--

"What will be the total loss sustained by the Cambria Company is ratherhard to state with perfect accuracy just yet, but from the examinationsalready made of our works I would place our loss at from $3, 000, 000 to$4, 000, 000. That includes, of course, the loss of our Gautier SteelDepartment, above Johnstown, which is completely swept away. 

"Day before yesterday I took the liberty of determining the action whichthe company will pursue in the matter of reconstruction and repairs. Iaccordingly telegraphed for Mr. Lockhart, the secretary of the company. He arrived here to-day and said to me: 'McMillan, I'm glad to see youintend to stand by the company and push the work of repairs at once. '

"I think his words voice the sentiment of all the stockholders of thecompany. 

Reconstruction Begun. 

"All day we have had at least eight hundred men cleaning away the débrisabout our works, and we have made so much progress that you can say wewill have our entire clerical force at work to-morrow evening. Our largepieces of machinery are uninjured, and we will have to send away foronly the smaller pieces of our machines and smaller pipes, which composean enormous system of pipe connections through the works. In from tento twelve days we will have our works in operation, and I feel confidentthat we will be making rails at our works inside of fifty days. As weemploy about five thousand men, I think our renewal of operations willgive the people more encouragement than can be imagined. Besides, wehave half the amount of cash needed on deposit in our local bank here, which was brought over by the Adams Express Company on Monday to pay ourmen. This will be paid them as soon as we can get access to the bank. 

"Our immediate work of reconstruction and repair will, of course, beconfined to the company's Cambria iron works proper, and not extended tothe Gautier steel works above. "

Twelve Millions More. 

The Colonel was then asked his estimate of the total loss sustained bythe towns of Mineral Point, Franklin borough, Woodvale, Conemaugh, Johnstown, Cambria City, Coopersdale and Morrellville. He said:

"I should place it at nothing lower than $12, 000, 000, besides the losssustained by our company. That is only an estimate, but when you takethe different towns as they were before the flood, and knowing them as Ido, you could not fail to see that this is a very reasonable estimate ofthe loss. "

As to the South Fork dam, he said: "For the present I don't care to beinterviewed on that question as representing any one but myself. Personally, I have always considered it a dangerous trap, which waslikely at any time to wipe us out. For the last ten years I have nothesitated to express this opinion in regard to the dam, and I guess itis pretty well understood that all of our leading citizens held similarviews. There is not a man in Johnstown who will deny that he has livedfor years in constant dread of its bursting down on us. "

Fifteen Years to Recover. 

"What do you think will be the time required for the Conemaugh Valley torecover from the shock of the flood?"

"At least fifteen years, and vigilant efforts will be required at that. I speak now from a financial stand-point. Of course we will neverrecover fully from the terrible loss of life which is now being revealedin its dreadful entirety. "

Survivors in Camp. 

There are two camps on the hillside to the north of Johnstown, and theyare almost side by side. One is a camp for the living, for the mostwoebegone and unfortunate of the refugees from the Conemaugh Valley ofthe shadow of death, and the other is for the dead. The camp of theliving is Camp Hastings and the ministering spirits are members of theAmericus Republican Club of Pittsburgh. The camp for the dead is the newpotters' field that was laid out on Monday for the bodies of unknownvictims. The former is populous and stirring, but the latter has moremounds already than the other has living souls. The refugees are widelyscattered; some are in the hospital, some are packed as closely as thelogs and dead bodies at the stone bridge in the houses yet tenable, andthe rest are at Camp Hastings. 

In the despairing panic and confusion of Saturday the first thought thatpresented itself to those who were hurried in to give relief was toprepare shelter for the survivors. The camp has been in operation eversince, and will be for days and may be weeks to come. 

Gloomy Pictures of Despair. 

It looked desolate enough to-day after the soaking downpour of lastnight, and groups of shivering mothers, with their little ones, stoodaround a smoky fire at either end of the streets. The members of theAmericus Committee, for the time being cooks, waiters, grocery dealersand dry goods men, were in striking contrast to their usual appearanceat home. Major W. Coffey, one of the refugees, who was washed sevenmiles down the Conemaugh, was acting as officer of the guard, and limpedup and down on his wooden leg, which had been badly damaged by theflood. 

Palefaced women looked out through the flaps of tents on the scene, andthe only object that seemed to be taking things easy was a lean, blackdog, asleep in front of one of the fires. 

In one of the tents a baby was born last night. The mother, whosehusband was lost in the flood, was herself rescued by being drawn up onthe roof of the Union Schoolhouse. One of the doctors of the AltoonaRelief Corps at the Cambria Hospital attended her, and mother and babeare doing better than thousands of the flood sufferers who areelsewhere. There are other babies in Camp Hastings, but none of themreceive half of the attention from the people in the camp that isbestowed upon this little tot, whose life began just as so many liveswere ended. The baby will probably be named Johnstown Camp O'Connor. 

The refugees who are living along the road get their supplies from thecamp. They pour into the wretched city of tents in a steady stream, bearing baskets and buckets of food. 

He Wanted Tobacco or Nothing. 

An old Irishman walked up to the tent early in the day. "Well, what canwe do for you?" was asked. 

"Have yez any tobaccy?"

"No, tobacco don't go here. "

"I want tobaccy or nothin'. This is no relief to a mon at all, at all. "

The aged refugee walked away in high dudgeon. 

Just down the row from the clothing tent are located two little girls, named Johnson, who lost both father and mother. They had a terribleexperience in the flood, and were two of the forty-three people pulledin on the roof of the house of the late General Campbell and his twosons, James and Curt. 

"How do you fare?" one of the little girls was asked. 

"Oh, very well, sir; only we are afraid of catching the measles, " sheanswered; and with a grimace she tossed her head toward a tent on theother side and further up. A baby in the tent indicated has a slightattack of the measles, but is getting better, and is next door to a tentin which is a young woman shaking with the ague. 

A Multitude to be Fed. 

In the houses along the road above the camp are several hundreds ofrefugees. In one of them are thirty or forty people rendered homeless bythe flood. These are all supplied with food from the camp. Some idea ofthe number of people who have to be fed can be gathered from the factthat 350 pounds of coffee have been given out since yesterday. In thehills back of Cambria there are many hundreds of survivors. Dr. Findley, of the Altoona Relief Corps, went there to-day and found that they werewithout a physician. One from Baltimore had been there, but had goneaway. He found many people needing medical care, and they will be lookedafter from day to day. 

"Wherever we go, " said one of the doctors yesterday, "we find that thereis an alarming spread of pneumonia. " Of the refugees at the CambriaHospital but two have died. 

Bayonets in Control. 

The ruined city lies to-night within a girdle of steel--the bayonets ofthe 14th regiment. The militia has captured Johnstown and to-night overthe desolate plain where the city proper stood, through the toweringwrecks and by the river passes, marches the patrol, crying "Halt" andchallenging vagabonds, vandals and ghouls, who cross their path. GeneralHastings, being the highest officer in rank, is in command, and when thesurvivors of the flood awake to-morrow morning, when the weary picketsare relieved at sunrise a brigade headquarters will be fully establishedon the slope of Prospect Hill overlooking the hundreds of white tents ofthe regiments that will lie down below by the German Catholic Church. 

[Illustration: ENCAMPMENT OF RELIEF PARTIES. ]

First this afternoon arrived Governor Beaver's staff, mostly by way ofHarper's Ferry on the Baltimore and Ohio. All the officers in brilliantuniform and trappings reported to General Hastings. They found theircommander in a slouch hat, a rough-looking cutaway and rubber boots. 

The 14th Regiment, reinforced this morning until it is now 600 strong, is still camped in freight cars beyond the depot, opposite the late cityproper. Space is being rapidly cleared for its tents, however, over bythe German Catholic Church, and near the ruins of the Irish CatholicChurch, which was on fire when the deluge came. 

Early this morning the 14th Regiment went into service, but it was avolunteer service of two young officers and three privates when at noonthey dragged gently from the rushing Conemaugh the body of a beautifulyoung girl. She was tenderly borne through the lines by regimentalheadquarters to the church house morgue, while the sentinels stood asidewith their bayonets and the corporal ordered "Halt!" Guards were placedat the Johnstown stations and all the morgues. 

Marched out of Camp. 

During the day many people of questionable character, indeed all whowere challenged and could not satisfactorily explain their businesshere, had a military escort to the city limits, where they were orderednot to return. Every now and then two of the National Guard could beseen marching along with a rough fellow between them to the post wheresuch beings are made exiles from the scene of desolation. To-night thepicket lines stretch from brigade headquarters down Prospect Hill pastGeneral Hastings' quarters even to the river. The patrol across theriver is keeping sharp vigilance in town. At the eastern end of thePennsylvania Railroad's stone bridge you must stop and give thecountersign. If you don't no man can answer for your safety. 

A Lieutenant's Disgrace. 

Down the Cambria Road, past which the dead of the River Conemaugh sweptinto Nineveh in awful numbers, was another scene to-day--that of a youngofficer of the National Guard in full uniform and a poor deputy sheriff, who had lost home, wife, children and all, clinched like madmen andstruggling for the former's revolver. If the officer of the Guard hadwon, there might have been a tragedy, for he was drunk. The homelessdeputy sheriff with his wife and babies swept to death past the placewhere they struggled was sober and in the right. 

The officer of the National Guard came with his regiment into thisvalley of distress to protect survivors from ruffianism and maintain thepeace and dignity of the State. The man with whom he fought for theweapon was Peter Fitzpatrick, almost crazy in his own woe, butsingularly cool and self-possessed regarding the safety of those leftliving. 

A Man who had Suffered. 

It was one o'clock this afternoon when I noticed on the Cambria road theyoung officer with his long military coat cut open leaning heavily forsupport upon two privates of Company G, Hawthorn and Stewart (boys). Hewas crying in a maudlin way, "You just take me to a place and I'll drinksoft stuff. " They entreated him to return at once to the regimentalquarters, even begged him, but he cast them aside and went staggeringdown the road to the line, where he met the grave-faced deputy face toface. The latter looked in the white of his eyes and said: "You can'tpass here, sir. "

"Can't pass here?" he cried, waving his arms. "You challenge an officer?Stand aside!"

"You can't pass here, " this time quietly, but firmly; "not while you'redrunk. "

"Stand aside, " yelled the Lieutenant. "Do you you know who I am? Youtalk to an officer of the National Guard. "

"Yes; and listen, " said the man in front of him so impatiently that ithushed his antagonist's tirade; "I talk to an 'officer' of the NationalGuard--I, who have lost my wife, my children and all in this flood noman has yet described; we, who have seen our dead with their bodiesmutilated and their fingers cut from their hands by dirty foreigners fora little gold, are not afraid to talk for what is right, even to anofficer of the National Guard. "

A Big Man's Honest Rage. 

While he spoke another great, dark, stout man, who looked as if he hadsuffered, came up, and upon taking in the situation every vein in hisforehead swelled purple with rage. 

"You dirty cur, " he cried to the officer; "you dirty, drunken cur, if itwas not for the sake of peace I'd lay you out where you stand. "

"Come on, " yelled the Lieutenant, with an oath. 

The big man sent out a terrible blow that would have left theLieutenant senseless had not one of the privates dashed in between, receiving part of it and warding it off. The Lieutenant got out of hismilitary coat. The privates seized the big man and with another, who ranto the scene, held him back. The Lieutenant put his hand to his pistolpocket, the deputy Fitzpatrick seized him and the struggle for theweapon began. For a moment it was fierce and desperate, then anotherprivate came to the deputy's assistance. The revolver was wrested fromthe drunken officer and he himself was pushed back panting to theground. 

The Victor was Magnanimous. 

Deputy Fitzpatrick seized the military coat he had thrown on the ground, and with it and the weapon started to the regimental headquarters. Thenthe privates got around him and begged him, one of them with tears inhis eyes, not to report their officer, saying that he was a good manwhen he was sober. He studied a long while, standing in the road, whilethe officer slunk away over the hill. Then he threw the disgraceduniform to them, and said: "Here, give them to him; and, mind you, if hedoes not go at once to his quarters, I'll take him there, dead oralive. "

Sanitarians at Work. 

Dr. Benjamin Lee, secretary of the State Board of Health, has taken holdwith a grip upon the handle. When he surveyed the ground to-day he foundthat there were no disinfectants in town, and no utensils in which todistribute them had there been any disinfectants, so he sent a squadacross the river to the supply train, below the viaduct, and had all thecopperas and chloride of lime to be had carried across the bridges inbuckets. He sent another squad hunting the ruins for utensils, and inthe wreck of a general store on Main street they discovered pails, sprinkling pots and kettles. The copperas and chloride were promptly setheating in the kettles over the streets and in a short time a squad wasout sprinkling the débris which chokes Main street almost to thehousetops for three squares. 

The reason of this was that a brief inspection had satisfied Dr. Leethat under the wreckage were piled the bodies of scores of dead horses. Meantime other men were at work collecting the bodies of other deadhorses, which were hauled to the fire and with the aid of rosin burnedto the number of sixty. A large number of dead horses were buriedyesterday, but this course did not meet the State Board's approval andDr. Lee has ordered their exhumation for burning. 

Dr. R. Lowrie Sibbett, of Carlisle, was made medical inspector and sentup through the boroughs up the river. To-morrow a house-to-houseinspection will be made of the remaining and inhabited portion of thecities and boroughs. The overcrowding makes this necessary. 

"It will take weeks of unremitting labor and thousands of men, " said Dr. Lee, "to remove the sources of danger to the public health which nowexist. The principal danger to people living here is, of course, fromthe contamination of putrifying flesh. They have an excellentwater-supply from the hills, but there is a very grave danger to thehealth of all the people who use the Allegheny river as a water-supply. It is in the débris above the viaduct, which is full of decomposinganimal matter. Every ripple of water that passes through or under itcarries the germs of possible disease with it. "

At the Schoolhouse Morgue. 

Away from the devastation in the valley and the gloomy scenes along theriver, on Prospect Hill, stands the school-house, the morgue of theunidentified dead. People do not go there unless they are hunting for afriend or relative. They treat it as a pest house. They have seen enoughwhite faces in the valley and the living feel like fleeing from thedead. 

This afternoon at sunset every desk in every classroom supported acoffin. Each coffin was numbered and each lid turned to show the facewithin. On the blackboard in one of the rooms, between the prettydrawing and neat writing of the school children, was scrawled thebulletin "Hold No. '59' as long as possible; supposed to be Mrs. Paulson, of Pittsburgh. " "But '59' wasn't Mrs. Paulson, " said a littlewhite-faced woman. "It is Miss Frances Wagner, of Market street, Johnstown. " Her brother found her here. "Fifty-nine" has gone--one ofthe few identified to-day, and others had come to take its place. 

Strongly appealing to the sympathies of even those looking for friendsand relatives was the difference in the size of the coffins. There weresome no larger than a violin case hidden below large boxes, telling ofthe unknown babies perished, and there were coffins of children of allyears. On the blackboards were written such sentences as "Home sweethome;" "Peace on earth, good will toward men. " For all the people wholooked at their young faces knew, they might have stood by the coffin ofthe child who helped to write them. 

The bodies found each day are kept as long as possible and then are sentaway for burial with their numbers, where their names should be, onrough boards, their only tombstones. 

Just as a black storm-cloud was driving hard from the West over theslope of the hills yesterday the body of young Henry G. Rose, thedistrict attorney of Cambria County, was lowered into a temporary gravebeside unknown victims. Three people attended his burial--hisfather-in-law, James A. Lane, who saw him lost while he himself wasstruggling for life in their floating house; the Rev. Dr. H. L. Chapman, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and the Rev. L. Maguire. Dr. Chapmanread the funeral services, and while he prayed the thunder rumbled andthe cloud darkened the scene. The coffins are taken there in wagonloads, lowered quickly and hidden from sight. 

Miss Nina Speck, daughter of Rev. David Speck, pastor of the FirstUnited Brethren Church of Chambersburg, was in Johnstown visiting herbrother last week and narrowly escaped death in the flood. 

She arrived to-day clad in nondescript clothing, which had beenfurnished by an old colored washer-woman and told the following story ofthe flood:

"Our house was in Kernville, a part of Johnstown, through which StonyCreek ran. Although we were a square from the creek, the backwater fromthe stream had flooded the streets in the morning and was up to ourfront porch. At 4 o'clock on Friday afternoon we were sitting on thefront porch watching the flood, when we heard a roar as of a tornado ormighty conflagration. 

"We rushed upstairs and got out upon the bay-window. There an awfulsight met our eyes. Down the Conemaugh Valley was advancing a mightywall of flame and mist with a terrible roar. Before it were rollinghouses and buildings of all kinds, tossing over and over. We thought itwas a cyclone, the roar sounding like a tempest among forest trees. Atfirst we could see no water at all, but back of the mist and flames camea mighty wall of water. We started downstairs and through the rear ofthe house to escape to the hillside nearby. But before we could getthere the water was up to our necks and we could make no progress. Weturned back and were literally dashed by the current into the house, which began to move off as soon as we were in it again. From thesecond-story window I saw a young man drifting toward us. I broke theglass from the frames with my hands and helped him in, and in a fewmoments more I pulled in an old man, a neighbor, who had been sick. 

Miraculous Escape. 

"Our house moved rapidly down the stream and fortunately lodged againsta strong building. The water forced us out of the second story up intothe attic. Then we heard a lot of people on our roof begging us forGod's sake to let them in. I broke through the roof with a bed slat andpulled them in. Soon we had thirteen in all crouched in the attic. 

"Our house was rocking, and every now and then a building would crashagainst us. Every moment we thought we would go down. The roofs of allthe houses drifting by us were covered with people, nearly all prayingand some singing hymns, and now and then a house would break apart andall would go down. On Saturday at noon we were rescued, making our wayfrom one building to the next by crawling on narrow planks. I countedhundreds of bodies lying in the débris, most of them covered over withearth and showing only the outlines of the form. "

A Sad Hospital Story. 

On a cot in the hospital on Prospect Hill there lies at present a maninjured almost to death, but whose mental sufferings are far keener thanhis bodily pains. His name is Vering. He has lost in the flood his wholefamily--wife and five children. In an interview he said:

"I was at home with my wife and children when the alarm came. Wehurried from the house, leaving everything behind us. As we reached thedoor a gentleman friend was running by. He grasped the two smallerchildren, one under each arm, and hurried on ahead of us. I had my armaround my wife, supporting her. Behind us we could hear the floodrushing upon us. In one hurried glance, as I passed a corner, I couldsee the fearful crunching and hear the crackling of the houses in itsfearful grasp. I then could see that there was no possibility of ourescape, as we were too far away from the hillside. In a few moments itwas upon us. In a flash I saw the three dear children licked up by itand they disappeared from sight as I and my wife were thrown into theair by the vanguard of the rushing ruins. We found ourselves in a lot ofdrift, driving along with the speed of a race-horse. In a moment or twowe were thrown with a crash against a frame building whose walls gaveway before the flood as easily as if they were made of pie-crust, andthe timbers began to fall about us in all directions. 

"Up to this time I had retained a firm hold upon my wife, but as I foundmyself pinned between two heavy timbers the agony caused my senses toleave me momentarily. I recovered instantly in time to see my wife'shead just disappearing under the water. Like lightning I grasped her bythe hair and as best I could, pinioned as I was above the water by thetimber, I raised her above it. The weight proved too much and she sankagain. Again I pulled her to the surface and again she sank. This I didagain and again with no avail. She drowned in my very grasp, and at lastshe dropped from my nerveless hands to leave my sight forever. As if Ihad not suffered enough, a few moments after I saw some objects whirlingaround in an eddy which circled around, until, reaching the currentagain, they floated past me. My God, man, would you believe me? it wasthree of my children, dead. Their dear little faces are before me now, distorted in a look of agony that, no matter what I do, haunts me. O, ifI could only have released myself at that time I would have willinglydied with them. I was rescued some time after, and have been here eversince. I have since learned that my friend who so bravely endeavored tosave two of the children was lost with them. "

CHAPTER XV. 

Terrible Pictures of Woe. 

The proportion of the living registered since the flood as against theprevious number of inhabitants is even less than was reported yesterday. It was ascertained to-day that many of the names on the list wereentered more than once and that the total number of persons registeredis not more than 13, 000 out of a former population of between 40, 000 and50, 000. 

A new and more exact method of determining the number of the lost wasinaugurated this morning. Men are sent out by the Relief Committee, whowill go to every abode and obtain the names of the survivors, and ifpossible those of the dead. 

The lack of identification of hundreds of bodies strengthens theinference that the proportion of the dead to the living is appalling. Itis argued that the friends who might identify these unclaimed bodies arethemselves all gone. 

Another significant fact is that so large a number of those whom onemeets in the streets or where the streets used to be are non-residents, strangers who have come here out of humane or less creditable motives. The question that is heard very often is, "Where are the inhabitants?"The town does not appear to have at present a population of more than10, 000. 

It is believed that many of the bodies of the dead have been borne downinto the Ohio, and perhaps into the Mississippi as well, and hence mayfinally be deposited by the waters hundreds of miles apart, perhapsnever to be recovered or seen by man again. 

The General Situation. 

Under the blue haze of smoke that for a week has hung over this valleyof the shadow of death the work which is to resurrect this stricken cityhas gone steadily forward. Here and there over the waste where Johnstownstood in its pride black smoke arises from the bonfires on whichshattered house-walls, rafters, doors, broken furniture and all theflotsam and jetsam of the great flood is cast. 

Adjutant General Hastings, who believes in heroic measures, has beenquietly trying to persuade the "Dictator"--that is, the would-be"Dictator"--to allow him to burn up the wrecked houses wholesale withoutthe tedious bother of pulling them down and handling the débris. Thetimorous committees would not countenance such an idea. Nothing butpiecemeal tearing down of the wrecked houses tossed together by themighty force of the water and destruction by never-dying bonfires wouldsatisfy them. Yet all of them must come down. Most of the buildingsreached by the flood have been examined, found unsafe and condemned. Canthe job be done safely and successfully wholesale or not? That is thereal question for the powers that be to answer, and no sentiment shouldenter into it. 

Four thousand workmen are busy to-day with ropes and axe, pick andshovel. But the task is vast, it is herculean, like unto the cleaning ofthe Augean stables. 

"To clean up this town properly, " said General Hastings to-day, "weshall need twenty thousand workmen for three months. "

The force of the swollen river upturned the town in a half hour. Thesesame timorous managers weakened to-day, after having the facts beforetheir eyes brought home to their understanding by constant iteration. They have found out that they have, vulgarly speaking, bitten off morethan they can chew. Poisons of the foulest kind pollute the water whichflows down the turgid Conemaugh into the Allegheny River, whence isPittsburgh's water-supply, and thence into the Ohio, the water-supply ofmany cities and towns. Fears of a pestilence are not to be pooh-poohedinto the background. It is very serious, so long as the river flowsthrough the clogged and matted mass of the bridge so long it willthreaten the people along its course with pestilence. The committeeconfess their inability to do this needed work, and to-day voted to askthe Governors of the several States to co-operate in the establishmentof a national relief committee to grapple with the situation. Actioncannot and must not be delayed. 

Hope Out of Despair. 

The fears of an outbreak of fever or other zymotic diseases appear to bebased on the alleged presence of decomposed animal matter, human and oflower type, concealed amid the débris. The alleged odor of burnt fleshcoming from the enormous mass of conglomerated timber and iron lodged inthe cul-de-sac formed by the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge is extremelymythical. There is an unmistakable scent of burnt wood. It would not bestrange if the carcasses of domestic animals, which must be hidden inthe enormous mass, were finally to be realized by the olfactory organsof the bystanders. 

[Illustration: GENERAL HASTINGS DIRECTING THE POLICE. ]

Blasting Continues. 

All day long the blast of dynamite resounded among the hills. Cartridgeswere let off in the débris, and a cloud of dust and flying spray markedthe result of the mining operation. The interlaced timbers in thecul-de-sac yielded very slowly even to the mighty force of dynamite. There were no finds of especial import. At the present rate of clearing, the cul-de-sac will not be free from the wreckage in two months. 

There was a sad spectacle presented this morning when the laborers wereengaged in pulling over a vast pile of timber and miscellaneous matteron Main street. A young woman and a little puny baby girl were foundbeneath the mass, which was as high as the second story windows of thehouses near by. 

Together in Death. 

The girl must have been handsome when in the flush of youth and health. She had seized the helpless infant and endeavored to find safety byflight. Her closely cut brown hair was filled with sand, and a piece ofbrass wire was wound around the head and neck. A loose cashmerehouse-gown was partially torn from her form, and one slipper, a littlebead embroidered affair, covered a silk-stockinged foot. Each arm wastightly clasped around the baby. The rigidity of death should havepassed away, but the arms were fixed in their position as if composed ofan unbendable material instead of muscle and bone. The fingers wereimbedded in the sides of the little baby as if its protector had made afinal effort not to be separated and to save if possible the fragilelife. The faces of both were scarred and disfigured from contact withfloating débris. The single garment of the baby--a thin white slip--wasrent and frayed. The body of the young woman was identified, but thebabe remained unknown. Probably its father and mother were lost in theflood, and it will never be claimed by friendly hands. 

A Strange Discovery. 

This is only one among the many pathetic incidents of the terribledisaster. There were only nine unidentified bodies at the Adams streetmorgue this afternoon, and three additions to the number were made afterten o'clock. Two hundred and eight bodies have been received by theembalmers in charge. The yard of the school house, which was convertedinto a temporary abode of death, contains large piles of coffins of thecheaper sort. They come from different cities within two or threehundred miles of Johnstown, and after being stacked up they are pulledout as needed. Coffins are to be seen everywhere about the valley, readyfor use when a body is found. A trio of bodies was found near theHurlburt House under peculiar circumstances. They were hidden beneath apile of wreckage at least twenty-five feet in height. They were afather, a mother and son. Around the waist of each a quarter inch ropewas tied so that the three were bound together tightly. The hands of theboy were clasped by those of the mother, and the father's arms wereextended as if to ward off danger. The father probably knotted the ropeduring the awful moments of suspense intervening between the coming ofthe flood and the final destruction of the house they occupied. Theunited strength of the three could not resist the mighty force of theinundation, and like so many straws they were swept on the boiling surgeuntil life was crushed out. 

Child and Doll in One Coffin. 

I beheld a touching spectacle when the corpse of a little girl wasextricated and placed on a stretcher for transportation to the morgue. Clasped to her breast by her two waxen hands was a rag doll. It was acheap affair, evidently of domestic manufacture. To the child of povertythe rag baby was a favorite toy. The little mother held fast to hertreasure and met her end without separating from it. The two, child anddoll, were not parted when the white coffin received them, and they willmoulder together. 

I saw an old-fashioned cupboard dug out of a pile of rubbish. The topshelf contained a quantity of jelly of domestic manufacture. Not aglass jar was broken. Indeed there have been some remarkable instancesof the escape of fragile articles from destruction. In the débris nearthe railroad bridge you may come upon all manner of things. Thewater-tanks of three locomotives which were borne from the roundhouse atConemaugh, two miles away, are conspicuous. Amid the general wreck, beneath one of these heavy iron tanks, a looking glass, two feet by onefoot in dimensions, was discovered intact, without even a scratch on thequicksilver. 

Johnstown people surviving the destruction appear to bewail the death ofthe Fisher family. "Squire" Fisher was one of the old time publicfunctionaries of the borough. He and his six children were swept away. One of the Fisher girls was at home under peculiar circumstances. Shehad been away at school, and returned home to be married to herbetrothed. Then she was to return to school and take part in thegraduating exercises. Her body has not yet been recovered. 

Something to be Thankful For. 

There is much destitution felt by people whose pride prevents them fromasking for supplies from the relief committees. I saw a sad littleprocession wending up the hill to the camp of the Americus Club. Therewas a father, an honest, simple German, who had been employed at theCambria works during the past twelve years. Behind him trooped eightchildren, from a girl of fourteen to a babe in the arms of the mother, who brought up the rear. The woman and children were hatless, andpossessed only the calico garments worn at the moment of flight. Forlornand weary, they ranged in front of the relieving stand and imploredsuccor. 

"We lost one only, thank God!" exclaimed the mother. "Our seconddaughter is gone. We had a comfortable house which we owned. It was paidfor by our savings. Now all is gone. " Then the unhappy woman sat down onthe wet ground and sobbed hysterically. The children crowded aroundtheir mother and joined in her grief. You will behold many of thesescenes of domestic distress about the ruins of Johnstown in thesedolorous days. 

Saw a Flood of Helpless Humanity. 

Mr. L. D. Woodruff, the editor and proprietor of the Johnstown_Democrat_, tells his experiences during the night of horrors. He was atthe office of the paper, which is in the upper portion of the Baltimoreand Ohio Railway station. This brick edifice stands almost in the centreof the course of the flood, and its preservation from ruin is one of theremarkable features of the occasion. A pile of freight cars lodged atthe corner of the building and the breakwater thus formed checked theonslaught of floating battering rams. Mr. Woodruff, with his two sons, remained in the building until the following day. The water came up tothe floor of the second story. All night long he witnessed peoplefloating past on the roofs of houses or on various kinds of wreckage. Anumber of persons were rescued through the windows. 

A man and his wife with three children were pulled in. After a while themother for the first time remembered that her baby of fifteen months wasleft behind. Her grief was violent, and her cries were mingled with thegroans of her husband, who lay on the floor with a broken leg. The nextday the baby was found, when the waters subsided, on a pile of débrisoutside and it was alive and uninjured. 

During the first few hours Mr. Woodruff momentarily expected that thebuilding would go. As the night wore away it became evident the waterwas going down. Not a vestige of Mr. Woodruff's dwelling has been found. 

The newspapers of Johnstown came out of the flood fairly well. The_Democrat_ lost only a job press, which was swept out of one corner ofthe building. 

The Flood's Awful Spoil. 

In the broad field of débris at the Pennsylvania Railroad viaduct, wherethe huge playthings of the flood were tossed only to be burned andbeaten to a solid, intricate mass, are seen the peculiar metal works oftwo trains of cars. The wreck of the day express east, running in twosections that fatal Friday, lie there about thirty yards above thebridge. One mass of wreckage is unmistakably that of the Pullman carsection, made up of two baggage cars and six Pullman coaches, and theother shows the irons of five day coaches and one Pullman car. Thesetrains were running in the same block at Johnstown and were struck bythe flood two miles above, torn from their tracks and carried tumblingdown the mighty torrents to their resting place in the big eddy. 

Railroad Men Suppressing Information. 

The train crew, who saw the waters coming, warned the passengers, escaped, and went home on foot. Conductor Bell duly made his report, yetfor some unknown reasons one of Superintendent Pitcairn's sub-ordinateshas been doing his best to give out and prove by witnesses, to whom hetakes newspaper men, that only one car of that express was lost and withit "two or three ladies who went back for overshoes and a very fewothers not lively enough to escape after the warnings. " That story wentwell until the smoke rolled away from the wreckage and the bones of thetwo sections of the day express east were disclosed. Another verysingular feature was the apparent inability of the conductor of theexpress to tell how many passengers they had on board and just how manywere saved. It had been learned that the first section of the traincarried 180 passengers and the second 157. It may be stated asundoubtedly true that of the number fifty, at least, swell the horribletale of the dead. 

From the wreck where the trains burned there have been taken outfifty-eight charred bodies, the features being unrecognizable. Of theseseven found together were the Gilmore family, whose house had floatedthere. The others, all adults, which, with two or three exceptions, swell the list of the unidentified dead, are undoubted corpses of theill-fated passengers of the east express. 

The Church Loses a Missionary. 

To-day another corpse was found in the ruins of a Pullman car badlyburned. It was fully identified as that of Miss Anna Clara Chrisman, ofBeauregard, Miss. , a well-developed lady of about twenty-five years, whowas on her way to New York to fill a mission station in Brazil. Betweenthe leaves of her Greek testament was a telegram she had written, expecting to send it at the first stop, addressed to the MethodistMission headquarters, No. 20 East Twelfth street, New York, saying thatshe would arrive on "train 8" of the Pennsylvania Railroad, the dayexpress east. In her satchel were found photographs of friends and herBible, and from her neck hung a $20 gold piece, carefully sewn in a bag. 

Is it possible that the Pennsylvania Railroad is keeping back theknowledge in order simply to avoid a list of "passengers killed" in itsannual report, solely to keep its record as little stained as possible?It can hardly be that they fear suits for damages, for theresponsibility of the wreck does not rest on them. 

Two hundred bodies were recovered from the ruins yesterday. Some wereidentified, but the great majority were not. This number includes allthe morgues--the one at the Pennsylvania Railroad station, the Fourthward school, Cambria city, Morrellville, Kernville and the PresbyterianChurch. 

At the latter place a remarkable state of affairs exists. The firstfloor has been washed out completely and the second, while submerged, was badly damaged, but not ruined. The walls, floors and pews weredrenched, and the mud has collected on the matting and carpets an inchdeep. Walking is attended with much difficulty, and the undertakers andattendants, with arms bared, slide about the slippery surface at atremendous rate. The chancel is filled with coffins, strips of muslin, boards, and all undertaking accessories. Lying across the tops of thepews are a dozen pine boxes, each containing a victim of the flood. Printed cards are tacked on each. Upon them the sex and full descriptionof the enclosed body is written with the name, if known. 

The Nameless Dead. 

The great number of bodies not identified seems incredulous andimpossible. Some of these bodies have lain in the different morgues forfour days. Thousands of people from different sections of the State haveseen them, yet they remain unidentified. 

At Nineveh they are burying all the unidentified dead, but in themorgues in this vicinity no bodies have been buried unless they wereidentified. 

The First Presbyterian Church contains nine "unknown. " Burials will haveto be made to-morrow. This morning workmen found three members ofBenjamin Hoffman's family, which occupied a large residence in the rearof Lincoln street. Benjamin Hoffman, the head of the family, was foundseated on the edge of the bedstead. He was evidently preparing to retirewhen the flood struck the building. He had his socks in his pocket. Histwenty-year-old daughter was found close by attired in a night-dress. The youngest member of the family, a three-year-old infant, was alsofound beside the bed. 

[Illustration: CARRYING CHILDREN TO BURIAL. ]

Where the Dead are Laid. 

I made a tour of the cemeteries to-day to see how the dead were disposedin their last resting place. There are six burying grounds--two to thesouth of this place, one to the north, and three on Morrellsville to thewest. The principal one is Grand View, on the summit of Kernville Hill. 

But the most remarkable, through the damage done by the flood, is SandyVale Cemetery, at Hornersville, on Stony Creek, and about half a milefrom the city of Johnstown. It is a private institution in which most ofthe people of the city buried their dead until two years ago, when thepublic corporation of Grand View was established. Its grounds are level, laid out in lots, and were quite picturesque, its dense foliage andnumerous monuments attracting the eyes of every passenger entering thecity by the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, which passes along one side thecreek forming its other boundary. The banks of the creek are twenty feethigh, and there was a nice sandy beach through its entire length. 

A Sorry Scene. 

When the floods came the first of the wreckage and the backwater senthundreds of houses, immense quantities of logs and cut lumber over itand into the borough of Hornersville. As the angry waters subsided thepretty cemetery was wrecked as badly as was the city, a portion of thedébris of which has destroyed its symmetry. To make way for the burialof the numerous bodies sent there by the town committees it becamenecessary to burn some of the débris. This was commenced at the nearestor southern end, and at the time of my visit I had, like the corpses, topass through an avenue of fire and over live ashes to make myinspection. There were no unknown dead sent here, consequently they wereinterred in lots, and here and there, as the cleared spots would allow, a body was deposited and the grave made to look as decently as four orfive inches of mud on the surface and the clay soil would allow. 

Masses of Débris. 

Scarcely a monument was left standing. Tall columns were broken likepipe-stems, and fences and evergreen bowers were almost a thing of thepast. Whole houses on their sides, with their roofs on the ground, covered the lots, the beach, or blocked up the pathways, while otherhouses in fragments strewed the surface of the ground from one end tothe other of the cemetery, once the pride of Johnstown. I found thatsome of the trees which were standing had feather beds or articles offurniture up in their boughs. Here and there a dead cow or a horse, twoor three wagons, a railroad baggage car. Add to this several thousandlogs, heaps of lumber, piled just as they left the yards, and stillother single planks by the hundred thousand of feet, and some idea ofthe surroundings of the victims of the flood placed at rest here can beobtained. 

On Kernville Hill. 

Grand View Cemetery, a beautiful spot, was started as a citizens'cemetery and incorporated two years ago, and is now the finest buryingplace in this section of Pennsylvania. It is situated on the summit ofKernville hill, between six hundred and seven hundred feet above thetown. It is approached by a zigzag roadway about one mile and a half inlength, and a magnificent view of the valley is obtained from thegrounds, making it well worth a visit under any circumstances. Herethose whose relatives did not hold lots are to be buried in trenchesfour feet deep, sixty bodies to a trench. At present the trenches arenot complete, and their encoffined bodies are stored in the beautifulstone chapel at the entrance. Of the other bodies they are entombed inthe lots, where more than one were buried together. A wide grave was dugto hold them side by side. A single grave was made for Squire Fisher'sfamily, one grave and one mound holding eight of them. 

Snatched from the Flood. 

One of the most thrilling incidents of narrow escapes is that told byMiss Minnie Chambers. She had been to see a friend in the morning andwas returning to her home on Main street, when the suddenly risingwaters caused her to quicken her steps. Before she could reach her homeor seek shelter at any point, the water had risen so high and thecurrent became so strong that she was swept from her feet and carriedalong in the flood. Fortunately her skirts served to support her on thesurface for a time, but at last as they became soaked she gave up allhope of being saved. 

Just as she was going under a box car that had been torn from its trucksfloated past her and she managed by a desperate effort to get hold of itand crawled inside the open doorway. Here she remained, expecting everymoment her shelter would be dashed to pieces by the buildings and otherobstructions that it struck. Through the door she could see the mass ofangry, swirling waters, filled with all manner of things that could bewell imagined. 

An Ark of Refuge. 

Men, women and children, many of them dead and dying, were being whirledalong. Several of them tried to get refuge in the car with her, but weretorn away by the rushing waters before they could secure an entrance. Finally a man did make his way into the car. On went the strange boat, while all about it seemed to be a perfect pandemonium. Shrieks and criesfrom the thousands outside who were being driven to their death filledthe air. 

Miss Chambers says it was a scene that will haunt her as long as shelives. Many who floated by her could be seen kneeling on the wreckagethat bore them, with clasped hands and upturned faces as though inprayer. Others wore a look of awful despair on their faces. Suddenly, asthe car was turned around, the stone bridge could be seen just ahead ofthem. The man that was in the car called to her to jump out in the floodor she would be dashed to pieces. She refused to go. 

He seized a plank and sprang into the water. In an instant the eddyingcurrent had torn the plank from him, and as it twisted around struck himon the head, causing him to throw out his arms and sink beneath thewater never to reappear again. Miss Chambers covered her face to avoidseeing any more of the horrible sight, when with an awful crash the carstruck one of the stone piers. The entire side of it was knocked out. Asthe car lodged against the pier the water rushed through it and carriedMiss Chambers away. Again she gave herself up as lost, when she feltherself knocked against an obstruction, and instinctively threw out herhand and clutched it. 

Here she remained until the water subsided, when she found that she wason the roof of one of the Cambria mills, and had been saved by holdingon to a pipe that came through the roof. 

A Night of Agony. 

All through that awful night she remained there, almost freezing todeath, and enveloped in a dense mass of smoke from the burning drift onthe other side of the bridge. The cries of those being roasted to deathwere heard plainly by her. On Saturday some men succeeded in getting herfrom the perilous position she occupied and took her to the house offriends on Prospect Hill. Strange to say that with the exception of afew bruises she escaped without any other injuries. 

Another survivor who told a pathetic story was John C. Peterson. He is asmall man but he was wearing clothes large enough for a giant. He losthis own and secured those he had on from friends. 

"I'm the only one left, " he said in a voice trembling with emotion. "Mypoor old mother, my sister, Mrs. Ann Walker, and her son David, agedfourteen, of Bedford county, who were visiting us, were swept awaybefore my eyes and I was powerless to aid them. 

"The water had been rising all day, and along in the afternoon floodedthe first story of our house, at the corner of Twenty-eighth and Walnutstreets. I was employed by Charles Mun as a cigarmaker, and early onFriday afternoon went home to move furniture and carpets to the secondstory of the house. 

"As near as I can tell it was about four o'clock when the whistle at theGautier steel mill blew. About the same time the Catholic church bellrang. I knew what that meant and I turned to mother and sister and said, 'My God, we are lost!'

Here's A Hero. 

"I looked out of the window and saw the flood, a wall of water thirtyfeet high, strike the steel works, and it melted quicker than I tell it. The man who stopped to blow the warning whistle must have been crushedto death by the falling roof and chimneys. He might have saved himself, but stopped to give the warning. He died a hero. Four minutes after thewhistle blew the water was in our second story. 

"We started to carry mother to the attic, but the water rose faster thanwe could climb the stairs. There was no window in our attic, and we werebidding each other good-by when a tall chimney on the house adjoiningfell on our roof and broke a hole through it. We then climbed out on theroof, and in another moment our house floated away. It started down withthe other stuff, crashing, twisting and quivering. I thought everyminute it would go to pieces. 

"Finally it was shoved over into water less swift and near anotherhouse. 

"I found that less drift was forced against it than against ours, anddecided to get on it. I climbed up on the roof, and in looking up saw abig house coming down directly toward ours, I called to sister to bequick. She was lifting mother up to me. I could barely reach the tips ofher fingers when her arms were raised up while I lay on my stomachreaching down. At that moment the house struck ours and my loved oneswere carried away and crushed by the big house. It was useless for me tofollow, for they sank out of sight. I floated down to the bridge, thenback with the current and landed at Vine street. 

"I saw hundreds of people crushed and drowned. It is my opinion thatfully fifteen thousand people perished. "

When the whistles of the Gautier Steel Mill of the Cambria Iron Companyblew for the shutting down of the works at 10 o'clock last Fridaymorning nearly 1400 men walked out of the establishment and went totheir homes, which were a few hours later wiped off the face of theearth. When the men to-day answered the notice that all should presentthemselves ready for work only 487 reported. That shows more clearlythan anything else that has yet been known the terrible nature of thefatality of the Conemaugh. The mortality wrought among these men in afew hours is thus shown to have been greater than that in either of thearmies that contended for three days at Gettysburg. 

"Report at 9 o'clock to-morrow morning ready for work, " the noticeposted read. It did not say where, but everybody knew it was not at thegreat Gautier Mill that covered half a dozen acres, for the reason thatno mill is there. By a natural impulse the survivors of the workingforce of the steel plant began to move from all directions, before thehour named, toward the general office of the company. 

What the Superintendent Saw. 

This office is located in Johnstown proper and is the only building inthat section of the town left standing uninjured. It is a large brickbuilding, three stories high, with massive brick walls. L. L. Smith, thecommercial agent of the company, arrived at eight o'clock to await thegathering of the men, pausing a minute in the doorway to look at twothings. One was an enormous pile of débris, bricks, iron girders andtimbers almost in front of the office door which swarmed with 200 menengaged in clearing it away. This is the ruins of the Johnstown FreeLibrary, presented to the town by the Cambria Iron Company, the lateI. V. Williamson and others, and beneath it Mr. Smith knew many of hismost intimate friends were buried. The other thing he looked at was hishandsome residence partly in ruins, a few hundred yards away. When heentered the office he found that the men who had been shoveling the mudout of the office had finished their work and the floor was dark andsticky. A fire blazed in the open grate. A table was quickly rigged upand with three clerks to assist him, Mr. Smith prepared to make up theroster of the Gautier forces. 

The Survivor's Advance Corps. 

Soon they began to come like the first reformed platoon of an army afterfleeing from disaster. The leader of the platoon was a small boy. Hishat was pulled down over his eyes and he looked as if he were sorelyafraid. After him came half a dozen men with shambling gait. One was anIrishman, two were English, one was a German and one a colored man. Twoof them carried pickaxes in their hands, which they had been using toclear away the wreckage across the street. 

"Say, mister, " stammered the abashed small boy, "is this the place?"

"Are you a Gautier man?" asked Mr. Smith kindly. 

"Yes, sir, me and me father, but he's gone. "

"Give us your name, my boy, and report at the lower works at 4 o'clock. Now, my men, we want to get to work and pull each other out of the hole, this dreadful calamity has put us in. It's no use having vain regrets. It's all over and we must put a good face to the front. At first it wasintended that we should go up to the former site of the Gautier Mill andclean up and get out all the steel we could. Mr. Stackhouse now wants usto get to work and clear the way from the lower mills right up thevalley. We will rebuild the bridge back of the office here and push therailroad clear up to where it was before. "

Not Anxious to Turn In. 

The men listened attentively, and then one of them asked: "But, Mr. Smith, if we don't feel just like turning in to-day we don't have to, dowe?"

"Nobody will have to work at all, " was the answer, "but we do want allthe men to lend a hand to help us out as soon as they can. "

While Mr. Smith was speaking several other workmen came in. They, too, were Gautier employees, and they had pickaxes on their shoulders. Theyheard the agent's last remark, and one of them, stepping forward, said:"A good many of us are working cleaning up the town. Do you want us toleave that?"

"It isn't necessary for you to work cleaning up the town, " was thereply. "There are plenty of people from the outside to do that who camehere for that purpose. Now, boys, just give your names so we can findout how many of our men are left, and all of you that can, go down andreport at the lower office. "

All the time the members of the decimated Gautier army were filing intothe muddy-floored office. They came in twos and threes and dozens, andsome bore out the idea of an army reforming after disaster, because theybore grievous wounds. One man had a deep cut in the back of his head, another limped along on a heavy stick, one had lost a finger and had anugly bruise on his cheek. J. N. Short, who was the foreman of thecold-rolled steel shafting department, sat in the office, and many ofthe men who filed past had been under him in the works. 

Mutual Congratulations. 

There were handshakes all the more hearty and congratulations all themore sincere because of what all had passed through. When the wall ofwater seventy-five feet high struck the mill and whipped it away likeshot Mr. Short was safe on higher ground, but many of the men had fearedhe was lost. 

"I tell you, Mr. Short, " said J. T. Miller, "I'm glad to see you'resafe. "

"And how did you make out, old man?"

"All right, thank God. "

Then came another man bolder than all and apparently a general favorite. He rushed forward and shook Mr. Smith's hand. "Mr. Smith, " he exclaimed, "good morning, good morning. "

"So you got out of it, did you, after all?" asked Mr. Smith. 

"Indeed I did, but Lord bless my soul, I thought the wife and babieswere gone. " The man gave his name and hurried away, brushing a tear fromhis eye. 

Mr. Shellenberger, one of the foremen, brought up the rear of the nextplatoon to enter. He caught sight of Mr. Smith and shouted: "Oh, Mr. Smith: good for you. I'm glad to see you safe. "

"Here to you, my hearty, " was the answer. "Did you all get off?"

"Every blessed one of us, " with a bright smile. "We were too high on thehill. "

He was Tired of Johnstown. 

A little bit later another man came in. He looked as if he had beenweeping. He hesitated in front of the desk. "I am a Gautier employee, "he said, speaking slowly, "and I have reported according to orders. "

"Well, give us your name and go to work down at the lower works, "suggested Mr. Smith. 

"No, sir, I think not, " he muttered, after a pause. "I am not staying inthis town any longer than I can help, I guess. I've lost two childrenand they will be buried to-day. "

"All right, my man, but if you want work we have plenty of it for you. "

The reporting of names and these quiet mutual congratulations of the menwent on rapidly, but expected faces did not appear. This led Mr. Smithto ask, "How about George Thompson? Is he alive?"

"I do not know, " answered the man addressed. "I do not think so. "

"Who do you know are alive?" asked Mr. Smith, turning to another man. Mr. Smith never once asked who was dead. 

"Well, " answered the man speaking reflectively, "I'm pretty sure FrankSmith is alive. John Dagdale is alive. Tom Sweet is alive, and I don'tknow any more, for I've been away--at Nineveh. " The speaker had been atNineveh looking for the body of his son. Not another word was said tohim. 

"Say, boys, " exclaimed Mr. Smith suddenly, a few minutes after he hadlooked over the list, "Pullman hasn't reported yet. "

"But Pullman's all right, " said a man quickly, "I was up at his sister'shouse last night and he was there. That's more than I can say of theother men in Pullman's shift though, " added the speaker in a low tone. Mr. Short took this man aside, "That is a fact, " said he, "yesterday Iknew of a family in which five out of six were lost. To-day I find outthere were twenty people in the house mostly our men and only threeescaped. "

Each Thought the Other Dead. 

Just then two men met at the door and fairly fell on each other's necks. One wore a Grand Army badge and the other was a young fellow oftwenty-three or thereabouts. They had been fast friends in the samedepartment, and each thought the other dead. They knew no better tillthey met at the office door. "Well, I heard your body had been found atNineveh, " said the old man. 

"And I was told you had been burned to death at the bridge, " answeredthe other. Then the two men solemnly shook hands and walked awaytogether. 

A pale-faced woman with a shawl over her shoulders entered and stood atthe table. "My husband cannot report, " she said simply, in almost awhisper. "He worked for the Gautier Mill?" she was asked. She nodded, bent forward and murmured something. The man at the desk said: "Make anote of that; so-and-so's wife reports him as gone, and his wages dueare to be paid to her. "

The work of recording the men went on until nearly one o'clock. Then, after waiting for a long time, Mr. Smith said, "Out of 1400 men we nowhave 487. It may be there are 200 who either did not see the notice orwho are too busy to come. Anyway, I hope so--my God, I hope so. " Allafternoon the greater part of the 487 men were swinging pickaxes andshovels, clearing the way for the railroad leading up to the GautierSteel Works of the future. 

The Morbidly Curious. 

To-day the order "Halt!" rang out in earnest at the footbridge over therushing river into Johnstown. It was the result of a cry as early as thereveille, that came from among the ruins and from the hoarse throats ofthe contractors--"For God's sake, keep the morbid people out of here;they're in the way!"

General Hastings ordered the picket out on the high embankment east ofthe freight depot, where every man, woman and child must pass to reachthe bridge. Colonel Perchment detailed Captain Hamilton, of G Company, there with an ample guard, and all who came without General Hastings'pass in the morning were turned aside. This afternoon a new difficultywas encountered. When you flashed your military pass on the sentinel whocried "Halt!" he would throw his gun slantwise across your body, so thatthe butt grazed your right hip and the bayonet your left ear and say:"No good unless signed by the sheriff. " The civil authorities had takenthe bridge out of the hands of the militia, and the sheriff sat on acamp stool overlooking the desolate city all the forenoon making outpasses and approving the General's. 

No Conflict of Authority. 

The military men say there was no conflict of authority, and it wasdeemed proper that the civil authorities should still control the passthere. The sheriff came near getting shot in Cambria City this morningduring a clash with one of his deputies over a buggy. Yet he looked calmand serene. Some beg him for passes to hunt for their dead. One mancried: "I've just gotten here, and my wife and children are in thattown;" another said, "I belong in Conemaugh and was carried off by theflood, " while an aged, trembling man behind him whispered, "Sheriff, Ijust wanted to look where the old home stood. " When four peaceful facedsisters in convent garb, on their mission of mercy, came that way thesentinels stood back a pace and no voice ordered "Halt!"

At noon the crane belonging to the Pennsylvania Railroad was taken awayfrom the débris at the bridge, and Mr. Kirk had to depend on dynamitealone. Later it was ordered back, and after that the work went onrapidly. An opening 400 feet long, which runs back in some places fiftyfeet, was made during the afternoon. A relief party yesterday found aladies' hand satchel containing $91 in cash, deeds for $26, 000 inproperty and about $10, 000 in insurance policies. Mrs. Lizzie Dignom wasthe owner, and both she and her husband perished in the flood. 

Remembering the Orphans. 

Miss H. W. Hinckley and Miss E. Hanover, agent of the Children's AidSociety and Bureau of Information of Philadelphia, arrived here thismorning, and in twenty minutes had established a transfer agency. MissHinckley said:

"There are hundreds of children here who are apparently without parents. We want all of them given to us, and we will send them to the varioushomes and orphanages of the State, where they shall be maintained forseveral months to await the possibility of the reappearance of theirparents when they will be returned to them. If after the lapse of amonth they do not reclaim their little ones, we shall do more than weordinarily do in the way of providing good homes for children in theircases. Think of it, in the house adjoining us are seven orphans, all ofone family. We have been here only a half hour, but we have alreadyfound scores. We shall stay right here till every child has beenprovided for. "

There is no denying that a great deal of ill-feeling is breeding herebetween the survivors of the flood over the distribution of the reliefsupplies. The supplies are spread along the railroad track down as faras Morrellville in great stacks; provisions, clothing, shoes, andeverything else. The people come for them in swarms with baskets andother means of conveyance. Lines are drawn, which are kept in trim bythe pickets, and in this way they pass along in turn to the point wherethe stock is distributed. 

It was not unusual yesterday to hear women's tongues lashing each otherand complaining that the real sufferers were being robbed and turnedaway, while those who had not fared badly by flood or fire were gettinglots of everything from the committee. One woman made this complaint toa corporal. 

"Prove it; prove it, " he said, and walked away. She cried after him, "The pretty women are getting more than they can carry. "

Twice the line of basket-carriers was broken by the guard to put outwranglers, and all through the streets of Cambria City could be heardmurmurs of dissension. There is no doubt but that a strong guard will bekept in the town day and night, for in their deplorable condition thehusbands may take up the quarrel of their wives. 

Danger of Insanity. 

The _Medical News_, of Philadelphia, with rare enterprise, despatched amember of its staff to Johnstown, and he telegraphed as follows for thenext issue of that paper:

"The mental condition of almost every former resident of Johnstown isone of the gravest character, and the reaction which will set in whenthe reality of the whole affair is fully comprehended can scarcely failto produce many cases of permanent or temporary insanity. Most of thefaces that one meets, both male and female, are those of the mostprofound melancholia, associated with an almost absolute disregard ofthe future. The nervous system shows the strain it has borne by atremulousness of the hand and of the lip, in man as well as in woman. This nervous state is further evidenced by a peculiar intonation ofwords, the persons speaking mechanically, while the voices of manyrough-looking men are changed into such tremulous notes of so high apitch, as to make one imagine that a child, on the verge of tears, isspeaking. Crying is so rare that your correspondent saw not a tear onany face in Johnstown, but the women that are left are haggard, withpinched features and heavy, dark lines under their eyes. 

"The State Board of Health should warn the people of the portions of thecountry supplied by the Conemaugh of the danger of drinking its watersfor weeks to come. "

The Women and Children. 

New Johnstown will be largely a city of childless widowers. One of thepeculiar things a stranger notices is the comparatively small number ofwomen seen in the streets. Of the throngs who walked about the placesearching for dear friends there is not one woman to ten men. Occasionally a little group of two or three women with sad faces willpick their way about looking for the morgues. There are a few Sisters ofCharity--their black robes the only instance in which the conventionalbadge of mourning is seen upon the streets--and in the parts of the townnot totally destroyed the usual number of women are seen in the housesand yards. 

But, as a rule, women are a rarety in Johnstown now. This is not anatural peculiarity of Johnstown nor a mere coincidence, but a fact witha terrible reason behind it. There are so many more men than women amongthe living in Johnstown now because there are so many more women thanmen among the dead. Of the bodies recovered there are at least two womento every one man. Besides the fact that their natural weakness made theman easier prey to the flood, the hour at which the disaster came was onewhen the women would most likely be in their homes and the men at workin the open air or in factory yards, from which escape was easy. 

An Almost Childless City. 

Children also are rarely seen about the town and for a similar reason. They are all dead. There is never a group of the dead discovered thatdoes not contain from one to three or four children for every grownperson. Generally the children are in the arms of the grown persons, andoften little toys and trinkets clasped in their hands indicate that thechildren were caught up while at play and carried as far as possibletoward safety. 

Johnstown, when rebuilt, will be a city of many widowers and fewchildren. In turning a school-house into a morgue, the authoritiesprobably did a wiser thing than they thought. It will be a long timebefore the school-house will be needed for its original purpose. 

The Flood on the Flat. 

The flood, with a front of twenty feet high, bristling with all mannerof débris, struck straight across the flat, as though the river's coursehad always been that way. It cut off the outer two-thirds of the citywith a line as true and straight as could have been drawn by a survey. On the part over which it swept there remains standing but one building, the brewery. With this exception, not only the houses and stores, butthe pavements, sidewalks and curbstones, and the earth beneath forseveral feet are washed away. The pavements were of cinders from theIron Works; a bed six inches thick and as hard as stone and with asurface like macadam. Over west of the washed-out portion of the citynot even the broken fragments of these pavements are left. 

Aside from the few logs and timbers left by the afterwash of the flood, there is nothing remaining upon the outer edge of the flat, includingtwo of the four long streets of the city, except the brewery mentionedbefore and a grand piano. The water-marks on the brewery walls show theflood reached twenty feet up its sides and it stood on a little higherground than buildings around it at that. 

Thieves Had Rifled His Safe. 

Mr. Steires, who on last Friday was the wealthiest man in town, onSunday was compelled to borrow the dress which clothed his wife. Whenthe flood began to threaten he removed some of the most valuable papersfrom his safe and moved them to the upper story of the building to keepthem from getting wet. When the dam burst and Conemaugh Lake came downthese, of course, went with the building. He got his safe Monday, butfound that thieves had been before him, they having chiseled it open andtaken everything but $65 in a drawer which they overlooked. Mr. Steiressaid to-day: "I am terribly crippled financially, but my family were allsaved and I am ready to begin over again. "

Rebuilding Going On Apace. 

Oklahoma is not rising more quickly than the temporary buildings of theworkmen's city, which includes 5, 000 men at least, and who are minglingthe sounds of hammers on the buildings they are putting up for theirtemporary accommodation, with the crash of the buildings they aretearing down. It seemed almost a waste of energy two days ago, but thedifferent gangs are already eating their way towards the heart of thegreat masses of wreckage that block the streets in every direction. 

A dummy engine has already been placed in position on what was the mainstreet, and all the large logs and rafters that the men can not moveare fastened with ropes and chains, and drawn out by the engine into aclear space, where they are surrounded by smaller pieces of wood andburned. Carloads of pickaxes, shovels and barrows are arriving fromBaltimore for the workmen. 

First Store Opened. 

The first store was opened to-day by a grocer named W. A. Kramer, whosestock, though covered with mud and still wet from the flood, has beenpreserved intact. So far the greater part of his things have been boughtfor relics. The other storekeepers are dragging out the débris in theirshops and shoveling the mud from the upper stories upon inclined boardsthat shoot it into the street, but with all this energy it will be weeksbefore the streets are brought to sight again. 

As a proof of this, there was found this morning a passenger car fullyhalf a mile from its depot, completely buried beneath the floor androofs of other houses. All that could be seen of it by peering throughintercepting rafters was one of the end windows over which was paintedthe impotent warning of "Any person injuring this car will be dealt withaccording to law. "

Curious Finds of Workmen. 

The workmen find many curious things among the ruins, and are, it shouldbe said to their credit, particularly punctilious about leaving themalone. One man picked up a baseball catcher's mask under a great pileof machinery, and the decorated front of the balcony circle of the OperaHouse was found with the chairs still immediately about its semi-circle, a quarter of a mile from the theatre's site. 

The mahogany bar of a saloon, with its nickel-plated rail, lies underanother heap in the city park, and thousands of cigars from amanufactory are piled high in Vine street, and are used as the only drypart of the roadway. Those of the people who can locate their homes havegathered what furniture and ornaments they can find together, and sitbeside them looking like evicted tenants. 

The Grand Army of the Republic, represented by Department CommanderThomas J. Stewart, have placed a couple of tents at the head of Mainstreet for the distribution of food and clothing. A census of the peoplewill be taken and the city divided into districts, each worthy applicantwill be furnished with a ticket giving his or her number and the numberof the district. 

The Post-office Uniforms. 

Across the street from the Grand Army tents is the temporarypost-office, which is now in fairly good working order. One of thedistributing clerks hunted up a newspaper correspondent to tell him thatthe post-office uniforms sent from Philadelphia by the employees of thatcity's office have arrived safely and that the men want to return thanksthrough this paper. 

The Red Cross Army people from Philadelphia have decided to remain, notwithstanding General Hastings' cool reception, and they have taken uptheir quarters in Kernville, where they say the destitution is as greatas in what was the city proper. 

The Tale the Clocks Tell. 

The clocks of the city in both public and private houses tell differenttales of the torrent that stopped them. Some of them ceased to tick themoment the water reached them. In Dibert's banking-house the marbletime-piece on the mantel stopped at seven minutes after 4 o'clock. Inthe house of the Hon. John M. Rose, on the bank of Stony Creek, was aclock in every room of the mansion from the cellar to the attic. Mr. Rose is a fine machinist, and the mechanism of clocks has a fascinationfor him that is simply irresistible. He has bronze, marble, cuckoo, corner or "grandfather" clocks--all in his house. One of them wasstopped exactly at 4 o'clock; still another at 4. 10; another at 4. 15, and one was not stopped till 9 P. M. The "grandfather" clock did not stopat all, and is still going. 

The town clocks, that is the clocks in church towers, are all going andwere not injured by the water. The mantel piece clocks in nearly everyhouse show a "no tick" at times ranging from 3. 40 to 4. 15. 

Dead in the Jail. 

This morning a man, in wandering through the skirts of the city, cameupon the city jail, and finding the outer door open, went into thegloomy structure. Hanging against the wall he found a bunch of keys andfitting them in the doors opened them one after another. In one cell hefound a man lying on the floor in the mud in a condition of partialdecomposition. He looked more closely at the dead body and recognized itas that of John McKee, son of Squire McKee, of this city, who had beencommitted for a short term on Decoration Day for drunkenness. Thecondition of the cell showed that the man had been overpowered andsmothered by the water, but not till he had made every effort that thelimits of his cell would allow to save himself. There were no otherprisoners in the jail. 

Heroes of the Night. 

Thomas Magee, the cashier of the Cambria Iron Company's general stores, tells a thrilling story of the manner in which he and his fellow clerksescaped from the waters themselves, saved the money drawers and rescuedthe lives of nineteen other people during the progress of the flood. Hesays:

It was 4. 15 o'clock when the flood struck our building with a crash. Itseemed to pour in from every door and window on all sides, as well asfrom the floors above us. I was standing by the safe, which was open atthe time, and snatched the tin box which contained over $12, 000 in cash, and with other clerks at my heels flew up the stairs to the secondfloor. In about three minutes we were up to our waists in water, andstarted to climb to the third floor of the building. Here we remainedwith the money until Saturday morning, when we were taken out in boats. Besides myself there were in the building Michael Maley, FrankBalsinger, Chris Mintzmeyer, Joseph Berlin and Frank Burger, all of whomescaped. All Friday night and Saturday morning we divided our timebetween guarding the money, providing for our own safety and rescuingthe poor people floating by. We threw out ropes and gathered logs andtimbers together until we had enough to make a raft, which we boundtogether with ropes and used in rescuing people. During the night werescued Henry Weaver, his wife and two children; Captain Carswell, wifeand three children, and three servant girls; Patrick Ravel, wife and onechild; A. M. Dobbins and two others whose names I have forgotten. Besidesthis we cut large pieces of canvas and oilcloth and wrapped it aroundbread and meat and other eatables and threw it or floated it out tothose who went by on housetops, rafts, etc. , whom we could not rescuewithout getting our raft in the drift and capsizing. We must have fed100 people in this way alone. 

When we were rescued ourselves we took the money over to Prospect Hill, and sent to the justice of the peace, who swore us all in to keep guardover our own money and that taken by Paymaster Barry from the CambriaIron Company's general offices, amounting to $4000, under precisely thesame circumstances that marked our escape. We remained on guard untilMonday night, when the soldiers came over and escorted us back to theoffice of the Cambria Iron Company, where we placed the money in thecompany's vault. 

So far as known at this hour only eighteen bodies have been thismorning recovered in the Conemaugh Valley. One of these was a poorremnant of humanity that was suddenly discovered by a teamster in thecentre of the road over which his wagons had been passing for the pastforty-eight hours. The heavy vehicles had sunk deeply in the sand andbroken nearly every bone in the putrefying body. It was quite impossibleto identify the corpse, and it was taken to the morgue and orders issuedfor its burial after a few hours' exposure to the gaze of those whostill eagerly search for missing friends. 

Only the hardiest can bear to enter the Morgue this morning, sooverwhelming is the dreadful stench. The undertakers even, afterhurriedly performing their task of washing a dead body and preparing itfor burial, retreat to the yard to await the arrival of the next ghastlyfind. A strict order is now in force that all bodies should be interredonly when it becomes impossible to longer preserve them from absoluteputrefaction. There is no iron-clad rule. In some instances it isnecessary to inter some putrid body within a few hours, while others cansafely be preserved for several days. Every possible opportunity isafforded for identification. 

Four bodies were taken from the ruins at the Cambria Club House and thecompany's store this morning. The first body was that of a girl aboutseventeen years of age. She was found in the pantry and it is supposedthat she was one of the servants in the house. She was terribly bruisedand her face was crushed into a jelly. A boy about seven years of agewas taken from the same place. Two men and a woman were taken from infront of a store on Main street. The remains were all bruised and in aterrible condition. They had to be embalmed and buried immediately, andit was impossible to have any one identify them. 

Only Fifty Saved at Woodville. 

The number of people missing from Woodville is almost incredible, andfrom present indications it looks as if only about fifty people in theborough were saved. Mrs. H. L. Peterson, who has been a resident atWoodville for a number of years, is one of the survivors. While lookingfor Miss Paulsen, of Pittsburg, of the drowned, she came to a coffinwhich was marked "Mrs. H. L. Peterson, Woodville Borough, Pa. , age aboutforty, size five feet one inch, complexion dark, weight about twohundred pounds. " This was quite an accurate description of Mrs. Peterson. She tore the card from the coffin and one of the officers wasabout to arrest her. Her explanations were satisfactory and she wasreleased. 

In speaking of the calamity afterward she said: "The people of Woodvillehad plenty of time to get out of the town if they were so minded. Wereceived word shortly before two o'clock that the flood was coming, anda Pennsylvania Railroad conductor went through the town notifying thepeople. I stayed until half-past three o'clock, when the water commencedto rise very rapidly, and I thought it was best to get out of town. Itold a number of women that they had better go to the hills, but theyrefused, and the cause of this refusal was that their husbands would notgo with them and they refused to leave alone. "

Terrific Experience of a Pullman Conductor. 

Mr. John Barr, the conductor of the Pullman car on the day express trainthat left Pittsburgh at eight o'clock, May 31, gave an account of hisexperience in the Conemaugh Valley flood: "I was the last one saved onthe train, " he said. "When the train arrived at Johnstown last Friday, the water was up to the second story of the houses and people were goingabout in boats. We went on to Conemaugh and had to halt there, as thewater had submerged the tracks and a part of the bridge had been washedaway. Two sections of the day express were run up to the most elevatedpoint. 

"About four o'clock I was standing at the buffet when the whistle beganblowing a continuous blast--the relief signal. I went out and saw whatappeared to be a huge moving mountain rushing rapidly toward us. Itseemed to be surmounted by a tall cloud of foam. 

Sounding the Alarm. 

"I ran into the car and shouted to the passengers, 'For God's sakefollow me! Stop for nothing!'

"They all dashed out except two. Miss Paulsen and Miss Bryan left thecar, but returned for their overshoes. They put them on, and as theyagain stepped from the car they were caught by the mighty wave and sweptaway. Had they remained in the car they would have been saved, as twopassengers who stayed there escaped. 

[Illustration: WRECK OF THE DAY EXPRESS. ]

"One was Miss Virginia Maloney, a courageous, self-possessed youngwoman. She tied securely about her neck a plush bag, so that heridentity could be established if she perished. Imprisoned in the carwith her was a maid employed by Mrs. McCullough. They attempted to leavethe car, but the water drove them back. They remained there until JohnWaugh, the porter, and I waded through the water and rescued them. 

"The only passengers I lost were the two unfortunate young ladies I havenamed. I looked at the corpses of the luckless victims brought in duringthe two days I remained in Johnstown, but the bodies of the twopassengers were not among them. 

"At Conemaugh the people were extremely kind and hospitable. They threwopen their doors and provided us with a share of what little food theyhad and gave us shelter. 

Stripped of Her Clothing. 

"While at Conemaugh, Miss Wayne, of Altoona, who had a miraculousescape, was brought in. She was nude, every article of her clothinghaving been torn from her by the furious flood. There was no femaleapparel at hand, and she had to don trousers, coat, vest and hat. 

"We had a severe task in reaching Ebensburg, eighteen miles fromConemaugh. We started on Sunday and were nine hours in reaching ourdestination. At Ebensburg we boarded the train which conveyed us toAltoona, where we were cared for at the expense of the PennsylvaniaRailroad Company. 

"I had a rough siege. I was in the water twelve hours. The force of theflood can be imagined by the fact that seven or eight locomotives werecarried away and floated on the top of the angry stream as if they weretiny chips. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

Stories of the Flood. 

 War, death, cataclysm like this, America, Take deep to thy proud, prosperous heart. 

 E'en as I chant, lo! out of death, and out of ooze and slime, The blossoms rapidly blooming, sympathy, help, love, From west and east, from south and north and over sea, Its hot spurr'd hearts and hands humanity to human aid moves on; And from within a thought and lesson yet. 

 Thou ever-darting globe! thou Earth and Air! Thou waters that encompass us! Thou that in all the life and death of us, in action or in sleep. Thou laws invisible that permeate them and all! Thou that in all and over all, and through and under all, incessant! Thou! thou! the vital, universal, giant force resistless, sleepless, calm, Holding Humanity as in the open hand, as some ephemeral toy, How ill to e'er forget thee!

_Walt Whitman. _

"Are the horrors of the flood to give way to the terrors of the plague?"is the question that is now agitating the valley of the Conemaugh. To-day opened warm and almost sultry, and the stench that assails one'ssenses as he wanders through Johnstown is almost overpowering. Sickness, in spite of the precautions and herculean labors of the sanitaryauthorities, is on the increase and the fears of an epidemic grow withevery hour. 

"It is our impression, " said Dr. T. L. White, assistant to the StateBoard of Health, this morning, "that there is going to be great sicknesshere within the next week. Five cases of malignant diphtheria werelocated this morning on Bedford street, and as they were in differenthouses they mean five starting points for disease. All this talk aboutthe dangers of epidemic is not exaggerated, as many suppose, but isfounded upon all experience. There will be plenty of typhoid fever andkindred diseases here within a week or ten days in my opinion. The onlything that has saved us thus far has been the cool weather. That has nowgiven place to summer weather, and no one knows what the next few daysmay bring forth. "

Fresh Meat and Vegetables Wanted. 

Even among the workmen there is already discernible a tendency todiarrhoea and dysentery. The men are living principally upon saltmeat, and there is a lack of vegetables. I have been here since Sundayand have tasted fresh meat but once since that time. I am only one ofthe many. Of course the worst has passed for the physicians, as ourarrangements are now perfected and each corps will be relieved from timeto time. Twenty more physicians arrived from Pittsburgh this morning andmany of us will be relieved to-day. But the opinion is general among themedical men that there will be more need for doctors in a week hencethan there is now. 

Sanitary Work. 

Dr. R. L. Sibbel, of the State Board of Health, is in charge of SanitaryHeadquarters. "We are using every precaution known to science, " said hethis morning, "to prevent the possibility of epidemic. Our labors herehave not been confined to any particular channel, but have been extendedin various directions. Disinfectants, of course, are first inimportance, and they have been used with no sparing hand. The promptcremation of dead animals as fast as discovered is another thing we haveinsisted upon. The immediate erection of water-closets throughout theruins for the workmen was another work of the greatest sanitaryimportance that has been attended to. They, too, are being disinfectedat frequent intervals. We have a committee, too, that superintends theburial of the victims at the cemeteries. It is of the utmost importancein this wholesale interment that the corpses should be interred a safedistance beneath the surface in order that their poisonous emanationsmay not find exit through the crevices of the earth. 

"Another committee is making a house-to-house inspection throughout thestricken city to ascertain the number of inhabitants in each standinghouse, the number of the sick, and to order the latter to the hospitalwhenever necessary. One great danger is the overcrowding of houses andhovels, and that is being prevented as much as possible by the free useof tents upon the mountain side. So far there is but little contagiousdisease, and we hope by diligent and systematic efforts to prevent anydangerous outbreak. "

Dodging Responsibility. 

It is now rumored that the South Fork Hunting and Fishing Club is athing of the past. No one admits his membership and it is doubtful ifoutside the cottage owners one could find more than half a dozen membersin the city. Even some of the cottage owners will repudiate theirownership until it is known whether or not legal action will be takenagainst them. If it were not for the publicity which might follow onecould secure a transfer of a large number of shares of the club's stockto himself, accompanied by a good sized roll of money. It is certainthat the cottage owners cannot repudiate their ownership. None of them, however, will occupy the houses this summer. 

The Club Found Guilty. 

Coroner Hammer, of Westmoreland county, who has been sitting on the deadfound down the river at Nineveh, concluded his inquests to-day. His tripto South Fork Dam on Wednesday has convinced him that the burden of thisgreat disaster rests on the shoulders of the South Fork Hunting andFishing Club of Pittsburgh. The verdict was written to-night, but notall the jury were ready to sign it. It finds the South Fork Hunting andFishing Club responsible for the loss of life because of gross, if notcriminal negligence, and of carelessness in making repairs from time totime. This would let the Pennsylvania Railroad Company out from allblame for allowing the dam to fall so badly out of repair when they gotcontrol of the Pennsylvania Canal and abandoned it. The verdict is whatmight have been expected after Wednesday's testimony. 

Mr. A. M. Wellington, with P. Burt, associate editor of the _EngineeringNews_, of New York, has just completed an examination of the dam whichcaused the great disaster here. Mr. Wellington states that the dam wasin every respect of very inferior construction, and of a kind whollyunwarranted by good engineering practices of thirty years ago. Both theoriginal and reconstructed dams were of earth only, with no heart wall, but only riprapped on the slopes. 

The original dam, however, was made in dammed and watered layers, whichstill show distinctly in the wrecked dam. The new end greatly added toits stability, but it was to all appearances simply dumped in like anordinary railroad fill, or if rammed, the wreck shows no evidence of thegood effect of such work. Much of the old part is standing intact, whilethe adjacent parts of the new work are wholly carried off. There was nocentral wall of puddle or masonry either in the new or old dam. It hasbeen the invariable practice of engineers for thirty or forty years touse one or the other in building high dams of earth. It is doubtful ifthere is a single dam or reservoir in any other part of the UnitedStates of over fifty feet in height which lacks this central wall. 

Ignorance or Carelessness. 

The reconstructed dam also bears the mark of great ignorance orcarelessness in having been made nearly two feet lower in the middlethan at the ends. It should rather have crowned in the middle, whichwould have concentrated the overflow, if it should occur, at the endsinstead of in the centre. Had the break begun at the ends the cut of thewater would have been so gradual that little or no harm might haveresulted. Had the dam been cut at the ends when the water began runningover the centre the sudden breaking would have been at least greatlydiminished, possibly prolonged, so that little harm would have resulted. The crest of the old dam had not been raised in the reconstruction of1881. The old overflow channel through the rock still remains, but owingto the sag of the crest in the middle of the dam only five and a halffeet of water in it, instead of seven feet, was necessary to run thewater over the crest. 

And the rock spillway, narrow at best, had been further contracted by aclose grating to prevent the escape of fish, capped by a good-sizedtimber, and in some slight degree also as a trestle footbridge. Theoriginal discharge pipe indicates that it was made about half earth andhalf rock, but if so there was little evidence of it in the broken dam. The riprapping was merely a skin on each face with more or less loosespauls mixed with the earth. The dam was seventy-two feet above water, two to one inside slope, one and a half to one outside slope and twentyfeet wide on top. The rock throughout was about one foot below thesurface. The earth was pretty good material for such a dam, if it was tobe built at all, being of a clayey nature, making good puddle. To thisthe fact of it standing intact since 1881 must be ascribed, as noengineer of standing would have ever tried to so construct it. The factthat the dam was a reconstructed one after twenty years' abandonmentmade it especially hard on the older part of the dam to withstand thepressure of the water. 

Elder Thought it was Safe. 

Cyrus Elder, general counsel for the Cambria Iron Company and a wealthyand prominent citizen of Johnstown, lost a wife and daughter in therecent disaster and narrowly escaped with his own life. 

"When the rebuilding of the dam was begun some years ago, " he said, "thepresident of the Cambria Iron Company was very seriously concerned aboutit, and wished, if possible, to prevent its construction, referring thematter to the solicitor of the company. A gentleman of high scientificreputation, who was then one of the general engineers, inspected thedam. He condemned several matters in the way of construction andreported that this had been changed and that the dam was perfectly safe. My son, George R. Elder, was at that time a student in the TroyPolytechnic University. 

"His professor submitted a problem to the class which he immediatelyrecognized as being the question of the safety of the South Fork dam. Hesent it to me at the time in a letter, which, of course, is lost, witheverything else I possessed, in which he stated that the verdict of theclass was that the dam was safe. The president of the Cambria IronCompany being still anxious, thought it might be good policy to havesome one inside of the fishing and hunting corporation owning the dam. The funds of the company were therefore used to purchase two shares ofits stock, which were placed in the name of D. J. Morrell. After hisdeath these shares were transferred to and are still held by me, although they are the property of the Cambria Iron Company. They havenot been sold because there was no market for them. "

Untold Volumes of Water. 

So far as the Signal Service is concerned, the amount of rainfall in theregion drained by the Conemaugh river cannot be ascertained. The SignalService authorities here, to whom the official there reported, receivedonly partial reports last Friday. There had been a succession of rainsnearly all of last week. The last rain commenced Thursday evening andwas unusually severe. 

Mrs. H. M. Ogle, who had been the Signal Service representative inJohnstown for several years and also manager of the Western Union officethere, telegraphed at eight o'clock Friday morning that the river marked14 feet, rising; a rise of 13 feet in twenty-four hours. At eleveno'clock she wired: "River 20 feet and rising, higher than ever before;water in first floor. Have moved to second. River gauges carried away. Rainfall, 2 3-10 inches. " At twenty-seven minutes to one P. M. , Mrs. Oglewired: "At this hour north wind; very cloudy; water still rising. "

Nothing more was heard from her by the bureau, but at the Western Unionoffice here later in the afternoon she commenced to tell an operatorthat the dam had broken, that a flood was coming, and before she hadfinished the conversation a singular click of the instrument announcedthe breaking of the current. A moment afterward the current of her lifewas broken forever. 

Sergeant Stewart, in charge of the bureau, says that the fall of wateron the Conemaugh shed at Johnstown up to the time of the flood wasprobably 2 5-10 inches. He believes it was much heavier in themountains. The country drained by the little Conemaugh and Stony Creekcovers an area of about one hundred square miles. The bureau, figuringon this basis and 2 5-10 inches of rainfall, finds that 464, 640, 000cubic feet of water was precipitated toward Johnstown in its last hours. This is independent of the great volume of water in the lake, which wasnot less than 250, 000, 000 cubic feet. 

Water Enough to Cover the Valley. 

It is therefore easily seen that there was ample water to cover theConemaugh Valley to the depth of from ten to twenty-five feet. Such avolume of water was never known to fall in that country in the sametime. 

Colonel T. P. Roberts, a leading engineer, estimates that the lakedrained twenty-five square miles, and gives some interesting data on theprobable amount of water it contained. He says:--"The dam, as Iunderstand, was from hill to hill about one thousand feet long and abouteighty-five feet high at the highest point. The pond covered aboveseven hundred acres, at least for the present I will assume that to bethe case. We are told also that there was a waste weir at one endseventy-five feet wide and ten feet below the comb or top of the dam. Now we are told that with this weir open and discharging freely to theutmost of its capacity, nevertheless the pond or lake rose ten inchesper hour until finally it overflowed the top, and, as I understand, thedam broke by being eaten away at the top. 

Calculating the Amount of Water. 

"Thus we have the elements for very simple calculation as to the amountof water precipitated by the flood, provided these premises areaccurate. To raise 700 acres of water to a height of ten feet wouldrequire about 300, 000, 000 cubic feet of water, and while this was risingthe waste dam would discharge an enormous volume--it would be difficultto say just how much without a full knowledge of the shape of its sidewalls, approaches and outlets--but if the rise required ten hours thewaste river might have discharged perhaps 90, 000, 000 cubic feet. Wewould then have a total of flood-water of 390, 000, 000 cubic feet. Thiswould indicate a rainfall of about eight inches over the twenty-fivesquare miles. As that much does not appear to have fallen at the hoteland dam it is more than likely that even more than eight inches wereprecipitated in the places further up. These figures I hold tentatively, but I am much inclined to believe that there was a cloud burst. "

Six thousand men were at work on the ruins to-day. They are paid twodollars a day, and have to earn it. The work seems to tell very little, however, for the mass of débris is simply enormous. The gangs havecleaned up the streets pretty thoroughly in the main part of the city, from which the brick blocks were swept like card houses before a breeze. The houses are pulled apart and burned in bonfires. Nowhere is anythingfound worth saving. 

It is not probable that the mass of débris at the bridge, by which thewater is tainted, can be removed in less than thirty days with thegreatest force possible to work on it. That particular job is under thecontrol of the State Board of Health. Every day adds to its seriousness. The mass is being cleared by dynamite at the bridge where the current isstrongest, and the open place slowly grows larger. Not infrequently abody is found after an explosion has loosened the wreckage. 

So-called relief corps are still moving to and fro in the city, but themost serious labor of many of the members is to carry a bright yellowbadge to aid them in passing the guards while sight-seeing. The militiamen are little better than ornamental. The guards do a good deal ofchanging, to the annoyance of workers who want to get into the lines, but they rarely stop any one. The soldiers do a vast deal of loafing. Aphotographer who had his camera ready to take a view among the ruins wasarrested to-day and made to work for an hour by General Hastings'order. When his stint was done he did not linger, but went at once. 

Signs of Improvement. 

"What is the condition of the valley now?" I asked Colonel Scott. 

"It is improving with every hour. The perfect organization which hasbeen effected within the past day or two has gradually resolved all thechaos and confusion into a semblance of order and regulation. "

"Are many bodies being discovered now?"

"Very few; that is to say, comparatively few. Of course, as the watersrecede more and more between the banks, we have come upon bodies hereand there, as they were exposed to sight. The probabilities are thatthere will be a great many bodies yet discovered under the rubbish thatcovers the streets, and our hope and expectation is that the majority ofall the dead may be recovered and disposed of in a Christian manner. "

"How about the movement to burn the rubbish, bodies and all?"

"I do not think that will be done--at least only as a last extremity. While there is great anxiety in regard to the sanitary condition, allpossible precautions are being taken, and we hope to prevent any diseaseuntil we shall have time to thoroughly overhaul the wreck. 

Consideration for the Dead. 

"The greatest consideration is being given to this matter of therecovery of the dead and treatment of the bodies after discovery. Ithink an impression has gone abroad that the dead are being handled herevery much as one would handle cord wood, but this is a great mistake. Assoon as possible after discovery they are borne from public gaze andtaken to the Morgue, where only persons who have lost relatives orfriends are admitted. Of course the general exclusion is not applied toattendants, physicians and representatives of the press, but it isrighteously applied to careless sight-seers. We have no room forsight-seers in Johnstown now. It is earnest workers and laborers wewant, and of these we can hardly have too many. "

Speculating in Disaster. 

Some long headed men are trying to make a neat little stake quietly outof the disaster. A syndicate has been formed to buy up as much realestate as possible in Johnstown, trusting to get a big block as they gotone to-day, for one-third of the valuation placed on it a week ago. Themembers of the syndicate are keeping very much in the background andconducting their business through a local agent. 

I asked Adjutant General Hastings to-day what he thought of thesituation. 

"It is very good so far as reported, " was the reply. "Bodies are beinggradually recovered all the time, but of course not in the large numberof the first few days. Last night we arrested several ghouls that werewandering amid the wreck on evil intent, and they were promptly taken tothe guard house. This morning they were given the choice of imprisonmentor going to work at two dollars a day, and they promptly chose thelatter. We are getting along very well in our work, and very littletendency to lawlessness, I am happy to say, is observed. "

Succor for the Living. 

The Red Cross flag now flies over the society's own camp beside theBaltimore and Ohio tracks, near the bridge to Kernville. The tents werepitched this morning and the camp includes a large supply tent, messtent and offices. Miss Clara Barton, of Washington, is, of course, incharge, and the work is being rapidly gotten into shape. I found MissBarton at the camp this morning. 

"The Red Cross Society will remain here, " she said, "so long as there isany work to do. There is hardly any limit to what we will do. Much ofthe present assistance that has been extended is, of course, impulsiveand ephemeral. When that is over there will still be work to do, and theRed Cross Society will be here to do it. We are always the last to leavethe field. 

"We need and can use to the greatest advantage all kinds of supplies, and shall be glad to receive them. Money is practically useless here asthere is no place to buy what we need. "

Dr. J. Wilkes O'Neill, of Philadelphia, surgeon of the First Regiment, is here in charge of the Philadelphia division of the Red Cross Society. He is assisted by a corps of physicians, nurses and attendants. Withintwo hours after establishing the camp this morning about forty cases, both surgical and medical, were treated. Diphtheria broke out inKernville to-day. Eleven cases were reported, eight of which werereported to be malignant. The epidemic is sure to extend. There are alsocases of ulcerated tonsilitis. The patients are mostly those lefthomeless by the flood and are fairly well situated in frame houses. Thedoctors do not fear an epidemic of pneumonia. The Red Cross Society hasestablished a hospital camp in Grubbtown for the treatment of contagiousdiseases. An epidemic of typhoid fever is feared, two cases havingappeared. The camp is well located in a pleasant spot near fine water. It is supplied with cots, ambulances and some stores. They have an amplesupply of surgical stores, but need medical stores badly. 

Serving Out the Rations. 

At the commissary station at the Pennsylvania Railroad depot there wasconsiderable activity. A crowd of about one thousand people had gatheredabout the place after the day's rations. The crowd became so great thatthe soldiers had to be called up to guard the place until the ReliefCommittee was ready to give out the provisions. Several carloads ofclothing arrived this morning and was to be disposed of as soon aspossible. The people were badly in need of clothing, as the weather hadbeen very chilly since Saturday. 

B. F. Minnimun, a wealthy contractor of Springfield, Ohio, arrived thisforenoon with a despatch from Governor Foraker offering 2, 000 trainedlaborers for Johnstown, to be sent at once if needed. The despatchfurther stated that if anything else was needed Ohio stood ready torespond promptly to the call. 

What Clara Barton Said. 

"It is like a blow on the head; there are no tears, they are stunned;but, ah, sir, I tell you they will awake after awhile and then the tearswill flow down the hills of this valley from thousands of bleedinghearts, and there will be weeping and wailing such as never before. "

That is what Clara Barton, president of the National Red Cross, saidthis afternoon as she stood in a plain black gown on the bank of StonyCreek directing the construction of the Red Cross tents, and she lookedmotherly and matronly, while her voice was trembling with sympathy. 

"You see nothing but that dazed, sickly smile that calamity leaves, " shewent on, "like the crazy man wears when you ask him, 'How came youhere?' Something happened, he says, that he alone knows; all the rest isblank to him. Here they give you that smile, that look and say 'I lostmy father, my mother, my sisters, ' but they do not realize it yet. TheRed Cross intends to be here in the Conemaugh Valley when the pestilencecomes to them, and we are making ready with all our heart, with all oursoul, with all our strength. The militia, the railroad, the ReliefCommittees and everybody is working for us. The railroad has completelybarricaded us so that none of our cars can be taken away by mistake. "

When the great wave of death swept through Johnstown the people who hadany chance of escape ran hither and thither in every direction. They didnot have any definite idea where they were going, only that a crest offoaming waters as high as the housetops was roaring down upon themthrough the Conemaugh and that they must get out of the way of that. Some in their terror dived into the cellars of their houses andclambered over the adjoining roofs to places of safety. But the majoritymade for the hills, which girt the town like giants. Of the people whowent to the hills, the water caught some in its whirl. 

[Illustration: A WOMAN'S BODY LODGED IN A TREE. ]

The others clung to trees and roots and pieces of débris which hadtemporarily lodged near the banks, and managed to save themselves. Thesepeople either stayed out on the hills wet, and in many instances walkedall night, or they managed to find farmhouses which sheltered them. There was a fear of going back to the vicinity of the town. Even thepeople whose houses the water did not reach abandoned their homes andbegan to think of all of Johnstown as a city buried beneath the water. But in the houses which were thus able to afford shelter there was notfood enough for all. Many survivors of the flood went hungry until thefirst relief supplies arrived from Pittsburgh. 

Struggling to Live Again. 

From all this fright, destitution and exposure is coming a nervousshock, culminating in insanity, pneumonia, fever and all the other formsof disease. When these people came back to Johnstown on the day afterthe wreck of the town they had to live in sheds, barns and in houseswhich had been but partially ruined. They had to sleep without anycovering, in their wet clothes, and it took the liveliest kind ofskirmishing to get anything to eat. Pretty soon a citizen's committeewas established, and nearly all the male survivors of the flood wereimmediately sworn in as deputy sheriffs. They adorned themselves withtin stars, which they cut out of pieces of the sheets of metal in theruins, and pieces of tin with stars cut out of them are now turning upcontinually, to the surprise of the Pittsburgh workmen who areendeavoring to get the town in shape. 

The women and children were housed, so far as possible, in the fewhouses still standing, and some idea of the extent of the wreck of thetown may be gathered from the fact that of 300 prominent buildings only16 are uninjured. For the first day or so people were dazed by what hadhappened, and for that matter they are dazed still. They went abouthelpless, making vague inquiries for their friends, and hardly feelingthe desire to eat anything. Finally the need of creature comfortsoverpowered them and they woke up to the fact that they were faint andsick. 

Refugees in Their Own City. 

Now this is to some extent changed by the arrival of tents and by thesystematic military care for the suffering. But the daily life of aJohnstown man who is a refugee in his own city is still aimless andwandering. His property, his home, in nine cases out of ten, his wifeand children, are gone. The chances are that he has hard work to findthe spot where he and his family once lived and were happy. He meditatessuicide, and even looks on the strangers who have flocked in to help himand to put him and his town on their feet again with a kind of sullenanger. He has frequent conflicts with the soldiers and with thesight-seers, and he is crazy enough to do almost anything. 

The first thing that Johnstown people do in the morning is to go to therelief stations and get something to eat. They go carrying big baskets, and their endeavor is to get all they can. There has been a new systemevery day about the manner of dispensing the food and clothing to thesufferers. At first the supplies were placed where people could helpthemselves. Then they were placed in yards and handed to people over thefences. Then people had to get orders for what they wanted from thecitizens' committee and their orders were filled at the different reliefstations. Now the matter has been arranged this way, and probablyfinally. The whole matter of receiving and dispensing the reliefsupplies has been placed in the hands of the Grand Army of the Republicmen. 

Women Too Proud to Beg. 

The Grand Army men have made the Adams Street Relief Station a centralrelief station and all the others at Kernville, the Pennsylvania depot, Cambria City and Jackson and Somerset Streets, sub-stations. The idea isto distribute supplies to the sub-stations from the central station andthus avoid the jam of crying and excited people at the committee'sheadquarters. The Grand Army men have appointed a committee of women toassist in their work. The women go from house to house ascertaining thenumber of people lost from there in the flood and the exact needs of thepeople. It was found necessary to have some such committee as this, forthere were women actually starving who were too proud to take theirplaces in lines with the other women with bags and baskets. Some ofthese people were rich before the flood. 

Now they are not worth a dollar. One man who was reported to be worth$100, 000 before the flood now is penniless and has to take his place inthe line along with others seeking the necessaries of life. 

Though the Adams street station is now the central relief station, themost imposing display of supplies is made at the Pennsylvania Railroadfreight and passenger depots. Here on the platform and in the yards arepiled up barrels of flour in long rows three and four barrels high. Biscuits in cans and boxes by the carload, crackers under the railroadsheds in bins, hams by the hundred strung on poles, boxes of soap andcandles, barrels of kerosene oil, stacks of canned goods and things toeat of all sorts and kinds are here to be seen. 

No Fear of a Food Famine. 

The same sight is visible at the Baltimore and Ohio road and there isnow no fear of a food famine in Johnstown, though of course everybodywill have to rough it for weeks. What is needed most in this line arecooking utensils. Johnstown people want stoves, kettles, pans, knivesand forks. All the things that have been sent so far have been sent withthe evident idea of supplying an instant need, and that is right andproper. But it would be well now if instead of some of the provisionsthat are sent, cooking utensils should arrive. Fifty stoves arrived fromPittsburgh this morning, and it is said more are coming. At both thedepots where the supplies are received and stored a big rope lineencloses them in an impromptu yard so as to give room to those havingthe supplies in charge to walk around and see what they have got. Onthe inside of this line, too, stalk back and forth the soldiers withtheir rifles on their shoulders, and by the side of the lines pressingagainst the ropes there stands every day from daylight until dawn acrowd of women with big baskets who make piteous appeals to the soldiersto give them food for their children at once before the order of therelief committee. 

Where Death Rules. 

The following letters from a young woman to her mother, writtenimmediately after the disaster at Johnstown from her home in NewFlorence, a few miles west of that place, though not intended forpublication, picture in graphic manner the agony of suspense sustainedby those who escaped the flood, and give side pictures of the scenesfollowing the disaster. They were received in Philadelphia:

Hours of Suspense. 

NEW FLORENCE, PA. --My Darling Mother: I am nearly crazed, and thought Iwould try and be quiet and write to you, as it always comforts me tofeel you are near your child, though many miles are now between us. Ihave said my prayers over and over again all day long, and to-night I amgoing to spend in the watch-tower, and am trying to be quiet and brave, although my heart is just wrung with anguish. Andrew sent me word fromJohnstown this afternoon about half-past three he was safe and would behome shortly. Well, he has never come, and I have had many reports ofthe work train, but no one seems to know anything definite about him. Ihave telegraphed and telegraphed, but no news yet, and all I can findout is he was seen on the bridge just before it went down. I am tryingto be brave. 

Good News at Last. 

SUNDAY MORNING. 

You see, dearest mother, I could not write, and now I am happy, thoughtired, for Andrew is home and safe, and I thank God for the great mercyhe has shown his child. I won't dwell on my anxiety, it can better beimagined than described. From the letter I had from him at Johnstown, written at 9 A. M. Friday, until 6. 30 last evening, I never knew whetherhe was living or dead. Thomas, our man, brought the news. God bless him, and it nearly cost him his life to do it, poor man. Andrew got separatedfrom the party, and was close to the bridge when it was carried away, but escaped by going up the mountain. He tried to signal to his men hewas safe, but could not make them see him, nor could those men that werewith him; all communication was impossible. Thomas left him at nineo'clock Friday night on the mountain and tried to get home. He got a manto ferry him across the river above Johnstown, and the boat was upset, but all managed to get ashore, and Thomas walked all night and allyesterday, and came straight to me and told me my husband was safe, andan hour later I had a telegram from Andrew. He had walked from theConemaugh side to Bolivar. The bridge at Nineveh was the only bridgeleft standing. He took the first train home from Bolivar and got homeabout 9. 30. 

I telegraphed you in the morning, or rather Uncle Clem, that I was safeand Andrew reported safe, though now they tell me every one here thoughthe was lost and Thomas with him. Thomas's wife was met at the stationand informed of his death by some of the men, and six hours afterwardsThomas came home, yet more dead than alive, poor man. It is very hard towrite, as all the country people and men have been here to tell me howglad they are "I got my husband safely back, and that I am a powerfulsight lucky young woman. " Well, mother darling, make your mind easyabout your children now. Andrew is safe and well, though pretty wellexhausted, and his feet are so sore and swollen he can hardly stand, andcan't wear anything but rubbers, as his mountain shoes he cut to pieces. He left early this morning, but will be back to-night. I cannot begin totell you of the horrors, as the papers do not half picture the distress. New Florence was not flooded, though some of the people left the placeon Friday night and went up on Squirrel Hill. 

Scenes at the River. 

I went down to the river once, and that was enough, as I knew Andrewwould not like me to see the sorrow, for which there was no help. I wentjust after the bridge fell, saw Centreville flooded and the people makea dash for the mountain. Yesterday two hundred and three bodies weretaken from the river near here, and yet every train takes away more. Thefreight cars have taken nothing but human freight, and wagon load afterwagon load of dead bodies have been right in front of the house. Therewas a child about Nellie's age, with light hair, dead in the wagon, withher hands clasped, saying her prayers, and her blue eyes staring wideopen. By her side lay a man with a pipe in his mouth, naked children, and a woman with a baby at her breast. Oh, the terror on their faces. Two women and three men were rescued here, and a German family ofmother, four children and father. I had them all on my hands to lookafter; no one could make them understand, and how I ever managed it Idon't know, but I did. They lost two children and their home, but had alittle money and were going to his brother's, at Hazleton. They got herein the night and left at noon, and it would have done your heart good tosee them eat. One was a baby five weeks old. 

Help Needed. 

Now, mother, I want you to go around among the family and get meeverything in the way of clothes you possibly can, and get Uncle Clem toexpress them to me. I should also like money, and as much as you can getcan be used. I am pretty well cleaned out of everything, as all thecattle and stock have been lost and nothing can be bought here, and allI have in the way of provisions is some preserves, chocolate, coffee, olives and crackers. We can't starve, as we have the chickens. I got thelast meat from the butcher's yesterday, and he said he didn't expect tohave any more for a week, so I told Uncle Clem I would not mind havingtwo hams from Pittsburgh, and was very grateful for his telegram. Itelegraphed him in the morning; also, Uncle White at Germantown, so thatthey might know I was all right, but from Auntie's telegram I judgeUncle Clem's telegrams were the only ones that got through. If I find Ineed provisions I will let you know, but do not think I will needanything for myself, and the poor are being fed by the relief supplies, and what is needed now is money and clothes. 

Helpers. 

There's not a house in the place that is not in trouble from the loss ofsome dear one, nor one that does not hold or shelter some one or more ofthe sufferers. Tell everybody anything you can get can be used, and bythe time you get this letter I will know of more cases to provide for, so take everything you can get, and don't worry about me, for I am allright now that Andrew is safe. This letter has been written byinstalments, as I have been interrupted so many times, so pardon theabruptness of it, and please send it to Germantown, as I have too muchto do now. My hands and heart are both full. Milk is as scarce as wine, as the pasturage was all on the other side, and cows were lost, andbread is as scarce as can be, and, instead of a dozen eggs, we only getone a day. I am proud of New Florence, as all it has done to help thesufferers no one knows, and as for Mr. Bennett, he is one in a thousand. Mr. Hay's son has worked like a Trojan. Tell Cousin Hannah that the newtracks will be sure to be straight, as Andrew will superintend thewhole business. With heart full of love to one and all and a kiss to thechildren. Lovingly, BETT. 

The Awful After Scenes. 

NEW FLORENCE, Sunday Night. 

My Darling Mother: This is my second letter to you to-day. It is after11 o'clock, and one of the men has just brought me word that Andrew willbe home, he thought, by 1 o'clock; so I am waiting up for him, so as togive him his dinner, and I have been through so much I cannot go to beduntil I know he is safe home again. I put him up a good lunch, and knowhe cannot starve. 

Oh the horrors of to-day! I have only had one pleasant Sunday here, andthat was the one after we were married. I have had a very busy day, as Ihave been through our clothes, and routing out everything possible forthe sufferers and the dead, and the cry to-day for linen sheets, etc. , was something awful. I have given away all my underclothes, excepting myvery best things--and all my old ones I made into face-cloths for thedead. To-day they took five little children out of the water; they wereplaying "Ring around a rosy, " and their hands were clasped in a claspwhich even death did not loosen, and their faces were still smiling. 

One man identified his wife among those who came ashore here, and Rosesaid that he was nearly crazy, and that her face was the most beautifulthing she ever saw, and that she had very handsome pearls in her earsand was so young looking. The dead are all taken from here to Johnstownand Nineveh and other places, where they will be most likely to beidentified; about thirty have been identified here and taken away. Ifeel hardened to a great deal, and feel God has been so merciful to me Imust do all I can for the unfortunate ones. I hope soon to have somehelp from you all, for I have given willingly of my little and my meansare exhausted. I expect we will have to live on ham and eggs next week, but we are thankful to have that, as I would rather live low and giveall I can, than not to give. All I care about is that Andrew gets enoughto eat, as he needs a great deal to keep his strength up, working ashard as he does. Now I will close as it is nearly time for him to behome. Lovingly, BETT. 

Feeding the Hungry. 

There are over 30, 000 people at Johnstown who must be fed from theoutside world. Of these 18, 000 are natives of the town that a week agohad 29, 500 inhabitants; all the others are dead or have gone away. Over12, 000 people are here clearing the streets, burying the dead, attendingthe sick, and feeding and sheltering the homeless; all these people haveto be fed at least three times a day, for days are very long inJohnstown just now. They begin at five o'clock in the morning, two hoursbefore the whistles in the half-mired Cambria Iron Company's buildingblow, and end just about the time the sun is going down. If the peoplewho are on the outside and who are engaged in the labor of love ofsending the food that is keeping strength in Johnstown's tired arms andthe clothing that is covering her nakedness could understand thesituation as it is they would redouble their efforts. Johnstown cannotdraw on the country immediately around about her, for that was draineddays ago. To be safe, there should be a week's supply of food ahead. Atno time has there been a day's supply or anything like it. 

A Crisis in the Commissary. 

Twice within the last forty-eight hours the commissary department at thePennsylvania Railroad Depot, where nearly 10, 000 people are furnishedwith food, have been in a state of mind bordering on panic. They had runout of food; people who had trudged down the hill with expectant facesand empty baskets had to trudge back again with hearts heavy and basketsstill empty. That was the case on Wednesday night. Then the Citizens'Committee had to send to the refugee camp, the smallest food station inthe city, and take away 1500 loaves of bread. The bread supply in thecentral portion of the town had suddenly given out and there was aclamoring crowd demanding to be fed. 

The same thing happened again last night. It was not so bad as on thenight before, but there were anxious faces enough among the men underthe direction of Major Spangler, who realized the awful responsibilityof providing the mouths of the thousands with food. The supply hadgiven out, but fortunately not until almost everybody had been supplied. Telegrams announced that eight carloads of provisions had been shippedfrom the West and were somewhere in the line between Pittsburgh andJohnstown. At midnight nothing could be heard of them. The delay wasmaddening. If the food did not arrive it meant fully 10, 000breakfastless and possibly dinnerless people in Johnstown to-day, withconsequent suffering and possible disorder among the rough and rowdyelement. 

The Danger Tided Over. 

Before daylight the expected cars came in from Ohio and Pittsburgh andthe danger was over for the time being. This serves, however, to showthe perilous condition the town is in, living as it is in ahand-to-mouth fashion. It should be remembered that the only directaccess to Johnstown from the West is by way of the Pennsylvania, whichis handicapped as she has never been before, and from the East andSouth, of the Baltimore and Ohio. If the Pennsylvania were openedthrough to the East a steady stream of 200 cars already loaded for thesufferers would pour over the Alleghenies, but the Pennsylvania does notsee light ahead much more clearly than yesterday. The terrible breaksand washouts will require days yet to repair, and supplies that comefrom the interior of the State must come by means of wagons. 

Crowding in the Supplies. 

The Baltimore and Ohio is piling the supplies in to-day faster than themen can unload them. In the neighborhood of 100 carloads were received. The Pennsylvania during to-day has handled something like twenty-eightcarloads all told. In the way of food the articles most needed arefresh, salt meats, sugar, rice, coffee, tea, and dried and cannedfruits. The supply of sugar gave out entirely to-day. Twenty thousandpounds of Cincinnati hams arrived to-day and they melted like 20, 000pounds of ice beneath the scorching heat of this afternoon's sun. Muchof the clothing that is received here is new and serviceable, butthousands of pieces are so badly worn that, to use the words of GeneralAxline, of Ohio, who is doing noble service here with the thousands ofother self-sacrificing men, "it is unfit to be worn by tramps. " Many oldshoes with the soles half torn off have been received. Shoes are badlyneeded at once or all Johnstown will be barefooted. 

Eighteen Carloads of Relief. 

Even in the rush of distribution the officials who have it in charge canfind time to say a hearty word of praise for those towns which havecontributed to the sufferers. Philadelphia's first installment was thefirst to arrive from the East, and more goods have been coming insteadily ever since. W. H. Tumblestone, the president of the RetailGrocers' Association of Pennsylvania, who was appointed first lieutenantof the Philadelphia relief by the Mayor, arrived here first. He set atwork handling coffins, but as soon as the first freight car of goodsarrived he was put in charge of their distribution and has been workinglike threemen ever since. The eight freight cars from Philadelphia whicharrived with the relief party on Monday, at 4 o'clock, were distributedfrom a great storehouse at the terminus of the Baltimore and OhioRailroad. The goods are carried in bulk from the cars to the warehouseby a gang of twenty-eight men, who are identified by red flannelhat-bands. When they fail to enthuse over their work Mr. Tumblestonegets off his coat and shoves boxes himself. 

[Illustration: DISTRIBUTING CLOTHING AND OTHER SUPPLIES. ]

Distributing Supplies. 

Inside the warehouse a score of volunteers and Pittsburgh policemenbreak open the boxes and pile the goods in separate heaps; the women'sclothing, the men's, the children's and the different sizes being placedin regular order. Then the barriers are opened and the crowd surges inlike depositors making a run on a savings bank. The police keep goodorder and the ubiquitous Tumblestone and his assistants dole out thegoods to all who have orders. Special orders call for stoves, mattrassesand blankets. 

If the Philadelphians could see the faces of the people they are helpingbefore and after they have passed the distribution windows they wouldfeel well repaid for their visible sympathy. Chairman Scott says theclass of goods from Philadelphia have been of the highest quality. "Wehave been delighted with the thought and excellence of the selectionsand amiable nature of the contributions. The two miles of track lyingbetween here and Morrellville are still blocked with cars stretched fromone end to the other, and fresh arrivals are coming in daily over theBaltimore and Ohio. " Although it is impossible to say how much has beenreceived from Philadelphia, Mr. Tumblestone says that so far as many aseighteen freight cars, each filled from the sides to the roof, havearrived from the Quaker City, and their contents have been distributed. 

How Rival Hotels were Crushed Together. 

The principal hotels of the town were bunched in a group about thecorner of Main and Clinton streets. They were the Merchants', a largeold-fashioned, three-story tavern, with a stable yard behind, a relic ofstaging days; the Hurlburt House, the leading hotel of the place, a finefour-story brick structure with a mansard roof and all the latestwrinkles in furnishing inside and out; the Fritz House, a narrow, four-story structure, with an ornate front, and the Keystone, a smallerhotel than any of the others. 

These few inns stood in the path of the flood. The Hurlburt, the largestand handsomest, was absolutely obliterated. The Keystone's ruin was nextin completion. It stood across Clinton Street from Fritz's, and LandlordCharles West has not yet recovered from the surprise of seeing the rivalestablishment thrown bodily across the street against his second storyfront, tearing it completely out. 

After the water subsided it fell back upon the pavement in front of itsstill towering rival, and in the meantime Landlord West had saved minehost of the Keystone and his family from the roof which was thrust inhis windows. 

Back of Fritz's there was a little alley, which made a course for a partof the torrent. Fully half a dozen houses were sent swimming in here. They crushed their way through the small hotel's outhouses straight tothe rear of the Merchants', and sliced the walls off the old inn as ahungry survivor to-day cut a Philadelphia cheese. You can see theinterior of the rooms. The beds were swept out into the flood, but alonesome wardrobe fell face downward on the floor and somehow escaped. There are bodies under the rear wall. How many is not known, butLandlord West, of Fritz's, says he is certain there were people on therear porch of the Merchants'. The story of Landlord West's rival beingthrown into his front windows has its parallels. 

Colonel Higgins, the manager of the Cambria Club House, was in the thirdstory of the building with his family. Suddenly a man was hurled by thetorrent rapidly through the window. He was rescued, then fainted, andupon inspection was found to have a broken leg. The leg was bandaged andthe man resuscitated, and when this last act of kindness wasaccomplished he said faintly: "This ain't so bad. I've been in ablow-up. "

A Cool Request. 

This remark showed the greatest sang-froid known to be exhibited duringthe flood, but the most irreverent was that of an old man who was savedby E. B. Entworth, of the Johnson works. On Saturday morning Mr. Entworthrowed to a house near the flowing débris at the bridge, and found awoman, with a broken arm, and a baby. After she had got into the boatshe cried: "Come along, grandpap. " Whereupon an old man, chilled butchipper, jumped up from the other side of the roof, slid down into theboat, and ejaculated: "Gentlemen, can any of you give me a chew oftobacco?"

Scenes Amid the Ruins. 

One of the curious finds in the débris yesterday was two proofs fromcabinet-size negatives of two persons--a man and a woman. The printswere found within two feet of each other in the ruins near theMerchants' Hotel. They were immediately recognized as portraits of MamiePatton, formerly a Johnstown girl, and Charles DeKnight, once a Pullmanpalace car conductor. The two were found dying together in a room in aPittsburgh hotel several months ago, the woman having shot the man andthen herself. She claimed that he was her husband. The dress in whichthe picture showed her was the same that she wore when she killedDeKnight. 

Tracks that were Laid in a Hurry. 

If Pennsylvania Railroad trains ever ran over tougher-looking tracksthan those used now through Johnstown it must have been before peoplebegan to ride on it. The section from the north end of the bridge to therailroad station has a grade that wabbles between 50 and 500 feet to themile and jerks back and forth sideways as though laid by a gang ofintoxicated men on a dark night. When the first engine went over iteverybody held his breath and watched to see it tumble. Theseeccentricities are being straightened out, however, as fast as men andbroken stones can do it. 

The railroad bridge at Johnstown deserves attention beyond that which itis receiving on account of the way it held back the flood. It is one ofthe most massive pieces of masonry ever set up in this country. In ageneral way it is solid masonry of cut sandstone blocks of unusual size, the whole nearly 400 feet long, forty wide, and averaging about fortydeep. Seven arches of about fifty feet span are pierced through it, rising to within a few feet of the top and leaving massive piers down tothe rock beneath. As the bridge crosses the stream diagonally, thearches pierce the mass in a slanting direction, and this greatly adds tothe heavy appearance of the bridge. There has been some disposition tofind fault with the bridge for being so strong, the idea being that ifit had gone out there would have been no heaping up of buildings behindit, no fire, and fewer deaths. This is probably unfair, as there werehundreds of persons saved when their houses were stopped against thebridge by climbing out or being helped out upon the structure. If thebridge had gone, too, the flood would have taken the whole instead ofonly half of Cambria City. 

Photographers Forced to Work. 

The camera fiend has about ceased his wanderings. An order was issuedyesterday from headquarters to arrest and put to work the swarms ofamateur photographers who are to be found everywhere about the ruins. Those who will not work are to be taken uptown under guard. This orderis issued to keep down the number of useless people and thus save thefast diminishing provisions for the workers. 

A man who stood on the bluff and saw the first wave of the flood comedown the valley tried to describe it. "I looked up, " he said, "and sawsomething that looked like a wall of houses and trees up the valley. Thenext moment Johnstown seemed coming toward me. It was lifted right upand in a minute was smashing against the bridge and the houses wereflying in splinters across the top and into the water beyond. "

A 13-year-old girl, pretty and with golden hair, wanders about frommorgue to morgue looking for ten of a family of eleven, she being thesole survivor. 

There were half a dozen bulldogs in one house that was heaped up in thewreck some distance above the bridge. They were loose among the débris, and it is said by those who claim to have seen it that after fightingamong themselves they turned upon the people near them and were tearingand biting them until the flames swept over the place. 

Slow Time to Pittsburgh. 

Irregular is a weak word for the manner in which passenger trains runbetween this place and Pittsburgh. The distance is seventy miles and theordinary time is two hours. The train that left here at 4. 30 yesterdayafternoon reached there at midnight. This is ordinarily good timenowadays. A passage in five hours is an exceptional one. 

Engine 1309, the one that faced the flood below Conemaugh and stoodpractically unharmed, backed down to the station as soon as the trackswere laid up to where it stood and worked all right. Only the oil cupsand other small fittings, with the headlight, were broken. 

The superintendent of the Woodvale Woolen Mills, one of the Cambria IronCompany's concerns, was one of the very few fortunate ones in thatlittle place. He and all his family got into the flouring mill justbelow the woolen mill and upon the roof. The woolen mill was totallywrecked, though not carried away, and the flouring mill was badlydamaged, but the roof held and all were saved. These two parts of themill were the only buildings left standing in Woodvale. 

A man in Kernville, on Friday last, had jet black hair, moustache andbeard. That night he had a battle with the waters. On Saturday morninghis hair and beard began to turn gray, and they are now well streakedwith white. He attributes the change to his awful Friday night'sexperience. 

Wounds of the Dead. 

It is the impression of the medical corps and military surgeons whoarrived here early in the week that hundreds, maybe thousands of men, women and children were insensible to all horror on that awfulafternoon, just a week ago, before the waters of the valley closed inover them. Their opinion is based on the fact that hundreds and hundredsof the bodies already brought to light are terribly wounded somewhere, generally on the head. In many instances the wounds are sufficient inthemselves to have caused death. 

The crashing of houses together in the first mad rush of the flood witha force greater than the collision of railroad trains making fast time, and the hurling of timbers, poles, towers and boulders through the airis believed to have caused a legion of deaths in an instant, before thelost knew what was coming. Even the survivors bear testimony to this. 

Surgeon Foster, of the 14th Regiment, who was first to have charge ofthe hospital, tells how he treated long lines of men, women and childrenfor wounds too terrible to mention and they themselves know not how ithappened only that they fell in a moment. In connection with hisexperience he speaks of the tender, yet heroic, work of four Sisters ofMercy, two from Pittsburgh and two here, who went ahead of him down theranks of the wounded with sponges, chloroforming the suffering, beforehis scalpel aid reached them. Sometimes there were a dozen victims aheadof his knives. 

Once these sisters stopped, for the first time showing horror, by agreat pile of dead children and infants on the river bank laid one ontop of the other. By one man each little body was seized and theclothing quickly cut from it. Then he passed it to another, who washedit in the river. Then a third man took it in the line of the dead. Butthe Sisters of Mercy saw they were too late there, and passed on amongthe living. 

Most of the Pennsylvania Railroad passengers who left Pittsburgh for theEast last Friday and were caught in the flood in the Conemaugh Valleyreached Philadelphia in a long special train at 5 o'clock Fridaymorning, June 7th, after a week of adventure, peril and narrow escapeswhich none of them will ever forget. A few of their number who lostpresence of mind when the flood struck the train were drowned. Thesurvivors are unanimous in their appreciation of the kindness shown themby Pennsylvania officials, and in their praise of the hospitality andgenerosity of the country folk, among whom they found homes for threedays. The escapes in some instances seem miraculous. 

An hour before the flood the first section of the day express stopped atConemaugh City, about ten miles below the dam at South Fork, on accountof a washout farther up the valley. The second section of the expressand another passenger train soon overtook the first and half an hourbefore the dam broke all these trains stood abreast on the four-trackroad. The positions now occupied seems providential. If the railroad menhad foreseen the disaster they could not have shown greater prudence, for the engine of the first section of the express, on the track nearestthe mountain side, stood about a car's length ahead of the second. Theengine of the third train came to a stop a car's length behind thesecond and on the outer track, which was within a few feet of theswollen Conemaugh River, stood a heavily laden freight train. 

When the flood came it struck the slanting front of the fourlocomotives. Most of the passengers had, in the meantime, escaped up themountain side. Three of the locomotives were carried down by theirresistible torrent, but the fourth turned on its side and was soonburied under sand, tree trunks and other débris. This served as abreakwater for the flood and accounts for the fact that the trains ofcars were not reduced to kindling wood while the railroad roundhouse andits twelve locomotives, a little farther down the valley, was taken upbodily, broken into fragments and its mighty inmates carried like chipsfor miles down the valley. 

Weary Passengers. 

From end to end of the train, upon its arrival at Philadelphia, therewas an aspect of absolute exhaustion, varied in its expression accordingto the individual. Phlegmatic men lay upon their backs, across theseats, with their legs dangling in the aisles. One might send themspinning round or toss their feet out of the passage, and their wornfaces showed no more sign than if they were lifeless. Women lay swathedin veils and wraps, sometimes alone, sometimes huddled together, andsometimes guarded by the arms of their husbands--husbands who themselveshad given way and slept as heavily as if dosed with narcotics. 

But here and there is the typical American girl, full of nerve. She isworn out, too, but sleeps only fitfully, starting up at every sound anddropping uneasily off again. Now and then one encountered the man andwoman of restless temperament, whose sleepless eyes looked out thinking, thinking--thinking on the trees and grass and bushes, faintly showingform now in the gray light of the very earliest dawn. 

Childhood's Peaceful Sleep. 

In the midst of it all a girl of six or seven, with a light shawl thrownover her figure, slept as peacefully as if she lay in the comfortableembrace of her own crib at home. She was little Bertha Reed, who hadbeen sent out from Chicago in the care of the conductor on a trip toBrooklyn, where she was to meet her aunt. At Pittsburgh she was taken incharge by a Miss Harvey, a relative. She was a passenger on the Chicagolimited, the last train to get safely across the bridge at South Fork. She was a model of patience and cheerfulness through all the discomfortsand drawbacks of the voyage, and her innocent prattle made every man andwoman love her. 

It might have been supposed that if one were to waken any of thesesleeping passengers to obtain their names and ask them of the disasterthey might surlily have resented it. But they didn't. Now and then oneof them would half-sleepily hand out his ticket under the mistakennotion that the reporter was the conductor. Another shake brought themround and they answered everything as kindly as if the unavoidablebreaking in upon their comfort were a matter of no concern whatever. Sometimes it would seem that great sorrow must have a chastening effectupon everyone. 

From All Parts of the World. 

It was a strange gathering altogether, and made one think again of theremark so often repeated in "No Thoroughfare, " "How small the world is. "All the ends of the earth had sent their people to meet at the disaster, and the tide of human life flows on as recklessly as the current of anysea or river. Here weary, sleepy and sad, was Jacob Schmidt, of Aspen, Col. He had been a passenger on the Pittsburgh day express. He wasstanding on the platform when the flood came and by a lurching of thecar he was thrown into the boiling torrent. He managed to seize afloating plank and was saved, but all his money and other valuables werelost. That was a particularly hard loss to him, because he was on hisway to South Africa to seek his fortune. Behind him was R. B. Jones, whohad come from the other side of the globe; in particular from Sydney, Australia, and met the others at Altoona. He was on the way for a visitto his parents in York County. He was on the Chicago Limited and justescaped the danger. 

In a front car was Peter Sherman, of Pawtucket, R. I. He was tall andbroad shouldered and his sun-browned face was shaded by a big soft hat. He was on his way from Texarkana, way down in Texas, and he too was atConemaugh. He was a passenger on the first section of the day express. He had not slept a wink on the way down from Altoona, and he told hisstory spiritedly. He said: "I heard a voice in the car crying thereservoir is burst; run for your lives! I got up and made a rush for thedoor. A poor little cripple with two crutches sat in front of me andscreamed to me to save him or he would be drowned. I grabbed him upunder one arm and took his crutches with my free hand. As we steppedfrom the car the water was coming. I made my way up the hill toward achurch. The water swooped down on us and was soon up to my knees. I toldthe cripple I could not carry him further; that we should both be lost. He screamed to me again to save him, but the water was gaining rapidlyon us. He had a grip of my arm, but finally let go, and I laid him, hopefully, on the wooden steps of a house. I managed to reach the highland just in time. I never saw the cripple afterwards, but I learnedthat he was drowned. "

A Great Loss. 

A tall, heavily built man, with tattered garments, walked along theplatform with the help of a cane. His face was covered with a beard, andhis head was bowed so that his chin almost touched his breast. One footwas partially covered by a cut shoe, while on the other foot he wore aboot from which the heel was missing. This was Stephen Johns, a foremanat the Johnson Steel Rail Works at Woodvale. He was a big, strong man, but his whole frame trembled as he said: "Yes, I am from Johnstown. Ilost my wife and three children there, so I thought I would leave. "

It was only by the greatest effort that Mr. Johns kept the tears back. He then told his experience in this way: "I was all through the war. Iwas at Fair Oaks, at Chancellorsville, in the Wilderness, and many otherbattles, but never in my life was I in such a hot place as I was onFriday night. I don't know how I escaped, but here am I alone, wife andchildren gone. I was at the office of the company on Friday. We had beenreceiving telephonic messages all morning that the dam was unsafe. Noone heeded them. I did not know anything about the dam. The bookkeepersaid there was not enough water up there to flood the first floor of theoffice. I thought he knew, so I didn't send my family to the hills. 

"I don't know what time it was in the afternoon that I saw the floodcoming down the valley. I was standing at the gate. Looking up thevalley I saw a great white crowd moving down upon us. I made a dash forhome to try to get my wife and children to the hills. I saw them at thewindows as I ran up to the house. That is the last time I ever saw theirfaces. No sooner had I got into the house than the flood struck thebuilding. I was forced into the attic. It was a brick house with a slateroof. I had intended to keep very cool, but I suppose I forgot all aboutthat. 

Swept Down the Stream. 

"It seemed a long time, but I suppose it was not more than a secondbefore the house gave way and went tumbling down the stream. It turnedover and over as it was washed along. I was under the water as often asI was above it. I could hear my wife and children praying, although Icould not see them. I did not pray. They were taken and I was left forsome purpose, I suppose. My house finally landed up against the stonerailway bridge. I was then pinned down to the floor by a heavy rafter orsomething. Somehow or other I was lifted from the floor and thrownalmost out upon the bridge. Then some people got hold of me and pulledme out and took me over to a brickyard. My eyes and nose were full ofcinders. After I reached the brickyard I vomited fully a pint of cinderswhich I had swallowed while coming through that awful stream of water. Ican't tell you what it was like. No one can understand it unless he orshe passed through it. "

"Did you find your wife and children?"

"No. I searched for them all of Saturday, Sunday and Monday, but couldfind no trace of them. I think they must have been among those whoperished in the fire at the bridge. I would have staid there and workedhad it not been the place was so near my old home that I could not standit. I thought I would be better off away from there where I could notsee anything to recall that horrible sight. "

How the Survivors Live. 

With a view of showing the character of living in and about Johnstown, how the people pass each day and what the conveniences and deprivationsof domestic life experienced under the new order of things so suddenlyintroduced by the flood are, an investigation of a house-to-house naturewas made to-day. As a result, it was noted that the degrees of comfortvaried with the people as the types of human nature. As remarked by avisitor:

"The calamity has served to bring to the surface every phase ofcharacter in man, and to bring into development traits that had beforebeen but dormant. Generally speaking all are on the same footing so faras need can be concerned. Whether houses remain to them or not, all thepeople have to be fed, for even should they have money, cash is of noaccount, provisions cannot be bought; people who still have homes nearlyall of them furnish quarters for some of the visitors. Militia officers, committeemen, workmen, &c. , must depend upon the supply stations forfood. "

At Prospect. 

The best preserved borough adjoining Johnstown is Prospect, with itsuniformly built gray houses, rising tier upon tier against the side ofthe mountain, at the north of Johnstown. There are in the neighborhoodof 150 homes here, and all look as if but one architect designed them. They are large, broad gabled, two-story affairs, with comfortableporches, extending all the way across the front, each being divided byan interior partition, so as to accommodate two families. The situationoverlooked the entire shoe-shaped district, heretofore described. 

Nearly every householder in Prospect is feeding not only his own family, but from two to ten others, whom he has welcomed to share what he has. Said one of these "We are all obliged to go to the general departmentfor supplies, for we could not live otherwise. Our houses have not beentouched, but we have given away nearly everything in the way ofclothing, except what we have on. There were two little stores up here, but we purchased all they had long ago. It does not matter whether thepeople are rich or poor, they are all compelled to take their chances. In Prospect are the quarters of the Americus Club, of Pittsburgh, anorganization which is widely spoken of as having distinguished itself byfurnishing meals to any and every hungry person who applied. "

An Incident. 

As two newspaper men were about to descend the hill, after visiting anumber of points, a little woman approached and made an inquiry aboutthe running of trains. She was one of the survivors and wished to reachClearfield, where her grown-up sons were. "I'd walk it if I could, " shesaid, "but it's too far, and I'm too old now. " She was living with herfriends, who have taken care of her since her home was swept away. 

A Distributing Point. 

At the base of the long flight of wooden steps that lead to Prospect isthe path extending across to the Pennsylvania Railroad station. Here isone of the principal distributing points. Three times each day aremarkable sight is here to be witnessed. Along the track at the easternend, from the station platform back as far as the freight house, standing upon railroad ties, resting upon piles of lumber, and trying tohold their places in the line of succession in any position possible, crowds of people wait to be served. Aged, decrepit men and women andlittle girls and boys hold baskets, boxes, tin cans, wooden buckets, orany receptacle handy in which they may carry off provisons for the day. 

Sad Sights. 

The women have, many of them, tattered or ill-fitting clothing, taken atrandom when the first supply of this character arrived, their headscovered with thin shawls or calico sun shades. They stand there in thechilly morning wind that blows through the valley along the mountains, patiently waiting their turn at the provision table, making no complaintof cold feet and chilled bodies. In the line are people who, ten daysago, had sufficient of this world's goods to enable them to livecomfortably the remainder of their lives. They are massed in solidly. 

Guards of soldiers stand at short intervals to keep them back andpreserve the lines, and sentries march up and down the entire length ofthe station challenging the approach of any one who desires to passalong the platform. For a distance of about one hundred feet to therailroad signal tower are piled barrels of flour, boxes of provisions, and supplies of all descriptions. Under the shed of the station anincongruous collection of clothing is being arranged to allow ofconvenient distribution. While they waited for the signal to commenceoperations, a guard entered into conversation with a woman in the line. She was evidently telling a story of distress, for the guard lookedabout hastily to a spot where canned meats and bread were located andmade a movement as if to obtain a supply for the woman, but the eyes ofbrother soldiers and a superior officer were upon him and he againassumed his position. It is said to be not unusual for the soldiers, under cover of dusk, to overstep their duty in order to serve someapplicant who, through age or lack of physical strength, is poorlyequipped to bear the strain. All sorts of provisions are asked for. Onewoman asks boldly for ham, canned chicken, vegetables and flour. Anotherapproaches timidly and would be glad to have a few loaves of bread and alittle coffee. 

No Discrimination. 

Before complete system was introduced complaint was made ofdiscrimination by those dealing out supplies, but under the presentorder of things the endeavor is made to treat everybody impartially. Provisions are given out in order, so that imposition is avoided. Itwould seem that there could be no imposition in any case, however. Thepeople who are here, and who are able to get within the lines at all, have a reason for their presence, and this is not curiosity. They arehere for anything but entertainment, and there is no possibility ofpurchasing supplies. All must needs apply at the commissary department. 

A big distributing point for clothing is at the Baltimore and OhioRailroad station, in the Fourth Ward, known as Harpville, on the eastbank of the Stony creek. A rudely constructed platform extends over awashed-out ditch, partially filled with débris. In the vicinity is alarge barn and several smaller outhouses, thrown in a tumble-downcondition. Piled against them are beams and rafters from houses smashedinto kindling wood. All about the station are boxes, empty and full, scattered in confusion, and around and about these crowds are clusteredas best they can. A big policeman stands upon a raised platform made ofsmall boxes, and as he is supplied with goods from the station he throwsabout in the crowds socks, shoes, dresses, shirts, pantaloons, etc. , guessing as rapidly as possible at proportion and speedily getting ridof his bundle. Around the corner, on a street running at right angleswith the tracks, is the provision department. These two are samplestations. They are scattered about at convenient points, and numberabout ten in all. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

One Week After the Great Disaster. 

By slow degrees and painful labor the barren place where Johnstown stoodbegins again to look a little like the habitations of a civilizedcommunity. Daily a little is added to the cleared space once filled withthe concrete rubbish of this town, daily the number of willing workerswho are helping the town to rise again increases. To-day the greatyellow plain which was filled with the best business blocks andresidences before the flood is covered with tents for soldiers andlaborers and gangs of men at work. The wrecks are being removed orburned up. Those houses which were left only partially destroyed arebeginning to be repaired. Still, it will be months, very likely years, before the pathway of the flood ceases to be perfectly plain through thetown. Its boundaries are as plainly marked now as if drawn on a map;where the flood went it left its ineffaceable track. Nearly one-half ofthe triangle in which Johnstown stood is plainly marked, one angle ofthe triangle pointing to the east and directly up the Conemaugh Valley, from which the flood descended. Its eastern side was formed by the lineof the river. The second angle pointed toward the big stone arch bridge, which played such an important part in the tragedy. The western ranalong the base of the mountain on the bank of Stony Creek, and the thirdangle was toward Stony Creek Valley. 

Miles of Buildings in the Wreck. 

Imagine that before the flood this triangle was thickly covered withhouses. The lower or northern part was filled with solid businessblocks, the upper or southern half with residences, for the most partbuilt of wood. Picture this triangle as a mile and a half in itsgreatest length and three-quarters of a mile in its greatest breadth. This was the way Johnstown was ten days ago. Now imagine that in thelower half of this triangle, where the business blocks were, everyobject has been utterly swept away with the exception of perhaps sevenscattered buildings. In their places is nothing but sand and heaps ofdébris. Imagine that in the upper portion of this triangle the pathwayof destruction has been clearly cut. Along the pathway houses have beentorn to pieces, turned upside down, laid upon their sides or twisted ontheir foundations. Put into the open space on the lower end of thetriangle the tents and the fires of burning rubbish and you will havethe picture of Johnstown to-day. 

Unheeded Warnings. 

The people had been warned enough about the dangers of their location. They had been told again and again that the dam was unsafe, and wheneverthe freshets were out there were stories and rumors of its probablebreaking. The freshets had been high for many days before that fatalFriday. All the creeks were over their banks and their waters wererunning on the streets. Cellars and pavements were flooded. Reports fromthe dam showed that it was holding back more water than at any othertime in its history. A telegraph despatch early in the afternoon gavestartling information about the cracks in the dam, but it was the oldstory of the wolf. They had heard it so often that they heard it thistime and did not care. 

The first warning that the people had of their coming doom was the roarof the advancing wave. It rushed out of the valley at four o'clock inthe afternoon with incredible swiftness. Those who saw it and are stillalive say that it seemed to be as high as an ordinary house. It carriedin its front an immense amount of battered wreckage, and over it hung acloud of what seemed to be fog, but was the dust from the buildings ithad destroyed. Straight across the river it rushed upon the apex of thetriangle. It struck the first houses and swept them away in fragments. The cries and shrieks of the frightened people began to be heard abovethe roar of the floods, and a few steps further the great wave strucksome unusually solid structure. Its force right in the centre wasalready diminished. On these houses it split and the greater part of itwent on diagonally across the triangle, deflecting somewhat toward thenorth and so on down to the stone arch bridge. 

Nothing Could Withstand the Flood. 

Wherever it went the houses tumbled down as if they were built of cards. It was not alone the great volume of water, but the immense revolvingmass of lumber it carried, that gave it an additional and terrificforce, and houses, five bridges, railroad trains, boilers and factorieswere whirling furiously about. What could stand against such aninstrument of destruction as this? It swept the triangle as clean as aboard. It tore up pavements. It dug out railroad tracks, and twistedthem into strange and fantastic shapes. It carried with it thousands ofhuman beings, crushing them against the fragments, and drove theirbodies into the thick mass of mud and sand which it carried at thebottom. It went on and on straight as an arrow, and piled masses of allit had gathered against and over the solid arches of the stone bridge. The bridge sustained the shock. How it did it engineers who have seenthe effects and the marvellous strength of the flood in other placeswonder. An immense raft of houses and lumber and trees and rubbish ofevery kind, acres in extent, collected here. 

Roasted in the Débris. 

In these houses were imprisoned people still alive, in numbers estimatedat two or three thousand, tossed about in the whirling flood which wasturned into strange eddies by the obstruction it had met. In some waynot explained a fire broke out. 

The frame structures packed in closely together were like so much tinderwood. Those who had escaped drowning died in their prisons a morehorrible death. 

While this was going on that part of the divided stream which turned tothe south continued on its way. At first its violence was undiminished, but as it went on the inclination of the land and the obstacles it metsomewhat broke its force. It swept across the triangle, inclining towardthe south, and was turned still further in that direction by the bed ofStony Creek, at the foot of the mountain which forms the western barrierof the basin in which Johnstown lies. Its course is plainly visible now, as it was two hours afterward. Where it started everything is clearedaway. 

A little further along the houses are still standing, but they are onlymasses of lumber and laths. Still further to the north they areoverturned or lying upon their sides or corners, some curiously batteredand as full of great holes as if they had been shot at with cannon. Theyare surrounded by driftwood and timbers, ground into splinters, railroadcars, ties and beams, all in a wild, untraceable jumble. 

The wave reached to the north at least a distance of a mile from thepoint where it was divided. Then it swept backward. It carried with itmany houses that had come from every part of the river. 

At the Mercy of the Waves. 

Upon them and upon flooded roofs and doors and timbers were men, womenand children crying, beseeching and praying for help. Those on the shorewho were watching this never to be forgotten spectacle saw the sufferersin the river go sweeping by, saw them come down again and still wereunable to give them the slightest assistance. The flood proceeded halfa mile or more, and then was met and reinforced by a wave startedbackward from the eddy formed at the stone arch bridge. With redoubledforce it turned once more to the south and then it went half a milefurther, toppling over the houses, wrecking some and adding some tothose which it had brought down from other places. For the second timeit spent its force and turned back, swept to the south and todestruction those who had four times been within sight of safety. Thistime the whole mass of flooded wreckage was carried down to the stonearch bridge and added to the collection there and at last to the firethat was raging. 

Hundreds Will Never Be Found. 

The blackened timber left from this fire, wedged in tightly above thebridge, is the only gorge at which workmen have labored all this weekwith dynamite and monstrous cranes. In it and below it are unnumberedhundreds of bodies. How many perished in that frightful fire will neverbe known. Only a small proportion of the bodies can ever be found. Somewere burned so that nothing but a handful of ashes remained, and thatwas swept away long ago with the torrent. Some were buried deep in thesand, and some have been carried down and hidden in sand banks andslews. Many will be destroyed by dynamite, and some will havedisappeared long before the great flood of rubbish can be removed. Ofall the horrible features of this dreadful story none is moreheartrending than the story of that fire. It began about five o'clockthat afternoon and went on all night and all the next day, andsmouldered until Monday noon. Its progress was retarded somewhat by therain and by the soaking of the material in the water, but this was onlyan added horror, for it prolonged the anguish for those imprisoned inthe great raft who plainly saw their approaching death. 

Those who saw this sight from the shore cannot speak of it now and willhardly be able to speak of it as long as they live without tears. Imagination could not picture a situation more harrowing to humanfeeling than to stand there and watch that horrible scene without beingable to rescue the prisoners or even alleviate their sufferings. 

Ruins Left to Tell the Tale. 

Just below the stone bridge are the great works of the Cambria IronCompany. They occupy the eastern bank of the stream for a distance ofhalf a mile. The flood, tearing over the bridge, descended upon theseworks and tore the southernmost end of them to pieces. The rest of thebuildings escaped, but none of the works were swept away in the torrent. An iron bridge used jointly by the public and by the iron company totransport its coal from the mines across the river was caught by thevery front of the flood and tossed away as if built of toothpicks. 

Looking from the stone arch bridge, the iron company's buildings, thelower town school house, three of the buildings which divided the flood, a church, part of a brick residence and a little cluster of brickbusiness houses, is all that can be seen above the yellow waste. Whythese buildings are left it is impossible to say. The school house, except for most of the windows being battered in and the scars and dentsdriven into it from the passing wreckage, is almost uninjured, althoughit stands directly in the centre of the flood. 

Locomotives Swimming in the Torrent. 

It is plain from the appearance of the buildings that the direction ofthe flood in many places was rotary, and the houses which still standmay have escaped between the eddies. No other explanation seemspossible, for the force of the torrent was tremendous. It carried fivelocomotives, with their tenders, several miles, and piled them upagainst the stone bridge as easily as it carried a box of clothespins. At the head of the iron company's works was a great pile of iron inpieces eight feet long and a foot and a half thick either way. The floodtoppled these over. In the half charred raft above the bridge are foundgreat boilers, masses of iron, twisted beams and girders from bridges, heavy safes, pieces of railroad track, a hundred car wheels, mixed withevery conceivable object of household use--pianos, sofas, dressingcases, crockery, trunks and their contents. 

Yet in all that mass it is impossible to find any trace of that pile ofbricks built into the business houses of the town; nor yet upon thebanks, nor in the heaps of sand which, when the flood went down, wereleft here and there, is there any trace of the material of the buildingexcept the lumber. In the opinion of experts, all this stuff must havebeen ground into powder and swept down the river. Johnstown will neverresume its former importance. A curse will hang over this beautifulvalley as long as this generation lasts. The sanitary experts who haveexamined the place say that in all probability it will be plague riddenfor years and years. 

Decomposing Bodies in the Wreck. 

The massive stone bridge of the Pennsylvania Railroad, opposite theCambria Iron Works, marks the point of demarcation between the boroughof Johnstown and that of Cambria City. The changes in the situationwhich have occurred since the eventful Friday have not been numerous. The wreckage impacted beneath the arches has been removed from three ofthem, leaving four, which are closed by masses of timber and driftmaterial. I climbed over the débris in the famous cul-de-sac and reachedthe second from the Johnstown side after half an hour's labor. Theappearance was singular. Beneath the conglomeration of timber whichfilled the cavity of the arch to a distance of twenty-five feet from thetop the waters of the Conemaugh flowed swiftly. 

There was a network of telegraph wires, iron rods and metal work ofPullman cars stretched across from stone work to stone work on eitherside. The gridiron, as it were, penetrated far down into the water, andit had proved sufficiently strong to resist the onward rush of thelighter flotsam which swept before the onrolling wave. Lodged in thisstrange pile was the body of a horse. Deep among the meshes a terriblespectacle presented itself. There were the bodies of three people--awoman, a child and a laborer with hobnailed shoes. They were beyond thereach of the workers who are clearing the wreck near to the bridge andthe latter will be unable to reach the corpses until a considerableamount of blasting with dynamite has been done. There was a faint odorof decomposition and another day will cause the vicinity of the viaductto suggest a charnel house to the olfactory senses. There are many otherbodies, no doubt, beneath the débris and prevented from floating downthe stream by the ruins. 

Cambria City Paralyzed. 

Conemaugh City was connected with the Cambria Iron Works, on theopposite side of the Conemaugh, by a temporary suspension bridge ofsteel wire. The bridge was originally for two railways--a narrow and abroad gauge--and a footway. It was swept away before the reservoirburst, according to all accounts. Cambria City, or rather a fringe ofhouses along the higher ground of the bank, the remaining portion of aonce prosperous town, is absolutely paralyzed by the stunning blow whichhas befallen it. There are but few people at work among the débris. Theclean sweep of the flood left little wreckage behind. A few sad-facedwomen wandered about and poked in the sand and among the broken stonewhich now covers the location of their former homes. The men who weresaved have returned to their work at the Cambria mills, and thesurvivors among their families are stowed in the houses which remainintact. There must have been at least one thousand lives lost fromCambria City. 

There has been no attempt to replace the bridge at "Ten Acre, " as thepoint below Cambria City is called. The banks of the Conemaugh remaincovered with débris. In many places the masses are piled twenty-fivefeet high. The people are clearing their land by burning the unwontedaccumulations. Only an occasional body is found. Most of the 200 corpseswhich have been buried at Nineveh were found in the bushes which fringethe river. All the way to Freeport the accumulation of débris may beseen. 

Kindly Care for the Helpless. 

There is to-day no lack of supplies, save at Cambria City, which hasbeen overlooked and neglected, but where the destitution is great. Thepeople there are in great want of food. Bread has given out, and ham isabout the only food to be obtained. In only one of the wrecked housesleft untouched by the flood I found from twenty to twenty-five refugees. The commissary at the Pennsylvania Railroad depot is heaped so high withstores that distribution goes on with difficulty. The Grubbtowncommissary is in the same condition. The Red Cross people got fairly towork in their supply tent to-day, and during the morning alonedistributed five hundred packages of clothing. Their hospital on thehill, back of Kernville, is in excellent order, and the patientsquartered in the village houses are comfortably situated. There havebeen no deaths at the Cambria hospital. The doctors there have cared for500 cases indoors and out. Even Grandma Teeter is doing well. She wastaken out of the wreck at the bridge on Saturday with her right armcrushed. It had to be amputated, and the old woman--she is eighty-threeyears of age--stood the operation finely. 

Miss Hinckley, of Philadelphia, is busy in Kernville making known theplans of the Children's Aid Society. She does an immense amount ofrunning about and visiting houses. Many children made orphans by theflood are now being cared for. There are a hundred or more of them; justhow many no one knows. 

"I have great difficulty, " said Miss Hinckley to me to-day, "to persuadethe people who have taken children to care for that our society can betrusted to take charge of what will surely be a burden to them. All mywork now is to inspire confidence. We have received hundreds of lettersfrom people anxious to adopt children. They are ready now in the firstflush of sympathy, but I am afraid that they will not be willing to takethe children when we are ready to place them. "

Many Dead Still in the Ruins. 

The ruins still shelter a ghastly load of dead. Every hour at least onenew body is uncovered and borne on a rough stretcher to some one of themany morgues. The sight loses none of its sadness and pathos by itscommonness; only the horror is gone, giving place to apathy and stupor. Stalwart men, in mud-stained, working clothes, bring up the body, theface covered with a cloth. The crowds part and gaze at the burned corpseas it passes. At the morgue it is examined for identification, washedand prepared for burial. Not more than half of these recovered now areidentified. 

The vast majority fill nameless but numbered graves, and thedescriptions are much too indefinite to hope for identification afterburial. What can you expect from a description like this, picked out atrandom: "Woman, five feet four inches tall, long hair?" The body ofEugene Hannon, twenty-two, found yesterday near the First PresbyterianChurch, was identified to-day by his father. He was a member of theLeague of American Wheelmen, and his bicycle was found within a fewyards of his body. The father will lay the wrecked bicycle on the coffinof his son. 

Just now a woman, still young and poorly dressed, went by the shed whereI am writing, sobbing most pitifully. She lost her husband and childrenin the flood and is on the verge of insanity. 

Finding Solace in Work. 

The day opened with heavy rain and an early morning thunder storm. Thehillside streams were filled to the banks and everything was dripping. The air was chilly and damp, and daylight was slow in coming to thisvalley of desolation and death. At an early hour the valley, where somany have gone to rest, presented a most dismal scene. It looked, indeed, like the valley of the dead. Nothing was moving, and allremained within the meagre shelter offered them till the day had fairlybegun. As the day advanced, the tented hills began to show signs oflife, smoke arose from many a camp fire, and on every eminencesurrounding this valley of desolation could be seen the guards movingamong the tented villages. 

The weather was most unpleasant for any one to be outdoors, but itapparently had no effect on the people here, for as soon as the earlybreakfast was over the thousands of workmen could be seen going to theirwork, and soon the whole valley that in the early morning hours wasasleep was a teeming throng of life and activity. While the rain was farfrom pleasant to the workers and many helpers, it was certainlyprovidential that the cool weather is continuing in order to prevent themuch-dreaded decomposition of the hundreds of human bodies yetunrecovered and the thousands of animals that perished in the flood. Theair this morning, while tainted to some extent with the fumes arisingfrom the decaying bodies, was not near so bad as it would have been hadthe morning been hot and sultry. 

Working on the Stone Bridge Débris. 

By seven o'clock the whole valley was full of people and the scene was amost animated one. The various sections of the flooded territory werefull of men busy in searching for the dead, removing and burning thedébris. At eight o'clock this morning five bodies had been taken fromthe mass at the stone bridge. A large force of men have been working allday on this part of the wreck, but so great is the quantity of wreckageto be gone over and removed that while much work is done very slowprogress is being made. The continued falling of the river renders theremoval of the débris every day more arduous, and where a few days agothe timbers when loosened would float away, now they have to be moved byhand, making the work very slow. 

A most welcome arrival this morning was Dr. B. Bullen of disinfectantfame. He brought with him fifty barrels more of his disinfectant. Thedoctor will take charge of the disinfecting of the dangerous sections ofthe flooded district and notably at the stone bridge. Twenty-fivebarrels have already been used with most favorable results. Dr. Bullenwas a former resident of Johnstown and lost thirty relatives in theflood, among them three brothers-in-law, three uncles and two aunts. 

Clearing the Cambria Iron Works. 

The Cambria Iron Company's Works presented a busy scene to-day. At leastnine hundred men are at work, and most rapid progress is being made inclearing away the wreck. It is said that the works will start up inabout three weeks. 

There is little change in the situation. Every one is working with theone end in view, to clear away the wreckage and give the people ofJohnstown a chance to rebuild. The laborers working at the Cambria IronWorks and on the Pennsylvania Railroad seem to be making rapid progress. This is no doubt for the reason that these men are more used to thiskind of work. About ten o'clock the rain was over and the sun came outwith its fierce June heat. 

A number of charges of dynamite were fired during the day, and each timewith good effect. The channels through to the bridge are almost clear ofdébris, and each charge of dynamite has loosened large quantities of thewreckage. 

This is the eighth day since the demon of destruction swept down thevalley of the Conemaugh, but the desolation that marks its angry flightis still visible in all its intensity and horror. The days that havebeen spent by weary toilers whose efforts were steeled by grief havedone little to repair the devastation wrought in one short hour by thepotent fury of the elements. To the watchers on the mountain side allseems yet chaos and confusion. The thousand fires that spot the valleyshow that the torch is being used to complete the work of annihilationwhere repair is impossible and the smoke curls upward. It reminds one ofthe peace offerings of ancient Babylon. 

Uncle Sam's Men on Hand. 

The corps of government engineers that arrived last night has alreadydemonstrated the valuable assistance which it is capable of rendering inthese times of emergency. With but a few hours rest, those men were upere sunrise this morning, and by eight o'clock a pontoon bridge had beenstretched across the river at Kernville. Acting in conjunction with thePennsylvania military authorities they are pursuing their labors atvarious other points, and by sundown it is confidently expected thatpontoon bridges will be erected at all places where the necessities oftraffic demand. It is the fact, probably not generally known, that thegreat government of the United States owns only 500 feet of pontoonbridges, and that these are the same that were used by the federalforces in the civil war, twenty-five years ago. The bridges that are tobe used at Johnstown were brought from West Point and Willet's Point, where they have been for years used in the ordinary course ofinstruction in the military and engineer corps. 

Secret Society Relief. 

The following official announcements have been made:

A Masonic relief committee has been organized and solicits aid fordistressed Freemasons and their families. 

WILLIAM A. DONALDSON, Chairman. 

OFFICE OF SUPREME COMMANDER, KNIGHTS OF THE MYSTIC CHAIN, WILMINGTON, DEL. , June 8, 1889. --In view of the great calamity that has befallen ourbrothers at Johnstown, Pa. , and vicinity, I, H. G. Rettes, SupremeCommander, request that wherever the Order of the Knights of the MysticChain exists there be liberal donations made for our afflicted brothers. 

Affairs at the tremendous stone bridge wreckage pile seem to haveresolved themselves into a state of almost hopelessness. It is amazingthe routine into which everything has fallen in this particular place. Every morning at seven o'clock a score of Lilliputs come mechanicallyfrom huts and tents or the bare hillside, and wearily and weakly go towork clearing away this mass, and at the rate they are now proceeding itwill actually be months before the débris is cleared away and the lastbody found. Fortunately the wind is blowing away from us or we wouldhave olfactory evidence that what is not found is far worse than whathas been exposed. 

Then it may be good business and good policy to have these few workersfool around the edge of the wreckage for five or ten minutes adjusting adynamite blast, then hastily scramble away and consume as much more timebefore a tremendous roar announces the ugly work is done, but theonlookers doubt it. Sometimes, when an extra large shot is used, thewater, bits of wood and iron, and other shapes more fearfullysuggestive, fly directly upward in a solid column at least three hundredfeet high, only to fall back again in almost the same spot, to be tuggedand pulled at or coaxed to float down an unwilling current that isfalling so rapidly now that even this poor mode of egress will soon beshut entirely off. 

The fact of the matter is simply this: They are not attempting torecover bodies at the bridge, but as one blast tears yards of stuff intoflinders it is shoved indifferently into the water, be it human orbrute, stone, wood or iron, to float down toward Pittsburgh or to sinkto the bottom, may be a few yards from where it was pushed off from themain pile. 

Up in the centre of the town the débris is piled even higher than at thestone bridge, but the work is going on fairly well. The men seem to beworking more together and enter into the spirit of the thing. Besidesthis, horses and wagons can get at the wrecks, and it really looks as ifthis part of the ruins has been exaggerated, and some of the forementhere say that at the present rate of work going on through the town allthe bodies that ever will be recovered will be found within the next tendays. As to the condition these bodies are in, that has become almost amatter of indifference, except as to the effect upon the health of theliving. 

Compared with other Calamities. 

An eye-witness writes as follows:

The scene is one that cannot be described in outline--it must be told indetail to become intelligible. Never before in this country, at least, was there a disaster so stupendous, so overwhelming, so terrible in itsfierce and unheralded onset and so sorrowful in its death-dealing work. I traversed the Mill River Valley the day after the bursting of the MillRiver dam. I went over Wallingford, in Connecticut, a few hours afterthat terrible cyclone had swept through the beautiful New Englandvillage. I stood on the broken walls of the Brooklyn Theatre and lookeddown upon hecatombs of dead sacrificed in that holocaust to Momus. Eachof these was in itself a terrible calamity, but here is not only whatwas most terrible in all these, but every horrifying feature of the MillRiver flood, the Wallingford cyclone and the Brooklyn Theatre fire ishere magnified tenfold, nay, a hundred fold. And what is even moreterrible than the scenes of devastation, the piles of dead that havebeen unearthed from the ruins and the mangled human bodies that stillremain buried in the débris, is the simple but startling fact that thisdisaster ought not to have happened. 

The flood was not due to the rains. This calamity is not the work of theunprovoked fury of the angry elements. This fair town and the populousvalley above it, all the varied industries of this thriving city, allthese precious lives are a sacrifice to the selfishness of a few menwhose purses were bigger than their hearts. There would have been noflood if these rich men had not built an artificial pond in which tocatch fish. 

The now famous dam was only a mud bank. For years it was a constantmenace to Johnstown and the Conemaugh Valley. It has long been only aquestion of time when the calamity that has befallen these people shouldbefall them. It came at last because the arrogance of the purse and thepleasure-seeking selfishness of wealth were blind to the safety of apopulous community. 

The cause of the Johnstown disaster was wholly due to the South ForkFishing and Hunting Club. This club was specially chartered by theLegislature, and notwithstanding there was some opposition at the time, it was accorded the privilege of making an artificial lake and fish pondby means of an embankment. The site chosen was the old dam on South ForkCreek, about two miles above the village of South Fork, on the Conemaughriver. This dam was built by the Pennsylvania Canal in 1830 as a feederto the canal below Johnstown. When the canal was finally abandoned, after passing into the hands of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, thedam was sold to a private buyer for the very reasonable sum of $700. Byhim it was afterwards conveyed to the Fishing and Hunting Club for$1, 400. This was about twenty years ago. The club spent $22, 000 inrebuilding the dam and erected a beautiful club house on the west bankof the artificial lake. Beside the club house there are from twelve tofifteen cottages, the summer residences of members of the club, allbuilt since the acquisition of the property twenty years ago. Ten ofthese cottages are visible from the embankment where the break occurred. It was a beautiful spot before the disaster, but this artificial lake inits placid beauty was a menace to the lives and property of the peoplein the Conemaugh Valley from its completion to its destruction. 

The South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club was a very aristocratic andexclusive organization. Not even Tuxedo puts on more airs. It wascomposed of about seventy members, a baker's dozen of them Pittsburghmillionaires. 

These wealthy gentlemen and their associates never so much as recognizedthe existence of the common clay of South Fork, except to warn allintruders to keep off the land and water of the South Fork Fishing andHunting Club. Their placards still stare sight-seers in the face. One ofthese reads:

 PRIVATE PROPERTY. 

 ALL TRESPASSERS FOUND HUNTING OR FISHING ON THESE GROUNDS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW. 

Another is as follows:

 PRIVATE PROPERTY. 

 NO FISHING OR HUNTING ON THESE PREMISES, UNDER PENALTY OF THE LAW, $100. SOUTH FORK HUNTING AND FISHING CLUB. 

Only an Earthwork. 

Strenuously as the club insisted upon exacting the full penalties andextent of the law for encroachments upon its privileges, it was quiteheedless of the rights of others. There probably never was in the worlda case of such blind fatuity as that of the South Fork Fishing andHunting Club in building and maintaining its dam. From the first it musthave been known to every member of the club, as it certainly was toevery resident of the South Fork and Conemaugh Valleys, that if thewater ever began to run over the breast of the dam the dam itself wouldgive way. The dam was only a clay embankment. There was no masonrywhatever--at least there is none visible in the break. The bottom was ofbrushwood and earth--some people in the South Fork valley say hay andsand. In consequence, the people below the dam who knew how it was builthave always regarded it as a menace to their safety. Indeed, one manemployed in its construction was discharged by the club or itscontractor for protesting against the dam as insecure. His crimeconsisted in declaring that an embankment made in that way could notresist the force of an overflow. He was telling the simple truth, whichwas clear to every one except men disposed to take chances. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A Walk Through the Valley of Death. 

In the following graphic narrative one of the eye-witnesses of thefearful ruin and slaughter represents himself as a guide, and if thereader will consider himself as the party whom the guide is conducting, a vivid impression of the scene of the great destruction may beobtained. 

"Hello, where on earth did you come from? And what are you doing here, anyhow? Oh! you just dropped in to see the sights, eh? Well, there areplenty of them and you won't see the like of them again if you live acentury. What's that? You have been wandering around and got tangled upin the ruins and don't know where you are? Well, that's not strange. Ihave been lost myself a dozen times. It's a wonder you haven't gotroasted by some of those huge bonfires. But here, you come with me. Letme be your guide for the afternoon and I'll put you in the way of seeingwhat is left of Johnstown. 

"First, let's climb up this bluff just before us and we shall have afirst-rate view of things. Skip across this little temporary bridge overthis babbling brook and now--climb! Whew! that takes your breath, doesn't it? But it is worth the trouble. Now you see we are standing onan embankment perhaps thirty feet high. We are in the midst, too, of alot of tents. It is here that the soldier boys are encamped. Off to oneside you see the freight depot of the Pennsylvania Railroad and thetracks, you notice, run along on the top of this embankment. It is inthat freight depot that Adjutant General Hastings has his headquarters. We will walk over there presently, but first let's take a look at oursurroundings. 

Prospect Hill. 

"You notice, I suppose, that this flat spreading out before us at thebottom of the embankment is inclosed on all sides by mountains. They areshaped something like a triangle and we are standing at the base. Here, let me make a rough sketch of it on the back of this envelope. It willhelp us out a little. There! That figure 1 is the freight depot, nearwhich we are standing. Towering up above us are houses and up there acanvas city for refugees. There is a temporary hospital there, too, anda graveyard, where many a poor victim of the flood lies. The backgroundis a high hill. The people here call it Prospect Hill. The flood!Gracious! what a view the people up the hill must have had of it as itwhirled, and eddied, and roared and rushed through the town, for thisgreat flat before us was where the main portion of Johnstown stood. 

[Illustration]

"You notice that there are gaps in the mountain chains which form thesides of the triangle. Through the gap at our left comes the ConemaughRiver, flowing from the mountain on its way westward. River, did I say?I don't wonder you smile. It doesn't look much like a river--that littlebubbling stream. Can you imagine it swelling into a mighty sea, thatpuny thing, that is smiling in its glee over the awful havoc it hascreated? Now you are beginning to understand how it is that Johnstownproper lies within the forks of two streams. The Conemaugh runs by us atour feet to the right. See, there is a wrecked and overturned car downthere. If thrown across the stream it would almost bridge it. That isStony Creek on the other side of the flat, running down through thatgap which forms the apex of the triangle. It skirts the mountains on theright and the two streams meet. You can't see the meeting point fromhere, for our embankment curves, but they do meet around that curve, andthen the united rivers flow under the now famous stone bridge, which wasbuilt to carry this railroad across the stream. Oh! yes, we will go downthere, for that bridge formed the gorge which proved so destructive. 

Savage Fury. 

"I would like to take you away up to the dam if we had time and pointout the destruction all along down the valley until the flood rushedthrough that gap to the left and then spread over Johnstown. But it istoo late in the day for that, and the walk is a most tiresome one, soyou will have to take my word for it. Of course, you have read that thedam was constructed in a most outrageous manner. Well, that is true. Itis a wonder the valley wasn't swept long ago. No, the loss of lifewasn't great in the upper part of the valley because the people took thewarning which the Johnstonians refused and mostly escaped. The littletown of South Fork was badly shattered and Mineral Point was swept away. 

"But the real fury of the flood is seen in its marks on the soil. Gracious! how it leveled forests, swept away bowlders, cut out newchannels and destroyed everything in its path. I cannot begin to giveyou even an idea of the wonderful power of that flood. At EastConemaugh not a vestige of the place was left. Where once stood a row ofhouses the river now runs, and the former river-bed is now filled withdirt and stones. It was in this vicinity, you know, where so manyengines and cars were wrecked--smashed, twisted, broken and scatteredalong the valley for half a mile. It was here, too, where the passengersin the two trains met such a thrilling experience, and where so many ofthem were killed. The body of one of the passengers, Miss Bryan, ofGermantown, was found away down here in Johnstown. 

"It took but a few minutes for the flood to rush down upon Woodvale andsweep it out of existence, and then it made a mad break through that gapover there on the extreme left. The houses which you see on the hillsideover there--figure 6--belong to Conemaugh borough, a different placefrom East Conemaugh, you understand. The borough also extended down overthe flat. By the way, there is something very funny about all theseseparate boroughs. Most all of them are naturally parts ofJohnstown--such as Conemaugh, Kernville, Cambria City, Prospect and thelike, but there have been so many petty jealousies that they haverefused to unite. But that is neither here nor there now, for in thecommon calamity they are one. 

Laughing at Danger. 

"Now you would have thought that the people on the Johnstown flat wouldhave got out of the way when warned of danger, wouldn't you? But theysimply laughed. You must remember that a good portion of the place wasflooded long before the dam broke. The rise of the two rivers did that. The water ran from two to five or six feet high in some of the houses. But, bless you, that was nothing. The place had been flooded so manytimes and escaped that everybody actually howled down all suggestions ofdanger. Telegrams had been coming into town all the afternoon and theywere received by Miss Ogle, the brave lady operator, who stuck to herpost to the last, but they might as well never have been sent for allthe good they did. 

"Well, now with Johnstown spread out before you you can readilyunderstand what happened when the flood burst through the gap. There wasno time to run then. No time to pray, even. You notice the river makes asharp curve, and naturally enough the impetus of the water spread itover a wide territory. The Conemaugh houses on the flat went down likeso many pasteboard houses. A portion of the flood followed the streamand the other portion went tearing along the line of the hills whichform the left side of the triangle. 

Wiped Out of Existence. 

"Now look away over to the left and then away over to the hills on theright, and what do you see? That distance is how great? Two miles, doyou say? Yes, fully that and probably more. Well, now for two or threesquares inland from this stream at our feet there is nothing but abarren waste of sand--looks like a desert, doesn't it? Can you imaginethat all that immense strip was covered with stores, business houses anddwellings? Where are they now? Why, just look at that circular hole justbeneath us on the other side of the stream. That was the gas works once. The great iron receiver, or whatever you call it, went rolling, dashing, crashing away before the flood, and not a vestige of it has been foundyet. Can you ask, then, what became of the houses? Simply wiped out ofexistence. 

"There! I put down the figure 2 on the map. It is a brick building, asyou see, but there is a big hole knocked in it. That is the B. And O. Depot. Figure 3--Two more brick buildings with one end completely gone. These are the Cambria Iron Company's offices and the company's stores. What else can you see? Just around the curve where I mark down figure 4is another brick building--the Millvale school-house. It is out of rangefrom this point, but you shall see it by and by. These buildings areactually the only ones left standing in all that desert of sand, acovering four or five feet deep left by the flood and hiding whatever isunderneath as effectually as the ashes of Mt. Vesuvius blotted outPompeii. There may be a thousand bodies under that sand for all thatanybody knows. Just ahead of us in the great area roughly shown by thisfigure 5 lie the tents of the workmen engaged in putting Johnstown inorder. Now, if you draw a line from the Conemaugh hills right down backof the B. And O. Depot through the camp of the workmen, and thence toStony Creek, the only buildings you will find standing between us andthat imaginary line are these I have already marked with figures as 2, 3and 4 on the map. Did you ever see anything so destructive in your life?

A Famous Morgue. 

"You say you see a good many buildings in what appears to be the centreof the town. So you do, but just wait until you stroll among them. Thereare many there, it is true, but after all, how many are good foranything? Oh! the water has been doing a tremendous amount of damage. Why, over there, up to the very foot of the hills--I will mark the spotNo. 7--behind the buildings which you see, it has simply torn things upby the roots. That is the Fourth Ward, and the ruins are full of thedead, and the Fourth Ward Morgue has had more bodies in it than any ofthe others. 

"You remember that I told you that one current swept over that way. Itcaught up houses and they began to drift all over the place, crashinginto each other and grinding people between the timbers. All this timethe houses down here by the Conemaugh had been floating toward thebridge. Logs, boards, lumber and houses from the banks of Stony Creekhad been coming down, too, and thus formed that tremendous jam above thestone bridge, which actually turned the current of the creek back uponitself. Some of the houses from the centre of the city and from theFourth ward got into Stony Creek and actually went up the stream. Othersfloated all over town in circles and finally, having reached theConemaugh, got caught in the jam at last and were destroyed by the firewhich broke out there. After a time, too, the pressure at the bridgebecame so tremendous that the river burst a new channel for itself andthen many houses came down again. 

[Illustration: SELLING DAMAGED GOODS. ]

"But I am anticipating. Let us walk down to the bridge--it is notfar--for the bridge is the key to the situation. We must pass thefreight depot, for we follow the track. You see it is a busy place. Youknow we have had a change of administration here, and Adjutant GeneralHastings is in command. We are all heartily glad of it, too, for theworst kind of red tapeism prevailed under the Pittsburgh regime. 

"And then the deputies--a lot of brutes appointed by the Sheriff. Whatan ignorant set they were. Most of them couldn't even read. They werethe only toughs in town. They had captured all the tomato cans left overfrom the great flood which the Bible tells about and had cut out tinstars to decorate themselves with. Anybody who could find a piece of tincould be a deputy. And how they did bulldoze. 

"But all this is changed now. The deputies--we called them the tinpolicemen--have been bounced and the place is now guarded by thesoldiers. Business has taken the place of red tape, and General Hastingshas turned the freight depot into offices for his various departments, for a system has been established which will reach all the victims, buryall the dead, discover all the living and clean up the town. There isnow a central bureau, into which reports are turned, and the oldhaphazard way of doing things has been swept as clean as the sand beforeus. There is General Hastings' horse standing at the steps, for thegeneral is in the saddle most of the time, here, there, everywhere, directing and ordering. 

"Dinner! hello, dinner is ready. Now you will see how the officers atheadquarters live. You see, the table has been spread on the platformfacing the railroad tracks. Ah! there is Hastings himself--white slouchhat, white shirt, blue flannel trousers, and boots. He looks every incha soldier, doesn't he? There! he is beckoning to us. What do you supposehe wants. Oh! he wants us to dine with him. Shall we? It will be plainfare, but as good as can be found. A dudish society reporter fromPhiladelphia dropped into town the other morning. He met a brotherreporter from the same paper. 

"'Oh!' he groaned. 'Where can I find a restaurant?'

"'Restaurant!' shrieked the other. 'Where do you think we are?Restaurant! You come with me and I'll try to steal you a ham sandwich, and you'll be mighty lucky to get that. '

"'Oh! but I am so hungry. Can you direct me to the nearest hack stand?'

"The brother reporter turned and fled in dismay, and the society manhasn't been seen around here since. But it illustrates the time the boyshave been having getting anything to eat. So we had better accept thegeneral's invitation. What have we here? Oh! this is fine. You don'tmind tin plates and spoons and coffee cups, of course, especially as wehave ham and potatoes, bread and coffee for dinner. That's a right goodmeal; but I tell you I have eaten enough ham to last me for a year, andwhen I get out of Johnstown and get back to Philadelphia I am going tomake a break for the Bellevue and eat. And there won't be any ham inthat dinner, you can bet. 

A Renowned Building. 

"Now, have you had enough? Then we will continue our walk along thetracks to the bridge. First we pass the Pennsylvania Railroad passengerstation. What a busy place it is! The tracks are filled with freightcars packed with supplies, and the platform is filled with men and womenready to take them. In this station a temporary morgue was established. It has been moved now to the school-house, No. 4, you know, on the map. Now, as we round the curve you see it. That is the famous building thatsaved so many lives--the only one left in the great barren waste ofsand. You know the water formed an eddy about it, and thus, as houseafter house floated and circled about it men and women would clutch theroof and climb upon it. The water reached half way to the ceiling on thesecond floor on a dead level. 

"Now you can see where the two rivers come together. What a jam thatwas. It extended from the fork down to the bridge--No. 10. When theflames began to demolish it the pile towered far above the bridge. Nowit is level with the water, but so thickly is it packed that the riverruns beneath it. Let us stand here on the railroad embankment at theapproach to the bridge, and watch the workmen. You notice how high theapproaches are on either side, and you can readily understand how thesehigh banks caught the drift. The stone arches of the bridge are low, you perceive. When the flood was at its height houses were actuallyswept over the bridge. From the débris left in the river and on thesides you can imagine what an immense dam it was that was formed, andjust how it happened that the rivers turned back on themselves. I met awoman up Stony Creek early this morning. She was laughing over theadventure she and her children had. They floated down the creek to thebridge and then floated back again, and were finally rescued in boats. Iasked her how she could joke about it. 

"'Oh!' she said, 'I am never bothered about anything. I was as cool thenas I am now, and rather enjoyed it. '

"But she wasn't very cool. She was bordering on the hysterical. She andher children are now living with friends, for their house was completelywrecked. 

A Telegraph Office. 

"A good many people had experiences similar to hers before the riverbroke through the railroad embankment just above the bridge here andswept tracks and everything else down upon the Cambria Iron Works. Therethey are, just behind us. I will mark them on the map--No. 11. Then theflow rushed through Cambria City, just below. That place is in ahorrible condition--houses wrecked and streets full of débris. But thereis no necessity of going there. You can see all the horrors you wantright here. 

"Look across the bridge, up the hill a little way. Do you see that old, tumble-down coal shed? It is where the Western Union established itsoffice, and in that neighborhood most of the reporters have beenliving--sleeping in brick-kilns, hay lofts, tents, anywhere in fact. What a nice time they have had of it. They have suffered as much as theflood victims. 

"Phew! What a stench. It comes from the débris in the river. It is fullof the dead bodies of horses, dogs; yes, and of human beings. We hearstories occasionally of women being taken from that mass alive. They arefalse, of course, but there was one instance that is authentic. A womanwas found one week after the flood still breathing. She had been caughtin some miraculous way. She was taken to Pittsburgh, where she died. Iwas kicking about over the débris a day or two ago, and heard a catmewing under the débris somewhere. I know half a dozen people who haverescued kittens and are caring for them tenderly. A flood cat willcommand a premium before long, I have no doubt. 

"Ha! What's that? Yes, it is a body. The sight is so common now thatpeople pay no attention to it. We have been living in the midst of somuch death, of so many scenes of a similar character, that I suppose thesensibilities have become hardened to them. There, they are placing thebody on a window shutter and are carrying it up to the school-house. Itwill be laid on a board placed over the tops of the children's desks. You will notice coffins piled up all about the school-house. Of course, the body is awfully disfigured and cannot be identified. The clothingwill be described and the body hurried away to its nameless grave. 

Fragment of a Bible. 

"Have you enough? Then let us walk back toward headquarters and go downupon the flat into the centre of the town. What is that you have there?A piece of a Bible? Yes, you will find lots of leaves lying around. There is a story--I don't know how true it is--that many people havethrown their Bibles away since the flood, declaring that their belief, after the horrors they have witnessed, is at an end. I can hardly creditthis. But there is one curious thing that is certain, and everybody hasnoticed it. Books and Bibles have been found in the rubbish all over thetown, and in a great many instances they are open at some passagecalling attention to flood and disaster. I have found these myself adozen times. It is a remarkable coincidence, to say the least. 

"Some people may find a warning in all this. I don't pretend to say, butas we walk along here let me tell you of a conversation I had with a manwho was worth nearly $20, 000 before the flood. He has lost every cent, and is glad enough to get his daily meals from the supplies sent here. 

"'I don't know what to think of Johnstown, ' he said. 'We have beencalled a wicked place. Perhaps all this is a judgment. Just when we havebeen most prosperous some calamity has come upon us. We were never moreprosperous than when this flood overwhelmed us. '

"Well here we are back at General Hastings' headquarters. Now we willgo down the embankment, cross the river and plunge ahead into town. 

"Over this loose sand we will trudge and strike in by the Baltimore andOhio depot. Now we are in the camp of the workingmen. Here are thestalls for the horses, too. The men, you see, live in tents. There arenot as many of them as there will be; probably not over fifteen hundredto-day, but there will be twice that to-morrow, and five thousand menwill be employed here steadily for a long time to come. Now let us jumpright into Main street. It is the worst one in town. Just see! There isthe post-office, looking as if it never would be able to pull itself outof the wreck. Across the street is the bank, with the soldiers guardingit. There, just ahead, you see a tall brick building lifting its headout of the midst of a pile of ruins. There is where many people weresaved. The current carried scores of men, women and children past it, and those who had strength deserted their rafts and wrecks of houses andcrawled into its windows. 

"Now our progress is blocked. That immense pile of wreckage is by nomeans as high as it was; but you don't want to crawl over it yet. Phew!Let's get out of this. How those piles of rubbish do smell. You know theBoard of Health says there is nothing the matter with Johnstown, but ifthe Board of Health would only take the trouble to nose about a bit itmight learn a thing or two. You notice there have been grocery storesand markets around here, and you notice, too, the pile of decayingvegetable matter from them. These are worse than the dead bodies. 

Horrible Scenes. 

"Are there bodies under these ruins? Lots of them. There! what do yousee this minute? Those workmen have discovered one in the ruins of theMerchants' Hotel. Poor fellow. He was pinned by falling walls, probably. A man was found there the other day with his pockets full of money. Hehad tried to save his fortune and lost his life. Near by a man was foundalive after an experience of a week in the débris. He called for water, but never drank it. His tongue was too stiff, and he had not strength tomove a muscle. He died almost as soon as he was found. 

"Well, did you ever see such a mass of wreckage? It doesn't look as ifthere were twenty houses fit to live in all over this flat. But a goodmany will be patched up after a fashion, no doubt. And this is only onestreet out of several in the same condition. 

"Hello! Those workmen are digging out of a cellar some barrels ofwhisky. That liquor will be guarded, for the old policemen and the 'tin'deputies have been having high old times with the liquor they haveunearthed. There were formerly forty-five saloons in this town. Do youknow how many there are left? Three. That's all. One saloon-keeper found$1, 700 in the ruins of his place. 

"Gracious! There is a freight car. It was caught up half a mile or moreaway and dumped down in this street. And there is a piano sticking out. Hello! What have you found there? Oh, a looking glass. Yes, you findplenty of them in the rubbish almost as good as new. A friend of minepulled out a glass pitcher and two goblets from that terrible mass atthe bridge, and there wasn't a crack upon them. Queer, isn't it? But soit goes. Fragile things are not injured and stoves and iron are twistedand broken. The vagaries of this flood are many. 

'I Thought You Were Dead. '

"Turn this corner. Now, will you look at that? There is a house with theback all knocked out. The furniture has disappeared, but on the wall yousee a picture hanging, and as I am alive it is a picture of a flood. What did I tell you a little while ago? Here is a house with its wallsnearly intact. Next it is nothing but a heap of rubbish. Here is nothingbut a cellar full of débris. Next it is a wooden dwelling. A man sits onthe piazza with his clothing hung about him for an airing. And so itgoes right here in the neighborhood of the main street, but if we pullout a bit from this place we shall see that the damage is a great dealgreater. Through this break you can see the Presbyterian church. It isabout ruined, but it still stands. If you go up stairs, what do youthink you will see in that cold, dark, damp room? Stretched upon thetops of the pews are long boards, and stretched upon the boards arecorpses. They have been embalmed, and are awaiting identification. Butwe won't go in there. All the morgues are alike, and we shall findanother before long. 

"Hark! There are two women greeting each other. Let's hear what theysay. 

"'Why, Eliza, I thought you were dead. How's all the folks? Are they allsaved?'

"'Yes; they are all saved--all but sister and her little girl. '

"Well, that was cool, wasn't it? But you hear that on every corner. As Itold you, in the presence of so much death the sensibilities areblunted. People do not yet realize their great grief. 

"There, we are safely by the main street with its dangers of pestilence, for you noticed that it was reeking with filth and bad smells, andsafely by the falling walls, for the workmen are tearing down everythingshaky. Look out, there, or you will get scorched by that huge bonfire. They are burning all over town. Everything that the men can lift isdragged to these fires and burned. This is the plan for clearing thetown. You noticed it at the bridge and you notice it here. Men with axesand saws are cutting timbers too big to be moved, and men with ropes andhorses and even stationary engines are pressed into service to tug atthe ruins. Slowly the débris is yielding to the flames. 

An Awful Sepulchre. 

"Ha! now we are getting over by the hills into what is known as theFourth Ward. Here it is on our map--No. 7. What a sight! Most of thebodies are taken from the ruins here. As far as you can see there isnothing but wreckage--yes, wreckage, from which the foulest odors arecontinually rising and in the midst of which countless big fires areburning. Are you not almost discouraged at the idea of clearing so manyacres up? Well, it does look like an endless task. 

"There, you see that brick building? It is called the Fourth Ward SchoolHouse. Do you want to go in? Piled up at one side are coffins--littlecoffins, medium sized coffins, large coffins--coffins for children, women and men. Oh! what a gloomy, horrible place. Stretched on theseboards in this dismal room--what do you see? Corpses dragged from theriver and from the débris. See how distorted and swollen are the faces. They are beyond recognition. Some have great bruises. Some are coveredwith blood. Some are black. Turn your head away. Such a sight you neversaw before and pray God that you may never see it again. Nearly 250bodies have been handled in this school house. Outside once more for abreath of air! Oh! the delightful change. But you are not yet away fromthe horrors. There is a tent in the school yard. What do you see? Morecoffins. Yes, and each one has a victim. Each is ready for shipment orburial. 

20, 000 to be Fed. 

"Let's hurry along. Here on this corner is the temporary post-office. Over there is a supply station. There are eleven such departments nowunder the new management, and people are given not only provisions butclothing. You ought to see the women coming down from the hills in themorning for the supplies. Think of it! There are at least twentythousand people in the flooded district to be fed for many weeks tocome. You know there has been some comment because in the past all themoney has not been used for food. I think it is a mistake. Where ischarity to cease? In my opinion, the thing to do is to clean this townup, and give the business men and mills a chance to start up again. Whenthis is done people can earn their own living, and charity ceases. I ambacked up in this statement by Irwin Hurrell, who is a burgess ofJohnstown, and knows everybody. Let me read you something from my notebook that he said to me:

"'The people up in the hills have never had a better time. They won'twork. They go around and get all the clothing they can and fill theirhouses with provisions. '

Thieves and Idlers. 

"The burgess speaks the exact truth. Some of these houses are packedwith flour and potatoes. The Hungarians and colored men and the 'tin'deputies, now out of a job, have been the real thieves. They pulledtrunks from the river, cut the locks and rifled them. There have been noprofessional thieves here. The thieves live here. Most of therespectable people were swept away by the flood, but nearly all the'toughs' were left. Now if I had my way I would make the survivorswork. Some one said the other day: 'Why talk of sufferers? there are nosufferers. They are all dead. ' This is true in a great measure. It isnot charity to keep in idleness people who have lost nothing and won'twork. I'd hunt them out and put them at it. 

"Well, we will pass this supply depot, strike the Baltimore and Ohiotrack, and go up Stony Creek a bit. Notice the long lines of freightcars loaded with supplies. On our right runs the little river. On ourleft is Ward 7. I will note it as No. 8 on the map. You see there is alittle stretch of plateau and then the ground rises rapidly. See whatravages the flood made on the plateau. The houses are wrecked and filledwith mud. The local name of this place is Hornertown. One man here had$60, 000 in his house. It was wrecked. He dug away at the ruins and found$20, 000. If we followed the stream up a mile or so we would come to theStonyvale Cemetery. It is covered with logs and wrecks of houses. It wasin one of these houses that the body of a woman was found last Saturday. She was sitting at a table. The house had floated here on the back waterfrom down the river. 

Red Cross Tents. 

"There, I guess we have walked far enough. Here are the tents of the RedCross Society, and by the side of them are those of the United Statesengineers. The engineers have thrown a pontoon bridge over the river, you see, to a place called Kernville. Here you are, No. 9 on our littlemap. Let us cross. By George! there is an old man on the bridge I haveseen before. He lost his wife and two children in the flood, but heisn't crying for them. What bothers him most is the loss of a clock, butin the clock was $1, 600. 

"You see there is nothing new in Kernville. It is the same old story. Many lives have been lost here and the wreckage is something awful. Thehouses that remain are filled with mud and the ceilings still drip withwater. People seem to have lost their senses. They are apparentlyparalyzed by their troubles. They sit around waiting for some one tocome and clear the wreckage away. 

"Well, it is a terrible sight and we will hurry through the place andcross to Johnstown flat, over another pontoon bridge further down. Itbrings us out, as you see, near the main street again. Hello! there is aman; there is his name on the sign--Kramer, isn't it? who is getting hisgrocery store open, the first in town. He was flooded, but carried someof his goods to an upper floor and saved them. Lucky Kramer! Here is aman selling photographs on the porch of a doctor's office. Dr. Brinkey. Oh, yes, he was drowned. His body was found last Monday. 

"Well, we'll hurry by and get up to headquarters once more. It is 6o'clock. See, the workmen are knocking off and are going to the river towash up. Now, out comes the baseball, for recreation always follows workhere. 

"Once more on the platform of the freight station. Dusk settles downover the valley. An engine near by begins to throb and electric lightsspring up here and there. All over the town the flames of the greatbonfires leap out of the gloom. From the camps of the workmen comeribald songs and jests, The presence of death has no effect on theliving. 

"The songs gradually die away and the singers drop off into a deepsleep. The town becomes as silent as the graveyards which have beenfilled with its victims. Not a sound is heard save the crackling of theflames and the challenges of the sentries to some belated newspaper manor straggler. 

"And thus another day draws to a close in ill-fated Johnstown. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

A Day of Work and Worship

Governor Beaver has assumed the command. He arrived in Johnstownyesterday, the 8th, and will take personal charge of the work ofclearing the town and river. For that purpose $1, 000, 000 from the StateTreasury will be made available immediately. This action means that theState will clear and clean the town. 

It was a day of prayer but not a day of rest in Johnstown. Faith andworks went hand in hand. The flood-smitten people of the Conemaugh, though they met in the very path of the torrent that swept their homesand families into ruin, offered up their prayers to Almighty God andbesought His divine mercy. But all through the ruin-choked city thesound of the pick and the shovel mingled with the voice of prayer, andthe challenge of the sentinel rang out above the voice of supplication. There was no cessation in the great task the flood has left them withits legacy of woe. Four charges of dynamite last night completed thewreck of the Catholic Church of St. John, which had been left by theflood in a worthless but dangerous condition. 

The thousands of laborers continued their work just as on any week day, except that there was no dynamite used on the gorge and that theCambria Iron Works were closed. There was the usual reward of thegleaners in the harvest-field of death, fifty eight bodies having beenrecovered. The most of those have been in Stony Creek, up which theywere carried by the back rush of the current after the bridge broke thefirst wave. 

Roman Catholic services were held in the open air. 

Father Smith's Exhortation. 

When the mass was over and Father Troutwine, who conducted it, hadretired, Father Smith stood before them. "We have had enough of deathlately, " he said in a voice full of sympathy, "the calamity that hasvisited us is the greatest in the history of the United States. You mustnot be discouraged. Other places have been visited by disaster at times, yet we know that they have risen again. You must not look on the fearfulpast. The lives of the lost cannot be restored. "

Here he paused because they were weeping around him, and his own voicewas broken, but continuing with an effort, he told them to reflect forconsolation upon the manner in which their friends had gone to death. They had looked to God, he said, and wafted in prayers and acts ofcontrition, their souls had left their bodies and appeared at the thronein heaven. "Surely never such prayers fell save from the lips of saints, and the lost of the valley are saints to-day while you mourn for them. God, who measures the acts of men by their opportunities, had pardonedtheir sins. You who are left living must go to work with a will. Bemen, be women. The eyes of the world are upon you, the eyes of allcivilized nature. They listen, they wait to see what you are going todo. "

Father Smith closed by telling them that the coming fast days of thisweek need not be observed in the midst of such destitution as this, andthey might eat without sinning any food that would give them life andstrength. When the father had finished the congregation filed slowly outpast the high pile of coffins, for St. Columba's was a morgue in thedays just passed. 

The Protestant Services. 

Chaplain Maguire held service in the camp of the 14th to-day. His pulpitwas a drygoods box with the lid missing. It had been emptied of itsfreight into the wide lap of suffering. Before him stood the blue-coatedguardsmen in a deep half circle. There was a shed at his back and agroup of flood survivors, some in old clothing of their own, some in thenew garments of charity. They were for the most part members of theMethodist congregation of Johnstown to which he had preached for threeyears. 

"I hunted a long time yesterday for the foundations of my little home, "he said, "but they were swept away, like the dear faces of the friendswho used to gather around my table. But God doesn't own this side alone;He owns the other side too, and all is well whether we are on this sideor the other. Are your dear ones saved or lost? The only answer to thatquestion is found in whether they trusted in God or not. Trust in theLord and verily ye shall dwell in the land and be fed. "

It was not a sermon. Nobody had words or voice for preaching. Othersspoke briefly and prayed. They sang, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul. "

A Song in the Waters. 

The shrill treble of the weeping women in the shed was almost lost inthe strong bass of the soldiers. "Cora Moses, who used to sing in ourchurch choir, sang that beautiful hymn as she drifted away to her deathamid the wreck, " said the chaplain. "She died singing it. There was onlythe crash of buildings between the interruption of the song of earth andits continuation in heaven. "

Dr. Beale's Address. 

Dr. Beale, whose own Presbyterian Church was one of the first morguesopened and who has lived among dead bodies ever since is the cheeriestman in Johnstown. He made a prayer and an address. It was allstraight-from-the-shoulder kind of talk, garbed in homely phrase. 

In the address he said: "I have been asked to say something about thisdisaster and its magnitude, but I haven't the heart. Besides I haven'tthe words. If I was the biggest truth teller in the world I could nottell the tale. "

Then the preacher went hammer and tongs at the practical teachings ofthe flood. "That night in Alma Hall when we thought we would all die Iheard men call on God in prayer and pledge themselves to lead betterlives if life was given them. Since then I heard those same men cursingand swearing in these streets. Brethren, there was no real prayer in anyof those petitions put up by those of godless lives that night. Theywere merely crying out to a higher power for protection. They were likethe death-bed fears of the infidel, for I have seen seventeen infidelsdie and everyone showed the white feather. Nay, those prayers wereunsanctified by the spirit, but let us who are here now living, dedicateourselves to the service of Almighty God. There were those who were tobe dedicated that night. I know one who, when it came, sent his familyup the staircase, and taking up his Bible from his parlor table, openedat the 46th Psalm, first verse, and, following them, read, and thewaters followed him closely. And through the flood he read the word ofGod and there was peace in that house while terror was all around it. "

Mothering the Orphans. 

Dr. Beale announced that Miss Walk wanted twenty-five children for theNorthern Home and then began shaking hands with his congregation andpressing on them the lessons of his sermon. "Ah, old friend, " he said, to a sandy moustached man in the grand army uniform, "You came safe outof the flood, now give that big heart of yours to Jesus. "

The Baptist congregation also held an open-air service. The unfortunateEpiscopal congregation is quite disorganized by the loss of their churchand rector. They held no service, yet in a hundred temporary houses ofthe homeless the beautiful old litany of the faith was read by thedevout churchmen. 

The Soldiers' Sunday. 

Sunday brought to the soldiers of the 14th no rest from the guard andpolice work which makes the Johnstown tour of duty everything butholiday soldiering. Even those who were in camp fared no better thanthose who were mounted guards over banks, stores and supply trains, ordriving unwilling Italians to work down at Cambria City. There was noshade nor a blade of grass in sight. The wreck of the city was all theirscenery, and the sun beat down upon their tents till they were likeovens. They policed the camp thoroughly, sweeping the bare ground untilit was as clean as a Dutch kitchen. The boys had heard that ChaplainMaguire was to preach and they didn't leave a straw or a chip in hisway. 

A Young Guardsman's Suicide. 

A sun-browned young soldier of C Company, 14th Regiment, sat on theriver bank in front of the camp this afternoon and watched across thevalley the fire-scarred tower of the Catholic Church, blown to completeruin under the force of dynamite. After the front had sunk into a brickheap, he arose, looked down once at the sunny river and the groups ofmany soldiers doing there week's washing at the foot of the bank, andthen strode slowly to his tent. A moment later there seemed to be alingering echo of the fall of the tower in C Company's street. CaptainNesbitt, dozing in his quarters, heard the sound, and running in thedirection of it found that Private William B. Young, aged 28, ofOakdale, had placed the muzzle of his rifle against his left temple andgone to swell by one the interminable list of the Conemaugh Valley'sdead. 

[Illustration: A RAILROAD TRAIN DELAYED BY THE FLOOD. ]

Despondency, caused by a slight illness and doubtless intensified by anight's guard duty among the gloomy ruins, is the only known cause ofthe soldier's act. He had been somewhat blue for a day, but there seemedto be no special weight upon his mind. His brother-in-law, privateStimmler, of the same company, said that he was always despondent whenill, but had never threatened or attempted his life. He was a farmhand, and leaves a wife and two children. 

The Dinner "Shad" Jones Cooked. 

The Sunday dinner was a great success. The bill of fare was vegetablesoup, cold ham, beans, canned corn, pickled tripe and black coffee. Itis worthy of note that the table in the officers' quarters did not havea delicacy upon it which was not shared by the men. The commissary ranshort and had to borrow from the workmen's supplies. The dinner to-daywas cooked by "Shad" Jones, a colored man known to every traveling manwho has ever stopped at Johnstown for his ability to hold four eggs inhis mouth and swallow a drink of water without cracking a shell. He losthis wife in the flood and the 14th has adopted him. 

On this, the ninth day, the waters began to give up their dead. StonyCreek first showed their white faces and lifeless bodies floating onthe surface, and men in skiffs went after them with their grapplingrods. Several of them were taken ashore during the afternoon and carriedto the Presbyterian Church morgue, which was the nearest. Then, too, thedead among the wreckage on shore came to light just the same as on otherdays. Their exhumation excites no notice here now. Dr. Beale, keeper ofthe records of morgues, counted the numbers on his finger tips and saidthere were more than fifty found to-day in Johnstown alone. 

In one dead man's pocket was $3, 133. 62. He was Christopher Kimble, anundertaker and finisher, who, when he saw the water coming, rushed downstairs to the safe to save his gold and there he was lost. Severalbodies were taken from the human raft burned beyond all recognition. 

The body of Miss Bessie Bryan, the young Philadelphian, was identifiedto-day as it lay in a coffin by a grave from which it had been exhumedin Grand View Cemetery. "Returning home from a wedding in Pittsburghwith her friend, Miss Paulsen, caught by the flood on the day express, found dead and buried twice, " will be the brief record of her wild sadfate. 

Whiskey and Rioting. 

Lieutenant Wright, Company I, with a detail of ninety-eight men, wascalled to the banks of Stony Creek over the raft to-night, to protectthe employees of the Philadelphia Gas Company. There they found a gangof rioters. The rioters this afternoon found a barrel of whiskey in thefield of débris, and before the militia could destroy it they hadmanaged to take a large quantity of it up on the mountain. To-night theycame down to the camp intoxicated, attacked the cook, cleared the suppertable and were managing things with a high hand when a messenger wasdespatched for the guard. Before Lieutenant Wright's men reached therethey had escaped. The Beaver Falls gang was surprised this afternoon bythe militia, and gallons of whiskey, which they had hidden, weredestroyed. A dozen saloons were swept into the creek at the bridge, andit is supposed that a hundred or more barrels are buried beneath theraft. 

Among the most interesting relics of the flood is a small gold locketfound in the ruins of the Hurlbut house yesterday. The locket contains asmall coil of dark brown hair, and has engraved on the inside thefollowing remarkable lines: "Lock of George Washington's hair, cut inPhiladelphia while on his way to Yorktown, 1781. " Mr. Benford, one ofthe proprietors of the house, states that the locket was the property ofhis sister, who was lost in the flood, and was presented to her by anold lady in Philadelphia, whose mother and herself cut the hair from thehead of the "Father of His Country. "

CHAPTER XX. 

Millions of Money for Johnstown. 

Never before in our country has there been such a magnificent exhibitionof public sympathy and practical charity. As the occasion was the mosturgent ever known, so the response has been the greatest. All classeshave come to the rescue with a generosity, a thoughtfulness andheartfelt pity sufficient to convince the most stubborn misanthrope thatreligion is not dead and charity has not, like the fabled gods ofGreece, forsaken the earth. 

The following lines, cut from one of our popular journals, aptlyrepresents the public feeling, and the warm sympathy that moved everyheart:

 I. 

 I stood with a mournful throng On the brink of a gloomy grave, In a valley where grief had found relief On the breast of an angry wave! I heard a tearful song That told of an orphan's love-- 'Twas a song of woe from the valley below, To the Father of Heaven above!

 II. 

 'Twas the wail of two lonely waifs-- Two children who prayed for bread! 'Twas a pitiful cry--a mournful sigh-- From the home of the silent dead! 'Twas a sad and soulful strain; It made the teardrops start; 'Twas an echo of pain--a weird refrain-- And a song that touched my heart. 

 III. 

 Poor, fatherless, motherless waifs, Come, dry your tearful eyes! Not in vain, not in vain, have ye sung your refrain; It's echo has pierced the skies! The angels are watching you there, For your "home" is now above, And your Father is He who forever shall be A Father of infinite love!

 IV. 

 Blest be the noble throng, With generous impulse stirred, Who are bringing relief to the Valley of Grief, Where the orphan's song was heard! Peace to them while they live, Peace when their souls depart, For a friend in need is a friend indeed And a friend that reaches my heart!

Among the first to start a fund for the sufferers was the New York_Herald_. The following is a specimen of the announcement made by thatjournal from day to day:

Great interest is being taken in the _Herald_ fund for the Johnstownsufferers. In the city, employees of all sorts of business houses, andof railroad, steamboat and other companies, are striving to see who cancollect the most money. 

In the country, ministers, little girls, school children and busyworkers are all collecting for the fund. It is being boomed by rich andpoor, far and near. 

With the checks for hundreds of dollars yesterday came this note, enclosing a dime:

"NEW YORK, June 8, 1889. 

"MR. EDITOR:

"I am a little orphan girl. I saved ten cents, it is all I have, but Ishould like to send it to the sufferers of the flood. 

"ANNIE ABEL. "

Another letter written in a lady's hand read this way:

"BROOKYN. 

"DEAR HERALD:--

"Enclosed please find $1. 17 left by little Hame Buckler in his pursewhen he died last September. Also twenty-five cents from Albert Bucklerand twenty-five cents from Paul D. Buckler. Hoping their mites will helpto feed or clothe some little ones, I am, with sympathy for thesufferers, "S. A. B. "

Felix Simonson, a twelve-year-old schoolboy, took it into his head onFriday to go among his friends and get help for the sufferers. Here iswhat he wrote on the top of his subscription paper:

"I am very sorry for the poor people who have lost everything by theflood, and I am trying to collect some money to send to them. Would youlike to give something to help them?"

How Felix succeded is shown by a collection of $30. 15 the first day. 

A large amount of clothing for men, women and children is being sent tothe _Herald_ office, as well as liberal contributions of money. 

The same story was, in effect, repeated from day to day. It onlyindicated what was going on throughout the country; in fact, throughoutthe world. London, Paris, and other European towns, were only a fewhours behind our American cities in starting funds for relief. Theenthusiasm with which these responses were made is indicated by thefollowing from one of the New York dailies:

Charity Running Rampant. 

Everybody's business seems to be raising funds for Pennsylvania. TheMayor's office has been transformed into a counting room. More than adozen clerks are employed in acknowledging the receipt of money for thePennsylvania sufferers. A large number, many of them of the poorerclass, bring their own contributions. Up to noon $145, 257. 18 had beensubscribed. This does not include sums subscribed but not paid in. Allthe city departments are expected to respond nobly. 

The Executive Committee of the Conemaugh Valley Relief Association metin the Governor's room at the City Hall yesterday, with General W. T. Sherman in the chair. Treasurer J. Edward Simmons announced that thefund in the Fourth National Bank amounted to $145, 000 and that GovernorBeaver's draft for $50, 000 had been honored. John T. Crimmins reportedthat more than $70, 000 had been received at the Mayor's office duringthe morning. He also reported that the Leake and Watts Orphan Asylum hadoffered, through the Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix, to take twenty-five ofJohnstown's orphans, between the ages of five and twelve, and care forthem until they were sixteen and then provide them with homes. H. C. Miner reported that many packages of clothing had been sent to Johnstownand that the theatrical guild was arranging for benefit performances. 

Under date of Paris, June 5th, the following despatch conveyedintelligence of the gratifying response of Americans in that city:

Duty Nobly Done. 

A meeting of Americans was held to-day at the United States Legation ona call in the morning papers by Mr. Whitelaw Reid, the United StatesMinister, to express the sympathy of the Americans in Paris with thesufferers by the Johnstown calamity. In spite of the short notice therooms of the Legation were densely packed, and many went away unable togain admittance. Mr. Reid was called to the chair and Mr. Ernest Lambertwas appointed secretary. The following resolutions were offered by Mr. Andrew Carnegie and seconded by Mr. James N. Otis:

A Sympathetic Message. 

"Resolved, That we send across the Atlantic to our brethren overwhelmedby the appalling disaster at Johnstown our most profound and heartfeltsympathy. Over their lost ones we mourn with them, and in every pang ofall their misery we have our part. 

"Resolved, That as American citizens we congratulate them upon and thankthem for the numerous acts of noble heroism displayed undercircumstances calculated to unnerve the bravest. Especially do we honorand admire them for the capacity shown for local self-government uponwhich the stability of republican institutions depends, the militaryorganizations sent from distant points to preserve order during thechaos that supervened having been returned to their homes as no longerrequired within forty-eight hours of the calamity. In these few hoursthe civil power recreated and asserted itself and resumed sway withoutthe aid of counsel from distant authorities, but solely by and from theinherent power which remains in the people of Johnstown themselves. "

Brief and touching speeches were made by General Layton, late UnitedStates Minister to Austria; Mr. Abram S. Hewitt, General Meredith Readand others. 

A Flow of Dollars. 

The resolutions were then unanimously adopted and a committee wasappointed to receive subscriptions. About 40, 000f. Were subscribed onthe spot. The American bankers all agreed to open subscriptions the nextday at their banking houses. "Buffalo Bill" subscribed the entirereceipts of one entertainment to be given under the auspices of thecommittee. 

As a sequel to the foregoing the following will be of interest to thereader:

NEW YORK, June 17. --John Monroe & Co. Have received cable instructionsfrom United States Minister Reid, at Paris, to pay Messrs. Drexel & Co. , of Philadelphia, an additional sum of $2, 266, received from theTreasurer of the Paris Johnstown Relief Committee. Of this sum $1066 arethe proceeds of a special performance by the Wild West show, and withthe previous contribution from Paris makes a total of $14, 166. 

The pathetic story of sympathy and generous aid from every town andhamlet in the land can never be told; there is too much of it. 

Philadelphia alone contributed over a million dollars, and New Yorkshowed equal generosity. In Philadelphia it was not uncommon to seeglass jars in front of stores and at other places to receivecontributions from passers-by. In one of these an unknown man deposited$500 one day; this is indicative of the feeling pervading the wholecommunity that stricken Johnstown must not suffer for houses, clothing, nor bread. 

[Illustration: CONTRIBUTING TO THE RELIEF FUND IN PHILADELPHIA. ]

So rapidly did gifts pour in that within eight days after the disasterthe following statement was made from Harrisburg:

The Governor's fund for the relief of the survivors of the flood in theConemaugh Valley and other portions of the State is assuming largeproportions and the disposition to contribute appears to be on theincrease. To-day letters and telegrams were received requesting theGovernor to draw for $68, 000 additional, swelling the aggregate sum athis disposal to about $3, 000, 000. Many of the remittances areaccompanied with statements that more may be expected. Governor Beavertelegraphed as follows from Johnstown:

"The situation is simply indescribable. The people have turned in withcourage and heroism unparalleled. A decided impression has been made onthe débris. The next week will do more, as they have many points openedfor work. Everything is very quiet. People are returning to work againand gaining courage and hope as they return. There need be no fear oftoo much being contributed for the relief of the people. There is along, steady pull ahead requiring every effort and determination on thepart of the people here, which is already assured, and the continuedsystematic support and benefactions of this generous people. "

Feeding the Hungry. 

Three car loads of tents, enough to accommodate four thousand people, were sent to Johnstown to-day from the State arsenal at the request ofGeneral Hastings. 

The following special dispatch bears date of June 5th:

Car loads of provisions and clothing are arriving hourly and beingdistributed. The cynic who said that charity and gratitude were articlesseldom to be met with in Republics and among corporations would have hadample reason afforded him to-day to alter his warped philosophy severaldegrees had he been in this erstwhile town and seen train after trainhourly rolling in, on both the Baltimore and Ohio and the Pennsylvaniarailroads, laden with clothing and provisions from every point of thecompass. Each train bore messengers sent especially to distribute fundsand provisions and clothing, volunteer physicians in large numbers, trained nurses and a corps of surgeons equipped with all neededinstruments and medicines. Fortunately the latter are not needed. 

Philadelphia's quota consists of clothes, boots, shoes, cotton sheeting, hard breads, salt fish, canned goods, etc. , all of which will begratefully received and supply the most pressing needs of the strickenpeople. 

Relief Systematized. 

The relief work has been so systematized that there is no danger of anyconfusion. At the several distributing depots hundreds assemble morning, noon and night, and, forming in line, are supplied with provisions. Menand women with families are given bread, butter, cheese, ham and cannedmeats, tea or coffee and sugar, and unmarried applicants sliced breadand butter or sandwiches. 

The 900 army tents brought on by Adjutant-General Axline, of Ohio, havebeen divided, and two white-walled villages now afford shelter tonearly six thousand homeless people. 

At the Main Commissary. 

At the Johnstown station, on the east side of the river, everything isquiet, and considerable work is being done. This is the chief commissarystation, and this morning by two o'clock 15, 000 people were fed andabout six hundred families were furnished with provisions. Five carloadsof clothing were distributed, and now almost every one is provided withclothing. 

The good work done by the relief committees in caring for the destitutecan never be fully told. It was ready, generous and very successful. 

The scenes at the distributing points through the week have been mostinteresting. Monday and Tuesday saw lines of men, women and children inthe scantiest of clothing, blue with cold, unwashed and dishevelled, sopitifully destitute a company as one would wish to see. Since theclothing cars have come the people have assumed a more presentableappearance and food has brought life back to them and warmth, but theircondition is still pitiful. The destitute ones are almost altogetherfrom the well-to-do people of Johnstown, who have lost all and are aspoor as the poorest. 

Altoona to the Rescue. 

Altoona has been so hemmed in by floods and the like, and herrepresentatives have been so busy, that they had but little to say ofthe prompt action and excellent work done by open-handed citizens ofthat beautiful interior Pennsylvania city. Altoona first became alarmedby the non-arrival and reported loss of the day express east on thePennsylvania Railroad Friday afternoon. Soon the station was throngedwith an anxious crowd, and the excitement became intense as the scantnews came slowly in. Saturday the anxiety was relieved by a telegramfrom Ebensburg, which a blundering telegraph operator made "threehundred lost, " instead of "three thousand. " That was soon corrected bylater news, and the citizens immediately were called upon to meet foraction. The Mayor presided, and at once $2, 600 was subscribed andprovisions offered. By three o'clock that afternoon a car had beenloaded and started for Ebensburg, thirty-two miles away in charge of acommittee. At Ebensburg that evening ten teams were secured after muchtrouble and the supplies sent overland seventeen miles to the desolatedvalley. The night was an awful one for the committee in charge. Theroads were badly washed and all but impassible. The hours dragged on. Atlast, Sunday morning, the wagons drove into desolate Conemaugh. Therewere no cheers to greet them, no cries of pleasure. The wretchedsufferers were too wretched, too dazed for that. They simply crowdedaround the wagons, pitifully begging for bread or anything to eat. 

The committee report: "Impostors have not bothered us much, and, singular enough, the ones that have were chiefly women, though to-daywe sent away a man who we thought came too frequently. On questioning heowned up to having fifteen sacks of flour and five hams in his house. OnTuesday we began to keep a record of those who received supplies, and wehave given out supplies to fully 550 families, representing 2, 500homeless people. Our district is only for one side of the river. On theother is a commissary on Adams street, near the Baltimore and OhioRailway station, another at Kernville, a third at Cambria City, a fourthat Morrellville and a fifth at Cambria. The people are very patient, though, of course, in their present condition they are apt to bequerelous. 

Wanted A Better Dress. 

"One woman who came for a dress indignantly refused the one I offeredher. 'I don't want that, ' she said. 'I lost one that cost me $20, $15for the cloth and $5 for making, and I want a $20 dress. You said youwould make our losses good;' and she did not take the dress. 

"A clergyman came to me and begged for anything in the shape of footcovering. I had nothing to give him. Men stand about ready to work, butbarefooted. The clothing since the first day or two, when we got onlyworn stuff, fit only for bandages, has been good, and is now ofexcellent quality. Most of the children's garments are outgrown clothes, good for much service. Pittsburgh has sent from thirty to forty carloads of supplies, all of good quality and available, and in charge oflocal commissary men who had sense enough to go home when they turnedover their supplies and did not stay and eat up the provisions theybrought. 

Ohio's Timely Work. 

"But above all, I want to praise the supplies sent by the Ohio people inCleveland and Columbus. These cities forwarded eight cars each. Thesewere stocked with beautiful stuff, wisely chosen, and were in charge ofAdjutant General Axline, sent by Governor Foraker, who worked like awise man. "

Grave Mental Conditions. 

The mental condition of almost every former resident of Johnstown is oneof the gravest character, and the reaction which will set in when thereality of the whole affair is fully comprehended can scarcely fail toproduce many cases of permanent or temporary insanity. Most of the facesthat one meets, both male and female, are those of the most profoundmelancholia, associated with an almost absolute disregard of the future. The nervous system shows the strain it has borne by a tremulousness ofthe hand and of the lip in man as well as in woman. This nervous stateis further evidenced by a peculiar intonation of words, the personsspeaking mechanically, while the voices of many rough looking men arechanged into such tremulous notes of so high a pitch as to make oneimagine that a child on the verge of tears is speaking. Crying is sorare that I saw not a tear on any face in Johnstown, but the women thatare left are haggard, with pinched features and heavy, dark lines undertheir eyes. Indeed the evidence of systemic disturbance is so marked inalmost every individual who was present at the time of the catastrophethat it is possible with the eye alone to separate the residents fromthose outside. 

Everything required in the way of surgical appliances seem to be onhand, but medicines are scarce, and will probably be needed more in thenext few days than heretofore. 

A fact in favor of the controlling of any malady is to be found in thevery general exodus of the town's people, who crowd the platforms ofdeparting trains. There can be no doubt that this movement should beencouraged to the greatest possible extent, and it would be well ifplaces away from Johnstown, at no too great distance, could be openedfor the reception of those who, while not entirely disabled, are uselessat home. The scarcity of pure spring water which is not tainted by deadanimal matter is a pressing evil for consideration, but we doubt if thisis as important a fact at Johnstown as it is further down the river, owing to the large amount of decomposing flesh in the water at thislatter point. No disinfectant can reach such a cause of disease save theaction of the large volume of water which dilutes all poisonousmaterials. 

The Torch for Safety. 

There is a strong movement on foot in favor of applying the torch to thewrecked buildings in Johnstown, and although the suggestion meets withstrong opposition at this time, there is little doubt the ultimatesolution of existing difficulties will be by this method. An army of menhave been for two days employed in clearing up the wreck in the cityproper, and although hundreds of bodies have been discovered, notone-fifth of the ground has yet been gone over. In many places therubbish is piled twenty or thirty feet high, and not infrequently thesegreat drifts cover an area of nearly an acre. Narrow passages have beencut through in every direction, but the herculean labor of removing therubbish has yet hardly begun. 

At a meeting of the Central Relief Committee this afternoon GeneralHastings suggested the advisability of drawing a cordon around the fewhouses that are not in ruins and applying the torch to the remaininggreat sea of waste. He explained briefly the great work yet to beaccomplished if it were hoped to thoroughly overhaul every portion ofthe débris, and insisted that it would take 5, 000 men to complete thetask. Of the hundreds of bodies buried beneath the rubbish, sand andstones, the skeleton or putrid remains of many was all that could behoped to be recovered. 

A motion was made that after forty-eight hours' further search thedébris of the city be consumed by fire, the engines to be on hand toplay upon any valuable building that despite previous precautions, mightbecome ignited by the general conflagration. This motion was debated proand con for nearly half an hour. Those whose relatives or friends stillrest beneath the wreck remonstrated strongly against any such summaryaction. They insisted that all the talk of threatened epidemic was onlythe sensation gossip of fertile brains and that the search for thebodies should only be abandoned as a last extremity. The physicians inattendance warned the committee that the further exposure of putridbodies in the valley could have but one result--the typhus or some otherepidemic equally fatal to its victims. It was a question whether theliving should be sacrificed to the dead, or whether the sway ofsentiment or the mandate of science should be the ruling impulse. Although the proposition to burn the wreck was defeated, it was evidentthat the movement was gaining many adherents, and the result willdoubtless be that in a few days the torch will be applied, not only tothe field of waste in Johnstown, but also to the avalanche of débristhat chokes the stream above the Pennsylvania bridge.