Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 September 1886 — A NIGHT OF TERROR. [ARTICLE]

A NIGHT OF TERROR.

Graphic Description of the Awful Scenes That Occurred in Charleston. [From the Charleston News and Courier.] Necessarily the description that can be given of the disaster which has befallen our city consists in the narration of the experiences and observations of individuals, and, the subject being the same and the experiences of all being nearly alike, the story told by one careful observer may well stand for a hundred others, with slight variations. Probably the best idea that can be had of the character of the disturbance, therefore, may be obtained from a narration of the events and scenes of Wednesday night as they were presented to a single person. While engaged in his usual duties in the second-story room of the News and Courier office at the time of the first shock the writer’s attention was vaguely attracted by a sound which seemed to come from the office below, and which was supposed for a moment to be caused by the rapid rolling of a heavy body, as an iron safe or a heavily laden truck, over the floor. Accompanying the sound there was a perceptible tremor of the building, not more marked, however, than would be caused by the passage of a street car or a dray along the street. For perhaps two or three seconds the occurrence excited no surprise or comment. Then, by <• wist degrees, the sound deepened in volume; the tremor became more decided ; the ear caught the rattle of window-sashes, gas-fixtures, and other loose objects. The men in the office, with, perhaps a simultaneous flash of recollection of the disturbance of the Friday before, glanced hurriedly at each other, and 'sprang to their feet, with startled questions and answers. What is that? Earthquake? Andi then all was bewilderment and confusion. Then the long roll deepened and spread into, an awful roar that seemed to pervade at once th® troubled earth and the still air above and around. The tremor was now a rude, rapid quiver that agitated the whole building as though it were beinc shaken by the hand of an immeasurable power, with intent to tear its joints asunder and scatter its stones and bricks abroad. There was no intermission in the vibration of the mighty subterranean engine. From the first to the last it was a continuous jar, only adding force to every moment, and as it approached and i eached the climax of its manifestation, it seemed for a few terrible seconds that no work of human hands could possibly survive the shocks. The floors were heaving under foot, the surrounding walls and partitions visibly swayed to and fro, the crash of falling masses of stone and brick and mortar was heard overhead, and without the terrible roar filled the ears. It is not given to many men to look in the face of the destroyer and yet live ; but it is little to say that the group of strong men who shared the experience above faintly described will carry with them the recollection of that supreme movement to their dying day. None expected to escape. A sudden rusn was simultaneously made to endeavor to attain the open air and flee to a place of safety; but before the door was reached all reeled together to the tottering wall and stopped, feeling that hope was vain. That it was on y a question of death within the building or without, to be buried by the sinking roof or crushed by the toppling walls As we dashed down the stairway and out into the street, already on every side arose the shrieks, the cries of pain and fear, the prayers and wailings of terrified women and children, commingled with the hoarse shouts of excited men. Out in the streets the air was filled to the height of the houses with a whitish cloud of dry, stifling dust from the lime, mortar, and shattered masonry, which, falling upon the pavement and stone roadway, had been re-

duced to powder. Through this cloud, dense as fog, the gaslights flickered dimly, shedding but little light, so that you stumble at every step over the piles of brick or become entangled in the lines of telegraph wires that depended in every direction from their broken supports. On every side were hurrying forms of bareheaded men and women, partially dressed, some almost nude, and many of whom were crazed with fear or excitement. The first shock occurred at 9 53, as was indicated by the public clocks. The second shock, which was but> a faint and crisp echo of the first, was felt eight minutes later. As it passed away the writer started homeward, to find the scenes enacted on Broad street around the News and Courier office repeated at every step of the way. St. Michael’s steeple towered high and white above the gloom, seemingly uninjured. The station-house, a massive brick building across the street, had apparently lost' its roof, which had fallen around it A little farther on the roof of the portico of the Hibernian Hall, a handsome building in the Grecian style, had crashed to the ground, carrying down part of the massive granite pillars with it All the way up Meeting street, which, in respect of its general direction and importance may be called ‘"the Broadway of Charleston,” the roadway was piled with debris from the tops of the walls. In passing the Charleston Hotel, which, to carry out the comparison above indicated, occupies the position of Stewart’s up-town store in New York, the third shock was felt about ten minutes after the second, and. of course, caused the greatest alarm in that neighborhood, as elsewhere. At Marion Square a great crowd had collected, as even the edges of the wide spaces embraced in it could not be reached by the nearest buildings in the event of their fall. From this crowd, composed of men, women, and children of both races, arose incessant calle and cries and lamentations; while over the motley, halfdressed throng was shed the lurid light of the conflagration which had broken out just beyond the square immediately after the first shock, and had now wholly enveloped several buildings in flames.