Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 March 1891 — THE MOSES OF THE FLOOD. [ARTICLE]

THE MOSES OF THE FLOOD.

Little Baby Williams. Who Wat Born at Johnstown. Ah infant has ~been an honored'guest of the Children's Aid society in thi‘ city at the neat and pretty home, 1721 B rker street, says the Philadelphia Inquirer. The home is in charge ol "MrsTJoHh Griffiths'and her daughter, Mrs. Marter. The distinguished baby is Moses Flood Williams and he wai boro on the first day of the Johnstowr flood under remarkable circumstances, “The street is crazy over the little thing,” said Mrs. Griffiths yesterday. “The market people on Nineteenth street offered me SIOO to get Mrs. Williams to let the little one go to the market so they could exhibit it to the people. It’s a little beauty.” Mrs. Griffiths’s eyes sparkeled as she spoke of her charge. She gave this ao oount of the birth of the baby, which ii cue of the most incredible incidents a the flood. When the flood struck Johnstown Mrs. Williams was confined to her bed, Her husband, who was in tho employ of tho Cambria iron works, had jus! come home to change his dress and wae iu the bedroom with his wife when the rush and shouting of "The dam’s burst fly for your life!” reached his ears. He realized what was coming, so grabbing his wife from the bed with only hoi night-clothes on and pulling along hi* three children they made their way to •the roof and had hardly got there when

with a swish aud whirr the house was torn from its foundations and was washed away in the flood. “It rolled and tossed,” said Mrs. Williams to me, ‘ ‘struck up against other houses, toppled over, as if it would sink; then slashed up against trees, carrying them away by the roots. My husband had me around the waist with his right arm, while with the other he hung on to the chimney. The children were made fast to his body by tearing up our nightclothes and' the littlest one he tied to his neck. So we drifted and drifted. Sometimes we would come within almost touching distance of the shore on the mountain side and the next we would be shot out into the swish and whir of the flood again. It was 2:30 or thereabout the next morning when we were flung high and dry on the mountain side. I was cold, half-naked, and my children—poor little bairns—had cried themselves to sleep, while my poor man looked as if his eyes were shooting out of their sockets. "I can not tell you how I felt. We managed to get ashore and the only house we could find standing had already fifty-two people in it. To that house I was taken; 1 could hot walk, and they had hardly put me on the floor of the house when I more than realized I was to become a mother. My old man asked if there was a physician present. Everybody said ‘No.’ While he was going among the crowd a tinroof was washed up to the same spot and a man and two women jumped ashore. Some one said: ‘He is a physician.* My husband rushed to hi m and sure enough he was one. The case was explained to him. My child was born, and I and all of us in that cottage got down on our knees and thanked God for his merciful saving of mine and the baby’s life.” Then the poor thing, as she told me this, would "Yes,” interrupted the daughter, “but the best part of the whole affair was the baptism. The child was baptized by tho Rev. I)r. Beale, and it was that part of it that was so funny. The minister suggested that it be called ‘Noah,’ but the father and mother objected and suggested they would like it called ‘Moses,’ for, as the father said, ‘it was found in the bullrushes.’ So it was baptized Moses Flood Williams”. "The child was born with only the light from the wreck at the bridge,” added Mrs. Griffiths. ‘‘For more than two days neither the mother nor the children had a morsel to eat, and they were all half-naked. Out of the fiftytwo people in that house there were only two that could entirely cover their nakedness. It was terrible.”

Would Not Sit on tha Floor. A certain New York alderman a few days ago, called on his representative in Washington. The meeting was very cordial, for the alderman was a power. "I am delighted to see you,” exclaimed the representative as he shook him by both hands, "Won't you come in and take a seat on the floor?” "Av yez will exchuse me jist now, Oi’ll see ye later,” replied the visitor as he withdrew his hands from the retaining clasp. - —■ —“7 —■ About an hour after a friend of the statesman met the alderman in a favorite resort, and the alderman was giving tho statesman "down the banks” in terrible shape. “I am surprised,” remarked the friend,"."l thought you was a friend of Mr. So and So.” "Sure Oi war, bud Oi’l not bo insulted by any mon.” , "Why. how did hb insult you?” ‘ ‘Whin Oi called on him just now did’nt the bktgurd ax me wud Oi cooniin wul de high jinks an 1 sit an ther flurn! Sit an thcr Mure, do ye moind! Oi’l not sit an any mon's flure. Be the hokey do he take me for a moonkey? Jist wait till Oi go back wjd do byes. Ay Oi don’t sit him an ther flure' me name is Dinnis.” It took quarts of high-priced explanation to convince him that an honor was intended.—Texas Siftings, ~