St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 14, Number 50, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 8 June 1889 — Page 1

| VOLUME XIV.

J GMT TREASURE. The Strange Mystery Surnmnflinff Its Disappearance. A STORY OF EXTRAORDINARY INTEREST. *-—— BY FRANK BARRETT. ■ ■ ■■ ... 41 - — — CHAPTER XIV.

V-llAl Al

lation to him: and no man suffers humiliation without in time losing his own selfrespect That will never. I hope, be your loss. Bernard. Poor girl, it will be a great grief to her: for though she has known you but a little while, sho has found in you a great deal to admire and love., and her afleetion is so tenacious that I doubt if she ' will eVter cease to love you.” lie sighed, and for some moments sat in thoughtful silence, and then he said: "We mu-t not break hot heart, my dear fellow—we must leave het ome hope, ns it is nece-sary that for some time you should be separate.!, it is right that you should both be iree to form other engagements; at the same time then* may bi a tacit understanding that should you suee ed in making a position for yourself in a reasonable space of time, an I then are both still warmly disposed toward each other, the engagement shall be r^new d. “There is no necessity for your having a large fortune, but it is essential, as I think, and as you happily think also, that you should be able to provide yourself with the necessities of life. I promise that Edith shall bring with her the luxuries.” lie then offered to use his influence in j procuring me a secretaryship: bat as I hal i never been accustomed to sedentary occu- > pation. and such an appointment could i never satisfy my more ambitious hopes, he ' generously placed his purse at my disposal, to use as I might find occasion. I have purposely abstained from dwelling upon raj- love affairs, for if I entered into them at all, my feelings woul I lead me to ; dilate upon the delights of my brief wooing, to the exclusion of the graver matters : which form the subject of this book. Tor ' the same reason I sha'i pas* over the bitter i grief of our parting. I wdl only say that i Edith .> last words awakened courage in my ' sinking lie irt. I could form no satisfactory theory with rega d to the Great Hesper robbery, but I was dispos dto regard Van Hoeck as the least culpable ag nt concerned in it. It was impossible to tell how the robbery affected, this mysterious man. As I have said, during the investigation he sat perfectly motionless and perfectly silent. His face wore tiic inscrutable expression of a death-mask. Sir Edmund hal no sympathy with him after learning from me the par.iculars rela'ii g to the adventures of the morning. When we entered the library from the dining-room, where our interview had taken place, we found Van Hoeck sitting wh tc wo had left him. “I have ordered the carriage to be at the door in ha fan hour. Mr. Van Hoeck,” said the baronet. "Be good enough to make your arrangements for departure by that time.” Van Hoeck inclined iiis head. "I shall be glad if you wilt redeem your I O U at an early date,” the baronet added sternly. Van Hoeck put his hand in his pocket, drew out a purse, and extended it. I took it. seeing the baronet's r pugnance, and placed it on the table. I accompanied Van Hoeck to Southampton. Neither of us spoke on the way—indeed. I had not heard a word pass his lips since we parted in the early morning. I took a room for him at an hotel, and ’ when the servant who led us to it was gone, I said; "I am going to leave you. Van Hoeck.” A gesture of indifference was his onlyreply. "You have nothing to say-—no explanation to offer?” I asked. "What do you mean?—speak plainly.” he said. "I saw you discussing with Brace what should be done with the case that held the diamond before he secreted it.” "If you know that we were discussing that, you know all. It is useless to make an explanation that you would not believe. I have nothins to say." He groped his way to a chair and throw himsek into it. I put a packet of notes on the table, and told him that if he had need of further help he might write to me. addressing his letter to the care of Sir Edmund. Then I left him. » » a * * « I had a vague idea of purchasing a par tnership in some business where I could find active employment, ami with this view I took lodgings in London, and began to look about me. I had I een engaged in this pursuit about a week when I received a letter from Sir Edmund. “1 inclose.” he wrote, "a cutting from one of the weekly papers. Vine grow ing, as it is here described, seems to be the very thing that should suit a man of your disposition and taste: it would suit me, if I were thirty years younger than 1 am. As it is, nothing would better please me than to see you a prosperous fruit farmer. “That Edith m ! gat have something to look forward to, I have proposed that our next summer holiday- trip should be to San Biego. Sho thinks we should find Californian hotels insupportable. Perhaps you will bo able to offer something more acceptable than hotel accommodation. In any .ease, my dear fellow, you can give me no more acceptable testimony of your affection than in ava.ling yourself freely and fully of mv pecuniary assistance." The cutting referred to vine-growing and fruit-culture in Southern California; but before I read a single line in it I had made up my mind to be at San Diego to receive Edith and her father in the summer. CHAPTER XV. Fortune favored me; before I had been bventy-four hours in San Diezo I learned that one of the best fruit farms in the State Was to be sold. It lay in Elysium Valley, about twelve miles back of San Diego City, and was the property of Colonel Hinks. On hearing this I hired ahorse^at once and rode to the estate. The road ran between irrig ded plantations of lemons, citrons, oranges, and other fruits that perfumed the air; the higher slopes were covered with rill'S. In the distance before me were the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra. Nevada, and tn n ng in my saddle as I ascended the '. entle rise on which the house stood, my eyes were dazzled with the beauty of San Biego Bay. The house was large and well-built in the Pallan st vie—a style not unsuited to that unclouded sky and the surroundingscenery. 'I he vi< w f. om the helved -re was indescribably beauti ul. ami. inde'd. justified the high-sounding name given to the valley il overlooked. , , , There were flowers everywhere about L and a-otiud the house; they festooned tin terrace flouting the facade: they hung

COUNTy M Wepli Sniffpcnftent.

from the windows; they edged the paths; they even twined liom bough to bough of the great cedar that lent shade to the lawn. “This is a house wo thy of Edith,” I : thought. "Oh, that it may be mine to offer ! h<r! It woul 1 be time wasted to enter into my business transactions with Colonel Hinks. Suffice it to say that my ardent wish was । realized, and that in less than a month from my arriving in San Di go I entered ini to possession of the beautiful property. ; Doubtless it was a hazardous undertaking : for one who knew nothing whatever ol the business; but what hazard is too great for a man whose object is to win the woman he loves? That tne money I invested was not my own did not lessen tile lisk Iran, but ; inert a-otd it; for, unless I could show a reai sonablu probability oi repaying Sir Ed- ! mund’s loan, I could not demand Edith's i hand. However, I had every reason to be- ; Heve that Colonel Hinks was a gentl nnan, and an honest and conscientious man of business; added to this. 1 ha 1 confidence in my own per everanee, energy, and i §ti ongth, mid that buoyant feeling of hope i with whicn nearly every one who breathes the healthful air < f this delightful continent seems to be inspired. Early in November I received a letter from Sir Edmund. Among other things, he wrote: "The rubbery is still a mystery—to me it is a greater mystery than eve -. Van Hoeck has taken lodgings in the village. I have I met him twice in the woods, a wild, deplorable obj ct, and. indeed, pitiable, if one may doubt l.is complicity in the I robbery. Once he was upon his hands and knees, groping among the ferns, as if he expected to find there the lost ■ diamond; but lie chooses the night for thesp expeditions—probably because he is then less open to observation. The keepers tell me that he passes the whole night, and every night, in this hopeless search. Why on earth should he do this, if bn and Brace got possession of the diamond, as we sup- ■ pose?" In a postscript he added: "Mr. Furnival. dating from Haxel’s Hotel, ! London. wrote asking me for your address, j I replied that you were at San Diego, California." The news with regard to Van Hoeck did not add greatly to the mystery in which this strange man was already involved; but the postscript was a new source of perplexity to me. I knew no one of the name of Furnival; I could not. recollect having spoken to any one of Sir Edmund while I was in London. How, then, could this Mr. Furnival have known where to apply for my address? I expected a letter from him to dear up this matter, but, no letter came. A lew days later I received a letter addressed to me at Monken Abbey, and readdressed in Sir Edmund's hand. Turning to the signature, 1 f >uml it was from Bi ace. It was dated Oct 15, Petersville, Nevada ! County, The Judge was then in California. ! within a day's journey of in \ I was md ' surprised at this, knowing his partiality for I the State; but it was irreeoneil.il Ie with the ; supposition that he and Van Hoeck ha l the ; diamond. Ho wrote thus: "1 rite these lines fur to show where 1 am ! lokatcd.^md likewise that I lAive not slinked I off like a thief in the night to hide my lites j under a bushel. If things aint no furarder j than they was in the direction of clearin' I up what’s become of the Great Hesper, th y I ain’t anyways no backtirder. | “It aint no use promisin without you are j got it right inter yer to perform, but 1 will i allow that I aint goin to chuck up the cards I before Ive made you shake my hand and i acknowledge Ive played square. Tim Kid is fretlin, and things in gcnal is not liv.dy with your pardner. Jos Brace." I did not reply to this l-ttor. I heard again from Sir Edmund at the end of November. His letter was dated tho 201 h. He felicitated me heartily upon the purchase I had made, and added the warmest wishes for my success. He continued: "Thank you lor Brace’s letter. The tone of it Would lea l one to imagine not only that he knows where the diamond is but has a strong belief in hie power to recover it. One cannot possibly believe that it was he who robbed and attempted to murder you. But whom are we to suspect, if not him? If he were not guilty, why should ho try to conceal the leather ease which might lead to its recovery? There is a iascination in this subject which overcomes mj- wish to drop it. It is like the fifteen puzzle that drove half the wor'd mad some yea l s ago. “Van Hoeck st. IJ wanders about the woods through the night. More than once he has been seen standing outside the > room in which Edith and 1 pass the evening, listening. "His suspicions have perhaps fallen upon us. The poor wretch may have lost his reason. His appearance, when I caught sight of him the other day, justifies the suspicion. “I have to confess to an indiscretion which may have no serious result, but which I regret all the same. Yesterday I i received a telegram from Furnival, dated Haxel’s Hotel. “It ran thus: “ AVe have important clew. Send address of Joseph Brace at once, or place where he is likely to be found.’ "The ‘we’ led me to suppose that he was an agent of the detectives employed in this case, and without further reflection I »ent Brace’s address, having your letter under my hand. I became uneasy as soon as the messenger was out of sight, and sent Wilson over to Southampton with two telegrams, one for Furnival and the other for the head of the detective department, ask- । ing for further particulars. I have received no reply whatever from Furnival. and the detectives replied by letter that thej- employed no one named Furnival, and that all inquiries were made through the head office. “Who on earth can this Ftm val be. and ' what can be tho object of his inquiries? The mystery was sufficiently incomprehensible without this addition.” Incomprehensible indeed, and the more closely one examined the mystery, the more inscrutable it appeared. ‘I inclose," he wrote in conclusion, “a letter which came to hand this morning." It was a second letter from Brace. This is the copy: “TtBBALS’ GOT.DKN STATE HOTEL, | "Sairamento City, Nov. 8, f ‘Gentleman Thorne: “Kir—l dint expec you to answer my letter, but the Kid have’took it to heart moren natral. I told you she was kinder frettin, and to please her I made believe I had sent the message she ast me to rite. Which gettin no answer to said message she sorter felt youd turned your back on her for ever. I dont think she’s goin to m ike old bones. Seems to me like as if she meant knocking off early. Sos she dont feel like gatherin any more wild flowers. “The doctor considers that sickness she got out Africa has settled into her, and she ' cant eorff it off. ' “The rains lies set in early up Petersville, arid they aint no good for a poor little sick Kid. Wo come down here day fore yesterday. : “Shes pinin. pardner, that’s whats the i matter with her, witch is why I rite her mess sage. । “She says she wants to be good; thems ‘ her words. I never knew her say such a thing, and I cant hardly cxpec you to believe it, knowing what she was, out if you could only see her as she is you’d believe it. E Shes that altered; no tantrums, no oppo- [ sishun, no obstinacy—no nothin. , “Seein this, you may be moved, sir, bein kinder pitiful by natur, to rite her a few words, jest to say you’ve got her message, [ and hope she'll stick to her promise. With . a little bit of encouragement like that, I don’t think she’d go away without telling us what shes done with the Great Hesper. > Yours respectfully, Jos Brace.” , I I starte<l_f®r Sacramento without a mo- > mept’s delay. [TO BE CONTINUED.] Back to England. 1 The bones of nine British officers who e fell at AVaterloo, and were buried in t the cemetery of the Quartier Leopold at Brussels, have at last been transferred to ^n English cemetery. ’1 he it skeletons are all finely preserved. All were very tall men. The old tomb- * stones xx ere set up over the new g ^s^

A V . Y engagement with Edith was broken off that evening. 1 had not the slightest hope of re coveting the lost diaJmond. and when I told Sir Edmund my reasons for despairing. he did not attempt to conceal his satisfa tion with regard to my determination. "A man should never be dependent on his wife. It must necessarily be a source of hitmil-

WALKERTON, ST. JOSEPH COUNTY, INDIANA, SATURDAY, JI NE 8,1889.

STORY OF THE DELUGE. HEARTRENDING SCENES IN CONEMAUGH VALLEY. William Henry Smith's Graphic Description of the Flood’s Awful Approach— Mad Plunge of the Aqueous Avalanche on the City of Conemaugh- How Trains, Houses, Everything, Went Down Before the Fierce Niagara—Awful Scenes of Destruction. Mr. William Henry Smith. General Manager of the Associated Press, was an eve-witness of the awful scenes in Coneniaugh Valley on tho night of the great calami, v. Ho t< Ils the following story of tho flood's devastation : The fast line Gains Hint 1< ave Chicago at 3 :15 and Cincinnati at 7 p. in. constitute the day express eastward from Pittsburgh, wl.ich runs in two sections. This train I ft Pittsburgh on time Friday morning, bu. was stopped for an hour at Johnstown‘by reports of n wnsliout ahead. It had been ruining herd for over sixteen hours, and the sides of the mountains were covered with water descinding into the valleys. The Coneu :u:gh Biver, whose bank’ is followed by th) Pemisylvnnia Railroad for inauv mil's, looked an angry Hood nearly bankful. I’ussei gers were interested in seeing hundreds of taw-logs and an enormous amount of driitwoi d shoot rapidly by. and tho train pursued its ray eastward. At Johnstown there was a long wait, as In fore stated. The lower stories of many houst s were submerged by the slack waler, anil the inhabitants were looking out of th ■ second stori s Horses were standing up to their knees in water in the streets ; a side tra k of the railroad I had been washed out ; Ea led ears were on the br'dgo to keep ii steady, mid the huge poles ot th > Western Union T< li graph Company, /arryiug fitteon wires, swav d badly, mid several soon went down. Ill' two sections ran to Coneniaugh. about two miles this side of J< hnstown, and lav there about three hours, when they were moved in to the highest ground and placed side by side. Tin mailtrain win pla id in the rear of the first section, and a fr< igbt train was run on to a side t ruck on the bank of the <om n a vgli. The report was that a bridge laid been washed out, carrying away one track, ami that the other track was unsafe. There was a rumor also that tile r< servoir at South Fork, some time ago a

VII W OF FLOOD IN .InIBsTOWX HIT oriN SI’M I WAS KNOWN As IRON slit! Fl'.

feeder of the I’ennsylvam.i (anal. but la ierly | (he pnp'rly of H club a I’ittt-bur.: and m-cl j for hunt!ng Kt id fishing. wa • tit -nf' and might I break. This mole most of th» pi-i.iiiin< ■ uneasy, and they kip a men > good I lookout. for infonnu ion The porters | of the Pullman ea s nmti'm-d at their I Osts a* <1 comforted the pass< ngo) s with ;ht ns . i snranee that .he ITuum hnnin Tnilri nd <\m- I I any always KHikiure of its pairum A few | j gentlemen and some ladies and children qi i -th seated thrmsi Ives. tippanntly contented. One ‘ gent leman. whow as ill. In 1 bis berth made up . and ntired. although advised not to do so. ’ Soon the cry came t hat th'wntei in the reservoir had broken down the harrier and was I sweeping dow n the valley Instantly th re was ' a panic, and n rush for the mountain -ide. Children were mrried and women assistid jby w few who kept cool hi ads. It । was a race for lie. There was seen the I black heal of th' flood, now the monster of destruction. whose crest was high mis'd in the air. and w ith this in i iew even the weak found wings for their ha t No words can adequately describe the terror that filled every breast, or the awful power manifested by the flood. The round-house had stalls I for twenty-three locomotives, fin re wereeight- | ecn or twenty of these standing there at this | time. There was an ominous era-h. and the round-house ai d locoinotiv s di.-appi a id. Everything in the main tiaek of the flood was first liftid in the air a id then swallowed up by the waters. A hundred houses were swept awuv in a few minutes; these included the hotel; stores, and mlo t s on the front street, and residences adjacent. I As the fugitives on th' mountain side witj nessed the awful devasi a.ion. they were moved I as never before in their lives. Thev were ]>ow erless to help those seized upon by the waters ; the despair of those who had lost eve rything except [ I life, and the wailing of those' whose relatives . or friends were missing tilled their breasts with unutterable sorrow. The rain continued to fall | steadily, but shelter was not thought of. Very few passengers saved anything from the train, so sudden was the cry. “Kun for your lives ; the reservoir has broken.' - Many were without hats. and. as their baggage was left on the trains, they were without the means of relieving their unhappy condition. The recuiants of the houses still standing on the high ground threw them open to those who had lost, all and to the passengers of the train. During the height of the flood the spectators were startled by the sound of two locomotive whistles from the very midst of the w aters. The engineers, with characteristic courage, had remained at their posts, and while there was destruction on every hand, and apparently no escape for them, they sounded their whistles. This they repeated at intervals —the last time with triumphant vigor as the waters were receding from the sides of their locomotives. By 5 ill'J the force of the reservoir waters had been spent on the village of Conemaugh. and the Pullman cars and locomotive if the second section remained unmoved. This was because they were on the highest and hardest ground. The destructive current of the reservoir flood had passed between tin and th i mountain, while the current of the river did not <atit away. But the other trains hud bei n destroyed. A solitary locomotive was seen imbedded in the mud where the round-house had stood. As the greatest danger had parsed, the people of Conemaugli gave their thoughts to their neighbors of the city of Johnstown. Here was centered the grea st al and iron industries, the pride of AVtstern Pennsylvania, the Cambria Iron Works being known everywhere. Here were churches, daily new^papers, banks, dry goods bouses, warehouses, aid the comfortable and will-built homes of 1'2,.001 people. What was their fate? In the contempl.il ion of the irresistible force of that aw ful flood gathering additional momentum as it swept on toward the Gulf, it became dear that the city must be destroyed, and that, unless the inhabitants had telegraphic notice of the breaking of the reservoir they must perish. A cry of horror went up from the hundreds on the mountain-side, and a few instinctively turned their steps toward Johnstown. The city was destroyed. All the mills, furnaces, manufactories; the many and varied industries, the banks, the residences —all. All were swallowed up before the shadow s of night had settled down upon the earth. What of the inhabitants? Who can tell with any certainty ? Those who came back by daybn ak raid that from 5,0(0 to 8,000 bad been drowned. Our hope is that this is an exaggeration, and when the roll is called most will respond. In the light of this calamity the d< siruction at Conemaugh sinks into insignificance. In this latter place they were already bringing in the dead on stretchers. How many had been lost here, at • Mineral Point, and at §outh Fork could not be told and may never be known. There were some passengers and perhaps forty or fifty inhabitants. The loss of property is enormous The track of the railroad company is certainly do stroved for at. least ten miles below South Fork, and all other property of the company on the line. The destruction of Johnstown’s industries will alone reach many millions. Then to this great sum add the value of the houses and public buildings in that city and of the villages above ’ I and below it, and some idea can be formed of the l i wealth obliterated by the flood created by the I ! breaking of the reservoir. . I Ard this reservoir was maintained for Ine - I pleasure of a Pittsburgh club. Upon the moun--3 ' tain wos suspended a body of water three miles i long, one mile w ide, and seventy feet deep for * the recreation of a few pleasure-seekers. W hat - would happen if there should be a break must „ have been imperfectly apprehended, since it is v eaid that a bond of only three millions had been exacted from the club. AV hat are three millions

to flic gross sum for tho destruction of proper-I ty? Can they restore the dead to life, or assuage the grief of the bereaved? The question of inornl responsibility swallows up the financial as completely as the angry waters did the city of : Johnstown. William Henry Smith. THE SCENE - SIMPLY AWFUL. Pen Pictures of the Heartrending- Condition of the Valley. This is certainly one of the world’s greatest I entustrophes, telegraphs Fred It. G los, the Chicago AYks’ special corres) ondent at Jolmstow n. ; The scene is awful. The dea l lie so thick that a corpse scarcely commands attention, save ai the ; committees proceed on their rounds. In a schoolhouse on the hillside there are 150 bodies. > Many of them are frightfully cut and bruised. Every condition of lire id both sexes in almost, equal number are among the dead. The propio were caught without warning in the midst of iheir regular pursuits. Met- 1 elants, lawyers, and business men generally tire tho jnost numerous victims. The I great number of young women, who car j be sotn to have l ad n tiactive faces despite the distortions of d< nth, is del ply touching. ladi s are soon ideniitii d and dressed for burial. '1 housands of coffins are coming in on the trains aid lire being rapidly used. In many eases ■ whole ainilies perish'd. In a small room of : the s< hocl-hous < lay el even little children. A I big boy Kilt by contemplating them. They were bis brothirs and sisters. His father, Squire lislur. aid his mother wire drowned, but th ir bodies have not yet been tound. The children ‘ were in the attic mid would have been saved, I 1 nt a locomotive v as hurled through the house and knocked dow n. The bm-ine s j ar; of Johnstown is without : fotni. The ston s in such buildings ns Etill ! st and are in vast disorder. The doors are block- ■ n led with dii.t , bin piering within a number । of them, the proprietors, tin ir clerks, and eus- I tomers <an be setn dead on the floor. The; Hoti 1 Hurlburt, a large brick building. Vas made a rdace of refuge, and h 11, killing seventy ' P ople, ’ i T lie whole valley, a- far as the eye reaches, is | n-i indescribable wreck, and upon H is hideous scene a cold ra n has poured all da>' long and i still pn vails to night. No attempt is made to I avoid the wi at her and Hie thorn and s of survivors j are wringing wet to-uigtn. Most of tho tugitives have got shelter now. The first liispatchis ?rom this scene were ' many times short of the treTnendons truth. The j catastrophe is so gnat tlißi none dare venture : an estimate upon its extent. Woodvnle and ■ < 'i.miuangh are i.Ueily destroj ~ mid their ;

joint population Os .'..uiM is dtiid. .hdmstown l ।i■» w n c!><d. aid eerlnitiK ' ini people lie d> ivl in Ihe streetH and among the driftwood in the sub- • I siding Mruim. The busim—s pnilen of the I | pnmpeiouH little city is obh'emtisl mid for a | mile along Main street the wreckage is piled ‘ | fifty fri t high lor mih sls I. w 11.e o< b is of shatti ri d house* chokes the stream. Om Imndred and ninety | i O lies were picked o .t of the river Kt Nineveh, Kild 1 be n a or (I v wire but lid there to dm. rim depot in idled withle.id, and all the public buildings left sißiidiug are used as morgues. In Johnstown prop r the work of picking up the di n i Illis I,i rdy ls iu n. There are about 1w o square miles of wrickago gorged against the bridge and in flumes. It is sit id Ihilt TOJO pen] died there. Ibis vast drif. is still ablae, aid is bo tightly pa kt d that it will inquire great engineering to clear the stream. Tim river is parted by it, and runs like a mill-nice on either hand. The lower part of rhe town along the river bunk is washed e- bare as a common, and it is hard to bi Heve tbif thmi-ands of dwellings and business blocks bo recently covered the ground. DAZED BY THE HORROR. Johnstown Like a Great Tomb Scenes in the Stricken City. \ slid and gl 'emy sky almost ns sad and gloomy a- the human fil es under it. shrouded Johnstown to-day, eontimies Mr. Giles. Bain fell nil day and uddid to the miseries of the w retched i eople. The great plain w here the best pari of Johnstown used to stand is half covered with water. The few -idewa’ks in the part that I scaped the flood were inches thick with Ida k sticky mud. through which i tramped u stialy procession of rhe poor women who a-e left utterly destitute. The tents, where the people are housed who cannot find other shelter, were cold and chee:less. The ! town seemed like u great tomb. The people of Johnstown have supped so full of horrors that they go about in a sort of a daze and only half conscious of their griefs. Every hour us one goes through the streets he hears neighbors greeting each other and then inquiring, without show of feeling, how many each had lost in his family To-day a grny -haired man hailed another across the street with this question. I lost live ; all aie giue but Mary and 1,” was the reply. “I am worse off than that,’’ said the first old gentleman; I have only my grandson left. Seven of us gone.” And so thev passed on without apparent excitement. They and every one else had heard so much of these melancholy conversations that somehow the calamity had lost its signifi<mice to them. They treat it exactly as if the dead persons bad gone away and were coming bu -k in a week. The melancholy task of starching the ruins for more bodies- went on today in the soaking rain. There w ere little crowds of morbid euriosity hunters around each knot of workingmen, but they were not residents of Johnstown. All their curiosity in that direction was sated long ago. Evi n thos ; who come in from neighboring towns with the idea of a day's strange and ghastly experiences did not cure to be near after they had seen one bodv exhumed. There were hiindriins and thousands of these visitors from the country. One thing tha‘makes the work of sea-ching for the bodies very si iw ip the strange way that great masses of objects were rolled into intrice.te musses of rubbish. As the flood came down t'ie valley of the South Fork it obliterated the suburb of Woodvale, whore not a house was left nor a trace of one. The material they had contained rolled on down the valley, over and over, grinding it up to pulp and filially leaving it against mi unusually firm foundation or an eddy. The s? masses contain human bodies, but it is slow work to pick them to pieces. In the side of one of them wuis seen the rem» Hants of a carriage, the body of a harnessed horse, a bnbv cradle and a doll, a. tress of woman's ha ! r, a rocking-horse, and a piece of beefsteak still hanging to a hook. SMALL TOWNS SWEPT AWAY. Little Left of Kernville—Woodvale a Sea, of Mud. Out of the 1,003 houses that once made up the little tow n of Kernville only 155 remain stmiding, says a Johnstown special. One thousand people is a low estimate of the number of lives lost from this town. But a few of the bodies have been recovered. It is directly above the ruinsat the bridge, and the bodies have floated down into them, where they burned. A walk through the town revealed a desolate sight. Only about twentv-five able-bodied men have survived and are able to render anj' assistance. Men and women can bo seen with black eyes, bruised faces, and cut heads. The appearance of some of the ladies is heartrending. They were injured in the flood and since that have not slept. Their faces have turned a. sickly yellow, and dark rings surround the eyes. Many have succumbed to nervous prostration. For two days but little assistance could be rendered them. No medical attention reached them. The wounded remained uncared for in some houses cut off by the water and died from their injuries alone Some were alive on Sunday, and their shout s could be heard by the people on the shore, . . -i. <- • A man is now in a temporary jail in wnat is left of the town. He was caught stealing a gold watch. A shot was tired at him, but he was not wounded. The only thiug that saved him from lynching was the smallness of the crowd. His

1 sentence will be the heaviest, that can be given I him. A milkman who was overcharging for ! milk this morning narrow ly escaped lynching, I The infuriated men appropriated all his milk I and distributed it among the poor mid then drove him out of tho town. Services in the chapel from which the bodies were buried consisted merely of a prayer by one of the survivors. No niinister win present. I Each coffin had a descriptive < a”d upon it and I on the grave a similar curd wa< placed to that I bodies can be removed later by friends. Where Woodville once stood there is now a sea I of inud, broken but rarely by a pile of wreckage. । Nothing is standing but the < Id woolen-mills. The place is Kwtpt Iwo of all other ■ buildings but tho ruins of the Gautier wir mill. The boilers of this great works were j carried 100 yards from th-ir foundation. Pieces of < nginea, rills, and other niu 'hinery were swept far dway from where they once stood. ; The wreck of a hese carriage is s ieking up out of the mud. It belonged to the crock cuinpany ot Johnstown. Thoenvine house is swept away I and the cello- is tilled with mud, so ti nt the : site i i oblitera'i d. A German vatcliman was on guard a' the mill \ : when the waters came. He ran for the hillside ; and succeeded in escaping. He tells a graphic j story of the' appearance of the water ns it j swept down the valley. Ho deelmcs that the ! first wave was in high as tho third story of a : ; house. The ]la'c is deserted. NoefTort is being n ude l to den ii ff the streets. The mire has formed । : the grave for ninny a poor victim. Arms and ; legs are protruding from tho mud, and it makes : i the most sick' ning of pictures. The Cambria Hospital hoi now 301 pa'iente. j Several injured people have had operations per- j i formed on theni. Tiie hospital in the upist part of Jolmstown ; i is full to overflowing. Many have been carried to the surrounding houses Hos| itals have be< n established at Cone* mmigh mid Mineral Point. A rope ferry is now being opr rated in the . lowrr part <f th’ town. An effort is being i made to construct a biidge across the Corej maugh al Hi" point where the old county bridge ; I stood. Order is slowly arising out of chaos. The j survivors m e slow i v realizing what is the best ' course to pursue. The great cry is for men— ' I inen who w ill work m d not stm d idly by and ; do nothing but gaze a‘ the ruins. A man nmned Dougherty tells a thrilling I story of a ride down the liver on a log. When : the w ut« rs si ru< k I Jie naif of the house cn which ; he bad taken shilter, he jumped astride a I telegraph pole, riding R distance of some ! twenty-three miles from Johnstown to Bolivar I befv re he va v r< ncued. A nmnekss Paid Revere lies somewlure among the dead. Who he is may never 1«> known, but his lide will be fmnous in local history Mounted on u large bay horse, hi'cmne riding, like an in gel of wrath, down the pike which pa-st'd through Coin miiugh to Johnstown. shout ing in he eiline : " Hun for \ our lives Ito tho hills! Run to the hills!" Th ■ I peop) ■ crowdi d out of their houses along | lilt’ thickly rettlid streets Nolxxiy knew I - the man, and some thought thn’ he was J a niania-. On he rode, shrilling out his awful , cry . In a few uioinents there < ame a cloud of I ruin down the l>i'a I streets, dow n the rm-row i alley s. griudieg. t w istit’g, hurling, ovirturning, crii-hii g. miniliiliit ing the wi ak mid stron;. It was the el.a ge of Ihe flood. On ra rd the rider mid on rushed the vnve. Dozens of jieople | heeded the v aruing and rn-i fertile bills. Just n - tbe lone rider rl ossed Ihe iHih'oiid 1.-idgethe I mighiv vnve fill upon him. and horse man and bridge went now u into chaos together. THE FATAL DAM. ■ Its Owners Were Aware of Its Rotten Condition. M«s rs II Singer G< mge Singer Louis Cla'k. and It Hmsey Hinns of I’it ■ sburg. relai Ives of ; nietnlar-of the South Eork Fisliin;: Club have arrivi d froni the broken cam suvs a disi utcli i from Johnston ii. The lake is cmnphti'li diiid out. The dam 1 broke in the . ■ nt< ra' 3 o clock on Friday utter- I iiimiu, uud a' l o'clock it wu< drv II n gnu ( l.edv of water I'itssi d <mt in one hour. Messrs ! Purl, mid Vmi Buren, who are buildim. n new ' d.mniie: sv-tciu in the hike, tiled to inert the ; disaster bv digging a sltiici win <m oue side to I ! t use the pressure on I hi- dam. Tiny ind alamt i fori v ini n nt w ork. innl did all Ih< y eon id w h 1;- i out uinil the water piimlov< r:h <himulsuit n 1 foot above its top. be inning at about L 0 Wlmtevi r luipi 'lu d in th" v iiv of u clondin Ist took ] 111 e uin ing the bight. There hud b en ‘ but little Inin ip to dark. When the workmen i awoke in the nimulng the bike wa. v ry lull . i nml was. ri-ii.g nt the lute of u foot a i hour. It ; kept ou iising i util 2 o । hs k when it first la- | gnu breaking over the Un ii. uudiiiltiiliing it ; I | inen were s ut ih'ce nr four tinu: dining the ■ <lav to mini '.lie pis'ple la kiw of their dmi,:er. I i When the final hr. ak cmno a' 3 o'clock tli- re was a sound like thunder, and tr vs, I i cks, and earth were shot up into mid uir in gnat colnimis. ami then the wave start* d de w n ; the ravine. \ fmnui who t—enped said ti n' lie water did not come down like a wine, but | junqied on his house and beat it to fnigineuts in i an instant. He win Mife np< u the hill-ide, I ut i Ills wife and two children weie kill d. i At the present time the hike looks like , a cross la-tween the crater of u volcano mid I n huge mud-1 while with stumps of r i B aid | rocks scattered over it. There is a -ina’l strea n I of muddy wa er running through the center d Ilie hike. The dam was seventy feet high, and the br.uk is ah' lit 2XI feet wide, mid there is bld n small portii n of the dam lift , n ether s'di. No dmna 'e was done to any oi the buildings he- ; longing to the club. The whole south fork is swept, with not a tie.' standing. A num nmned Maguire say s h 'was standing [ outlie edge of the bike when the mills burst. I The water was risiim all Jay and v a on a livid ' with a pile of dirt which, lie aid. was above Illi I wall of the dam. All of a-widen it burst with | a report like u cannon and the water started > down the mountain side, sweeping before ii I trees as if they were chips; bowlders were I rolled down as if they wire marbles. ; The roar was dtafi ning. Th' lake wasempi tied in an hour and a half. All the vater, he said, is now out. Th? ra head is in a terrible condition. At seine points hoi s twenty to thirty feet deep were washtd in the tracks. On his way down he stopped a Mineral Print, w here sixteen house i wire va-lud away mid

THE CAMBRIA IRON WORKS.

several lives lost. At Ea t Conemaugh thirty houses were carried away by the flood. Ihr loss of life is large at this point. THE LOSS OF LIFE. The Terrible Sacrifice of Human Life Will Never Be Known. The developments of every hour make it more . and more apparent that the exact number or ' lives lost in the Johnstown horror will netw be known, savs ono correspondent. All estimates - that have been made up to this t ime are conservative and w'heu all is known will doubtless be found to have been too small. Oxer , one thousand bodies have been found since sunrise to-day, and the most skeptical con- , cede that the remains of thousands more rest ' beneath the debris above Johnstown bridge. The popula.ionof Johnstown, the surroum M 3 towns, and the por ion of the - affected by the flood is, or was, from ,h* c y I thousand to fifty-five thousand. Associated i Press representatives to-day intel viewcl i numerous leading citizens of Johnstown | i who survived the floods and the consensus of 1 opinion was that fully 30 per cent, of the>iesi- : dents of Johnstown and Cambria had been iicr time of the combined disastersuf fire and wa- . ter It' this be true the total loss of life in the . entire valley may reach 15,000. Os the thou--1 sands who were devoured by the flames, and t whose ashes rest beneath the smoking de mis . above Johnstown bridge, no definite infoimai tion can ever be obtained. As little wi .• be learned of the hundreds who sunk beneath t the current and were borne swihJy down the Conemaugh only to be deposited hundreds of l miles 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 i take a list of the missing weeks hence i to enable even a close estimate to be ■ made of the number of lives that were i snuffed out in that brief hour. That this estimate can never be accurate is understood 'when i it is remembered that in many instances whole I families and their relatives were swept away ; and found a common grave beneath the wild i waste of waters. The total destruction of the i city leaves no data to eyen demonstrate that

I the names of these unfortunates ever found । pla-e on the pages of history. I “AU indica ions point to the fact that the dia h list will riueh over five thousand names, and in my opinion the missing will reach 8 00.) ! in number.” declared Gen D. H. Hastings. 1 At present there ii"o raid to bo 2,200 recovered I bodies. The grea diflictilty experienced in ; getting a correct list is the great number of 1 morgues. There is no central bureau of inforination, and to communicate with the different dea'ihouses is t he work of hours. In answer to questions from Gov. Beaver, Adjt. Gen. Hastings has telegraphed the following: "Good order prevailed throughout the city and vicinity hist night. Police arrangements are i excellent. Not one arrest made. No need of sending troops. I ' About 2,(MX) bodies have been rescued, and the work of einbalming and burying the dead is going on w ith regularity There is plenty of med : - c.il assistm ee. We have a bountiful supply of ; food and clothing to-dny and the fullest tele- > gru iliie ni ilitie.s are afforded, and all inquiries j uro proinp ly answered The Pennsylvania rail- 1 j r< al will be completed to Johnstown station 1 ; to-night. Have you any instructions or inqui- I j lit h ? j "The most cinee vative estimates here place tlie loss of lives a‘ fully 5,0.; v Tho preva ling : impression in that, the loss will rea -h from 8,0 0 I to 10,0 If). There are many widows and orphans, i and u grea l many wounded—impossible to give mi estimate. The property destroyed will reach ; 825.00-),(X)h. The popular estimate will reach isUOJXIO.OOO to 85 >,<»>,ooo^ Chief Burgess Hurl and L. C. Moxham, Chairman of the Relief Committee, are doing good work. Have male requisition on Pittsburg lor cooking facilities, shoes, and made- | up clothing for men, women, and children, all es which we need badly. To-morrow morning we will have OJO inen. with horses, carts, axes, and other tools, clearing away tho debris. "You cannot raise too much money for this suffering community.” GOV. BEAVER S CALL FOR AID. Money, Provisions, and Clothing- BadlyNeeded. Gov. Beaver, of Pennsylvania, issued fl strong appeal for aid. It is addressed to the people of tin' United States, and says : Newspaper reports a i to the loss of life fli d propi rtv have not been exaggerated. The Valley of the Cominaugn, wnien is peculiar, has bei n swept from one end to the other as with ti e besom of destruction. It contain 'd n populaticn of .10,0 hi to 50,000 people, linng for the most part along th ' bunks of a small river confined w ithin narrow 1 nits. The most conservativeestlma es place the loss of life at 5.01 D human beings and of property tv. 82 >.0X1,0)0. The most pressing needs so far as food is concerned have liven suppliwl. Shoes and clothing of nil sorts for men, women and children are \ । . I ii of rm l AMmiti iron c< mpany’s mill ni x r to uir: Biiimis:. i.natlv needed. Money is also urgently required to remove the debris, bury j the deal, and care teinporarily for widows ' and orphans and for the homeless families. Otln r localities have suffered to roine ext"Ut in i the siiiiie way. but not in the same degree. Lato :» I. ii e- w c.'ild seem to indiente that there is i on' I. i f biv mid destruction <f property iib'ii'.' '.lie wi st bianelt of the Susquehanna and ; i.i |... ul" ins from which we cun get no definite inforniation. tin responses from within and without the state lia-.e Isen uiost generous and cheering. N. r.li and South. East mid West, from the United States and from England there conies the ! same hi'ut t y. generous response of sympathy and I help. 1 nnds conliibut« d in aid of the sufferers can be depo-iliil with Drexel A Co. Philaihlphia; i Jn , I, E. Bn nberger, 1 anker, Harrisburg; or i William K. Ihompxn A Co., bankers, Pittsburg. AU nifiney contributed will bo used carefully and judiciously. TWO CHICAGOANS’ EXPERIENCE. How They Escaped the Rushing Wall of Water. I rimk Felt find Sidney McCloud, two Chicago ira rehants, were in Jolmstown when the avalance of water fell upon the iil-L bed city. Both gentlemen give ii as their estimate that the lost will number between 10,003 and 15,000. Tin v i-ay that on the night of Decoration Day thej- saw 20,000 people in the streets, and the town was alive with people. Friday umi ning the streets were crowded wi ‘t people lushing fur the mountain wh . they started, and not more than 500 reached tiie place. All others went down with the flood. Messrs. McCloud and Felt tell a graphic story of their escape. They were out attending to business during the morning, and when they went to the hotel, the Hurlbut House as noon there was about ten inches of water in the office, and they went to a restamant to get something to cat. When they came out of the restaurant they saw tiie streets crowded with people running to the mountains. They steppea out the bark way to an alley and run for the hill, but had to wade through water up to their waists before reaching the high ground. They had little inoie than a block to go, and tho people who were twenty feet behind them were caught by the flood arid swept away. For this

reason they think the loss will be found to be very great The water came in a wall, pi eceded by a yellowish cloud of mist or foam, and as it caught the blocks of houses it swept them down together with a succession of crashes that was tl Mr^Felt thinks there were less than 600 people on the high ground with him. The others went down with the flood. He saw hundreds of them go down before his eyes as they wood looking down upon the wreck. No ono escaped from the Hurlbut house, and Messrs. I'elt and McCioud would have been among the lost had they dined there. is soon as possible the Chicago men began the work of organizing relief parties to rescue I the people who were on the houses that had been swept back into Stony Creek when the water could not escape below. These people were wild with fright, and Mr. felt secured a clothes-line which was used to send out a raft with a strong man to take people off the houses. A river man volunteered for this work, and with a rope tied securely about bis body, ho made many trips into ‘the flood, and each time brought two I people ashore with him. The other gentlemen carried these people up to the high ground where they were cared for by the residents of 1 hat locality. They rescued over fifty people in this wav, mostly women and children, fney worked as long as they could see and after dark the lire at the bridge gave them light to see here and there the people still clinging to roofs, some of whom were rescued. A number of traveling men who were in the hotels tied tags to thenclothing and shot themselves, so desperate were they in this scene of terror. Both gentlemen vouch for this. Nothing seems much clearer than the natural direction of charity. Would we all but relieve, according to tho measure of our means, those objects immediately within the range of our personal knowledge, how much of the worst evil of 1 overty might be alleviated. , _ ;

NUMBER 50

TIIE SUNDaTscHool -WTERTAINING DISSERTATION ON SERIOUS SUBJECTS. •—— A Pleasant, Interesting, nn<l Instructive Lesson and Where It Muy R„ Found-A Learned and Concise Review of the Same. -wi. I rri 4'l. J^'f^ODUCTORY. I Ihe trial of Christ is continued; this timn he appears before the Roman tribunal. The i ery fact that ho so appears is proof of the t of the Jews. Ha i one ot hen th iJ hi 8 ) 0 Punishment satisfied i them. th< j eoul 1 have disposed of this case ! hU ’ rr C Ot ~ h 0 ^nnhodrim. But I they aiu bent upon taking the life of their pnsoncr. ai d s i, by the law of the day, they must needs; ppoar with the. one upon whom I they wish trie penalty of death inflicted, boChrist befote Pilate signifies. It meins > Jhe/auhedrira hav^e ulr.radV passed t the deati s.'ntmee upon him. It remains only fur them to get the formal permit ot the governor. And for this they wrestle as for a seeptei; they will have nothing else. ... . * HAT THE LESSON TEACHES. Stra^hlieav in the mominy. They were ' IS'stAn^n l ^ llß tlCU,h ’ T,)Or « Were ' as btout in his studied work on “Ihe Tria’s kr.l pm X m n Os Cbrist” (Cincinnati StunI ftbit I m b '’i 1In ? n lX '’ say*'seven distinct J??. 8 ! ’k t Y 1 ’ ^ efore Annas, recorded ina.nly by John. 2. Before Caiaphas (Matm-? V v “mI M v' k) a Beforo the Sanhedrim proper (Mark and Luke). 4. Before P.late. | preliminary (John). 5. Before Herod (LuKe), i ”i 1 ilate prior to tho scourging V 1 ® lesson before us). 7. Before ’.I 1, ,hft . sc ourging (John 19:1-16). W ith what meekness Christ met the whole protracted indignity! “For eons dor him inut endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, kis by considering such endurance that we ourselves are made strong. John Connick, of I eland (1750), who wrote for us those beautiful hymna: "Jesus my all to heaven is gone ” “Children of the Heavenly King," Lo, he conies with clouds descending," preaching in the open air, was set upon by a dissolute mob who beat drums, threw dirt and stones and muddy water. At last John Cennick said to me, “What harm do "o do? hy are you so furious against us? We only come to tell you that Christ loved you and died for you.” Tho mail only stepped back for room, and threw a bucket of water full in the preacher’s face. “My dear man," said John Cennick,xvhen ho had 1 ecovered himself, "if God should pour his wrath upon you, what would become ot you ? Yet I tell you that Christ loves you." The man let fall the bucket, trembled and turned pale. When he parted from the evangelist he was under deep conviction. I It was the might of mercy. Delivered him to Dilate. Yet it is not Christ, but Pilate, that is on trial. And tried and found wanting, is the X'erdic’. ‘'Cursed be the day on which I succeeded Valerius Gratus in the government of Judea," reads an old document in the Vatican Library at Rome, purporting to have come from the pen of Pilate in his report to Tiberius Caesar. Well might He lue tho day. with the vision oi that guiltless though devoted Face before him. Dr. Farrar calls our attention to “the revenges of history” in connection with the trial of Christ. "Judas died in the horrors of a loathsome suici e. Caiaphas was deposed the year following. Herod died in infamy and exile. Pilate, wearied out with misfortunes, died of suicide and banishment, leaving behind him an execrated name. The house of Annas was destroyed a generation later by an infurated mob, and his son was dragged through the streets, and scourged and beaten to his place of murder.” It was not the Christ, but themselves, xvhom they “delivered” to destruction. Art thou the King of the Jewel It was such a test as only a God could meet. Kinaoi the Jews—they have disowned him; will be acknowledge them? The question is not. “Will he assert his legal rights?” But will he condescend to own such a people? Truly there is something contemptuous in tho query. Thore they were hooting, howl* ing. The priests treading on each other’s gowns in their eagerness io accuse him. and I ilate knows it is “for envy;” the high priest standihg out there at the door for fear of defilement, yet ready this moment to imbrue h s hand in innocent blood; the Jewish rabble lifting their hands in the air with the merciless ery. "Crucify him!” ton of God. is this thy people? Wilt thou acknowledge such baseness, blood-thirsty-ness, brutishness? "Art thou the King of the Jews'!" See. he is about to answer. It is the same eye that looked upon a dying Peter, the same face that bent to receive the kiss of a betraying Jndas; and th:) same voice that presently speaks from between the arms of a cruel cross, "Father, forgive them.” Hear him now calmly, assuredly. "Thou sayest." Brother, there is all the love and the might of God in those two words. Whilst they stand on the page of the gospel is there not hope through faith for the vilest? A crown of thorns. Thorns for cruelty ; a crown, but in contempt. Christ came with hands full of blessing and a heart full of love How did man receive him? With a • disdainful chaplet. What had earth to give her benefactor in return for his favors* ’ There in the manger of the inn some prickly blades of grass—lay his infant body in it. Hore by the wall of Pilate’s court some r;ispin^ bunches of the dw<irf-bus i Nubk bv name—take it and make him a diadem. ’Yes. press it on his tender brows; it will cling all the closer for the sharp thorns in It. Earth had for her Lord a gift. Two nails for bis hands, one for hfs let t, a cross for his back. Man hath a crown for him. but the crown hath ever its thorn. Yea, there was the sharpness of death even in lovo's alabaste ox. The crown with which earth gifte<- aim was never else than a crown of thorns. He made it one of glory, with each thorn a star-lit diahis own clothes on him. He is going to his death, and he must be clad m the vesture of his simple Christhness. There at the cross he stands forth shorn of ev-rj-robe of mockery falls away from ’J. 1 : 1 h seamless dress'of his earthly pilgrimage, symbol of his incarnate rlg,,te ^\ sncß ?’ find the shadow of the cross. One by one ’ he has been putting all things of earth away 1 from h&n H)e having days of his J I ami now in his own pe^on and garb m the ; God-man he climbs the lill ot sac rHee. 'Twas in that vesture we saw him last in the > ! Josed room and rn Olive’s glorious ; mil Tn that garment, shining forth ainiu, t ,alUl (lie .ramteu w. E.K. l And a»r© mad® x\holo aga*n. ’ Next Lesson-'Je^ Crucified.” Mark J 15: 21-39. - —- f An English writer says the Ameri- ' can girl ‘’puts on too many airs No ’ xvonder! An American girl xutli an XLlion skirt, bugle trimming, fluted ; 'vhat-yon-^ not b J musi . callyTuclined, but she can hardly help ‘ putting on airs. Missouri is abbreviated Mo so that the sweetness of Missouri girls is natural. Mo lasses is always sweet. AuTHO^he bill are unwelcome, he is usually invited to call again.