THE BROKEN DAM.
of two brakemen, who surrendered their lives. The village of South Fork, standing in the angle above the junction of two streams, and on high ground, was comparatively unharmed, though two lives and considerable property were destroyed.
On rushed the river down a valley, having from the lake to Johnstown an average grade of more than thirty feet in a mile. A mile and a quarter below South Fork the river strikes at right angles a projecting cliff. The baffled stream makes a detour of two miles and returns almost into itself, having accomplished an absolute advance of no more than seventy-five feet. A railroad cut no longer than this quits the river above, then regains and crosses it by a viaduct below. The railroad bed at the upper end of the cut is twenty feet above the stream, while at the lower end it is seventy. Here the torrent divided; a part of it, twenty feet deep and forty feet above the river-bed, flowing through the cut, the other part following the channel around. When this latter portion returning struck the cliff at the lower end of the cut, the water rose to the enormous height of one hundred and twenty-five feet. From this point the monster, towering to heaven, and like a “wild beast dreadful and terrible and strong exceedingly,” and ravening for prey, sprang upon Mineral Point, a little more than a mile below. The town was instantly “wiped out,” forty houses being swept away and sixteen persons drowned. The rest doubtless were saved by clinging to the wreck; or warned by the ominous roar, they had fled to the neighboring hills. The Methodist church, lifted from its foundation and tossing on the torrent, solemnly, and for the last time tolled its bell, as if recognizing the end of its days and usefulness; and continued to toll until its burial was accomplished beneath the waters.
Two miles and a half below Mineral Point the flood encountered another bend of the river, with a cut and viaduct in all respects similar to that which has been described. Here again was enacted the grand and terrific scene which took place above. Then from this augmented height the torrent swept down upon East Conemaugh and Franklin, a mile below. These villages standing on opposite sides of the river, constituted the first of that series of boroughs known by the name of Johnstown.
An engineer, backing up the road, and pulling at the nose of his locomotive a train of freight cars, had proceeded a third of a mile above Conemaugh. Here the roar of the coming flood broke upon his ears, and looking up the river he saw the descending avalanche. Instantly reversing his engine and drawing the throttle, his whistle all the while shrieking a wild alarm, he pushed at utmost speed the obstructing cars back to the yard of the Pennsylvania road. Then leaping from his engine, and leaving his whistle still to sound its warning, he ran to his house near by, and with his family escaped to the hill just as the rolling torrent dashed its billows at his feet.
Three passenger trains and one freight had been standing on the side-tracks some hours, detained by the wash-out already mentioned. The passengers were reading, writing, conversing, worrying, walking up and down the tracks in the rain, or watching the driftwood and the constantly rising river, but conscious of no danger. Something was said about a reservoir somewhere up the road, which might burst and come down upon them, but they gave the matter no second thought. Twice was one of the trains compelled to move, as the water undermined the track, and caused it to fall into the river. Once they were startled by the crash of a bridge, which yielded to
