At 1.22 P. M. we arrived at Harrisburg, where a short stop of eight minutes was made in changing engines. We bid adieu to our guests, receiving from them many congratulations and compliments as to our outfit and prospects, and best wishes for a happy trip and safe return. The jovial trainmaster of the Central Division, as he bade us goodbye, said: “You people could not travel in better form or fare better if you were a party of millionaires. I am sure you will have a good time.”
Whole-souled, big-hearted Frank Carlisle heaved a great sigh as he shook hands with Manager Wyman and Colonel Mitchell, and with a tear in his eye murmured, “Boys, I wish I could go with you.” Walt Gormley and George Stults turned their backs on the crowd to hide their emotion as “all aboard” rang out, and the last seen of “Tony” Hughes he was struggling in the grasp of Lew Smith and Rees Hannum, who had to hold him to prevent him from boarding the now fast-receding train, they knowing full well that business at Fifteenth and Washington Avenue would suffer did they not take “Tony” back with them.
It was just 1.30 P. M. when we left Harrisburg, drawn by P. R. R. engine No. 32, handled by Engineer John Ficks and fired by Jesse Reynolds. Conductor A. W. Black had charge of the train from Harrisburg to Altoona, with Flagman J. S. Wagner and Brakeman A. Gable. W. Brooke Moore, trainmaster of the Middle Division, was a guest on the train from Harrisburg to Altoona. We arrived at Altoona 4.50 P. M. and left at 4.57 P. M. with P. R. R. engine No. 867, Engineer F. W. Masterson, Fireman E. W. Pugh, Conductor W. B. Chislett, Flagman Frank Bollinger, Brakemen John Cline and C. D. Chamberlain. As guests we had C. W. Culp, trainmaster Pittsburgh Division, and D. M. Perine, assistant master mechanic, of Altoona, who accompanied the party to Pittsburgh.
Six miles west of Altoona we reach Kittanning Point and circle round the famous Horseshoe Curve. From this point a magnificent view of Alleghany Mountain scenery can be seen. Nine miles further and we reach the highest elevation on our trip across the Alleghanies and pass Cresson, a beautiful summer resort, the
location of the noted “Mountain House,” whose marvelous reputation for rates and rations attracts the bon-ton patronage of the world.
We now enter the Conemaugh country and note its picturesque hills and mountain ridges, among which winds and wriggles the historic Conemaugh River, which at present seems but little more than a harmless, babbling brook; but when the rains fall and the snows melt, and this sparkling little creek receives the waters from a hundred hills, it becomes a very demon in its resistless fury. For eight miles we have followed this stream and part company with it as we pass through the city of Johnstown. Johnstown will ever remember the Conemaugh River, flowing as it does through the very centre of the city. It is a constant menace to the tranquillity and security of the people, and in yonder hillside cemetery two thousand glistening tombstones bear sad and silent testimony to the awful horrors of a Conemaugh flood.