I now come to that locality over which my own observation extended, and concerning which—"Haud ignota loquor"—I can speak with a good degree of accuracy. The southern half of the village of Ercildoun came next in the track of the storm-cloud. As this is the only village over which the tornado traveled, a brief description would not be inappropriate.
This village contains about twenty dwellings. Twenty-five years ago it had considerable reputation as a manufacturing locality—large quantities of agricultural implements being made every year, and in addition a foundry was kept in full operation. It had at that time a daily mail, a valuable library, and many other attractions not then found in many villages of like size. Two Friends' Meeting Houses are located here, one in the centre and the other at the western extremity of the place. In the days when the anti-slavery agitation was beginning to rouse the people to a sense of the great evil of our country, and when it required something akin to heroism to feed and protect the fugitive slave on his road to the north, this little settlement of Friends did its whole duty in the cause of humanity, and was pretty widely known as a safe place for those fleeing from bondage. A public hall was erected in 1847, and dedicated to free discussion. The motto, "Let Truth and Error Grapple," was emblazoned on its front in bold letters, and the lecturers and leading reformers of the day often held discussions there which would have been a credit to towns and villages of much greater pretensions. In 1851 "Ercildoun Seminary for Young Men and Boys," was established, with Smedley Darlington as Principal. It was a four-story structure, of good dimensions, and could accommodate about fifty pupils. As such, it was conducted for about three years, when the proprietor changed it to a boarding school for girls, and continued it thus for seven years, when it passed into the hands of its present proprietor, and afterwards was known as "Ercildoun Seminary for Young Ladies," and was kept in full operation to the present time. This Institution was remodeled in 1870, and additional wings were added to it. Nearly two thousand pupils have received instruction here, and its patronage extended over a wide extent of country, including all the adjoining States, and many others. Almost unvarying success attended the school in its efforts to promote the cause of education. With this brief description of the place and of its leading features, it will now fall to my lot to tell the story of the terrible damage inflicted upon it by the great tornado of July 1st.
My school had been vacated three days before, and all the pupils, together with their baggage, had gone. We felt, on that Sabbath afternoon, a full sense of relief from responsibility and care. About 3 o'clock in the afternoon, while engaged in reading, I was informed by my wife that an unusual rumbling and loud noise could be heard in the west. I remarked that it must be a thunderstorm and nothing more. The loud roar, however, continued, and became clearer and more distinct. I arose hastily, took a position and listened to the sound. In a few moments my mother-in-law, who resides with us, called to me in a loud voice to come to the west window on the main hall of the second story. I hurried thither, and on looking toward the west saw the great storm-cloud approaching, distant at that time perhaps half a mile, and coming over the level plain of the intervening fields. It was a novel and terrible sight to behold. The great conical mass seemed to be carrying along with it the timbers and burning embers of a barn on fire; vast masses of dirt and other dark objects appeared to be also in motion and coming directly towards my school buildings. No time must be lost; the whole establishment might blow away, but in any event the safest place seemed to be the basement story. Thither I asked my family to go immediately; they did so. On reaching the story immediately above the basement I halted, passed to the front porch, and took a position for observation, thinking that possibly our plans for safety would have to be modified. In a few moments the cloud struck the building; it came apparently with the force of two or three batteries of artillery, and the question was about to be decided whether the brick walls could stand the shock; if they could not, our lives must be sacrificed. It was all over in less than one minute. I had withdrawn to a front room on the first heavy fall of brick through the porch roof, for the upper story seemed to be coming down bodily upon the lower floors. After it was over I stepped to the east end of that part of the porch which was remaining, and viewed the situation; it was enough to sadden the stoutest heart. Not a solitary building without was standing; the fourth story of the Seminary was completely gone. Our new dwelling house was in course of erection and was nearly completed. Although it was a large structure, thirty-six by fifty feet, not a vestige of it remained above the cellar walls; even these were partially overthrown. My barn, carriage-house and stable, together with every other out-building, were nowhere to be seen. Such a sight was never witnessed in this part of the country. The horses were still alive, though one of them, which had been in the barn, was gasping for life more than fifty yards from the building, and was badly mutilated; the other appeared unhurt, having kept just outside of the storm track. The cow, which had been grazing in the pasture field adjoining, had been lifted up bodily by the revolving mass and was thrown over a hedge twenty feet high, and was dead—the fall having probably killed her. The three hogs upon the premises looked as though they had crawled out of the earth, for they were covered with dirt; they seemed to breathe with the greatest difficulty and one of them soon died. About fifty chickens were lying around dead. The beautiful lawn in front of the Seminary, containing thirty varieties of trees and ornamental shrubbery, was badly damaged, more than half of the trees being either twisted off or uprooted. Not a fence could be seen anywhere. I turned away from the sad and sickening scene. The storm had broken nearly everything; the ground in all directions was covered with timber and with the debris of buildings and of trees.
Some strange incidents occurred in connection with the destruction of property. Three carriages within the same building had their wheels deposited at different points of the compass, more than one hundred yards distant from the building and from each other. The spokes and axles were mostly gone. The buildings had been covered with tin, and this tin roof was found in every direction at an almost equal radius from its former location. In several instances the roofing material was interwoven with the branches of trees, and was wound around the same two or three times. A large apple tree had been carried more than one hundred yards. A chestnut tree of huge dimensions in the front lawn had been stripped of nearly all its foliage, but had not been overthrown. Over a hundred quilts and blankets from the Seminary were lodged in the neighboring forests, torn into shreds. The upper section of a pump at the new dwelling had been lifted bodily into the air and deposited without the building. The grain in the barn, used for feeding the horses, was sown by the storm over more than half an acre of ground, and asserted its presence by a new and rapid growth. Most of the evergreen trees on the lawn were broken off and the tops carried away. The apple trees in every case, however, were uprooted. The growing potatoes in one of my fields lost their green tops, the bare ground alone remaining. Five hundred dollars' worth of school furniture in the upper story of the Seminary, was carried away and entirely destroyed. An immense quantity of letters that had been stored, immediately under the roof of the building, were blown away, many of which were read by persons living ten miles distant. A hedge along the northern side of the Seminary property, nearly twenty feet high, had the appearance, after the storm, of having been overrun by an immense flood. About a hundred loads of material of every character and description, were strewn around the premises, and were gathered up after the storm. Several tons of hay that had been stored away in the barn, were blown away, and not a vestige of it could be seen anywhere. The timbers of the new dwelling were not only scattered around, but were shattered so effectually that an entire piece of lumber could with difficulty be found. Pillars of brick weighing several tons were rolled out of their places near the top of the Seminary, and were buried in the earth to a considerable depth. Some of the school books were carried away for four miles or more, and were safely deposited near the farm houses in the surrounding country.
Other incidents might be given of the effects of the storm on this property. But it is unnecessary. The damage was immense. The loss in real and personal property, and every kind of damage inflicted upon the Ercildoun Seminary property, cannot fall much below ten thousand dollars.
Let us now consider the injury done to the remaining part of the village. Cyrus Coates resides immediately to the north of the school buildings. He owns a small farm, and a very fine orchard is located on the southern side of it. The northern part of the storm track passed over a portion of his property. His barn was demolished. A good wagon house was carried away, and all his carriages and wagons went with it. The greater part of his farming utensils were either missing or destroyed. Two-thirds of his orchard, including about fifty trees, were overthrown. The fences in the track were carried away, and a large quantity of old grain that had been stored in his barn, was missing. Mr. Coates estimates his loss at over two thousand dollars. A house and barn, and a small lot of land immediately to the east of the Seminary, are owned by Elizabeth Meredith, an aged woman, who resides there most of the time in company with her grand-daughter—a little girl of eight years. With some difficulty this young girl induced her aged grand-parent to descend from her room to the lower floor, as the storm was approaching. She accomplished her purpose and the lives of both of them were thus saved. The house was a stone and frame one, one-half being built of each. The storm-cloud passed almost directly over this dwelling and completely dismantled it. The slate roof was carried off, and the upper story went with it—the eastern part of the frame structure being blown forward into the adjoining road. The barn was completely blown away, and the fences shared the same fate. Her loss, including house, barn and fences, cannot fall below eight hundred dollars.
A row of houses, owned and occupied by several families of colored people next encountered the fury of the storm. Lewis Miller, who resides at the southern extremity, sustained a loss of about one hundred dollars. James Richardson, who is next in order, had his house badly damaged, and was himself struck by missiles, and disabled for several weeks. His property was damaged to the extent of about two hundred dollars. A double building belonging to James and William Long, shared a similar fate. It was unroofed and nearly torn to pieces. Their loss will be near three hundred dollars. The last building, at the north end of the row, belongs to Wm. Harvey, a blacksmith. It encountered the full force of the northern track of the storm, and was unroofed, and fearfully injured. The shed adjoining was nowhere to be found. His whole loss was about four hundred dollars. The Fallowfield Meeting House property was now reached. A beautiful grove of trees in the western part was nearly destroyed, the trees lying in every direction. Some of the oaks were very large, but were completely twisted off by the furious blast. The sheds for the protection of horses were all overthrown, and the upper part of the grave-yard wall was blown away, roof and all. The damage sustained by this property was not less than three hundred dollars. George Walton, who owns a farm to the south of the Meeting House, sustained some loss in the destruction of a portion of his oats crop, and of his fences. He estimates the damage inflicted upon him at near three hundred dollars. Another property located on the south side of the road, passing through the place from east to west, was that of Priscilla Walton. Her buildings were untouched, but nearly every tree of a thriving young apple orchard on the premises, was destroyed beyond reparation. Her fences in the track of the storm were overthrown, and her loss cannot fall short of three hundred dollars. On leaving the village the tempest of wind made a complete wreck of all the buildings on the property of Jacob Carter, a colored man residing thereon. He was absent from home at the time of the storm, and on returning found that his new house, erected of gravel and cement, was nowhere to be seen. He loses by the storm about seven hundred dollars. We now leave the village of Ercildoun, the damage to which I have enumerated with considerable care. We are also reaching a point at which the storm-cloud arose to a higher elevation, and passed above the farms and buildings, extending from Susan Pierce's property to a point near Broad Run, one mile west of Marshallton. Mrs. Pierce was also a loser by the tornado. The east gable end of her barn, and also part of one side, though built of stone, fell to the ground when the cloud struck it. Her loss, including fences and growing crops, amounts to about two hundred dollars.
We now find that the storm-cloud passes to a higher elevation, or disappears, and for eight miles no buildings are touched. It descended in a modified form near Broad Run, and overturned and destroyed the barn of Richard Bailey, and leveled his fruit trees, inflicting a damage of about twelve hundred dollars. Only one more property was encountered. The buildings of Jos. Marshall to the north of the Strasburg road, were struck. His barn was destroyed and a portion of his house was demolished. He sustained a loss of near eighteen hundred dollars.