The watch of Mr. G. Kepler, of Ashtabula, was identified.
A wife did not know her husband was on the train. She missed his letters. She heard that he had gone to Dunkirk. She searched the relics and found his knife.
A lady from Toronto, a Mrs. Smith, came searching for her husband from whom she had heard just as he left Buffalo for Detroit. He had seven thousand dollars on his person. A pocket was fished up from the stream. It contained the pocket-book and the name and a bank certificate, but the money was not there. A letter was discovered among the relics. It bore no name except that of the writer, as the envelope was gone. A brother from Massachusetts came. He found no trace except the letter. He went to Chicago and sought some of the survivors and still did not satisfy himself. He returned and consulted the author of this book. Only two persons were saved from the car which he was in. They described the occupants of the car one by one. “In one seat,” said they, “was a gentlemanly man, quiet in manner, and intelligent.” He was going to “South America by way of California.” “That’s my brother,” was the tearful answer. In a low toned voice and tender accents we talked, and it seemed as if the brother could not rest until all was told. Yet there was but little to be said.
An old lady was on the train who was from the east. She was described as sitting in the middle of the car, a young man with her. He was teaching school at the time in Illinois, and had spent his vacation in going after her. She was seventy-nine years of age. Her angular features and loud voice had attracted the attention of passengers. The same lady was described to the author. A description of her given by two young men on the train was recognized by the friends, and a photograph of the young man shown to them was recognized in turn. Thus two more were identified as being on the train.
A family, consisting of a gentleman and his wife and two children, were in the drawing-room car. They were described to the author as “neither stylish nor very plain,” “just a comfortable, respectable and happy family.” Mr. T. C. Wright, of Tennessee, had noticed them as they sat together, and was impressed, and told what a happy family they were. They were sitting in the state-room and enjoying one another’s company. The little girl was described as having “light hair and curls which hung round her face and was very pretty, but had poor teeth.” This description was sent to the “Inter-Ocean” of Chicago by the author. A letter was afterwards received from Mrs. H. H. Gray, of Darlington, Wis., enquiring about a family which was lost (“annihilated” it was written). No one could find any trace of them. An answer was returned, “Look into the ‘Inter-Ocean’ of January 16 and read my letter.” The next letter received was from the administrator of the estate. It described the gentleman as a man of “extensive business, very energetic and honorable,” and contained the photographs of two children. “This whole family were on their way from Bethlehem, Pa., to Gratiot, Wis.”
The only survivor from the drawing-room car, was a Mr. Ormsbee, from Boston, who was nearsighted and could not tell much about those in the car. Mr. Wright, who was in the smoker at the time of the fall, belonged in this car. His description had already been recognized by the author, but the photographs were shown to Mr. Ormsbee, and he, after close examination, with solemnity said, “They were the children who were in my car.” Another photograph of the whole family was afterwards sent to Mr. Wright, of Nashville, and was recognized as the likeness of the family which he had noticed in that state-room.
There is an affecting story about this family: It is supposed that they were in the state-room at the time of the fall and by some means the wife and children were held in the wreck and could not be extricated. The father tried to save them but the flames arose. He could escape himself and actually did get out of the car and away from the flames, but the little girl cried out, “Papa! oh, Papa! take me!” and he went back, exclaiming, “I would rather perish with my family; I can’t live without them,” and so all perished together.