THE CLOCK STOPPED AT 5:20.
One of the queerest sights in the center of the town was a three-story brick residence standing with one wall, the others having disappeared completely, leaving the floors supported by the partitions. In one of the upper rooms could be seen a mantel with a lambrequin on it and a clock stopped at twenty minutes after five. In front of the clock was a lady’s fan, though from the marks on the wall paper the water had been over all these things.
In the upper part of the town, where the back water from the flood went into the valley with diminished force, there were many strange scenes.
There the houses were toppled over one after another in a row, and left where they lay. One of them was turned completely over and stood with its roof on the foundations of another house and its base in the air. The owner came back, and getting into his house through the windows, walked about on his ceiling.
Out of this house a woman and her two children escaped safely and were but little hurt, although they were stood on their heads in the whirl.
Every house had its own story. From one a woman sent up in her garret escaped by chopping a hole in the roof. From another a Hungarian named Grevins leaped to the shore as it went whirling past and fell twenty-five feet upon a pile of metal and escaped with a broken leg.
Another is said to have come all the way from very near the start of the flood and to have circled around with the back water and finally landed on the flats at the city site, where it is still pointed out.
THE SITUATION NINE DAYS AFTER.
A correspondent described the situation at Johnstown nine days after the disaster in this way: