At each yell there was a universal cry of “That’s just what I want. My boy is dying; he must have that. Throw me that for my poor wife,” and the likes of that. Finally the clothing was all gone, and there were some people who didn’t get any. They went away bewailing their misfortune.
A reporter was piloted to Kernsville by Kellog, a man who had lost his wife and baby in the flood.
“She stood right thar, sir,” said the man, pointing to a house whose roof and front were gone. “She climbed up thar when the water came first and almost smashed the house. She had the baby in her arms. Then another house came down and dashed against ours, and my wife went down with the baby raised above her head. I saw it all from a tree thar. I couldn’t move a step to help ’em.”
Coming back, the same reporter met a man whose face was radiant. He fairly beamed good nature and kindness.
“You look happy,” said the reporter.
“Yes, sir; I’ve found my boy,” said the man.
“Is your house gone?” asked the reporter.
“Oh, of course,” answered the man. “I’ve lost all I’ve got except my little boy,” and he went on his way rejoicing.
A wealthy young Philadelphian named Ogle had become engaged to a Johnstown lady, Miss Carrie Diehl. They were to be wedded in the middle of June, and were preparing for the ceremony. The lover heard of the terrible flood, but, knowing that the residence of his dear one was up in the hills, felt little fear for her safety. To make sure, however, he started for Johnstown. Near the Fourth Street morgue he met Mr. Diehl.
“Thank God! you are safe,” he exclaimed, and then added: “Is Carrie well?”