The story of Johnstown : its early settlement, rise ... - JohnstownCafe

'
Mother,
A
'
2:;4
THE STOKY O/-
/0J/.\S70ir.\:
liei own white lips, which t\\ itched and iiuix'eieii with pain, came ti^ nie on
Monday toreiioon, foi"t\' hours after the tlnotl. thi^ sail recital :
\V.> were so liappy on Thursday ni>;ht !
little company had come to consratulate a
friend who was just married. On Friday forenoon my hiisliand was at his store. The water
rose so that he set up some of the tinware and then hel|"d the neishbors move their furniture.
He stayed, in ihe house a g.iod while a.fter dinner, goini; out about three o'clock. The water
was over the tidewaik and he went to get some food, as the cellar was inundated. That was
the last we saw of him. I heard yesterday that he got within two doors of home, called a
farewell message to us and was struck down. I heard a noise, like buildings falling, and told
the children to nni iip-stairs- Before we all g'lt up the water rushed tlirongh the doors and
windows and caught us. I had the baby in my arms and the other children climbed on the
lounge and table. The water rose and floated us untd our heads nearly touched the ceilin,;.
I held the baby as long as I could and then had to let her drop into the water. George had
grasped the curtain pole and was holding on. Something crashed against the house, broke a
hole in the wall and a lot of bricks struck my boy on the head. The blood gushed from his
face, he loosed his hold and sank out of sight. Oh, it was too terrible !
• My brave little Bismarck went next. Anna, her father's pet. was near enough to kiss me
before she slipped under the water. It was dark and the house was tossing every wav. The air
was stilling, and I could not tell just the moment the rest of the children had to give up and
drown My oldest boy, John Fulion. kept his head above ihe water as long as he was able.
'
At last he said you always said Jesus would help. Wdl he help us now' What
could I do I'ut answer that Jesus v.ould be with him, whether in this world or the brighter one
beyond the skies He ihouyht we might get out into the open air. We could not force a way
through the wall or the ceiling, and the poor boy ceased to struggle A\'hat I suffered, v,ith the
bodies of m) seven -children floating around me in the gloom, can never be told. Then the
house struck hard and the roof broke I punched a hole bigger and got oiU. The roof settled
and I could do nothing more. How the night passed I know not. as I ha\e ni remembrance of
anythmg after the house stopped until Saturday morning. Then I recovered my senses and saw
I was close to the school-house at the lower end of Vine street. I was numb with cold and
prayed for death, if it were God's wdl Soon voices called to me to keep up courage and I
would be taken off. Some man put a piece of bread on a stick ami threw it towards me. It
floated beside the wreckage I was on and I caught it. .\ mouthful satisfied me. .\t noon a
boat took me to the shore and I was given some food I did not know then \ihether Mr.
Fenn was saved or lost, and I set out to see what could be heard of him I knew all m\ children
uere dead and had floated down among the rubbish on the i'oint. On Sunday I heard of
my husband s fate. I had hoped he got across Stony Creek and would return, but the dreadful
news destroyed the last spark of comfort in my soul. I had drunk the cup of sorrow to the
lo\vest dregs
' Kind frienils gave me shelter and what consolation the\' could offer. But mv heart is
breaking M> husband all my dear children, and my home are gone
'
I
came from X'irginiato
Johnstown and have no relatives in this section of the country, except some of mv husband s
family. My parents and brothers and sisters are dead, so that I am indeed alone in the world.
I have looked at every body as it was brought to the morgues to see if it might be one of mv
treasures. Thus far I ha^c recovered ni>ne of them, and I fear they may have been burned in the
fire at the bridge. The thought is agoni/ing and I feel as if I should go wild when it seems that
I cannot even look upon the faces of my precious dead It v,-onld be such a comfort to know
where they sleep and visit their graves, to water them with my tears and plant flowers over their
heads, 'i'et I do not quite despair of finding some of them. They mav be dug out of the ruins
of the homes above the bridge, and I shall watch the bodies carried in to see if my husband and
children are not among them Xo ^^ife and mother could have had a kinder, better famd;-. We