Demorraiic iatdman, Bellefonte, Pa., May 19, 1899, m————— —— WHERE SHE COMES. With heavy elders overhung, Half hid in cloyer masses, An old fence rambles on, among The tangled meadow-grasses. It makes a shade for lady-fern Which nestles close beside it; While clematis, at every turn, And roses almost hide it. In shade of overhanging sprays And down a sunny hollow, By hazel-copse, and woodland ways, The winding fence I follow; By rose. and thorn, and fragrant dew, In search of something sweeter— The orchard-gap, where she comes through, And I go down to meet her! The sunlight slants across the fence, Where lichens gray it over, And stirs a hundred dreamy scents From fern, and mint, and clover; But though the air is sweet to-day, I know of something sweeter: That she can only come this way, And I am sure to meet her! And so, while chipmunks run a match To tell the wrens who's coming, And all across the brier-patch There sounds a drowsy humming— The hum of honey-seeking bees— 1 seek for something sweeter: A gap, amongst the apple-trees, Where I am going to meet her! —Charles B. Going. THE STOLEN LOVE SONG. I had not been in a good humor for a day or two when Mr. Mason came into lunch- eon, looking radiant. “I have been,” he said, glancing my way, ‘‘since nine o'clock interviewing Miss Gwen.” “I didn’t know it took to give their opinions,” Fister. ‘‘You never can tell how long it takes a woman to give her opinions on certain matters when she puts her mind to it”? Mr. Mason replied, his eyes on me. “No,” I said, “I do not know. everything by shorthand.’’ Fister seemed puzzled. ‘“Miss Gwen is charming, as I have al- ready told you,” went on Mr. Mason. ‘‘She is a Girton girl. Her voice was trained in Paris by Marchesi. I am sure by her speaking voice that she sings like an angel. And she’s in a sort of trouble, too. The love song in King Arthur's Knights is so poor she refuses to sing it, and she doesn’t know where to get an- other.” *‘A good love song would be the making of the Knights,’ he added,’’ for the score is rather dull. I’ve suggested half a dozen local composers, but the lady is skeptical and says good songs are born, and not made.” : people so long remarked Mrs. 1 do Whereat Mrs. * ‘Did you ever fear smiled Mrs. Fister. ‘To the right man,” concluded Mr. Mason, ‘‘it would be a hundred dollars.’’ ‘‘A hundred dollars!’ It was Mr. Tre- dick who said this, his fork falling in his plate. Then he laughed at what he called his awkwardness, and raised his coffee to his lips. ‘‘Nora,”’—thus Mr, Mason addressed me —*‘‘you know everything; where can I get a love song by Monday?” *‘Merey!” I said, slightly irritated; you don’t think I own an incubator of ditties, do you?” No,” he smiled: “but I know you are shorthand in thought as well as in'deed.’’ I bowed. . “You seem to take considerable interest in Miss Gwen,” said Mrs. Fister, for we have heard a great deal about the lady for two or three days.” 1 do.”” he returned. ‘‘She is simply charming. Her eyes are a perfect blue, a rather unusual color in eyes, blue eyes be- ing ordinarily gray.” My own eyes are hrown. ‘‘Her nose is perfect Grecian,’ he con- tinued. My own nose is sort of Gothic, I fear. ‘‘And then her mouth,” he said; a Cu- pid’s how!” I never heard my mouth called that. “‘I think she has fascinated you,”’ Mrs. Fister said. ‘‘And then,” I supplemented, ‘‘it is beauty in distress. Very likely Mr. Ma- son could write the song himself.’ ‘‘Perhaps I might struggle through the words,” he assented, “but it is the music that I want!” ‘The music would not matter,’ cried I. ‘The words of a love song are every- thing.” ‘Who ever hears the words of a song?’ he asked generally. ‘No, no, Nora, you're wrong,’ and he rose to rush to the office with his ‘‘story’’ for the next day’s paper. I had half an hour to spare before re- turning to the office, and as usual I went up stairs to freshen up my appearance. Somehow I felt annoyed that I had accused Mr. Mason of the ability to write the words of a love song—what was I to Hecuba, or Hecuba to me. But then, Charlie Mason's enthusiasm over the singer was silly. At dinner Mr. Mason was even more happy than he had been at luncheon. I think I've found the man to make that song,” he said. ‘‘A little cello player with a head like Beethoven’s. I am going to the hotel to tell Miss Gwen about him.” And then he was gone. Mr. Mason always affected people, and even Mrs. Fister seemed influenced by his desire to be of service to the singer, and began to speak enthusiastically of music. ‘Mr. Tredick,’’ she said the piano is not in good tune, but I wish you would play something for us.’’ Mr. Tredick followed us into the parlor and seated himself at the instrument and ran his fingers over the keys. I had never heard him play before, and I was astonished at his wonderful technique. of such a thing,” * He played a rhapsody of Liszt. In the midst of it a servant came to the door and beckoned Mrs. Fister, who went out. The rhapsody came to an abrupt conclu- sion, and the player turned and looked at me. Then he pressed the keys again. Such a change. His fingers seemed to have become velvet, and the melody he played coaxed the very heart out of me. I was glad he turned away from me and that he did not look my way again, but, ending the tune, rambled off into things that jug- gled with the notes till they wove into in- tricate fugues. At last he rose and closed the piano. ‘‘You have been very good,’’ I said. ‘Good!’ he repeated smilingly, in a sad sort of way. ‘‘Maybe the goodness is on you part. You are a musician. I seldom meet one.” : ‘A musician!” I repeated. ‘‘I cannot play of any account whatever.” ‘*But you understand music,’ he said. ‘I have studied the theory of it,’’ I told him, ‘‘as I studied anything I conld get at for commercial purposes.’’ ‘‘That is scarcely what I mean,’’ he said, and we left the parlor. Up in my room I picked up a book. But I could not read. Instead, I took a sheet of music paper and tried to jot down the pret- ty, coaxing tune Mr. Tredlick had played down in the parlor. I copied the tune. I knew a good deal "about the intervals and values and the like and I have what is called a musical them- ory. I could even read it and hum it after I had taken it down. “‘I can see him now,’’ I said in the mid- dle of this humming, “looking into her ‘perfect blue eyes’ and telling her about the little ‘cello player with a head like Beethoven's. It was apropos of nothing, but I felt warm. I had breakfast alone in the morning. I usually had it at seven so as to get down town by eight and do the transcribing from my notes of the day before. * At luncheon Mr. Mason looked due north-east, with a promise of rain. On the contrary, I felt quite cheerful. *‘Do you know,” he said, ‘“‘the ’cello player was worth nothing. I took him to see Miss Gwen last night and she ridiculed his efforts.” On the way back to the office I met Mr. Mason. He was walking with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. There was no need to tell me it was Miss Gwen; there she was, just as he had described her, and more. I caught her glance, and that glance told me what a fascinating creature she must be to men—an educated woman, gifted with beauty and a fine voice. Mr. Mason saw me and raised his hat. I felt that I shrank; the comparison between me and the other woman was inevita- ble. At dinner Mr. Mason failed to material- ize. Xe ‘He had an engagement to dine with Miss Gwen,’’ Mrs. Fister informed us. ‘‘It appears that she is determined to have that song, and he has found a new man. Isn’t it strange how inconstant some men are? I used to think it was you, Miss Nora, while now—"" My laugh stopped her. ‘‘Pray spare me,”’ I said. The dear wom- man floundered dreadfully, and was saying that Mr. Mason had been with me every chance I would give him, and all that sort of thing, till I do not know what I should have done if Mr. Tredick had not asked me if I should like to have a little music. ‘‘What shall I play?’’ he asked me when we were in the parlor. ‘‘Something presto,’’ I told him; ‘‘some- thing full of fire and motion.’ His hands crashed on the keys, and. for five minutes the air seemed to scintillate with flashing recklessness. I did not know when he stopped the rush of it, but all at once I found myself thinking of mother and Bessie and wishing I were with them. Something that I think was a tear fell on my folded hands, and I found that he was playing the melody he had played the night before, the tender, wistful thing that seemed to coax the heart out of me. He was looking over to me, but I did not care. Then he left the piano and came to me and laid his hand lightly on my shoulder. ‘‘My child,” he said, ‘‘the only thing is to hide our feeling from the world.” Without another word he left the par- lor. How angered I was! How dared he! this poor, inconsequential man, with duns after him; his board bill unpaid! But I went up to my room and thought of sheep following one another over a fence, and in a few minutes I was sleeping the sleep of the just. wn * Now, as I was taking down Mr. Wolf’s notes next morning an idea struck me. Whether or not Mr. Tredick was a com- prehending man, why should he not put a hundred dollars in his pocket? This melo- dy that he had played to me—why should he not make it into a lovesong? And why shouldn’t Charlie Mason know that it had been done at my suggestion, and thus be made to understand that I didn’t care a little bit for his admiration for all the Misses Gwen in the world.? I am impulsive; I suppose shorthand makes one 80; it looks so little, and it is 80 much. At luncheon neither Mr. Mason nor Mr. Tredick appeared. I waited as long as I honestly could then I asked what had be- come of the latter gentleman. Mrs. Fister said that he had gone to rehearse a new mass at the church. This was the first I had heard of his being an organist, for ever since he had been in the house Mr. Mason’s admiration for Miss Gwen had usurped attention. The church, it appeared, Theresa's. *‘He expects to be there all day,” Mrs. Fister said, ‘‘And I don’t like to mention it, Miss Nora, but seeing that we're alone, I might as well tell you that he offered me his gold watch this morning as security for his board till he gets his money.’ Surely, then, the man would be glad of a hundred dollars. was Saint * oN * (At four o'clock I left the office. At Saint Theresa’s I appeared to be the sole occupant of the charch. Itook a back pew and felt that it was a rest to be there, away from the jar and jostle of the outside world, away from the thought that thas little world was all. I was sorry that Mr. Tredick had gone, and I should not get the chance to speak to him in private to score the melody he had played for me, if it were his own, that Miss Gwen might see it. Mr. Mason might write the words for it, for he had said he could do it, and * At any rate it was peaceful here, and I could get rid of the miserable feeling that had taken possession of me for a week. For I am not usually one of the unhappy ones, as mother and Bessie always say. All the same, as I sat there trying to compare the vast meaning of the church with my own paltry cares, there suddenly sounded far above me a thin strain of music. I am not easily startled; I have been a business woman too long for that, but that faint sighing tone made me almost leap to my feet. So Mr. Tredick was not gone, after all. There was no sound of voices; then he must be alone, and I was for finding the stairs and going up to him with my re- quest when there came a’ chord that stop- ped me. It was the strangest cord, wild and searching, and it broke off abruptly, and a soft note took its place, a tone that glided into others and wove about me for a minute and forth came a melody. That melody! The passion in it! the hope in it! It was a part of the perpetual light before the altar, a part of the Divine Compassion the lamp lighted up, a part of all the pain of life, of all that was sad and human. It was love! Over and over it was played, over and over, as though the persistent irritation of it were its glory and its strength—Iiove, love, love! I had one of mother’s letters in my pock- et; I took it out and with my pencil drew the musical bar. I must do what I had thought to do— this man had sympathized with me when there was no one else, and he should be helped against his foolish scruples. Over and over the melody was played. I jotted it down note by note till I had it all. I could not do much of the accompan- iment, only a chord here and there. Words came uncontrollably — words I should never have written at any other time; but the meaning of the melody was with me. Af eight c’clock it was finished. I added a line to Miss Gwen and addressed it all to the theatre where she should be- gin her engagement the following Monday. I had signed no name to the note nor the music. Mr. Tredick could claim the song if it were accepted, and then I should tell him all. When I reached Mrs. Fister’s I was trembling in every limb and went unper- ceived to my room. I wonder if I slept that night? In the morning what I had done ap- pealed to me. I had wronged Mr. Tre- dick; I had wronged myself. The day was miserable—one of reaction. I did not go home to luncheon. In the evening I went to the house in a sort of terror. They were all at the table and such a buzzing as Mr. Mason made—Miss Gwen had received anonymously a song which delighted her and which was being or- chestrated. Mr. Tredick was dull and preoccupied and paid no attention. When I left the room Mr. Mason followed me. “Do you know,’ he said ‘‘Miss Gwen knows all about Tredick. He wrote an opera over in Paris which had great things predicted for it, but a love affair with a titled lady—an affair, you know, where the lady was miles above him—broke him up; he withdrew his opera and drifted away from every one. Miss Gwen is de- lighted that through me she has again heard of him, and will write to friends abroad, especially to Marchesi, who used to know him very well. I will get your tickets for Monday night; I want you to hear the first performance. And phew! what a ‘story’ I am making!” A ‘story! He thought nothing of what I was going through. . * Sunday I usually went for a walk in the country—with company. This Sunday I went alone. It is depressing to go alone through paths you have enjoyed in the so- ciety of another. ' I kept getting lower and lower. How could I explain it to Mr. Tre- dick about the song? If ke were the gen- ins Mr. Mason said that he was he would be furious at any act, and— But why theorize even in shorthand? When I had sat an hour 6n the trunk of a big tree where Mr. Mason and I had often rested, I was as uncheerful as a girl could well be. It was nearly dark when I reached home. I did not sleep well that night. I heard Mr. Mason come in. When he neared my door he paused for a moment, and I heard a faint scraping on the sill. Then he went on. I looked. There were two bits of paste- board tucked under the door. They were two tickets for Miss Gwen’s opening night. Two! The insult of it! I tore up one of them, and was on the point of destroyin the other when I stopped. If I did not go to the opera he would say that I— Never mind that, though. Ws * I had my breakfast early and met no one. I did not go to lunch. About five o’clock I went home and went down to dinner dressed for the evening, and I was not ashamed when Mr. Mason took me in from top to toe. He sat down beside me. “I’m glad you are going to hear The Knights. Wait till you hear that love song!” Just then the door opened. Mr. Tredick came in in quite a good suit of black with a wide showing shirt-front. “I am going to hear the rara avis,’’ he said; “Mr. Mason has piqued my curios- ity.” I felt like fainting. The only thing I could do would be to appeal to his gener- osity—and let him know the truth. I must have looked wretched, for when Mr. Mason left the room to hurry to the theatre Mr. Tredick came around to me. . “I thought you would go,’ he said. ‘You must not go alone. Come!”’ When we got to the theatre I said: ‘‘Get only an admission ticket; the seat next to mine will not be occupied.” He looked at me. “I tell you it is so!” I said peevishly. So he went along with me to the front places. : “I want to tell you something,’’ I said. ‘Not now,’’ he returned; ‘‘you would tell me -too much; you are in no condition to tell any one anything. Here is the over- ture!” He listened for a few bars, then talked quietly, soothingly to me. When the cur- tain rose he turned to the stage. When Miss Gwen made her appearance he was attentive. When she had sung her first aria he smiled. ‘‘She is a lady,”’ he said, ‘‘but she is not a singer. The fire is not there. If you had a voice you would be a singer.”’ 1 was too nervous to analyze this. In the second act the thing. happened. In this act the heroine, separated from the lord she thinks no longer loves her, gives herself up to her grief in the song I had stolen. The singer was divinely beautiful as she stood there. The orchestra played a few bars of symphony, and then she sang. * That song! The music, the secret of the man beside me; the words, my own poor secret! I clasped my hands till I burst one of my gloves, forgetting my surroundings —everything. That beautiful voice, the depth of meaning of the song! But a hand grasped my arm. My com- panion was ghastly. “My song!” he gasped. “‘I wrote it for one I— My pover- ty could not tempt me to sell it.”” I knew then that I must tell him. In the din of applause that followed the song I got him to his feet and out into the empty corridor. There came Charlie Mason. But I turned away from him. ‘Mr. Tredick,” I said, “forgive me. I was in the church the day yon played that song. I copied it. I wrote the words. You will get a hundred dollars for it. It was self- ishly wicked of me—"’ ‘‘You!” interrupted Charlie Mason. “You!” cried the musician. ‘‘You to drag from me a thing made sacred by as- sociation—for I must have been thinking of you and your sorrow when I played it. You—"’ Inside the prima donna was singing the song over again. ““Tredick,’’ Charlie Mason said, ‘‘do you mean to say that you wrote that song?’ But the man broke away from us and rushed down the corridor. Then we saw him fall back. For around the curve of the passage came a woman, her silken train sweeping after her, her hair blazing with jewels. At sight of him she gave a little cry. . Then she went across to him. “Arthur,” she said, “it is the song youn made for me, and when I heard it I knew that I had found you at lass.” Inside,” the lovely voice took ‘a high note of exceeding purity as Charlie Mason said: ‘My ‘story’ is no good. It was the story of Tredick. I have been getting it from Miss Gwen for a week. And now I cannot use it! But there’s another story. and it, too, is a love story, which I’ve been wanting to tell, to tell you alone—?’ But, really, this is a shorthand story.— Robert C. V. Meyers in Saturday Evening Post. Thirty-one Dead And Scores Injured. Awful Record of the Disaster Resulting From the Collision of Trains at Exeter, Pa. In Reading and Norristown Hospitals. Latest Story of Events That Led Up to One of The Most Shocking Accidents of Recent Years. Thirty-one lives were lost in the terri- ble wreck on the Philadelphia & Reading Railroad at Exeter. Seventy-five persons were more or less injured. Sixteen of the victims were residents of Norristown, and that city is in deep mourning. But two persons living in Philadelphia are among the dead. It was one of the saddest rail- road wrecks in many years. Many of those killed were returning from Harris- burg, where they had been merry-making at the unveiling of the Hartranft monu. ment, and several of the killed were veterans who fought under General Hart- ranft. The express train was forced to stop at Exeter on account of a coal train being ahead. The expressran back to the signal, and, while there, was crashed into by the special, the engine of which telescoped the last two cars. It is said that a brakeman of the first train went back with a red light, but the time was too short, and the special dashed into the expressin a mo- ment. Most of the victims were killed outright. The debris was piled high, but the return- ing soldiers and firemen immediately set to the work of rescue. Men and women looted the bodies of the victims and the cars. The first car of the special train was crushed and many of those there were killed, including Colonel Slingluff, of Nor- ristown. THE DEAD. John Slingluff, aged 60 years, of Norris- town, president of the Montgomery County Bank and Chief of the Norristown Fire De- partment. Colonel George Schall, aged 50 years, of Main and Mill streets, Norristown, presi- dent of the Montmaster. Councilman William Camm, of No. 821 De Kalb street, Norristown. William Stahler, aged 73 years, of Main and Swede streets, Norristown, druggist-and ex-Councilman. ; Henry C. Wentz, aged 55 years, of West Main street, Norristown, real estate dealer and ex-President of the Borough Council. Franklin D. Sower, aged 72 years, of East Main street, Norristown, hookseller. William H. Lewis, aged 55 years, pro- duce dealer, Norristown. Charles H. White, aged 52 years, real es- tate dealer of No 55. East Main street, Nor- ristown. John Kuntz, aged 60 years, milk dealer in the West End, Norristown. Henry J. Coulston, of No. 622 Cherry street, Norristown, borough employe. Henry Thompson, Reading Railway watchman; resided at the Rambo house, Norristown. Joseph Taylor, colored, porter at the Montgomery house, Norristown. Isaac E. Fillman, of No. 651 George street, Norristown; fireman at the State Hospital for the Insane. Samuel W. M’Carthy, aged 55 years, of No. 1039 Cherry street, Norristown; hrick- layer and politician. Norman Holmes, aged 9 years, of No. 505 Kohn street, Norristown. Captain G. C. Eicholtz, of Downingtown, of the Fifty-third Pennsylvania volun- teers. Michael Lawn, aged 57, of No. 116 West Haines street, Germantown, died last even- ing in Reading. He was Commander of Ellis Post, No. 6, G. A. R., and leaves a wife and five children. Harry C. Hartford, of No. 6339 Saybrook street, Philadelphia. He was an employe of the Appraiser's office and leaves a wife and three children. He was identified by a key ring bearing his name. C. Latta Laverty, of Harrisburg, a tele- graph operator. John Johnson, of Phoenixville; skull crushed. Samuel R. Beatty, of Conshohocken, legs and arms broken and skull crushed. Captain Charles Leaf, of Fort. Washing- ton; a clerk in the Auditor General’s office at Harrisburg. Daniel H. Yoder, of Pottstown. H. L. Hunchburger, of Conshohocken. Lucien J. Custer, aged 19, of Pottstown. His limbs were broken and he had internal injuries. E. E. Shelley, of Hatboro, aged 45 years. He was appointed a sampler in the ap- praiser’s office six months ago, and leaves a widow and one child. UNIDENTIFIED. One of the bodies at the Reading Morgue was identified as C. H. Howell, of Phoenix- ville, because he had on his person a piece of paper bearing that name and address. Nothing else. Howell’s relatives arrived at Reading last night and positively de- clared that he is not the man. The re- mains are those of a man five feet ten inches in height, weight 175 pounds. He is par- tially bald, has gray mustache, short and curly, wore a G. A. R. badge and ring with a brown stone, and had on his person $10.05. THE INJURED. Amandus Garges, aged 60 years, of Astor street above Marshal, Norristown; court tipstaff and constable; very serious, having remained unconscious fifteen hours. Charles White, aged 52 years of Spruce street, Norristown. William Jenkins, of No.121 Chain street Norristown; expected to die. Joseph Edwards, aged 52 years, of No 5611 Main street, Germantown; hurt in- ternally and expected to die. John M. Engle, aged 60 years, supervisor of Upper Marion township. John Earl, aged 62 years, painter, West Conshocken. Albert Harkness, aged 42 years, Oak lane, Philadelphia, employed in the Cus- tom House. J. M. Foose, aged 36 years, No. 407 Market street, Harrisburg. Harrison Robbins, aged 39 years, No. 2811 West Huntingdon street, Philadel- phia. J. K. Virtue, aged 35 years, No. 2226 North Twenty-eighth street, Philadelphia. Frank Harrington, Seventeenth and Bainbridge streets, Philadelphia. Francis Taggart, aged 59 years, No. 231 South Walnut street, West Chester; em- ployed in the Appraisers’ Department, Philadelphia. Anna Magderbmig, aged 24 years, of Harrisburg, who was on her way to Phila- delphia to visit a sister. B. C. Alderfer and John S. Jones, who were slightly injured, were discharged from the hospital. John M. Engle, Swedeland, sprained hip and bruised body. Joseph Earl, West Conshohocken, head and chest bruised and injured internally. John M. Foose, Harrisburg, cut about Edward Smith, Norristown, badly bruised. Nathan bruised. Robert S. Brierly, No. 1723 Marshall street, Philadelphia, head cut and eye in- jared. Patrick Curran, bruised. Roscoe Watters, Sixth tegiment, N. G. P., East Swedeland, hack hurt. J. Harry Leister, of Pheenix Bridge com- pany, Phoenixville, serious. L. V. Vanderslice, Phanixville, head cut. Charles Maddis, Conshohocken, bruised. Harry Orrell, engineer of second train, head cut. H. G. Kautz, Norristown, head cut. Special officer Kirkpatrick, Philadelphia, head cut. Captain Harry Jacobs, bruised. William Freeborn, Norristown, leg frac- tured, head cut and injured about chest. Thaddeus S. Adle, Norristown, jaw broken. D. Benton Silves, Reading, injured about the chest, limbs and internally; ser- ious. George H. Lewis, Norristown, ankle hurt. A. J. Ashenfelter, Norristown, chest in- jured. Henry Stauffer, Norristown, leg badly bruised, body bruised and face lacerated. H. T. Johnson, No. 3234 North Thir- teenth street, Philadelphia, bruised. Mis. H. Brewer, Rambo house, Norris- town, bruised about . body and head. Fillmore Jones, No. 530 Astor street, Norristown, bruised about body. T. J. Baker, Norristown, body bruised. H. B. Tyson, Norristown, body bruised. G. W. Brady, Norristown, body bruised. Amos Tyson, Norristown, slight. Captain C. T. Street, 59 years old, No. 133 North Twenty-second street. Select Councilman Geo. W. Kucker, No. 1930 Franklin street, Philadelphia. Charles F. Ertla, Germantown, assistant secretary of the Republican state com- mittee. Professor Joseph P. Remington, Dean of the College of Pharmacy, Philad elphia. H. T. Johnston, Philadelphia. W. L. Everett, Philadelphia, fireman on the special train. WAVED THE DANGER LIGHT. Every effort is being made to place the blame for the Exeter wreck. One of the most important points developed is the statement made here by a Norristown excursionist, who occupied one of ;the front cars of the special. ‘‘I happened to be looking out of the window just at the time,’” he said. ‘‘Isaw what was probably the rear ‘brakeman’ of the express standing near his train waving his lantern and giving the warning signal. As I did not see the train in the darkness I did not realize what it meant. In a moment I saw the engine plunge through the rear cars of the express. But I was too terribly surprised to realize what had hap- pened until Isaw the tender of the engine pass through the cars after the engine, like a circular saw. The brakeman seemed to be standing near the train at the time.” This is the first intimation that a brake- man from the express was sent back to warn the special. EXPRESS MAY BE TO BLAME, Superintendent Wilson, of the main line division, was asked what in his judge- ment was the cause of the horror. He replied that the matter had not yet been fully investigated. “It is reported that the regular express ran by the station and afterwards backed to the station,’’ said the reporter. ‘Was this not a mistake ? *‘I think the train should have been left where it stopped,’’ said Mr. Wilson, ‘‘but, as I said before, I cannot speak of the cause until the matter is thoroughly investigat- ed.” . ‘‘It is also reported that the tower man below Reading was notified to display pre- cautionary signals against the special. Is that true?”’ “I bave heard that, too; but that will be embraced in the report: Col. Wilson H. Rothermel empaneled the following jury: J. George Hintz, Henry L. Wickel, Samarias H. Rooser, A. R. Eisenbrand, Wm. Groll and Deputy Coro- ner George H. Nagle. The inquest will be held probably on Tuesday afternoon. THE COAL TRAIN. When the express left Reading Friday evening engineer Lindermuth, of the ex- press, was told that a coal train had passed Exeter, and it was thought that it would clear him at Monocacy, nearby, so that he could pass. The train was ten minntes late in getting away from here, and carried green lights on its engine to give warning that a second section was coming. This special train was in charge of a New York division crew, the engineer being Charles Ahl, a young man who was familiar with the main line division, and was but five or six minutes behind the express. Ten minutes after the regular train left the station the second section or special followed. CAUTION ORDER FOR THE EXPRESS, After the special had left itwas learned the train, which was running ahead to Mono- cacy, had not yet cleared the main track, and the train dispatcher here decided to send a precautionary order to the express train at Exerter, and the operator at that place was so notified. He immediately put up the order signal with a red light but it appears that just as the express came along the coal train had cleared, but the express shot some distance by the sta- tion and started to back up to the station. It was running fast, and the engineer says he stopped as soon as he could. ONWARD RUSHED THE SPECIAL. In the meantime, it is said, the tower man below the furnace plug, just below Reading, was notified to display precau- tionary signals against the second section, but whether they were observed by the engineer of the special is not yet known. At all events, the special proceeded, and when it rounded the curve just north of Exeter Station, the red signals of the rear car of the regular express loomed up before the engineer. Abl quickly shut off steam and applied O'Neil, Norristown, badly Norristown, body Norristown, right BE eee] brakes. The momentum of his train, how- ever was so great that he found that it would be impossible to avert a crash, and heand his fireman leaped for their lives. ROBBED THE VICTIMS. The soldiers of Company K worked like trojans aiding the injured and rescuing the dead from the ruins. As fast as a body was removed a guard of two men was plac- ed over it. This guard was needed, for. despite the care taken, many bodies were robbed. Many of the victims who were known to have large sums of money in their possession before the accident, were found later penniless and with the pockets turned inside out. Not only was money taken, but watches and jewelry were car- ried away by the thieves, who spared neith- er young nor old. The wrecked cars were looted by men and women, who were seen slinking away in the darkness with pockets bulging out with plunder gathered from the buffet of the Pullman car. In the work of rescue and guarding the dead and wounded the soldiers were nobly aided by the Norristown firemen, who, al- most to a man, divested themselves of shirts and underclothing, which they tore into strips and used for binding up the wounds of the injured. —— ee —— Some Marvelous Curves. Railroad Trains to Climb 4,000 Feet in 38 Miles. The new Alamogordo & Sacramento Mountain railway, which has just been completed from the new town of Alamo- gordo, N. M., to the timber belt on the summit of the Sacramento mountains, a distance of 21 miles, is probably one of the most remarkable railroads that have ever been constructed. From Alamogordo, which is sitnated where the vast plain of the Tularoso val- ley meets the foot of the Sacramento mountains, its course is nearly a tangent to the mouth of the La Luz canyon, but from this point to the terminus over 62 per cent of its mileage is curvature, and the difference in elevation 3,709 feet, Alamogordo being 4,300 and the terminus 8,000 feet above sea level. Half way up the mountain the country takes such a sudden drop off that it is im- possible to follow the course of the stream or canyon, and the elevation is attained a zigzag course over a rough rocky country where 30-degree curves are the rule and the tangent a rare exception. : An engineer who has been accustomed to the curvature in mountain climbing can appreciate what this piece of road, 14} miles in length, with 62 per cent curva- ture, where 30-degree curves and 5.2 per cent grade are allowed, really means. The difference between it and ordinary mountain climbing will be understood by the non-professional when it is explained that the winding usually seen on moun- tain climbs are more than twice as close. For instance: At one point on the road three tracks parallel each other within a distance not exceeding 1,000 feet. The railroad world will be interested to learn of the practicability of such a road. Some difficulty is experienced in trying to find suitable locomotives. Three have already been tried, one of which is a total failure, another a ‘‘non-proven case,”’ but the third has done all the construction and never been off the rails. Accordingly, it has already been demonstrated that an engine can be made that will operate such aroad. Ordinary passenger coaches and boxcars, if well up in their bearings, pass over the road without difficulty. Two features are essential in the con- struction of a road of this kind, viz: A rail-bender and tie plates. The road is designed for hauling logs from the timber belt on top of the mountain to the large sawmill erected at Alamorgordo. It must not, however, he considered in the light of a lumber train road, but is first class in every respect; 60-pound steel is used; the roadbed is perfect and the curves as true as if turned out of a lathe. In fact, it has as fine a track as any railroad in the country. While designed almost entirely for lum- ber or freight business, the superb scenery, magnificent climate and the grand and beautiful mountains, with a temperature equally as cool as Palmer lake or the Hay- den divide, are going to make of this mountain country and Alamorgordo a re- sort and home for pleasure and healthseek- ers that will eventually afford a resourse to the road far greater than that of its tim- ber long before the same is exhausted. The Tallest Woman. Ella Ewing's Height Paid the Mortgage on Her Fath- er's Farm. The tallest woman in the United States, and probably in the world, says Curtis in the Chicago Record, is Miss Ella Ewing, of ‘Gorin, Mo., a little town not far east of Kansas City on the Santa Fe road. The ‘‘high-born lady’’ is 26 years old, accord- ing - to the family Bible, and measures 8 feet 4 inches in her every day shoes. Her parents are well-to-do farmers of ordinary stature, and her father, Samuel Ewing, isa highly respected member of the community. Miss Ewing was born at Gorin, and when 12 years old she measured nearly seven feet, but kept on growing to the amazement of her family and the neighbors. In her girlish years she was quite sensi- tive about her height, because the other children used to tease her, but when she discovered that it was worth $50 a week from Barnum’s circus and museum man- agers, she took another view of the case. She earned enough money to lift: the mortgage from her father’s farm and retired to private life. Now The Greatest Circus. The Washington, D. C., Post, one of the most conservative newspapers in the Unit- ed States, did a most unusual thing in de- voting an editorial to the Wallace circus, which came to Washington, D. C., un- known and went away with an established reputation. In part the Post said : “The Great Wallace show represents all that there is of legitimate worth in the circus business. It is in charge of men who aspire to elevate the tone and purify the atmos- phere of the calling, and we believe the thousands who have attended the pertorm- ances during the past two days will certify they have succeeded. Not only was the per- formance up to the highest professional and artistic standard, the menagerie large and varified, and the trained animals of the best, but there was not in connection with the Wallace show a single one of those discredit- able and demoralizing features which have done so much to give the circus a bad name and to discourage the true friends of that otherwise wholesome form of amusement. The managers of the Wallace show keep all their promises, advertise nothing they do not expect to give, and carefully divest their performances of anything and everything calculated to offend the nicest taste. We are sure that the verdict of Washington will be most favorable and that the show can return to us sure of finding genuine admirers and friends,’’ . The big circus institution will exhibit in Bellefonte Monday, May 29th, wir
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers