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