Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, April 23, 1845, Image 1

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"To therm the languid hours of solitude,
He oft invites her to the Muses lore."
A Warning Cry.
Toiling from the morning gray—
Toiling, toiling through the day,
Till the spirit faints away;
Bound, in triple iron, bound!
By the taper's famished light,
Toiling, toiling through the night,
Till the dimmed and aching sight
Sees but shadows gathering round—
Till the lip's warm hue is gone—
Till the brow is worn and wan--
Till the pitying sun looks on
Gasping slaves in stupor east ;
Toiling through the hours of pain,
Taxing hand, and heart, and brain,
Bread—and scarcely bread—to gain
Shall this--shall this ever last!
Shall the spoiler seise by stealth
Youth, and hope, and strength, and health
Nature's dowry—nature's wealth—
Shall they—shall they ever he—
Youth and hope—an April beam ?
Strength, delusion! health, a dream?
Age--a fearful gastly theme—
Pain, and grief, and penury ?
Thou who seest! Thou who hearest!
Thou the mourner's heart who cheered!
Thou who veiled tn i clouds appearest
swift, and terrible, and strong!
Unto Thee, with stony eye, •
bloodless cheek, and hoding cry,
Doomed Io toil and toilLor DU,
Want appoaleth, " Lord, how lon'g, 1 '
Ye whose " confidence " is gold,
False, rapacious, crafty, hold—
Who the laborer's hire Withhold—,
Who the fruits of toil deny—
Who the starving poor distress,
Who the weak, the old oppress—
Tremble ! they shall have redress,
Lo ! their groans are heard on high!
Trimble ! tremble ! well ye Mal,
Godless tyrants of a day,
Trampling on your fellow clay !
Trampling humnn hearts to diet!
Vengeance in the Lord's ! beware !
He will list the poor man's prayer,
Raise the crushed, and chase despair l
Tyrants, we! THE LOAD IS ]car !
The Texas Emigrant.
The following "ewe true * tale, we take from
" Texas and the Gulph of Mexico," a very agreeable
boaß, which we lately noticed. Aside from this
thrilling incident. the narrative is valuable as din-
cleaing some of the privations to which settlers are
No settler in a new country should enter upon
hie vocation without having on hand an immense
stock of perseverance. Patience, under sickness
and distress, is also another invaluable quality, the
exercise of which will be often called for in the life
of an emigrant. Let no one expect that his bed in
the wilderness will be one of roses; the charms of
this wild life will on the contrary, often be varied by
contretemps and hardships of every description.
I was much interested by an account I heard of
a young emigrant, who in the outset of his career;
forded a proof of the truth of my remarks.
This settler was a young Scotchman, who having
erred a few hundred pounds, and seeing no open.
ing ' in his own contry, decided upon trying his
fortune in the plains and prairies of Texas. His
knowledge consisted of some practical information
on agricultural subjects, and on the price of stocks
in England, and, in short, of farming details which
apply exclusively to praciice in the , Old Country.'
M'Leod, far 80 I will call him, had married a
pretty Irish girl, of tolerable connexions and good
education. She possessed, withal a light heart and
a happy temper—no trilling recommendation for do
mestic life in the wilderness. Land as I have else
where observed, is temptingly cheap far up the coun
try; so the Scotchman easily madea purchase of a
considerable tract and he and his young wife, with
a little helpless child, travelled by slow degrees, but
cheerfully and full of hope, towards the rolling
country above Washington. They had not been
long in their new abode, when they discovered that
the location was fl chosen. They had built their
log house in a hollow instead of on the rising
ground, which is everywhere at something less than a
mile distant from the river ; it woo, therefore damp and
unwholesome. In short, the M'Leods, like many
other settlers, had rashly followed their own ideas,
anti neglected to ask the advice of experienced
dwellers in the country. The consequences of this
imprudence soon made themselves apparent; and
in a short time M'Leod was stretched upon' hls bed
I:PetaQ, Ma 39 aaEl3dataks
in a low nr.d lingering fever. Nora's helpfulness
was now of essential service. Strong in body, with
hardy licasant nerves, and a genuine Irish spirit of
good-humor and trustingness, she nursed her sick
husband, milked the cows, minded the house, and
took care O'f thf baby.
Fortunately, in this rich soli and land of prolific
produce, the meting of existence were easily pro
cured, at least for a season. Nora's stock of poul
try was not easily exhausted, for the domestic fowls
breed and rear their young much more frequently
than in most other countries. Of the pigs and oth
er animals, the same may be safely averred; and
thus Nora and her little family confirmed to live on.
But M Leod'e was not a temporary malady ; week
after week sped by, and he lay there still, a useless,
powerless man. The nature of Iris ceMplaint af
fected his spirit., and he seemed feet sinking into a
state of helpless despondency. In vain diA Nora,
with her bright face and cheerful voice, slightly in
dicative of her Hibernian origin, endeavor to con
aule him. When the sick man indulged in sad
prophecies of the Overt) , which he insisted would
come upon them, Nora would gaily repeat to him
the Irish proverb, " Cheer up, my darling, there's a
silver lining to every cloud." Hot they could not
live upon smiles and cheering words; and proverbs,
however true, are as unprofitable as they are stale.
By degrees their live-stock diminished, some strayed,
others were shot by some wandering riflemen, a
few fell sick, and a tribe of Indians, who were en
camped near, did not scruple to lay their hands up
such ste came within their reach. Happily for
Nora, these Indiana belonged to a friendly tribe,
otherwise her fear of them would have been still
greeter than it was. She could not accustom her
self to their wild and savage appearance; and the
dread seemed mutual, for the Indians seldom ap
proached the abode of the whiteman. AVLecal had
sunk a considerable portion of his little fortune in
the purchase of land, stock, &e., trusting to his
own industry and exertions for the future support
of his family. After a time then, the destitution
which the sick imagination of the poor Botch
man had so long anticipated, stared them in the
face. The wife, nolwdhstanding her hopeful spir
it, began to despond; add her hueband's health grew
daily worse. The feeling of cashless and gloom
was a new and unaccustomed one to Nora ; wo new,
that at first the unwelcome tenant could find no
abiding-place in her bean. She wits determined
however, to hope, though she saw her hus
band's face grow paler and thinner, day by day ;
and she would obstinately look forward to better
times, though their supply, evert of daily food, was
fist dwindling away, and though she saw no pres
ent means of relief from their present distresaes.—
Nora ceased not to exert herself for the rapport of
those she loved Night and day she toiled ; the
garden was dug, and in anticipation of future wants,
was sown and planted by her hand. Neighbors eke
had none; she was alone in her troubles—not a
friend to assist or advise. Notwithstanding all this,
Nora still talked hopefully, still boasted of the
" silver lining " which was to shine out of tire dark
cloud which hung over their destinies; but her
heart was heavy within her, and her bright eyes
were often dimmed with tears.
It was winter, Ind heavy rains had deluged the
country. The log house of the M'Leode was sur
rounded by mud and wet gram; and when, one
colt, bleak morning, Nora opened her door and
gazed for a moment abroad, the gloomy prospect
struck a chill into her heart. A keen northerly
wind was blowing fierce and strong; it came
howling through the trees, and scattering the fallen
leaves into her face. Nora had not been in bed
during the previous night; alarm for her husband,
and the care which his illness momentarily required,
had afforded ample employment both for mind and
body. On a sudden else heard his voice culling her
name. It appeared to her that he apoko in a strong
tone, and she hastened to his bedside full of hope.
Alas! for her. She saw his eye lighted up by de
letions fever, and to her terror, perceived that rea
son had deserted her throne?
ith the strength lent by the fierce fever that
raged within hie Leine, he raised himself from his
bed, and was with difficulty restrained from rushing
towards the door. His actions were violent and he
heaped bitter imprecations upon her head and upon
his child.
At thin moment a sound full of horror struck up.
on the mother's ear. There was a sudden shriek,
and then the fearful shouts of fifty savage voices
burst loudly and suddenly forth, startling the echo.
for miles around. And well did Nardi recognize
the feeble cry she heard. It was the voice of her
littledawie, who had been playing in the garden in
unconscious glee. Quicker than thought she
sprang to the door, and gazed distractedly on the
scene before her. Her darling wan in the hand. of l i
the Indians, of Indians too, whose aspect was total
ly unknown to her. In a moment she guessed the
truth, and that the dreaded Camancheee were upon
them! • In vain shestruggled to free him; in vain
did the child hold up his little hands, and implore
help from her, who never yet had been deaf to his
prayers. Amidst the stunning sounds of the terri
ble war-whoop, the petted child was held up before
his mother's eyes ; end while she was forcibly held
back, the scalping-knife did its revolting (Alice !
The bright sunny curls were hanging at the belt of
the savage who performed the deed, while the boy
was flung palpitating, and hardy possessed of life,
at the feet of his parent.
It was now Nora's turn to suffer, and another of
these relentless savages speedily seized hold of his
now unresisting victim. Another moment would
have decided her fate, when the arm of her enemy
was arrested by the appearance of anew actor on
the scene; ti gaunt form, who, (without any pre
vious warning,) approached the group, and attract
ed the attention of all.
Pt was M'Leod, whose wild ravings could cot be
restrained, and who, with delerioue unconsciousness
of his danger, stalked in amongst them. Ilia wild
actions and strange gesturts, sufficiently attested
the wanderings of his mind, and the Indiana stood
appalled. 'Tall! warriors in their fierce war-paint
bent their heads reverently before him; and im
pressed with the notion of his being inspired, and
acting under the special protectiOn of the Great
Spirit, these untamed and revengeful children of
the forest shrank awe-struck from his presence.
Slowly and silently they retreated, and ere anoth
er minute had elapsed; Nora was left alone with
the husband whe had so unconsciously saved her.
On the ground, on the very spot, where he had so
lately played in childish glee, lay the bleeding body
of the dying child. Who can describe the feelings
of the mother, as lifting him in her arms, she tried
to hope that the outrage he had' undergone would
not proye a mortal injury.° Gently and tenderly
she laid hint on his little bed, and then, and not till
then did she return to her painful task of soothing
the invalid. With gentle words she persuaded hint
to return to his bed, but even thee she could not
leave him for a moment.
At intervals she heard the faint and feeble moan
of her euffering child, but though the mother's
heart woe torn within her, she could not derett her
post. Towarde the evening the sick men become
composed, his ravings suddenly ceased, his eyes
dolled, and a deathlike calm spread over his features.
Nora listened, but in vain, for his breathing, she
felt thet he was dead, and that she was Melte; she
did not weep however, but eat in stupid insensibil
ity. She woe roused from thin trance of despair,
by a sound small and low ; but one which heard,
can never be forgotten—the lest sound of parting
breath! It woo email and low, for'it was the breath
of a little child—the nignal that its pure and inno
cent spirit was about to meet its God ! In a mo
ment Nora was by its side, on her knees imploring
with wild eagernese for its life, and covering its lit
tle hands and face with kis.s. The etruggle was
brief, and when the mother saw that it woe dead, she
fell senseless. She recovered, elle knew not how,
and it seemed se though a fearful them hod petted
over her. Oh, that sail and terrible awakening
after affliction ! The doubt—the fear of the reality
—and then the grottos' and overwhelming belief
in the worst! Poor Nora felt all this, as gredttally
she roused herself into settee and life. It was all
true—her child, her first born, her only one was
taken from her. She could not weep, her's was a
hard tearlees grief. On a sudden, however, the
thought of tier husband crossed her mind, and a
dim recollection of his last sod moments reseed her
to shudder, as though body end soul were parting
counter. Mechanically she rose, and approaching
his bed, leaned over what she imagined the sense
less clay of him she loved. Her heed reeled on his
breast, when she thought—could it be fancy? thet
it throbbed slightly and feebly. Breathlesely she
listened. It wee no delusion—he was alive!—
Death had not claimed its prey, and he might yet
recover. Poor Nora! The eyes that were dry
when heavy affliction struck her, overflowed in sal. ,
utary drops under the sudden influence of joy.—
Her first impulse was one of deep ant overpowering
gratitude; but her thankfulneee was like her grief,
silent end subdued. She sot down beside the bed,
and patiently awaited till he should awake. For
several hours did rho watch by her husband's side,
and morning was again stealing over the pity when
he awoke, and to feeble accents whispered her name;
his reason was restored, and Nora felt that all pres
ent danger was over. Hours sped by —hours
spent by the grateful wife in ministering to hie re
covery. lie was weak as an infant, and she dared
not tell him of their loss, and that their child lay
near them a lifeless corpse.
The next day, after Nora had as meal been ad
drensing words of encouragement to her patient,
end carefully concealing from him her own deep
distresses, she was startled by hearing hornet foot
steps approaching their abode. In a few minute. a
man on horseback stopped at the door, and without
ceremony entered the holm. Nora did not rise,
for the hand of her sleeping husband wan clasped
in here, while silent tears chased etch other down
her pale cheeks. Her baby lay unburied neer, and
for her feeble htisbantir v, here was she to find the
means of recruiting his exhausted strength? She
had had but little food for many days, and hoer
could elle seek fur more?
She hardly raised her head when the stranger
entered, so absorbed was she with three melancholy
reflections. The traveller unconscious of her sor
rows, addressed her with a cheerful hearty voice.
^Good morning, marm—how's your man I 111 I
don't doubt—these here diggins arn't wholesome
any how—l reckon." Saying this, the stranger,
who was a portly man of respectable appearance ,
seated himself without ceremony in the chimney
corner. Shelter is never refused in the prairie, and
to that he was welcome; gladly would Nora have
" I fear such instances of savage atrocity were not
rare among the earlier settlers; on the Mexican
frontier especially and on the northern settlements,
where the cruel tribe of the Camanchees have so
much power, such horrid events are matters of his•
tory. Cases hove been known of recovery after
scalping; I myself saw a young man at Galveston
who did not appear at all the worse for the opera•
set food in plenty before her guest. She gave him
however, of that which she had and the stranger
soon learned tho almost destitute condition of hut
young hostess.
The traveller possessed a kind and friendly heart,
and a well filled purse withal. Lilting the appear
ance of the young settlers, and admiring the order
and cleanliness of the cottage, he pitied their mis
fortunes, and hastened to procure the necessariee
and comforts for the desolate inhabitats of the wat
ery prairie. Having then cheered the sufferers with
words of hope, and seen the remains of the dead
infant decently intered, he left them, promising to
return. Two more weeks sped by—M'Leod had
left his bed, and sat weak and trembling by the fire,
while Nora, though her thoughts often wandered
to the grave of her child, looked at him with e}eir
full of gratitude and happiness. Their talk was of
the kind stranger, and of their hopes that he would
aeon return. And when, soon after this, they again
saw his benevolent countenance, and heard his loud,
hearty greeting, what joy was theirs. The stran
ger was a rich landholder and cotton grower, and
being in want of an overseer on whom he could
depend he fixed upon M'Leod to fill the office. He
gave his protegees a pretty house located in a heal
thy clearing, not many miles distant from their own
property. M'Leod was to be a men having authori
ty, and they were withal to live in comfort and con
tent. When Nora entered her new habitation,
leaning on her husband's arm, she looked tip in I
his face, Ah, now Jamie," said she, , 'and did'nt
I tell you there was a silver lining to every cloud."
From At Pittsburi Ado. and Gar. of Me 11th.
Pittsburg is Ruins!
At 6 o'clock P. M., Thuredsy evening, we sit
clown to our desk with a ead heart, to record the
moot fearful calamity which ever belel any city the
sine of Pittsburg. While we now write, en awful
6re to raging, consuming the fairest portion of our
city, end no human bring con tell where it will stay
its ravages. It has now been burninq fof.eix hourw
and confusion reign. extreme, and it cannot he ex
pected we shall give any thing :ike a particular
statement of a calamity so extensive and involving
catch fearful ruin.. What general particulars we
can give, we lay before our.renders.
The fire broke out about 12 o'clock M, to-day, in
en old frame shed on the regiside of Ferry st.. used
we believe fore smoke house, immediately surroun
ded on two sides with old frame buildings. The
weather was extremely dry, end wind high, almost
a gale blowing from the weal,
The houses adjoining, on Second street, caught
fire immediately. The engines at this time began
to play, and had there been a sufficiency of water,
would have subdued the fire. But from want of
water, and high wind, the fire extended across Sec
ond street to the Globe Cotton Factory, which to
gether with a dwelling adjoining, was consumed.—
The Third Presbyterian Church was on fire, but
wes saved with great exertion.
The fire, also, about the earns time, extended
scrims Ferry street, to the west Bide, Whore it con
mimed some six or eight dwellings, when it was
stopped in that direction, the wind being favor
nut it wee sent of Ferry street where the fire
raged with meet fury. It immediately extended
towards Market street, sweeping every house on
both sides of Second street, arid the whole square
bounded by Market, Ferry, Second, and Front
street., except one building, the ware house of the
Cotton Factory. In the square bounded by Mar
ket, Ferry, Second and Third etreets, every build
ing was destroyed except the Third Church, and
Johnston & Stockton's Printing Office, and the
American Office.
The square bounded by Market, Ferry, Front,
and Water streets, was eared, with but little in-
he fire crossed Market at Front street, and then
began to rage with awful fury. This was about
two o'clock, P. M., and the wind had increased to a
perfect gale. The tire absolutely appeared to dance
from roof to roof, and in an incredible abort space
of time, the three immense squares, composed most
ly of ware houbes, bounded by Market and Wood,
and extending from Third to the ricer, wete a eea
of flames.
The heat by this time' was tremendous, and the
wind blowing a gale. Wood street formed no bar
rier at all• The flames went Melting across es if
eager for their prey. They also crossed Third
street below the new Poet Office, and went rushing
up Wood street across Fourth—and Wood street
was a sea of fire from the river to Diamond alley !
But this was not all; the fire hail become ungov
ernable. The arm of man was impotent. Even
the goods removed to the streets fat safely, were
seized upon and destroyed. On, on, marched the
raging element. A sea of flame rolls on from
Wood street to Smithfield. The Monongahela
House, that noblest of modern hotels is surrounded
with flames! it takes fire! Still the ruin rolls on
—crossing Smithfield street, and Grant street,
sweeping Scotch Hill entirely. Even the Canal
does not stop it, the Ges 11'orks take fire, and di
rectly all Kensington is in flames, and the fire
rolls on, and is only stopped in that direction,
about one mile from where it commenced, from the
want of food to feed its voracioue maw.
In the meantime, the Monongahela Bridge has
taken tire, and is entirely consumed. The Pitts
burg Bank, nippored to be fire proof, extending
from 3d to 9th streets, is it flame. The M'ayor's
Office is also on fire, and the New Poet Office is is
great danger.
Let any one who is acquainted with Pittsburg
survey this scene, and look over the extent of ground
covered by this vast conflagration. So rapid' did
this fire progress, that at one time, between four and
five o'clock in the afternoon, the fire was raging
with undiminished fury, over is space extenditg,
beginning at Market street, corner of Third. down
Mark et atrieCto the river, up the river to the upper
end of Kensington or Pipetown, opposite to Bir
mingham, down from Kensington to Fourth street,
down Fourth street to Smithfield, up Smithfield to
Diamond alley,down Diamond alley to the large brick'
ware house on Wood, across Wood, extending in a
diagonal direction towards the Bank, up Fourth et.
to the Mayor's Office, end acme to Third street, the
place of beginning.
In all this vast apace, the very beset of the city
including moat of the warehouses of our manufac
turer., and our principal wholesale grocers and com
mission merebtants, there is not one house Mending
thm we know of.
Twenty squares are entire:) , destroyed, and sev
eral puts of squares, besides all of Pipetown, and
all the bundings around Bakewelre glue works,
which were also eonsurned.•
The loss of property must be immense. We
shall not attempt to compute it. The fire spend so
rapidly it wee hunt...ibis to save property. The
Front Street Merrhents, whose immense Ware
houses were full of Goods, Groceries, and Pittsburg
manufactures, removed their goods to the Wharf
which they covered over its whole extent, down to
the water's edge, but there they caught fire, and
the most of them were corm:med.
Among the public buildings destroyed, are the
Pittsburg Bank, the Monongahela House, the Mer
chant's Hotel, the Mayor's office, known as Philo
Hall, and all our Pittsburg insurance offices.
The Chronicle and Age offices were removed.—
'the Chronicle lost its prism. The Presbyterian
Advocate and Protestant Unionist offices are both
But it is impossible for us to attempt to give the
particulars of this dreadful calamity. Pittsburg
has received a dreadful blow, but we treat she will
again rise from her ashes.
At this time, seven o'clock, the fire is not exten-
ding, but is yet raging with awful sublimity in the
burnt district. Hundreiks and hundreds of families
are homeless and homeless, and their goods fill the
street.. To add to the distress, the Geo Works
were destroyed, and our city will be involved in
darkness es soon an the lurid flames die away.
Millions of dollars will not repair the loss expe
rienced. For extent of loss and wide spread deso
lation, no fire in this country ever equalled it. To
morrow we shall be able to give more particulars.
The following ow the additional particular. from
the Pittsburg Gazette, whose editor, we are happy
to see, escapes a direct participation in the lose,
though lie must feel it sleety way.
We have traversed the burnt district this morn
ing throughout its entire extent; the calamity in as
wide-spread and as awful as can be conceived. The
district burnt is about an we have described above.
The whole of South Ward, one of the moat pope.
lone in the city, is destroyed, with the exception of
two or three houses, one of them, by a singular fa
telity, et framc The largest part of Pipetown is
deorcyed, a few fratno buildings having escaped.—
The principal part of the Gee Works are uninjured.
Among the public buildings destroyed, are the
Pittsburg Bank, the Pittsburg Insurance Office., the
Monongahela House, Marches& American Hotels,
Dravo House, the second Asssociate Presbyterian
Church, the first Baptist Church, the Front street
African Church, the University Buildings, &c. &c.
A /so the Monongahela Bride; all entirely destroyed.
The number of house. destroyed is between one
and two thousand ! but it is impossible to ascer
tain exactly without more strict examination. A
great number of manufacturing establishments are
destroyed; among them the Kensington Rolling
Mill, a very extensive establishment, belonging to
Messrs. Freeman & Co. The greatest loss, horre
ver, is in the goods and were-houses on Second,
Front and Water Streets, and on %Vow% Market
and Smithfield.
In this region, were comprehended oar larteet
warehouses, which were full of goods. graced.,
anR Pittsburg manufactures. The loss is variously
estimated at from five to ten millions! By to-mor
row we shall be able Ire give more definite intelli
gence, but it will take !tome days to give all the par
ticulars. The only lives we have heard of lost, was
a poor woman in Third street.
Tho United States Gazette adds:
We have before us rt plot of the " burnt district"
in Pittsburg, hastily sketched on Friday morning by
■ friend who saw all the ruin, hut has providential
ly been spared the Misery of being• directly a pert
theteof. It is said that more than one thousand
houses have been destroyed, and this in the densest,
business part of the ctty. • We have seen several
letters, but three are from members of families to
fathers or children in this city and they are of ton
private a nature my admit of publication.
Persons who have been in Pittsburg may judge
something of the extent of the conflagration by the
subjoined statement, which we make from letters
before us.. They are the twenty-one squares else
where noticed :
Ferry at. from 3d to 2d and Market sts., 1 square.
6. 2d to Front st., 1 "
Water to Front and Wood at. by Market at., 1 sq.
Front to 2nd and Wood at., by Market st., 1 "
Market from 2d to 9d and to Wood sr., I ..
Wood on the South side of 4th. North side or,
Third down within 190 feet of the . Martel and
%.,,Y•alcm11(1) 4:1E1Del)
Pront—otfthis block was the Mayor's office--
the Bank of Pittsburg, burned—a 4 the Post
office, which was saved, 1 square.
Wood, utrr and Front to Smithfield, embracing
the great' Hotel, the Monongahela House, 1 sq.
Wood, Second, Front to Smithfield, 1 "
Wood, Third, Second to tiimithfiield, 1 "
Wood, Fourth,'Third to Smithfield, 1 14
Wood, Fourth, Diamond Alley to SrdithfrelVl "
Water, Smithfield, Front to Grant street, (Bahr-
Well's Glass h orses,) 1 "
First, Second, Smithfield to Grant at., 1 "
Second, Smithfield, Third to Grant at., 1 "
Third, Fouttli, Smithfield to Grant, I a
Fourth, Stuitlffield, Diamond Alley to Grant, 1 "
Fourth, Grant, to Rosa street, I 14
Third and Grant to Ross street, 1 a
Second and Grant to Ross street, 1 ill
Front, Second and Grant to Ross street, 1 "
Front to Water, by Grant, to Roes street, 1 g‘
21 square.
From Rose, on the continuation of Front to the
Monongahela, the fire 'extended on a narrow line to
the Eastern limit of Kensington, probably an eighth
of a mile East of Ross street—leaving unborn, the
Iron Steam-Ship Yard anti the Gas Works, and de
atroying the Dallas Iron Works.
After the above was prepared, we received a slip
from the Pittsburg American, from which (for want
of space to copy entire,) we take a few additional
The Third Presbyterian Church, though on fire,
was saved. Mr. J. R. Johnston's house was burnt.
Two buildings, belonging to Dr. Simpson, and Mr.
Bulin, though the, midsfoF the fiiev.A.Cro saved.
The Pittsburg Banking House was destroyed. The
United States Banking house, and that of the Mer
chant's Bank, were saved. Perry & Scott's Foun
dry was almost all that ',assayed in Pipe Town.—
The Monongahela House and Bridge were burnt,.
Mr. Weaver lost all the new furnishings in the
Merchant's Hotel. The lose of Messrs. Lyon,
Short, & Co., is mentioned as the heaviest in build
ings almi'property—Captain Wood's the next. Mr.
Adam Fulton loot the whole earnings of twenty- -
five years.
Mr. Alexander Jaynes lost some four of five
houses with all that he had. Messrs. I. &W.
Holmes; their house and heavy stock, probably
$60,000. Messrs. Jobnaon & Stockton removed'
part of their stock, but are heavy losers, as is also
Mr. Beale, Mr. Thomas Liggett, seven bosses; Mr.
John Thaw an equal . nuMberi William Hays,Esq..
6 or 7 houses on Wood street; Mr. John Roes, 3
or 4 new buildings. The Ptesbyteriatt • Adiceato
end Chronicle printing offices, were both burned
down, with a little or nothing saved fictoreither.—
One is scarcely able to account for the saving of
our office, which was aimed surrounded with fire.
We are indebted for it to the'untiring exertionsrof
our friends and to those employed in the office.
On Witter street, between Ferry and Market eta.,
the warehouse of Capt. James May—the dwelling
of Mr. C. Anshuts—the warehouse of Mr. Jacob
Forsyth—the house of Mr. Peebles on the corner
of Front rind . Market etreete, and the warehouse of
Mr. Little, occupied by Mr. Patrick Mulvany, on ,
the corner of Market and Water, are saved. We'
have Mentioned, we believe, all that were saved.—
All the others within the boundary given, are in'
mine; and with the houses have perished almost
every thing they containetll It Was the principal
business pert of the city, and embraces neatly half
its boundary and full half its wealth.
We have removed part of the materials of our
office, and suffered no material loss, but thedifficul
ty of gathering things together again. Messrs.
Bakewells are very heavy loiters, and the Honorable
Richard Biddle, we are informed, lost all his
ture—papers and library—the latter of great value.
Among the heaviest losers, perhaps, is our friend
Mr. Cross., proprietor of the Monongahela House,
who saved nothing, we are told, not even the money
in the bar—so rapid--so inatenteneous was the
We add Etch further particulars au We can gain
from the Pittsbuig papers. of the astounding calam
ity with which that city has been visited. The
Gazette says:
Mr: Mislcoln Leech, was injured considerably by
a fall.
Soon after the fire had , got under headway, end
the Globe Fectory began to burn, the Third Presr ,
byterian Church was in most imminent danger.--
The members of that denomination, rallied around
it and by cutting away the end of the roof which
projected over the well neat the fire ; and covering
tae roof with wet clothe, succeeded in saving it—
We saw clearly that the ealvaton of a dozen
squares depended upon it, for bad it caught, ire im
mense steeple would have scattered clouds of fire
over a considerable portion of the city Which
wholly escaped.
Mosses. Sibbet dt Jones opened their safe in the
morning, but every book and paper in it were burnt
up, and the gold and silver melted together.
Hardly one safe out of ten ex peed to the fire in
the buildings, saved anything in them. We noticed
a large number completely destroyed With all their'
A numb& of sick persons were removed, and
not A few of thegn ladies, in very delicate situations.
11'm. J. Mitchell living in Front street, nest door
to Fenlon's Livery Stable, was coming out of hid
house past the stable, when a gust of wind blew on
enormous thine of fire with such force as to knock
him down, burning his face, hands and buck ver:
WA two or three exceptions, every merchant
belonging to the Third Presbyterian Church wee
burnt out.
The demand for houses, stores and offices is im
mense. Every vacant room is taken up and even
the cellars are in many instances rented.
We believe are fatally ruined. We learn from a
reliable source that the Fireman's Insurance Office
hardest $249,000, and will pay about 40 cents on ti t
dollar. The Fie and Nartittion Company hare