, and has been looking for the
thief and would-be murderer ever since.

Crushed in His Own House.

David Dixon, an engineer in the employ of the Cambria Iron Works, was
with his family in his house on Cinder Street, when the flood struck the
city. The shock overturned his house against that of his neighbor,
Evans, and he, with his infant daughter, Edith, was pinned between the
houses as a result of the upturning. Both houses were carried down
against the viaduct of the Pennsylvania Railroad and there, in sight of
his wife and children, excepting a 15-year-old lad, he was drowned, the
water rising and smothering him because of his inability to get from
between the buildings. His wife was badly crushed and it is thought will
be an invalid the remainder of her days. The children, including the
babe in its father's arms, were all saved, and the other boy, Joe, one
of the brightest, bravest, handsomest little fellows in the world, was
in his news-stand near the Pennsylvania passenger station, and was
rescued with difficulty by Edward Decker, another boy, just as the
driftwood struck the little store and lifted it high off its foundation.

Babies who Died Together.

This morning two little children apparently not over three and four
years old, were taken from the water clasped in each other's arms so
tightly that they could not be separated, and they were coffined and
buried together.

A bright girl, in a gingham sun-bonnet and a faded calico dress came out
of the ruins of a fine old brick house next the Catholic church on
Jackson street this afternoon. She had a big platter under her arm and
announced to a bevy of other girls that the china was all right in the
cupboard, but there was so much water in there that she didn't dare go
in. She chatted away quite volubly about the fire in the Catholic
church, which also destroyed the house of her own mother, Mrs. Foster.
"I know the church took fire after the flood," she said, "for mother
looked out of the window and said: 'My God! Not only flood, but fire!'"
It was a burning house from Conemaugh that struck the house the other
side of the church and set it on fire.

Aunt Tabby's Trunk.

"I didn't think last Tuesday I'd be begging to-day, Emma," interrupted a
young man from across the stream of water which ran down the centre of
Main Street. "I'm sitting on your aunt Tabby's trunk." The girl gave a
cry, half of pained remembrance, half of pleasure. "Oh, my dear Aunt