e Johnstown was. "Oh, Mr. Jones," a
pale-faced woman asks, walking up, sobbing, "can't you tell me where we
can get a coffin to bury Johnnie's body?"

"Do you know," asks a tottering old man, as the pale-faced woman turns
away, "whether they have found Jennie and the children?"

"Jennie's body has just been found at the bridge," is the answer, "but
the children can't be found." Jennie is the old man's married daughter,
and she was drowned, with her two children, while her husband was at
work over at the Cambria Mills.

They Ran for Their Lives.

Miss Jennie Paulson, who was on the Chicago day express, is dead. She
was seen to go back with a companion into the doomed section of the day
express in the Conemaugh Valley, and is swept away in the flood.

Last evening, after the evening train had just left Johnstown for
Pittsburgh, it was learned that quite a number of the survivors of the
wrecked train, who have been at Altoona since last Saturday, were on
board. After a short search they were located, and quite an interesting
talk was the result. Probably the most interesting interview, at least
to Pittsburghers, was that had with Mrs. Montgomery Wilcox, of
Philadelphia, who was on one of the Pullman sleepers attached to the
lost express train. She tells a most exciting tale and confirms beyond
the shadow of a doubt the story of Miss Jennie Paulson's tragic death.

A Fatal Pair of Rubbers.

She says: "We had been making but slow progress all the day. Our train
laid at Johnstown nearly the whole day of Friday. We then proceeded as
far as Conemaugh, and had stopped for some cause or other, probably on
account of the flood. Miss Paulson and a Miss Bryan were seated in front
of me. Miss Paulson had on a plaid dress with shirred waist of red cloth
goods. Her companion was dressed in black. Both had lovely corsage
bouquets of roses. I had heard that they had been attending a wedding
before they left Pittsburgh. The Pittsburgh lady was reading a novel.
Miss Bryan was looking out of the window. When the alarm came we all
sprang toward the door, leaving everything behind us. I had just
reached the door when poor Miss Paulson and her friend, who were behind
me, decided to return for their rubbers, which they did.

Chased as by a Serpent.

"I sprang from the car into a ditch next the hillside in which the water
was already a foot and a half deep and with the others climbed up the
mountainside for our very lives. We had