ead
to foot fooling in the water, and when I got to Bergman's I took a
chill. I undressed and went to bed and fell asleep. The first thing I
knew I was pulled out of bed on to the floor, by Mr. Bergman, who
yelled, 'the dam has burst.' I got up, pulled on my pantaloons and
rushed down stairs. I got my youngest child and told my wife to follow
with the two others. This time the water was three feet in the house
and rising rapidly. We waded up to our waists out through it, up the
hill, far beyond the reach of danger.

A Stupendous Sight.

"From the time I left Bergman's till I stopped is a blank. I remember
nothing. I turned and looked, and may my eyes never rest on another such
sight. The water was above the houses from the direction of the railroad
bridge. There came a wave that appeared to be about twelve feet high. It
was perpendicular in its face and moved in a mist. I have heard them
speak of the death mist, but I then first appreciated what the phrase
meant. It came on up Stony Creek carrying on its surface house after
house and moving along faster than any horse could go. In the water
there bobbed up and down and twisted and twirled the heads of people
making ripples after the manner of shot dropped into the water. The wave
struck houses not yet submerged and cut them down. The frames rose to
the surface, but the bricks, of course, were lost to sight. When the
force of the water spent itself and began retracing its course, then the
awfulness of the scene increased in intensity. I have a little nerve,
but my heart broke at the sight. Houses, going and coming, crashed up
against each other and began grinding each other to pieces. The
buildings creaked and groaned as they let go their fastenings and fairly
melted.

"At the windows of the dwellings there appeared the faces of people
equally as ill-fated as the rest. God forbid that I should ever again
look upon such intensity of anguish. Oh, how white and horror-stricken
those faces were, and such appeals for help that could not come. The
woman wrung their hands in their despair and prayed aloud for
deliverance. Down stream went houses and people at the rate of
twenty-five miles an hour and stopped, a conglomerate mass, at the stone
abutment of the railroad bridge. The first buildings that struck the
bridge took fire, and those that came after were swept into a sea of
flame. I thought I had already witnessed the greatest possible climax of
anguish, but the scene