cleared for its tents, however, over by
the German Catholic Church, and near the ruins of the Irish Catholic
Church, which was on fire when the deluge came.

Early this morning the 14th Regiment went into service, but it was a
volunteer service of two young officers and three privates when at noon
they dragged gently from the rushing Conemaugh the body of a beautiful
young girl. She was tenderly borne through the lines by regimental
headquarters to the church house morgue, while the sentinels stood aside
with their bayonets and the corporal ordered "Halt!" Guards were placed
at the Johnstown stations and all the morgues.

Marched out of Camp.

During the day many people of questionable character, indeed all who
were challenged and could not satisfactorily explain their business
here, had a military escort to the city limits, where they were ordered
not to return. Every now and then two of the National Guard could be
seen marching along with a rough fellow between them to the post where
such beings are made exiles from the scene of desolation. To-night the
picket lines stretch from brigade headquarters down Prospect Hill past
General Hastings' quarters even to the river. The patrol across the
river is keeping sharp vigilance in town. At the eastern end of the
Pennsylvania Railroad's stone bridge you must stop and give the
countersign. If you don't no man can answer for your safety.

A Lieutenant's Disgrace.

Down the Cambria Road, past which the dead of the River Conemaugh swept
into Nineveh in awful numbers, was another scene to-day--that of a young
officer of the National Guard in full uniform and a poor deputy sheriff,
who had lost home, wife, children and all, clinched like madmen and
struggling for the former's revolver. If the officer of the Guard had
won, there might have been a tragedy, for he was drunk. The homeless
deputy sheriff with his wife and babies swept to death past the place
where they struggled was sober and in the right.

The officer of the National Guard came with his regiment into this
valley of distress to protect survivors from ruffianism and maintain the
peace and dignity of the State. The man with whom he fought for the
weapon was Peter Fitzpatrick, almost crazy in his own woe, but
singularly cool and self-possessed regarding the safety of those left
living.

A Man who had Suffered.

It was one o'clock this afternoon when I noticed on the Cambria road the
young officer with his