ts and kinds are here to be seen.

No Fear of a Food Famine.

The same sight is visible at the Baltimore and Ohio road and there is
now no fear of a food famine in Johnstown, though of course everybody
will have to rough it for weeks. What is needed most in this line are
cooking utensils. Johnstown people want stoves, kettles, pans, knives
and forks. All the things that have been sent so far have been sent with
the evident idea of supplying an instant need, and that is right and
proper. But it would be well now if instead of some of the provisions
that are sent, cooking utensils should arrive. Fifty stoves arrived from
Pittsburgh this morning, and it is said more are coming. At both the
depots where the supplies are received and stored a big rope line
encloses them in an impromptu yard so as to give room to those having
the supplies in charge to walk around and see what they have got. On
the inside of this line, too, stalk back and forth the soldiers with
their rifles on their shoulders, and by the side of the lines pressing
against the ropes there stands every day from daylight until dawn a
crowd of women with big baskets who make piteous appeals to the soldiers
to give them food for their children at once before the order of the
relief committee.

Where Death Rules.

The following letters from a young woman to her mother, written
immediately after the disaster at Johnstown from her home in New
Florence, a few miles west of that place, though not intended for
publication, picture in graphic manner the agony of suspense sustained
by those who escaped the flood, and give side pictures of the scenes
following the disaster. They were received in Philadelphia:

Hours of Suspense.

NEW FLORENCE, PA.--My Darling Mother: I am nearly crazed, and thought I
would try and be quiet and write to you, as it always comforts me to
feel you are near your child, though many miles are now between us. I
have said my prayers over and over again all day long, and to-night I am
going to spend in the watch-tower, and am trying to be quiet and brave,
although my heart is just wrung with anguish. Andrew sent me word from
Johnstown this afternoon about half-past three he was safe and would be
home shortly. Well, he has never come, and I have had many reports of
the work train, but no one seems to know anything definite about him. I
have telegraphed and telegraphed, but no news yet, and all I can find
out is he was seen on the bridge