me out and took me over to a brickyard. My eyes and nose were full of
cinders. After I reached the brickyard I vomited fully a pint of cinders
which I had swallowed while coming through that awful stream of water. I
can't tell you what it was like. No one can understand it unless he or
she passed through it."

"Did you find your wife and children?"

"No. I searched for them all of Saturday, Sunday and Monday, but could
find no trace of them. I think they must have been among those who
perished in the fire at the bridge. I would have staid there and worked
had it not been the place was so near my old home that I could not stand
it. I thought I would be better off away from there where I could not
see anything to recall that horrible sight."

How the Survivors Live.

With a view of showing the character of living in and about Johnstown,
how the people pass each day and what the conveniences and deprivations
of domestic life experienced under the new order of things so suddenly
introduced by the flood are, an investigation of a house-to-house nature
was made to-day. As a result, it was noted that the degrees of comfort
varied with the people as the types of human nature. As remarked by a
visitor:

"The calamity has served to bring to the surface every phase of
character in man, and to bring into development traits that had before
been but dormant. Generally speaking all are on the same footing so far
as need can be concerned. Whether houses remain to them or not, all the
people have to be fed, for even should they have money, cash is of no
account, provisions cannot be bought; people who still have homes nearly
all of them furnish quarters for some of the visitors. Militia officers,
committeemen, workmen, &c., must depend upon the supply stations for
food."

At Prospect.

The best preserved borough adjoining Johnstown is Prospect, with its
uniformly built gray houses, rising tier upon tier against the side of
the mountain, at the north of Johnstown. There are in the neighborhood
of 150 homes here, and all look as if but one architect designed them.
They are large, broad gabled, two-story affairs, with comfortable
porches, extending all the way across the front, each being divided by
an interior partition, so as to accommodate two families. The situation
overlooked the entire shoe-shaped district, heretofore described.

Nearly every householder in Prospect is feeding not only his own family,
but from two to