ve reached the house in time, and lifting her in a buggy, pulled her
away while the flames were kissing each other over their heads on the
street. Mrs. Kuss, wife of the jeweller on Main Street, lay dead; and
although they were shown the dead body, they plied the torch and burned
the house. Mrs. J. K. Shryock had Mrs. Kuss's sick babe in her arms, and
plead for the sake of the dead mother and sick child to spare that house,
but it was unavailing. The body of Mrs. Kuss was hurriedly buried in the
garden, and the work of destruction went on. When the flames drove Mrs.
Shryock away with the child, she went to one of the men and presenting the
babe, said, "_Is this revenge sweet?_" A tender chord was touched, and
without speaking he burst into tears. He afterwards followed Mrs. Shryock,
and asked whether he could do anything for her; but it was too late. The
houses of Messrs. McLellan, Sharpe and Nixon, being located east of the
Franklin Railroad, and out of the business part of the town, were not
reached until the rest of the town was in flames, and the roads were
streaming with homeless women and children. Mr. McLellan's residence was
the first one entered, and he was notified that the house must be burned.
Mrs. McLellan immediately stepped to the door, and laying one hand on the
rebel officer, and pointing with the other to the frantic fugitive women
and children passing by, said to him: "_Sir, is not your vengeance
glutted? We have a home and can get another; but can you spare no homes
for those poor, helpless people and their children? When you and I and all
of us shall meet before the Great Judge, can you justify this act?_" He
made no reply, but ordered his command away, and that part of the town
was saved. Mr. Holmes Crawford, an aged and most worthy citizen, was taken
into an alley while his house was burning, and his pockets rifled. He was
thus detained until it was impossible for him to get out by the street,
and he had to take his feeble wife and sit in the rear of his lot until
the buildings around him were burnt down. Father McCullom, Catholic priest
of this place, was robbed of his watch. Colonel Stumbaugh was arrested
near his home early in the morning, and, with a pistol presented to his
head, ordered to procure some whiskey. He refused, for the very good
reason that he had none and could get none. He was released, but
afterwards re-arrested by another squad, the officer naming him, and was
insulted in every p