ith this brief description of the
place and of its leading features, it will now fall to my lot to
tell the story of the terrible damage inflicted upon it by the great
tornado of July 1st.

[Illustration: SEMINARY BUILDINGS OF RICHARD DARLINGTON, Jr., AT
ERCILDOUN, AFTER THE TORNADO.]

My school had been vacated three days before, and all the pupils,
together with their baggage, had gone. We felt, on that Sabbath
afternoon, a full sense of relief from responsibility and care. About
3 o'clock in the afternoon, while engaged in reading, I was informed
by my wife that an unusual rumbling and loud noise could be heard in
the west. I remarked that it must be a thunderstorm and nothing more.
The loud roar, however, continued, and became clearer and more
distinct. I arose hastily, took a position and listened to the sound.
In a few moments my mother-in-law, who resides with us, called to me
in a loud voice to come to the west window on the main hall of the
second story. I hurried thither, and on looking toward the west saw
the great storm-cloud approaching, distant at that time perhaps half a
mile, and coming over the level plain of the intervening fields. It
was a novel and terrible sight to behold. The great conical mass
seemed to be carrying along with it the timbers and burning embers of
a barn on fire; vast masses of dirt and other dark objects appeared to
be also in motion and coming directly towards my school buildings. No
time must be lost; the whole establishment _might_ blow away, but in
any event the safest place seemed to be the basement story. Thither I
asked my family to go immediately; they did so. On reaching the story
immediately above the basement I halted, passed to the front porch,
and took a position for observation, thinking that possibly our plans
for safety would have to be modified. In a few moments the cloud
struck the building; it came apparently with the force of two or three
batteries of artillery, and the question was about to be decided
whether the brick walls could stand the shock; if they could not, our
lives must be sacrificed. It was all over in less than one minute. I
had withdrawn to a front room on the first heavy fall of brick through
the porch roof, for the upper story seemed to be coming down bodily
upon the lower floors. After it was over I stepped to the east end of
that part of the porch which was remaining, and viewed the situation;
it was enough to sadden the stoutest heart. Not