Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1873-05-03
A POPULATED COFFIN.

Byron's famous dream of what he
saw under the sea, is more than brought
to life in the account of the reporter of
the New York Herald, who went down
in divers dress to inspect the cabins,
steerage and hatchways of the wrecked
steamer Atlantic. lheCreading of his
graphic report fairly curdles ones
blood. What sort of sympathy for suf-
ferinw man can entertain who is will
ing TO crafty it after manner so un-
paralleled,it might be impossible to con-
ceive. Men sailing about i'll the hold of
four thousand ton steamer, their flesh
torn, and their limbs separated, with
open mouths and glaring eyes; the hatch
ways crowded with struggling mass
of what were once human beings, re-
vealing the agony of that last terrible
effort for life which a common instinct
inspires; parents in the act of protect
ing their offspring; husbands and wives
| fast in the embrace of an affection that
survives the act of death; strong men
fighting their irresistible doom with the
energy OF dispair; others illustrating
with an impressive force the act of per-
feet re- c'ignation; and the dull waters of
Lethe pouring their ceaseless currents
in and out. amt NJ this company of dead
people; it is Il picture, viewed in the
very place where it has existence, that
would haunt a person who should see ii
Lut once, to the last day of his exist.
ence.
kuough has been told of the horrors
of Il. at April morning off the forbidding
coast of Nova Scotia, but this revela-
ton brings them up before us in theil
dreadful reality. The ships cabins are
still occupied with the company that
went down in them full of life and hope
from the English shore, but it is voice
less assembly now. All these hopes
have gone out All the schemes of lif,
that we're cherished up to the hour wher
the gallant ship met her fate are flee
forever. No pleasant homes for thOs'
passengers on the distant prairies. NJ
greeting of friends and kindred on land
mo on their native shore. No more
dreams of plenty and peace in the mids
of domestic love, that were to b,
wrought out in little while by faithful
labor. Everything blasted that contain
ed the germ of a new hope for an un
tried future. There are those who's
busy brains and beating hearts enter
tanned such delightful visions, but besid
the splash of the salt waves and tn
grating of the bodies against the broke
wreck, all is still.
No man could stay long to contem
plate such scene, though invention
gave him as protracted lease of lif
Ielow the water as he could wish. Hu
man sympathy is an undesirable gift TO
n one who would stay among such SUI
n roundings unmoved. Very few person
would care to view the actual scene, eve
TO report it in it's hideous truthfulne'
for the universal perusal. The interlc
:, of wrecks is not often seen just as 1t
! and described with the minuteness {
N photography itself; but the descriptio
! of this interior is as remarkable as I'll
: catastrophe itself was unprecedente.
Hundreds of corpses drifting about witt
out will in the vessel which they b.
Yesterday peopled with life, is sigl
N not allowed every one to see, nor is
every combination of nerves that coul
=. be trusted to undergo the strain. III
n vessel in which they perished without
" moments warning was their fittest coftl
N N If any, they are entitled to remain IN /
gloomy recesses. The waves dash abo'
IN IN them unchecked, and the winds sir
na their requiem among the cordage an
among the rocks. No man can tell VIII
is to be the place where he shall die, b.
u, il is safe to say that not soul OF tho
a lost by the Atlantic ever thought the
=" would meet their end at such an no
h. and in such place.--Boston Times.