The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1874-05-27

We arc not yet through with the
min end DESPAIR of the Massachusetts,
hood. Additional particulars came
| to rs this morning, and they give new
recitals of .heart-rending scenes and
| fresh instances of heroism and devo-
| ton. ss9it s2a
There could hardly be more mar
velous snbject tor an epic poem than
| the ride of that frenzied horseman
down the valley, seeking by almost
superhuman efforts to save the lives
of his neighbofs. Some contempo-
Faneous poet, standing on the scene of
| the calamity, with death, desolation,
and ruin around him, will yet picture
the terrible occurrence in fitting lines,
made vivid by words which the awful
reality alone can suggest. This disas-
ter is an illustration how an hour may
terminate or change the whole course
of human life. Saturday dawned up
on that valley as it had dawned before.
through long weeks, months, and
years. 1t was quiet, peaceful day,
New England Saturday, IN which the
labors of the week were drawing to a
close, amid bright anticipations of
Sabbath rest. The manufacturer
was calculating the profits of his bust
ness and preparing to enlarge it. The
operatives were planning for the fu-
ture when their little savings would
enable them to live more cont ortably.
! The women exchanged their morning
gossip from neighboring door-steps,
the children romped and played on
the green, and in the busy mills was
heard the hum of thousands of spin
dies and the song of the Industrious
workman chanting an accompaniment
to the music of The wheels. The life
| in those towns has its counterpart in
all portions of the land where industry
and contentment abound and Hope
sends her smiles to gladden. the heart
of the rich and the poor alike. And
now in the midst OF all this a strange
cry is heard. 1t is not the idle shout
of boys nor the loud command of one
in authority. 1t is a distant, faint,
but still frantic cry Of warning. 1t is
repeated, louder, and more distinctly,
and men and women pause in their
work and listen. The cry comes near
er. nearer, till down through their
streets rides the pallid horseman,
shouting an alarm and supplying for
an instant those who catch his dread
full meaning. He Is here but mo-
ment and is gone again, but they are
tornado and they behold, up the val
ley, that moving wall of water rushing
down upon them. In an instant the
past, the future--everything in the
presents forgotten, save the one
disappeared. but has left commotion
hal hin, than that Of
other rider who has ever passed down
that highway He goes on like the
wind, but the waters follow, foaming,
crashing, roaring close behind him.
The people may know their danger,
but that is all. In a moment or two
they are beyond the reach of help, or
beyond the need of it. 1t comes like
a hurricane-is there before its awful
effects can be understood, calculated
upon, or even surmised-and then is
gone-gone while bewildered, horri-
fed, and dismayed the people gaze at
the havoc and ruin which has come
upon them, and then, rousing at last,
rush wildly down the valley, cropping
along the path of the watery tempest
for their dead. 1t is scene never to
be forgotten; sight which proved
too terrible for the reason Of many,
and which will haunt others to their
dying day.
Our dispatches announce the con-
tinued discovery of bodies, and the
number of victims may yet be found
to reach 200. No disaster approach
ing this in horror has ever been wit
messed in this country, and in the an
nails of Massachusetts it will long be
known as the dark and fatal Saturday.
Inter Ocean