The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-09-09
cHARLESToN'S DOOM F.!
An Earthquake Levels the
City and Spreads Des-
o1ation.
Continuous Shocks Add to the Hor-
ror-The Earth Riven in
chasms.

| anu nelSnDOrlnR villages ana cOun-
try. The first two shocks occurred
about 10 o'clock and were followed
at intervals for several days, tumb
ling about two-thirds of the houses
to the gIound and cracking nearly
every wall in the city.
In Fridays Atlanta Constitution
Henry w. Grady has the following
vivid word picture Of scenes met
with on a ride from Augusta to
Charleston since the earthquake:
Out In the country from Augusta
the signs of the earthquake were
not abated. Even the negro cabins
had lost their occupants and pi-
canlnnies on mattresses spread un-
der the big trees we're abundant.
The first signs of the convulsion
that were written on the earth were
found at Langley mills. There
remarkable scene was unfolded.
Langley pond was a bare waste.
Several hundred acres of pond area
were bare, the pools being filed
with operatives and country people
catching fish. On the near ehore
hotel of pine bushes had been ex-
temporized and heaps OF pan fish,
corn dodgers and vinegar sauce
made a menu that filed all out of
doors with an appetizing odor.
THE EARTH wRENCHED AsUNDER.
The Langley pond, the pride of
this section, was gone, and the for
est for a halt mile below looked as
if cyclone had torn through them.
This dam cost $4,000. 1t was
about 400 feet across and two car
riages could have driven abreast
easily over its top. The sides were
properly sloped and sodded. The
earthquake had wrenched this enor
nous structure right and left.
Great cracks, covering nowhere,
but apparently made in caprice, dis
figured the approaches. 1t was
through such cracks as these that
the water made its way and swept
the dam out of existence. These
assures were not made by the ea:th
sinking, but by its being wrenched
violently apart.
Both sides. of the assures were
usually level. Into one of these
giant cracks a pole was lowered
without reaching the bottom. A
hundred feet away from the pond
the solid earth was wrenched into
assures that had no perceptIble
drift of shape or direction. There
had been no eruption, and no ex-
traneous understand was found in
the cracks. 1t was simply as il
some tremendous power had torn
the earth apart, cutting the cracks
clean and definite. The largest
crack was, perhaps, two feet across
and bottomless as far as appear
ances could reach.
THE TERROR IN THE COUNTRY.
The excitement is greater in the
country than in the town. There
ignorance, superstition and exager-
ated stories add to the real horrors
of the situation. Men, women and
children ran through the woods
praying and screaming. The coun-
try churches have been packed
since the first shock and lamenta-
tions and supplications may be
heard for miles. At least two deaths
are reported from fright, and num-
bers of people have become insane.
A woman drowned herself through
fear at bath. The sharp terrors of
the cyclone do not compare with
the despair that comes with the I'M
seen and inexplicable earthquake.
A TRIP TO CHARLESTON.
From this point forward every
man travels on his own responsible
ity. The remnants of the law are
posted to the effect that they are
dangerous, though the yawning ifs
snres does that. abundantly. The |
engineer notifies US, as. he pulls
out backward, that we are taking
our own risks. The villages through |
which we run remind US of Sunday. |
The stores are closed, business is
suspended and crowds literally |
swarm about the engine inquiring
for news. They have had no pa
pers, few kilograms, no trains and
the most curious rumors are afoat.
By this time our special engine is
crowded with Charlestonians who
have begged passage under the most
urgent reasons. The woodtender
is covered with them. Several are
propped on the cowcatcher, very
good seat on an engine that is fly
ing backward. Among our passen
gers is Mr.. Tabers, the son of the
famous editor who was killed in
duel by McGraw.
At Brsnchville a curious sight
presented itself. The depot grounds
were crowded with negro men, wo-
men and children who had walked
from SummerVille and had camped
out all night. It was a motley
crew. They had left their houses
during the shock and had never re-
turned. They were holding the
livliest sort of prayer-meeting, and
eating such scraps as they could
beg or buy. The railroad track was
sprinkled with them still coming.
Old men barely able to totter and
little children in arms. A white
neglra, from Summervllle, almost as
great, took place yesterday. Three
passenger coaches and two cabs
were packed to suffocatioD, and
hundreds were left on the track.
They left their houses open and
did not care where they were going.
1t was simply a pell nell flight.
THE DESERTED VILLAGE. {
Summerville is certainly desert
ed village. We continued to meet
negroes hurrying along the track
with more uneasy haste than they |
ever ran before their masters 6
hounds. We are now approaching !
the fated village. The streets were !
e npty except at just the point the '
engine stops. The remarkable G
phases of Summerville's CONFUSION c
are the flowing assures and holes c
and the twisted railroad tracks. 8