Western sentinel. [volume] (Winston [i.e. Winston-Salem], N.C.) 1856-1886, 1886-04-08

painted for myself, just as my friend !,
Alfred Waugh, once delineated it up
on canvas, sunset scene of blood and
wreck and ruin aud death by whole
sale. [ see it eoao distinctly among
those clouds. I see the melancholy
rays of the setting sun streaming over
an immense rock, forming the dark
and appropriate background, upon a
train Of railroad cars piled promisru-
ously one upon the other at the foot
of that rock and halfbuIied in the
sluggish waters of Gasconade creek
that flows hard by. l see two old
gray heads, those Of the far famed and
eloquent divine, DIR. Buiiard, and of
Emanuel Choteau, the then popular
Mayor of ST. Louis, sticking out, side
by side from amoung the huge pile of
timbers, which has crushed their bod
les INTO shapeless masses of CORY pnlp.
I hear the death shrieks of dozen
dying men and help to turn over the
timbers again and to drag these out
together with the limp corpses Of a
dozen others. What was life and joy
and gayety rafting down the road a
few minutes ago / see suddenly trans
formed into death scene of indies
cribable horror, at which the setting
suns crimson curtain seems abashed
and in haste to let itself down out of
sheer pity.
Such was the scene in which l was
an actor and participation, although
unhurt myself, in the fading light of
the evening of the End of November,
1855. As reporter for one of the daily
papers, l had that morning went up
from ST. Louis to Jefferson City, on
an excursion train going to celebrate
the opening of the Missouri and Paci-
fic Railroad to the latter point, in
company with number of the lead
ing citizens and most eloquent speak
ers of the Mound City. A heavy rain
storm had meanwhile undermined the
supports of bridge of temporary
tressel work over Gasconade Creek
and on our return trip, all but one
rear car of the train were precipitated
over the abutment. The moment we
struck the bridge, thirty feet into the
creek, the engineer, Thomas S. O'Sul-
Ivan, being buried under his engine,
each car making its predecessor into
atoms and killing twenty four and in
| iuring many of the most prominent
citizens of St. Louis.
The scene in the city the following
days equally beggars description with
that of the tragedy at the bridge, eigh,
teen miles away. All business was
suspended, and the streets in every
direction were lined with funeral pro-
cessions and nodding hearse-plumes
and continually, from morning til!
night, .toIll toll! toll p was voiced
from the church steeples, from the
great bells of the magnificent Roman
Cathedrals to the modest German Re
formed sanctuary of the suburban
hills.
4 Aunivcrsal gloom, as of midnigh
or the judgement hour, covered the
city for three dreadful days. The
marble jaws of the rich mems vaults il
the various cemeteries opened anc
closed forever upon the walnut ant
silver enshrined 4 ut mangied dead
& The many colored falling leaves O
autumn, piled by edd ying gusts agains
the folding doors, were rolled back b.
the opening Of the sections into gaud,
heaps, heightened here and there i
their in their crimson tone by gor,
drops TINT trickled from the enterin,
coffins. King Death held high carni
val. It was i ghastier spectacle, per
haps chan the town had ever seen
! Iona that noclred the srising ulories d