Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-06-15
IN DEEPER SHADOWS.
Birdseye View of JOhnstOwn by
Night, Drawn by a Reporter;
SEEN, NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN.
A Dark Valley, and the Darker Drama it
Has Shown the World.
) SEEN, NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN.
GLINTS ON GHOSTS OF WHAT Is GONE
rrRoM A STAFF CORRESPONDENT

JoHNsTowN, June 14.-One of the most
striking sights imaginable, and one which
would furnish an excellent subject for a
panoramic view, or for the brush of painter
who delights to handle colors of deep, con-
trasting hues, as an Interpretation of chaos,
death and devastation, would undoubtedly
be birds eye view of Johnstown at night.
1t was nearly midnight yesterday when l
sat under the bright glare of a brilliant arc
light in the rear of the Pennsylvania Rail-
road freight station. at point where had
the opportunity of observing the scene In
all its details of solemn grandeur, as well as
those suggestive of horror and ghastliness.
The moon was rapidly rising over the
Allegheny Mountains, and, as it forced
itself through a crescent-shaped, silyery-
trimmed cloud, the dark veil that had
hitherto prevented the mountains from ap-
pearing as a beftting background to the
picture within the valley was lifted, and
the panoramic outline stood forth very dis
tinct.
Along the mountain ridge hung mist of
vaporous gauze through which the higher
trees were noticeable, and, as the wind
swayed their crowns to and fro, their ap-
pearanee was very suggestive of ghostlike
giants standing upon the hilltops mourn
fully wagging their heads in contemplation
of the result of the lately enacted tragedy
at their feet! Then, lowering his gaze, and
looking to the left, the beholder's eyes
rested upon the valley of the CoDemaugh.
There, in the distance,
WHERE VISION IS BAFFLED
by the blacklist, impenetrable darkness, the
gorge through which the death-dealing
forces of the watery element sped forth on
that awful night of terror is hidden from
view.
1 turn away from the vi ew of this spot
which stirs these recollections in their most
shocking vividness, and can just discern
that vast field of death and devastation
from Conemaugh borough to Johnstown
proper. And now, where darkness has
thrown the cloak of indistinctness as to the
details of this scene before the vision, one
who has seen it may readily imagine him
self to be looking upon broad plain of
sand and clay with a few big bolders of
stone and broken trees strewn about to make
the waste of sand more apparent.
Then the eye falls nearer, and there
beyond, atthe base of the hill, we can notice
a small cluster of white little houses-the
remnant of what was once known as the
borough of Woodvale.
Again coming nearer the vision rests in
the district of arc lights here and Johns
town proper, and, for few moments. the
scene is entirely changed. The hundreds
and hundreds of tents which stretch them
selves row upon row all along the field; the
dying blaze of the smoldering embers in
watch fires; the quiet, steady step of the
soldier on guard with his musket on his
shoulder-all that is a very pleasant sight
a picture in itself restful to the weary war
like sleepers beneath the canvas, One
might view it and think himself before a |
camp Of soldiers, out simply to follow the |
necessary exercise of their vocation. But.
alasl as the memory dwells with lingering |
satisfaction upon the merry times around a
soldiers camp, the ruined structures of that
town loom up likewise in recollection.
There are the various churches, some with
their walls rent, some with spires half
knocked of, others without the sheltering
ROOF. Again, the beholder notices the ruins
of once beautiful buildings, of peaceful
homes and happy households Where are
they now? Is it the darkness ofnight alone
that hides them? Are they still beyond the
shadows? Memory answers: Gonel all
gone, perhaps foreverl
AN AwFULLY SUGGESTIVE SCENE.
From this point 10 the right the spectacle
revealed is nearly all the same-one full of
painful shuddering at its suggestiveness of |
nothing else than horrors, death, destruction
and despairi There, below you, is a mass |
OF ruined buildings, where hundreds of dead |
bodies have been found in the last two |
weeks. There is the appalling pile of terri |
bic wreckage where the fortunes and the |
happiness of thousands lie buried beneath |
the rubbish. Farther away, to the right, |
you see at last that long stretch of debris |
upon the RAFT in the front of the Penusylya-
mia Railroad stone bridge You see the |
roofs of houses stretching their shattered |
shingles toward heaven; you see the smoke
arise from the smoldering fires of blazing
wreckage. You see kissing flame suddenlv
fash up like that from burning fat. and |
your first thought is: "What is it burns
so quickly there? the carcass of a brute or
the remains of one of the many
people lost, sure to be burned within that
field where many a death struggle must
have been fought on that memorable night
of the food?"
A little above along the hill back of this
debris, long RATS of wood have been set
afre, and the blazing flames light up the
scene with glare of red and fendish-Iook-
ing brilliancy.. The longer you look. the
more intense this feeling of sickening, sor-
rowing terror overcomes you, until it seems
to be shaking you, as observer, to the very
marrow of your bones.
Still, there appeared to be fascination in
the awful spectacle, which, all unconscious
ly, rooted me to my seat, lost in reverie of
thoughts and fancies, that came and van
ished, like ghosts of the Imagination
But suddenly 1 heard the shrek of an
owl from oyer the hill, and as its echoing
sound resounded through the valley,
started to my feet, and, realizing the exact
l arose to hurry to the hotel
where The DISPATCH men are Just now,
the sole and only regular guests.