Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-06-10

oil turned a flood to a furnace may be
gained from the fact that the dwellers on
Cottage Hill, many hundred feet above the
| valley, fled from their houses and climbed
up and up till the brow of the hill-it
would be a mountain in many neighbor-
hoods-hid from them the horrid sight.
More than one fugitive didn't stop till he
had put mile or two between him and the
| fiery valley.
Landseer would have delighted in paint
| ing one little common bit of pathos that
| cropped out among the ruins on Seneca
street. Where the front doorstep of little
| frame house had been a few hours before, q
| LOOSE jointed fox-hound pup, his natural
coat enveloped in macintosh of yellow
mud and oil, sat on Tuesday morning,
whining occasionally and plodding around
the exposed foundations of the house. It
was in the very heart of the burned dis
trict, and how the dog had escaped the fate
that had befallen his owners is mystery.
A sentry guarding the ruins tried to at
tract the dogs attention with friendly
words, but they were as much lost upon the
bereaved animal as the tenderer and more
touching advances of small girl who
brought the guardsman his breakfast in
tin bucket. The dog must have
been hungry, but when his little friend
offered him a scrap of meat, he looked away
and merely wagged out his thanks with his
tail. Hours afterward the dog was to be
seen, still sitting on his launches and sadly
staring at the blue-coated soldier who stood
at the end of what once had been little
garden spot, and pretty one, too, for
rose bush that by some strange chance had
escaped the flames and rushing water stood
in one corner of it.
Narrow Escape of Photographer.
One of the many who narrowly missed
involuntary transition from a spectators
role to an actors in last Sundays tragedy
was j. G. McLane, the photographer. Mr.
McLane is a portly man, built more for
sturdiness than speed, and when the flood
about church time he went out with his
camera and tripod to take some views. He
was near the Derrick office when the
gaseous vapor exploded over the oil
charged stream and spread panic
through the crowds upon the bridge
and banks. Mr.. McLane had his camera
Just in position; the pressing of a button
alone shut off the artistic rest, when the
flash and the ugly roar of the explosion
intervened. The stout photographer is
authority himself for the assertion that no
in the break for high ground. But he re-
grets that he didn't snap view of the e1-
plosion itself before he ran.
1t has not been exactly picnic for the
horses of Titusville and Oil City since Sum-
day, especially to those who dwell |
in the stables of the liverymen.
The railroads linking these towns |
having changed places with the river |
here and there, travellers from one to the |
other had to hire rig or walk. Man COM |
monty prefers to risk the sentimental pain |
of seeing good horse pant and sweat to |
tiring his own good limbs in tramp over |
hill and dale, principally the former,
for countryman's twenty miles.
Livery Mon Made Modest Charges.
Considering their opportunities, for the
livery men had certain classes of men, cor
respondents for instance, at his mercy, the |
hirer out of rigs was moderate in his de-
mands upon the passengers purse, if not SO
much SO upon his steeds' endurance. A
pair of horses that took party of six across
The hills from Oil City to Titusville on
Tuesday had made the journey of 81 miles
twice before within "a hours, and they,
accomplished the fourth trip before the
twenty-sixth hour had elapsed. Oil country
horses like Oil country men must have
arge hearts.
A prettier drive you cannot imagine than
you get over the sandy road that winds
among the hills, and over as many as it can,
between ranks of scrubby oaks and more
ofty and luxuriant trees, with here and
here a tinkling brook to babble with its
'and. with now a clump Of rich wild honey
'uckle, like q pane from summer sunset