the horse was burned. Two cindered towels, a cake of soap in a dish, and
a bit of carpet were taken to indicate the location of a hotel. I saw a
child's skull in a bed of ashes, but no sign of a body.

Recognized by Fragments.

In another place was a human foot and crumbling indications of a boot,
but no signs of a body. A hay rick, half ashes, stood near the centre of
the gorge. Workmen who dug about it to-day found a chicken coop, and in
it two chickens, not only alive but clucking happily when they were
released. A woman's hat, half burned; a reticule, with a part of a hand
still clinging to it; two shoes and part of a dress told the story of
one unfortunate's death. Close at hand a commercial traveller had
perished. There was his broken valise, still full of samples, fragments
of his shoes and some pieces of his clothing.

Scenes like these were occurring all over the charred field where men
were working with pick and axe and lifting out the poor, shattered
remains of human beings, nearly always past recognition or
identification, except by guesswork, or the locality where they were
found. Articles of domestic use scattered through the rubbish helped to
tell who some of the bodies were. Part of a set of dinner plates told
one man where in the intangible mass his house was. In one place was a
photograph album with one picture recognizable. From this the body of a
child near by was identified. A man who had spent a day and all night
looking for the body of his wife, was directed to her remains by part of
a trunk lid.

Dead Bodies Caressed.

Poor old John Jordan, of Conemaugh! Many a tear ran over swarthy cheeks
for him to-day. All his family, his wife and children, had been swept
from his sight in the flood. He wandered over the gorge yesterday
looking for them, and last night the police could not bring him away. At
daylight he found his wife's sewing machine and called the workmen to
help him. First they found a little boy's jacket that he recognized and
then they came upon the rest of them all buried together, the mother's
burned arms still clinging to the little children. Then the white headed
old man sat down in the ashes and caressed the dead bodies and talked to
them just as if they were alive until some one came and led him quietly
away. Without a protest he went to the shore and sat down on a rock and
talked to himself, and then got up and disappeared on the hills.

To Blow Up the Gorge.

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