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 HAMPSHIRE COUNTY, MASS. 
 
 SPRINGFIELD, MASS. : 
 
 WEAVER, SIIIPMAN & COMPANY, PRINTERS. 
 
 1874. 
 
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FULL AND GRAPHIC ACCOUNT 
 
 TE :E=LI=LI:3 XjE 
 
 >Iill f^iref f)i>^Mtef 
 
 CAUSED BY THE 
 
 BREAKING OF A RESERVOIR 
 
 IN 
 
 HAMPSHIRE COUl^TY, MASS. 
 
 WITH FITLL DETAILS OF THE 
 
 LOSS OF LIFE AND PROPERTY AT WILLIAMSBURG, 
 SKINNERVILLE, HAYDENVILLE AND LEEDS. 
 
 SPRINGFIELD, MASS. : 
 
 WEAVER, SHIPMAX AND COMPANY, PRINTERS. 
 
 1874. 
 
The following pages contain an authentic account, compiled from the most 
 reliable sources of information, with great care and accuracy, of the most 
 devastating visitation ever experienced in New England. Four beautiful vil- 
 lages, reposing in supposed security, in one of those charming valleys with 
 which New England abounds, blotted from existence in a moment, as with 
 the besom of destruction, is a calamity beyond expression or conception. 
 The loss of property, the accumulated savings of a life-time of many of the 
 inhabitants, is appalling, — all gone at one fell swoop, — but when added to that 
 is the indiscriminate destruction of life, the catastrophe is overwhelming. 
 The utter desolation of those late thriving and happy villages is sickening to 
 contemplate. The growth of a century is obliterated in a moment. So 
 thorough has been the destruction that many of the boundaries of real estate 
 are obliterated, and many of the survivors of the disaster are unable to locate 
 the sites of their former habitations. The public ways, the quiet retreats, and 
 the ancient trysting tree, are all gone, as far as the flood could reach, and 
 nothing remains but a gloomy waste of shapeless rocks. Most of those fated 
 families had finished the morning meal, and were just entering upon the duties 
 of the day, with joyful hearts and bright anticipations; when suddenly they 
 were cut ofl" from the land of the living, and the valley of peace and happi- 
 ness became the valley of death. Who can depict the misery and woe, the 
 destruction, desolation and bereavement, caused by the visitation of that fatal 
 hour ? Whole families blotted out, and the places of their abode scattered to 
 the sands ; and individuals bereft of all that made life dear. Oh, there remain 
 groans unutterable, sorrows inexpressible, and hori-ors filled with the black- 
 ness of darkness. While we mourn for the departed let us pity the suffering 
 survivors. 
 
 '' Oh, who can tell, however fair his view. 
 
 Through what sad scenes his path may lie ? 
 
 And who can give to others' woes his sigh. 
 
 Secure his own will never need it too ? " 
 
 Note. — For the material of this narrative we have relied to a great extent upon the 
 Springfield Republican, which is so justly commended for its able, graphic and thrill- 
 ing reports of the disaster, which are singularly correct in all their details. Indeed, we 
 have been unable to find any paper, though we have examined all the ablest of them, which 
 can compare with it for completeness and accuracy. It has not drawn upon imagination, 
 but has stated the simple truth as it is. Besides, we have gleaned from other prominent 
 papers notes and incidents which serve to add interest to the work, which, supplemented by 
 our own personal observations and recoUectioSs, will, we think, render it as complete an 
 account of the great calamity as it is possible to obtain. 
 
 
DETAILS OF THE DISASTER. 
 
 The details of tlie cause and extent of tlie calamity are as follows ; 
 
 About three miles north of Williamsburg village one reaches the ruins of 
 the cause of all tliis devastation. The scene is an impressive one. All 
 through the center nothing remains of the high wall of stone and earth which 
 rose to a hight of 40 feet in the bed of the stream, save the stone-work run- 
 ning at right angles with the dam at the bottom, which enclosed the gate-way. 
 In the very bed of the stream nothing is left, and, even where the water now 
 tlows harmlessly along its ancient channel, not a stone remains from top to 
 bottom. A small portion of the eastern part of the reservoir, and a larger 
 section of the western, still remain, — in all, hardly a sixth of the original 
 extent, — broken and jagged on the edges. Above, the eye sweeps over the 
 bed of the reservoir, a tract of 111 acres, covering the northeasterly corner 
 of the town of Williamsburg, near the Conway line. This land, nestled in 
 among the hills, is for the greater part tolerably level, sloping, of course, more 
 or less on every side, and dotted over a large part of its surface with the 
 stumps of trees that formerly occupied it. Below the reservoir the sight is 
 most impressive. The vast mass of water suddenly let loose and dashing 
 down the narrow valley, has wrought such devastation as one would not have 
 believed possible without the sight. The very bed of the stream has been cut 
 in many places below its original course, and for a long distance tlie valley is 
 dotted — sometimes crammed — with huge rocks torn from the wall of the res- 
 ervoir, while the trees that in many places lined its banks have quite vanished, 
 and those that marked the outer edge of the torrent are all tattered and 
 torn. Indeed, as one stands on the remaining wall of the reservoir and looks 
 about, the scene is most desolate and impressive. 
 
 The ill-fated reservoir -vjas one of a system of dams and reservoirs owned 
 by a corporation called "The Mill Eiver and Williamsburg Keservoir Com- 
 pany," which included all the manufacturing establishments on the line of 
 Mill river from Williamsburg to Northampton. It was situated on the "east 
 branch" of Mill river, about three miles from the village of Williamsburg 
 and in the northeastern corner of the latter town. The stream which sup- 
 plied it has its rise only about three miles above the reservoir, and, after 
 joining the "west branch" at the village of Williamsburg, forms Mill river 
 
4 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 proper, which flows through Ilaydenville and Florence, and empties into the 
 Connecticut at Northampton. The reservoir was constructed in the summer 
 and fall of 1865, though it was not filled and used till the following spring. 
 Emory B. Wells of NorthamiJton and Joel Bassett of Easthampton were the 
 contractors, and the cost was $35,000. A stone wall was first huilt, which 
 was stii^ulated to rise from a width of -eight feet at the hard-pan to two feet at 
 the top, which latter was 42 feet above the bed of the stream. This wall was 
 contracted to be laid in the best-known cement, and, the projectors claimed, 
 would be as strong as a single shaft of granite. Enveloping this stone wall on 
 either side was a mass of earth, which sloped down on the water side at an 
 angle of 30 degrees, and on the lower side at an angle of 45 degrees. A lat- 
 eral section of this earthern support measured about 120 feet at the base; the 
 greater mass of which was on the water side. At the center of the stream, 
 inclosed in a stone wall running at right angles to the main wall of the reser- 
 voir, ran an iron tube of two feet diameter, for controlling the flow of water, 
 extending of course a few feet beyond this earthern wall at both extremities 
 of its base. This wall of earth, 120 feet wide at the bottom, was 16 feet 
 across at the top, covering the crest of the stone wall a depth of two feet, in 
 order to prevent danger from frost, and along its top furnished a good drive- 
 way. The water never rose quite to the crest of the dam, being kept about 
 two feet below that line by means of a waste-way at the western side. The 
 reservoir covered an area of 111 acres, and its average depth was 24 feet. 
 
 A little below the reservoir, on the western bank, but out of the range of 
 the flood, stands a small, dismal-looking dwelling, in which lives the gate- 
 keeper. This is George Cheney, a man of about 35, apparently an honest 
 and well-meaning individual. He has held the place nearly three years, his 
 duty being to attend to the opening and shutting of the gates, keep close 
 watch of the condition of the reservoir, and report to his employers anything 
 which seemed to demand attention. It has been his practice upon rising in 
 the morning to go out and inspect the condition of afikirs. He went out as 
 usual, Saturday morning, about 6 o'clock. Everything looked all right ; the 
 reservoir was full, as it had been for several days, water was flowing out the 
 waste-way on the west side past his house — the gate-way having been closed 
 a fortnight — there was no sign of the impending catastrophe, and Cheney 
 returned to his house : the family, including his wife, several children and 
 his father, sat down to breakfast. They were just finishing the meal when a 
 great noise was heard, and the old man, who was standing at one of the 
 eastern windows, exclaimed, " For God's sake, George, look there!" About 
 40 Teet in length of the bottom of the reservoir on the east side, just beyond 
 tlie gate, was shooting down stream. Cheney seems to have realized the 
 situation and the emergency at once. With a single eye to the discharge of 
 his duty, and almost, as one would infer from hearing him tell the story, 
 without stopping to consider the danger involved, he rushed down to the gate 
 and let on the water full head, in the hope that this might atford relief and 
 avert the threatening danger. This done, he paused a moment to investigate 
 the condition of the wall where the break had taken place ; a glance showed 
 
MILL EIVftR DISASTER. 
 
 him that it could hardly fail in a few minutes to give way entirely ; streams 
 of water as large as a man's arm were forcing their way through, new ones 
 appearing every moment, tlie wall was constantly crumbling away, and its 
 utter downfall was evidently only a question of minutes. Cheney rushed up 
 to his house and told his father he was going to the village to warn the 
 .people; together they hurried to the barn, a few rods below, and, while 
 Clieney was throwing a bridle upon his horse, his father cut him a stick. Leap- 
 ing on his horse's back, and plying vigorously his lash, he rode at topmost 
 speed down the road that skirted the stream's bank to Williamsburg, cover- 
 ing the three miles, he thinks, in fifteen minutes. It was then about half- 
 past 7 o'clock. Driving to the house of Mr. Spellman, who had general 
 charge of the reservoir, he summoned that gentleman from his breakfast 
 table to startle him with, "The reservoir is going!" It was but the night 
 before that Cheney had been talking with him about the reservoir, and both 
 had agreed that everything looked all right for the summer. It is not strange, 
 therefore, that Spellman could not at first credit the statement, thought the 
 man a little " scairt," and to his startling communication replied, "No! it 
 can't be possible !" But Cheney quickly told him about the giving way of 
 earth and the streams of water rushing through, and soon convinced him 
 that the danger was most imminent. The first duty was to warn the people 
 further down the stream; Cheney's horse was exhausted, and Spellman 
 told him to go to the livery stable, where again precious moments were lost 
 in convincing the incredulous proprietor that the messenger's story could be 
 true. Here, however, he met Collins Graves, the milkman, on his morning 
 round. "If the dam is breaking," said Graves, after listening to Cheney's 
 fragmentary story, " the folks must know it;" and, lashing his fleet horse 
 into a run he dashed away toward Haydenville, shouting, " the reservoir is 
 right here ; run, 'tis all you can do !" It was now a quarter of 8, and 
 meanwhile Belcher and Cheney had rung the bell of the Congregational 
 church to further warn the village folk. On went horse and driver, spread- 
 ing the alarm. Graves shouting all the way ; he made directly for the manu- 
 facturing establishments, for, said he, " the people could hear it, but the 
 roar of the factories would drown any warning for the operatives." At 
 Skinnerville the pair were five minutes ahead of the coming torrent ; but at 
 Haydenville they had but two minutes in which to spread the alarm. Here 
 the famous ride, which will be sung in story and told to the credit of Collins 
 Graves around the firesides of Williamsburg forever as the salvation of 
 many hundred lives, ended at the hotel ; the horse and rider were both 
 exhausted, and here another herald took up the tidings. Graves could hear 
 the thunder of the coming flood, but, not fully appreciating its extent, he 
 turned to go back towards Williamsburg. At the " Dug-way" at Hayden- 
 ville the disaster which he had predicted burst upon his sight, and he had 
 just time to turn oiF into a bank near Capt. Kingsley's when it crashed past 
 him; indeed, he was not 20 seconds too soon, and, as it was, he had almost 
 despaired of reaching a place of safety, and had even thought of abandoning 
 
6 HISTORY Ot' THE 
 
 his tired steed to its fate. Graves, by the way, is a Williamsburg boy, and 
 has got a pleasant home on the Hill, out of all danger of floods. 
 
 Of course, the onslaught of the water was terrible and grand beyond des- 
 cription ; one can only give its results as best depicting its appalling accom- 
 paniments. To one the thick coming mass of water seemed like the heaviest 
 ocean waves ; to another the sound was like the tearing of shingles from 
 many buildings, while a third heard it as the heavy sullen thunder which 
 succeeds the summer storm. It was preceded and surrounded by a dense 
 spray or fog, dark and thick as the heaviest smoke, while even as far away as 
 the Hill there was an odor like that emitted by stagnant pools. The wave is 
 generally described as 20 feet high, though in one spot its spray washed the 
 branches of a tree 40 feet from the ground. It would be interesting to follow 
 the front of the flood as it thrust itself upon diflerent eyes along the Wil- 
 liamsburg valley ; but, taking a representative view from the village as 
 given by Rev. John F. Gleason, we must pass to the details of its progress. 
 Few, by the way, were sufficiently calm to receive distinct impressions, and 
 the almost unvarying summing up of the matter is, " It was so sudden I" 
 Mr. Gleason got up from his breakfast table to see the Adams flouring mill 
 sailing before his window, while liis neighbors' houses in the valley below 
 were taken up by the water like chips, to crumble as salt ; the trees were 
 mown down like grass, huge bowlders were tossed about by the resistless 
 current, while the waves would savagely play awhile with the barns and shops 
 to grind them to chips and splinters. 
 
 The villages devastated of property and of lives were Williamsburg, Skin- 
 nerville and Haydenville, in the town of Williamsburg, and Leeds, in the 
 town of Northampton, while the village of Florence, likewise in the latter 
 town, suflered severe property damage, but no loss of life. All these are 
 manufacturing villages, but the three upper ones were especially of uncom- 
 monly neat and inviting aspect, while Florence is well known as one of the 
 most beautiful rusurban places in the country. Between and in them lay fer- 
 tile tracts of alluvial land, on which i)rosperous and intelligent fiirmers dwelt. 
 The portion of Williamsburg taken by the immense flood in its way was the 
 southerly. A large flouring-mill on the reservoir stream was the first object 
 of its fury, and when the water reached the valley, instead of following the 
 course of the stream at the base of the hill, it rushed madly forward across 
 to the Main street, and followed that down, taking in its unrelenting course 
 every house it struck, and destroying 25 in all before reaching the top of Skin- 
 nerville, a mile below. In thus rioting across the meadow, it cut a new, wide 
 channel, diverting the river from its former bed, carrying the bulk of its cur- 
 rent to the other side of the valley, leaving, thereby, H. L. James's large 
 mill without any water-power and quite useless, and covering the intervening 
 flats with sand, rocks and rubbish, to their almost inevitable ruin. This last 
 was the case also at Skinnerville, where the large and first-class silk factory 
 of William Skinner, in which were employed 80 hands, was completely des- 
 troyed, his elegant house damaged, and twenty-one houses carried away. At 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 7 
 
 Haydenville, two miles further, the chief loss, and the largest of the whole 
 flood, was that of the extensive brass works of Ilayden, Gere & Co., employ- 
 ing 2o0 hands, with a building attached containing the savings bank and 
 Masonic hall ; and there were also destroyed a small tobacco mill and 23 
 houses of differing sizes and values. The village of Leeds was utterly ruined 
 as to its Main street, and 17 houses were carried off, besides an old woolen 
 mill (unused), a chapel, and the large button factory of George P. Warner, 
 employing 80 hands, many of them girls. The damage in Florence was to 
 the silk and brush works, both slight in comparison with the larger losses 
 above, and to the flats opposite the village, which were ruined by the stuff 
 fetched upon them. The injury to highways was enormous and almost irrep- 
 arable by the resources of the towns. Several iron bridges and a few wooden 
 in Williamsburg, Haydenville and Florence villages were carried away, and 
 the main streets of the fliree villages were all torn through, that at Hayden- 
 ville escaping with the least damage of any. The iron bridge at the foot of 
 Hospital hill in Northampton was carried away, and dashed against the Canal 
 railroad bridge, which snapped in a moment and floated down some 150 rods 
 on to the meadows. The river road from Haydenville to Leeds was nearly all 
 destroyed. 
 
 THE FLOOD AT WILLIAMSBURG. 
 
 The released waters came down the reservoir stream with awful force, and, 
 ignoring the old channel to the east, surged against the houses on the Main 
 street leading to the depot, taking off all the houses on Back street, from 
 Adams's mill to Dr. E. M. Johnson's, thus marking out a new channel almost 
 directly south, until it struck the hill, which stemmed the current again to 
 the east. In nearly, if not quite, a quarter of an hour the accumulated 
 water had passed, so that its path could be traced. The valley was forever 
 obliterated, and for its face was the jagged, scarred bed of the destroying 
 stream ; the James mill was high and dry, safe, but almost as if built on top 
 of the hill. At present it would seem a most difficult work to train the water 
 back to its old courses, but the town can hardly afford to leave it as it now 
 runs, and it will probably be returned again to its old bed. The picture 
 here was perhaps as striking in its contrasts as any along the path of the 
 flood ; for a mile down from the village nothing had escaped unscathed ; no 
 green or whole thing was to be seen. Only one or two houses were left on 
 the street; up on the hill-sides were strewn all sorts of household articles, 
 no one of them intact, while, perhaps, protruding near by, would be the 
 bruised and beaten bodies of the drowned. 
 
 The blow came upon the village with such abruptness that even the very 
 participants in the terrible struggle with the water scarce realized its import ; 
 
8 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 they turned out to relieve the saved or to recover the dead with no intense 
 demonstrations of sorrow, but quietly and with studied method. All Satur- 
 day, the dead were taken to the town hall and cared for. In the evening a 
 relief meeting was held at the church, and necessary committees appointed 
 for burying the dead, relieving the needy, and soliciting funds, all without 
 the slightest display of sorrow, but with the single eye to doing all that might 
 be done for the situation as it was. The search for the bodies was earnestly 
 prosecuted Sunday, and with good result, some dozen more being brought to 
 the hall, making 30 recovered in all at Williamsburg ; all were engaged in it, 
 some of the clergymen working to good effect with the rest. 
 
 The value of the property swept from the Williamsburg street is probably 
 about $100,000 ; the damage to the meadow land and to the water privilege 
 not entering into the estimate. Tlie number thrown out of employment will 
 probably reach 175, while many are destitute. Ther? were some 25 houses 
 carried away from the Adams mill to the depot, besides the Spellman and 
 Adams mills. 
 
 The stream was free of anything destructible until the village was reached, 
 a small house owned by O. G. Hill and occupied by Livingston T. Bartlett 
 being the first to fall ; Bartlett, who is a painter, was working at the village, 
 but his wife and step-daughter went down as the first victims. O. G. Spell- 
 man's dam, button factory and saw-mill next broke, and Adams' flouring mill 
 fell quickly after, and with it W. H. Adams and T. J. Hitchcock. Spencer 
 Hannum's house was partly smashed ; Patrick Scully lost his wife, one child 
 and an aged mother in Hiram Hill's tenement house, while Mrs. Eliza Down- 
 ing and daughter and Widow Downing, too, went down. W. H. Adams' barn, 
 with cattle, etc., and E. Graves's carriage shop, with contents, were inciden- 
 tals. Conductor Chandler's wife and daughter and house next went; George 
 E. Lamb's house, with his wife and nephew, and Alexander Roberts, his wife 
 and two daughters ; Jeremiah Ward's house, his wife's sister-in-law. Widow 
 Electa Knight, E. C. Hubbard's with Mrs. Wood and babe followed. Mr. 
 Bardwell's house, carriage shop and barn and E. C. Handfield's blacksmith 
 shop were swept off. Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Bartlett and Dr. E. M. Johnson 
 and family went down with their houses ; Mr. Raymand's house was destroyed. 
 Some apple trees here saved a small house. Elbridge G. Kingsley, house, 
 barn and wife, and E. D. Kingsley with his wife and two children, were also 
 carried away. Henry H. Tilton's house was partially wrecked, and Widow 
 Snow and his little son were drowned ; the Birmingham family in one of the 
 James tenements were lost, as was Mrs. W. D. Adams and son in another 
 tenement. The water came up to the second story of H. L. James's mill, but 
 the current changed, and so it was comparatively little damaged. An unoc- 
 cupied tenement owned by Dr. Meekins next disappeared ; James JMurray 
 with his house and sick wife, Michael Burk and James Atkinson, with Dick 
 Cahill's house, barn and cow and Thomas Ryan's house, took the flood on to^ 
 the border of Skinnerville, 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 
 
 SKINNERVILLE. 
 
 Near the Williamsburg station the gathered torrent, with all its burden of 
 crutihed houses and barns, trees, logs and stones, brute and human lives, 
 crowded back into the old river channel, which it deepened and broadened as 
 it rushed on, and soon spread out upon the pleasant meadow above Skinner- 
 ville. This is a hamlet of a few houses, chiefly occupied by persons employed 
 in the silk mill, but some. of them by well-to-do farmers. The center of inter- 
 est was the silk factory, a solid, handsome building of brick, three stories 
 high and 60 by 130 feet, and, attached thereto, a two-story wooden building, 
 older. The factory was known as the Usquomonk mills, was built in 1857 by 
 Mr. William Skinner, and employed 75 or 80 hands, but not a full force was 
 employed at the time of the flood, on account of the dull state of the market. 
 For the same reason, there was on hand the largest stock of raw silk the mill 
 has ever had. 
 
 The warning was given quietly enough, and the operatives at first took the 
 matter as a joke. They had but a brief moment, however, to hesitate, and 
 all escaped safely to the railroad bank, some distance off", in which nearly all 
 the inhabitants of the street also succeeded, though some were caught on the 
 way by the water. There they watched the immense wave, folding in its tre- 
 mendous, clashing arms of timber the solid brick factory, and absorbing it so 
 swiftly that it was hardly possible to realize that it had been there and gone. 
 On its way to this point it had already swallowed some seven houses, and, 
 leaving Mr. Skinner's handsome house with but a temporary harm, it either 
 swallowed altogether, or nearly ruined, twice as many more in this little ham- 
 let alone. Of these houses these twelve belonged to Mr. Skinner : The store 
 just below the depot, occupied by Kinney Waite, the house of James Forsyth, 
 and that of Mr. Smith, the depot master, two boarding-houses managed by 
 Fred Hillman, Jerome Hillman's and Mr. Thomas's, then Mr. Skinner's own 
 house, next below an unoccupied house belonging to Mr. Skinner, James 
 Coogan's and Mr. Thomas Skinner's, then the house of Mr. Hubbard, the 
 book-keeper, one occupied by a Mr. Van Vechten, and a two-tenement house 
 occupicyi by Messrs. Hibbard and Adams. Besides these, there were de- 
 stroyed the houses of Thaddeus Bartlett, Andrew Breckinridge, Mrs. Risley, 
 Christian Kaplinger, Jacob Hill, George Warner and Capt. Joseph Haydcn. 
 
 The ruin of Mr. Skinner's property is a matter of peculiar hardship and 
 regret. His career is one of those splendid examples of strong, steady 
 development of a business and reputation, by industry, earnestness and hon- 
 esty, that are so characteristic of our land. Mr. Skinner came from Eng- 
 land, a youth without other capital than his pluck and native force, was 
 employed in the silk mills at Northampton, and presently moved himself and 
 his fortunes to his present location and begun business for himself in a black- 
 smith shop. He had built this handsome factory and deservedly prospered 
 in it, and a few years ago erected a spacious and elegant house at consider- 
 able expense and furnished and appointed it in excellent taste ; where, amid 
 
■^Q HISTORY OF THE 
 
 his delightful family, he seemed as enviably situated as is often granted to 
 man He has simply lost here the results of an honorable and strenuous 
 life-time, and has to start anew, with the valuable capital of his good name 
 alone. His house, by the way, was singularly affected by the flood. Only 
 the northwest corner and the front were injured on the outside, but the tre- 
 mendous mass of water that found its way into the house, filling the first 
 floor some three feet deep, aided by the undermining of the water in the 
 cellar beneath, broke down the back parlor floor and made a pit into which a 
 whirlpool of waters found exit, and dragged with it every article of furniture 
 in the two parlors, piling a piano on the top. Another strange freak of the 
 flood was played on the house occupied by Mr. Hubbard. It stands now a 
 considerable distance below its place, but shaken nearly to pieces, and the 
 parlor and front hall sliced right out from under the chambers and from 
 beside the other half of the lower floor, as neatly as one would cut a piece of 
 cheese. 
 
 HAYDENVILLE. 
 
 Two small houses alone preceded at Haydenville the greatest material con- 
 quest of the flood, the extensive, long-established and widely known brass 
 works of Hayden, Gere & Co. When the hurrying messenger cried his warn- 
 ing, it was received, as at many places, incredulously, but scarcely a moment 
 passed before the terrible, strange, tumultuous sound of groaning, creaking, 
 crashing timbers, mingled with the wash and echo of mighty waves, told all 
 that it was a serious matter. Coming over the dam, at an especially narrow 
 part of the river, the flood here presented as marked an aspect as at any point 
 in its course. Lifted between 15 and 20 feet above the ordinary level of the 
 river but with no definite and estimable surface, a chaos of tossing miscel- 
 lany, beams and rafters, whole roofs of houses, great bunches of hay, clap- 
 boards, blinds, fences, trees, an indescribable, struggling pile, on it drove, 
 and seemed to those below who watche'd it the most wonderful and fearful 
 sight they ever beheld. As it came over the dam, one of the houses just 
 alluded to, used as a lever by the mass of waters, struck the old foundry, 
 shoved it into nothingness, and, continuing, forced a breach in the side of the 
 great building, and, in a moment, as if by magic, the center fell in, the ends 
 folded in together, and the solid structure melted away as if it had been 
 builded of snow. There was no such thing as the substantial before this tre- 
 mendous force. 
 
 This considerable factory originated in 1851, as fiir as its recent uses are 
 concerned, although manufacturing has been carried on at the spot since 
 1823, and the late Joel Hayden was engaged in the manufacture of lasting 
 "buttons there 17 years before. In 1848 that business was removed to East- 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. T^i 
 
 hanipton, and in 1851 Joel Haydcn and Albert D. Saunders begun the man- 
 ufacture of plumber's brass goods. The company of Ilayden, Gere & Co. 
 was formed in 1855, and under that style and title the Haydenville brass 
 works have earned an unsurpassed reputation and credit in their line. The 
 company, as now constituted, consists of Joel Hayden, son of the founder 
 of the business, Collins Gere of New York, and Serene Kingsley of Hay- 
 denville; the shares owned by the estate of the late Joel Ilayden, Sr., having 
 been purchased by these three. The whole range of buildings were nearly 
 600 feet in length, including a building at the south end occupied by the 
 office of Hayden, Gere & Co., the Haydenville savings bank, and, in the sec- 
 ond story, by the Masonic hall, which was only finished in 1871. This was 
 one of the most elegant of buildings, finished without regard to cost, with 
 marble inlaid floors, the finest cabinet work- of rosewood, mahogany, etc., 
 and probably unexcelled anywhere for a building of such uses. All that is 
 left of these buildings is a fragment of the north end, which was stayed by 
 the tall chimney. The rest is so entirely cleared off that it would be impos- 
 sible to discover where the buildings had stood, the massive foundations being 
 rocked helter-skelter everywhere. The loss in these buildings was enormous 
 and not readily computable. 
 
 In patterns alone, the accumulated capital, as it were, of this peculiar busi- 
 ness, there are lost not less than !|;C0,000 ; the bank building, when erected, 
 cost $55,000, and the whole range of buildings could not probably be replaced 
 and stocked for less than #200,000. 
 
 Hayden, Gere & Co. posted notices, Sunday morning, notifying their 
 employes that they proposed to rebuild at once, that all of their men could 
 have employment clearing up the debris, and, if any needed pecuniary assist- 
 ance, it would be afforded. 
 
 There were 220 men at work in the brass works when the alarm came. All 
 escaped save one, a French Canadian boy named Francis Brodeur, who, after 
 reaching the road^ in spite of the warning of his comrades, turned back to 
 get his boots, as he had come out in his slippers. He got them and was on 
 his way out, when he was struck in the breast by a timber and knocked over 
 so that when he recovered his feet he could not stem the flood and was soon 
 swept away. On to the houses, slight wooden affairs, the burdened torrent 
 rushed, gathering on the way down the iron bridges, as if they were chips. 
 It tore away stores, tenements and boarding-houses, including these : On the 
 west side of the river, near the dam, a two-tenement house owned by Michael 
 Reynolds and occupied by Edwin Thayer's and another family ; Mr. Reynolds's 
 own house, two dwellings, owned by Hayden, Gere & Co., two houses owned 
 by Maj. Cyrus Miller, Sharpe & Ames's stove store, house and grocery of 
 Pierce Larkin, another house owned by Larkin, Chauncey Rice's dwelling, 
 the dwelling and shops of the Myron Ballon property, Robert Cartier's black- 
 smith-shop. Miss Payson's house. On the east side, five tenements, owned 
 by Hayden, Gere & Co., John Kaplinger's house, H. Hart's barber shop, the 
 Hayden block of wooden tenements, the houses of Deacon Elam Graves, 
 Mrs. Deacon Ives, a large boarding-house, Mr. John Page's house, Mrs. 
 
12 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 Phillips's small house, and a fine barn, with hay and grain, belonging to the 
 hotel kept by Luther Loomis & Son. 
 
 Besides these buildings there was carried away from the western side of 
 the river, below the village, the factory of the Hayden tobacco company. 
 The company consists of Joel Hayden, president; A. R. Morse, treasurer; 
 F. E. Bates, agent; F. S. Chapin, Superintendent; Samuel W. Hayden, 
 clerk; and their loss was total, reaching about .'ij!75,000. The Hayden 
 manufacturing company, another stock concern, running a cotton mill from 
 this water power, one of the best on the stream, sustained no damage to that 
 mill, but the gas works, from which they supplied the village as well as 
 themselves, which were situated just south of their mill, were utterly des- 
 troyed, the brick wall being broken to fragments, and the gasometer crushed 
 to a shapeless mass. Damaged, but not in any degree ruined, were the 
 buildings of the Hayden foundry and machine company, in the village, where 
 steam heaters, etc., are manufactured, W. II. Hayden being the lessee; the 
 loss being perhaps $8000. An instant sufficed for the destruction of every- 
 thing touched by the mountainous flood, which rolled on in its appalling force 
 a briefer time than many a dream, speedily became exhausted, and in an 
 hour the river had nearly subsided to its wonted bed, and the citizens walked 
 their streets once more and begun the dread search for the dead. The river 
 flats and all the banks were crammed with debris. Great drives of timber, 
 trees, intermingled in the strangest, most shocking way with women's cloth- 
 ing, less often men's, with mattresses, quilts and sheets, with belting and 
 machinery from the mills, with fragments of bills and letters, with soap and 
 potatoes and stove wood, with rocks and stone steps, with fragments of chairs 
 and tables, and now and then a piece of a piano or cabinet organ, with little 
 children's hats and tiny shoes, with household utensils and all ^le fragments 
 of manufacture and domestic life — these, with now and then a poor horse, 
 with agonized mouth and staring eyes, or a faithful ox or cow — and, most 
 horrible and soul-harrowing, bruised and disfigured, sometipies maimed 
 bodies which so short a time before had been in full flush of« life — these were 
 the ever recurring picture. • 
 
 The double-tenement house of Michael Reynolds, on the west side of the 
 brass works dam, was safely emptied of its tenants save two little children. 
 Edwin Thayer's wife, with four children, was in the house when the flood 
 came, and safely escaped with two children at the back of t'ne house. Two 
 children, perhaps not comprehending her, perhaps stupefied with fright, did 
 not follow, but remained in the upper story, and their cries for rescue as they 
 were plainly seen for a little while at the windows, were terrible to the help- 
 less on-lookers from the banks above. 
 
 *f 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 13 
 
 THE FLOOD AT LEEDS. 
 
 The news of the approaching disaster was brought to Leeds by Myron Day 
 of Haydenville, who drove down in an express wagon, lasliing his horse to a 
 foam and barely keeping ahead of the seething waves. Mr. Day, in his anx 
 iety to save others, came near losing his own life by driving directly into the 
 steep defile on the east side of the river, and nearly opposite the silk factory, 
 before noticing the flood, which was almost upon him, making an exit by the 
 road in which he entered the valley impossible. His next thought was to cross 
 the river, and make his escape on the west banks, but a glance in that direc- 
 tion showed the bridge crossing the stream at that point already tottering, and 
 the water upon him. By a sudden effort, however, he wheeled sharply up-hill, 
 and, crossing the railroad, escaped to the hill road toward Florence, with his 
 horse disabled by the chase. 
 
 The flood as it came tearing down from Haydenville to Leeds, took its 
 course directly in a line with the main road, built very substantially on a 
 river wall, which was almost entirely undermined and swept away, leaving 
 an impassable rocky ledge. This road was constructed at great expense, and 
 will hardly be rebuilt. The first obstruction to the waves, as they neared the 
 Tillage, was the dam of the Nonotuck silk company, which shivered for an 
 instant and then gave way, and with it went a portion of the pen-stock of the 
 Nonotuck silk company's mill. The course of the flood at this point veered 
 slightly to the west, sweeping below the silk factory, a portion of which it 
 scarcely grazed, carrying off one or two small buildings, and destroying or 
 damaging a large amount of stock. The company will resume business as 
 soon as the necessary repairs can be made, which will require considerable 
 time. One of the shops on the same side of the stream, owned by the silk 
 company and occupied by the Northampton emery wheel company, although 
 considerably wrecked, still remains and will be repaired as soon as possible. 
 The machinery as well as a large amount of stock was badly damaged, mak- 
 ing a loss of perhaps .$4000. On the east side of the river and near the head 
 of the main street stood a large, substantially-built boarding house owned by 
 the Nonotuck silk company and kept by Capt. Vaughn, who was also the sta- 
 tion agent of the railroad. Mr. Vaughn was in the building when the floods 
 came and could easily have saved himself when the alarm was first given, but 
 in waiting to assist others he lost his own life. The torrent dashed on through 
 the street, spreading itself through almost the entire width of the valley in 
 which the village is situated, and partially or entirely demolishing every build- 
 ing in its path. An old unoccupied woolen mill, owned by the Nonotuck silk 
 company, and situated near the head of the street on the west side, crumbled 
 without a struggle, while the Congregational chapel, a little further south, 
 was lifted from its foundations and borne bodily away. Still furcher to the 
 south, on the right of the street, the water struck one of the button mills (a 
 large wooden structure 100 feet long) of George P. Warner, which swung 
 
HISTORY OF THE 
 14 
 
 around to the we ^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^,,^a ,*7e;hibited one of the most 
 
 •^.T to crumhle at once, it i!> es .„ .u„ button factories. Many oi 
 
 which was built on lue ^^ ^ Warner, tnrec >c 
 
 factory, wmcn factory erected oy mi- ' ,„;th a cen- 
 
 mg and packing ^^ ^^^^^e, stored with a lar e chimney. 
 
 ,as carried away, belonged o^ e ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^ "^".^' ^°'';; 
 
 boarding-house owned by the ^o ^^^^^ ^^ ^"^''^,\v George 
 
 T E Vaughn; an old grist mill ^n^ ^^^^^ ^\^ p " 
 
 Tn. house, containing one hand-en^.me, ^^^ ^^^ (.^o. 
 
 pany, e«^'"^^-^^°'' "' ^ p.ederick Yeatman ; double house ^^^^.^^ 
 
 P. Warner, o^^'^-^^^f/^^/^^^^.a Hannan and Edwin ^f^^;^^ on the 
 
 -D -Warner, occupied by i^uwai v,v William E. Quigiej'- 
 
 P. Warner, o ^ ice-house, owned by wuu , ^ .ug ^onotuck silk 
 
 house, two barns -^^^^ dwelling-house, owned ^Y j^^^ ^^,^1. 
 
 west side of the "J- ^75,^,,,,, Mr. Eggleston and Mr. Ha K^.^ ^^^ 
 
 ^^rC:;-^^^"/-^^^^^^^ ^^^^. --T'CX olp^dby Anthony 
 phreys, Mrs Hosley and Mrs. 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 15 
 
 Bronette and Mrs. ratrick ; Congregational chapel ; house, occupied by Mrs. 
 F'ltzgerald; house and store combined, owned and occupied by Andrew Fen- 
 nessey ; estimated loss $7000. 
 
 On the cast side of the street the houses, many of them large double tene- 
 ments, were packed quite closely together, and all of them were swept en- 
 tirely away for more than half the lengtli of the street. So thorouglily oblit- 
 erated are all traces of the foundations that the former occupants are unable 
 to locate their old homes, but stand and gaze at the flood swept grounds in 
 utter bewilderment. The neat residence of William F. Quiglev, one of the 
 selectmen, was badly shattered, the main building being torn from the L and 
 deposited in the mud, several rods away. Much rich furniture, includino- a 
 fine cabinet organ, was ruined. A splendid barn, 72 by 40 feet, with a largo 
 shed adjoining, a horse barn, 36 by 28 feet, and an ice-house, and other out- 
 buildings, the whole the property of Mr. Quigley, were also entirely demol- 
 ished. The live stock in the buildings, consisting of three horses, two cows, 
 two calves and eight hogs, were all drowned, and the loss, including the de- 
 struction of houses, farming tools, etc., is estimated at not less than $10,000. 
 
 FLORENCE. 
 
 Florence only suffered in loss of property, and that was trifling compared 
 with the general desolation that marked the track of the flood nearer the res- 
 ervoir. Some time before 9 o'clock in the morning the peoplfe of Florence 
 received a telegram from some point above announcing that the reservoir had 
 given way, and warning them to prepare for the visitation of the flood. The 
 tidings had hardly been announced when the torrent appeared. It came upon 
 them like a tidal wave, mad, fierce and appalling, the first rush of waters 
 forming a wall from six to ten feet in bight, laden with the debris of brid"-es 
 houses, factories, fences, etc. In an instant, as it were, the three bridges in 
 Florence were swept away, and the stream had submerged all the meadows 
 and flooded the basements of the residences in the vicinity. All the fences 
 on the low lands were swept away, and much of the rich alluvial meadow in 
 the village covered so deep with sand as to render it well nigh worthless. 
 The damage in tJiis respect was serious, the fine farm of Austin Ross, bv far 
 the best in the neighborhood, sutlering severely from the amount of sand and 
 gravel thrown upon it by the flood. At least 100 acres of his best alluvial soil 
 is thus covered from four inches to two or three feet in depth by this deposit. 
 A large proportion of his fences are also swept away. S. A. Bottum, A. T. 
 Lilly, Solomon Phelps, Bela Gardner and other owners of meadow land suf- 
 fered similar loss, the damage to the meadow land in Florence, altogether, 
 aggregating from ten to twenty thousand dollars. 
 
 The Nonotuck silk company, in addition to their loss of $30,000 at Leeds, 
 
16 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 have had the gable and L of their mill torn away and two machines ruined, 
 a third being much damaged. Two small out-buildings and the dye-house 
 were also carried off. The damage to buildings is reckoned at $4000, to 
 machinery $1500 to $2000, and to silk by water and mud $2000. Their wood- 
 yard was also ravished of 50 to 100 cords of wood. The lower floor of the 
 Florence manufocturing company's building was also flooded, the boiler and 
 engine being under water. Mr. 0. C. Warner occupied a part of this story 
 as a file manufactory, and he suffered considerable loss. The large ice-house 
 filled with ice, on the south side of the river below the iron bridge, was 
 swept away, resulting in a loss to the owner of near $2000. 
 
 Scores of cellars and lower floors were filled with water, causing damage 
 that it is hard to assess. Fortunately, no loss of life attended the disaster in 
 Florence. The river in Florence reached a point from four to five feet above 
 the highest water-mark, and the rise was so sudden that people had hardly 
 time to escape from their residences before they were flooded. The fall of 
 the water was nearly as abrupt, one single hour working the appalling catas- 
 trophe that will be remembered with tears and anguish for many a long year. 
 The amount of flood-wood distributed along the banks of the river and on the 
 adjacent meadows is simply enormous. Acres and acres in the aggregate are 
 covered with dismantled buildings, bridges, fences, etc., in many cases from 
 6 to 12 feet in depth. 
 
 NORTHAMPTON. 
 
 It was about half-past 8 when the news reached Northampton by telegraph 
 from Williamsburg, and in a short time, notwithstanding the cold, heavy rain, 
 the banks of the river, the bridges and every available space were lined with 
 people. At Bay State village, the Northampton cutlery company's works 
 suffered no particular damage, but the screw shops suffered a loss of about 
 $1500, although a few moments more only of high water would have caved 
 out the cutlery company's canal, which is a long and eostly one, the banks 
 having begun to wear away. The Vernon Brothers of New York, whose 
 paper mill was next below on the river, lost a part of their dam, and had the 
 lower stories of their mill flooded, suffering considerable damage. At the 
 Clement & Hawks hoe shop the river made a new channel, about 70 feet wide, 
 for itself around the westerly end of the dam, cutting through the hospital 
 meadows for that purpose and carrying away a deserted ice house. The 
 grinding, forging and tempering rooms of the company were filled with water 
 to the depth of about five feet. Hicks's foundry, just below, was started from 
 its foundations, and the south side collapsed, making the building a complete 
 wreck. The water then lifted the iron bridge at the foot of Hospital hill from 
 its foundations. This struck the bridge of the New Haven and Northampton 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 
 
 17 
 
 railroad, a few rods below, taking that away. The latter bridge lodged on 
 some flats, 150 rods below, but the iron bridge went crashing under the South 
 street bridge, catching on the lower side, and hanging there. 
 
 NAMES OF THE LOST. 
 
 The following is believed to be an accurate list of the names of the lost, 
 for each village : 
 
 AT WILLIAMSBURG. 
 
 Mrs. Livingston T. Bartlett and 
 Viola B. Collyer, her daughter. 
 
 T. J. Hitchcock. 
 
 William H. Adams. 
 
 Widow William Snow. 
 
 Mrs. William Carter. 
 
 R. J. Lancour. 
 
 Mrs. E. M. Chandler and her daugh- 
 ter May. 
 
 Jeremiah Ward. 
 
 Widow Electa Knight. 
 
 Mrs. Patrick Scully and 2 children. 
 
 Widow Mary Brennan. 
 
 Alexander Roberts, wife and 2 chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Mary Ann McGee. 
 
 Mrs. George E. Lamb. 
 
 E. C. Hubbard. 
 
 Mrs. Merrick Wood and cliild, of 
 Chicopee. 
 
 Michael Burke. 
 
 Three children of James Burke. 
 
 Frederick Bird. 
 
 James Stephens. 
 
 Mrs. W. D. Adams and her son Wil- 
 lie. 
 
 Mrs. Eliza Downing and her daugh • 
 ter. 
 
 Widow Downing. 
 
 Henry Birmingham, wife and three 
 children. 
 
 Mrs. E. G. Kingsley. 
 
 Mrs. E. D. Kingsley and 2 children. 
 
 Dr. E. M. Johnson, wife and three 
 children. 
 
 Widow Johnson. 
 
 Frank Murray and wife. 
 
 John Atkinson. 
 
 Spencer Bartlett and wife. 
 
 George Ashley. 
 Whole number, 57. 
 
 Mrs. Jerome Hillman. 
 Mrs. Jacob Hill. 
 
 AT SKIXNERVILLB. 
 
 I Eli Bryant. 
 Robbie Hayden. 
 Number lost, 4. 
 
 Mrs. Noyes. 
 
 Mrs. Johanna Williams. 
 
 Joseph Brodeur. 
 
 John L. Kaplinger. 
 
 Mrs Hogan. 
 
 Edward Mockler. 
 
 Mrs. John Wilson and 3 children. 
 
 AT HAYDENTILLE. 
 
 Mrs. Posey and 3 children. 
 Mrs. Messie and 2 children. 
 Mrs. Napoleon Bissonette and infant. 
 Stephen Kelley and wife. 
 Two children of Edwin Thayer. 
 Agnes, George, and Willie, children 
 of Samuel Miller. 
 
 Number lost, 26. 
 
18 
 
 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 Mrs. Patrick. 
 
 Charles Patrick. 
 
 Julia Patrick. 
 
 Mary Patrick. 
 
 Mrs. Dunlea, 80. 
 
 Mrs. Eobert Fitzgerald, 45. 
 
 Charles Fitzgerald, 21. 
 
 Anna Fitzgerald, 7. 
 
 Lottie, Bertha and Tommy Fitzger- 
 ald. 
 
 Terry Dundan, 9. 
 
 Two children of John Clancy. 
 
 Andrew Fennessey, his mother, wife 
 and daughter Ella. 
 
 Mrs. Louis Bronette and four chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Mrs. James Fennessy and two chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Eliza Charpentier. 
 
 AT LEEDS. 
 
 Patrick T. O'Neil. 
 
 Alexander Laney. 
 
 Ralph Isham, 26. 
 
 Ira Dunning, 72. 
 
 Samuel Davis. 
 
 Arthur Sharpe (boy). 
 
 Mrs. Edward Hannon and four chil 
 
 dren. 
 Mrs. Hurley, 60. 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. 
 Mrs Sarah J. Ryan and child. 
 Mrs. Jane Cogan. 
 Annie Cogan, 22. 
 Grace Cogan, 18. 
 Caroline Bonney, 17. 
 Eveline Sherwood. 
 Mary "Woodward. 
 Mrs. Mary Bagley. 
 Capt. T. F. Vaughn, 36. 
 
 Mary Rouse. 
 
 Number lost, 51. 
 All but two or three of the above have been recovered. 
 
 A More Particular Notice of Some of the Victims. 
 
 Most prominent among the victims at Williamsburg was Dr. E. M. .Johnson, 
 36 years of age, the village physician; and it is a curious fact, by the way, 
 that he had perfected plans for visiting New York, Saturday, intending to 
 place himself under medical treatment, necessitated by his close attention to 
 his professional duties. He was seen rushing out of his home toward a place 
 of safety with two oft his three little children, his wife, who was a native of 
 Frederick, Md., carrying the other; but the whole family were overtaken by 
 the flood, and lost together. Dr. Johnson came to Williamsburg after the 
 close of the war, in which he had served as surgeon. He formerly lived at 
 Feeding Hills, being a nephew of Dr. Bell, well known in that region, and 
 graduated at the New York college of physicians and surgeons in 1862 ; he 
 was conscientious and ambitious in his work, universally beloved, a rising 
 man in his profession, of which he was the only representative in the village. 
 He was a deacon in the Congregational church, and prominent in religious 
 matters. 
 
 The character of those lost at Williamsburg was certainly exceptional in 
 the history of such disasters ; they were not a foreign population — simply 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 19 
 
 mill hands — but a sood average representation of our New England popula- 
 tion. From the Orthodox churches are thus taken away many "pillars," 
 while the town loses men who were prominent in its direction. 
 
 T. J. Hitchcock, who was lost with Mr. Adams, was at the village when the 
 warning came, and, first seeing to his wife, he ran down toward the mill to 
 apprise his uncle, Mr. Adams, of his peril, when he was overtaken. He was 
 formerly assistant postmaster at Williamstown, then an insurance agent, and 
 latterly with his uncle in the flouring business ; he was a brother of A. P. 
 Hitchcock, of the Boston Journal, and leaves a wife at Williamsburg. 
 
 Mrs. Roberts was the leading singer in the Congregational choir, and it is 
 mentioned that the last hymn which she ever sung in the church was that 
 beginning, "There is a land of pure delight," etc. — Conductor Chandler is, 
 indeed, most sadly bereaved ; he went out on his train on the New Haven and 
 Northampton railroad, Saturday morning, and then saw for the last time his 
 family and home. A trunk belonging to him was recovered from the debris, 
 but it contained nothing which he could value save his little girl's hood, which 
 is all that remains to him of the lost. 
 
 W. H. Adams, whose flouring mill was one of the first buildings to fall, 
 was lost, with his assistant, Mr. Hitchcock. Mr. Adams, hearing of the com- 
 ing disaster, went down to his house, and, warning his family, "The reser- 
 voir has broke ! " attempted to regain the mill, when he was met by the coming 
 wave and swept away. His house, and his fiimily within, were almost mirac- 
 ulously saved, the house *of Hiram Hill, which stands in the track of the 
 flood, breaking its force. Mr. Adams was about 55 years of age, and for- 
 merly ran a flouring mill at West Chesterfield, coming to Williamsburg about 
 four years ago. 
 
 One of the saddest cases was that of the H. Birmingham family — father, 
 mother and three daughters, all swept away together. The family were all 
 at breakfast when the water struck their house. Mr. Birmingham was super- 
 intendent in the James mill, and his daughters, Mary, Lillie and Carrie, were 
 aged 19, 14 and 8 respectively ; Miss Mary was a teacher in the South street 
 primary school at Northampton, and had come home to spend the Sabbath. 
 It was a most lovable family, and their imwarned death forms one of the most 
 touching scenes of this terrible disaster, Mr. Birmingham was formerly a 
 member of the Hinsdale woolen mill firm of Birmingham Brothers, and was 
 well known in western Massachusetts. 
 
 Eli Bryant, about 60 years of age, who was one of the victims of the flood 
 at Skinnerville, was a native of Chesterfield, where he had lived till within a 
 few years. He had been struck by lightning, and survived the fiery ordeal 
 only to meet a death equally terrible. Driven from his field to the house by 
 an approaching thunder-storm, and, while passing along the highway, a bolt 
 struck him, singeing ofi" his liair and beard, rending his clothing and tearing 
 his boots from his feet, but, strangely enough, inflicting but Irttle injury to 
 his person. His physical powers were only temporarily paralyzed, and he 
 was soon able to resume his walk homeward. He was passing over a mineral 
 ledge, which cropped to the surface at that point in the highway where the 
 
20 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 bolt struck him, and as there was neither building, tree nor shrub in the vicin- 
 ity it is supposed that the electricity merely made use of him as a conductor 
 to some stronger magnet beneath, the surface. 
 
 TOTAL LOSS OF PROPERTY. 
 
 The figures for Williamsburg foot up $154,300, including $17,700 for fur- 
 niture, $12,600 for clothing, §6100 for tools, teams and wagons, and $7000 
 money and bonds lost. The losses at Skinnerville aggregate $247,200, 
 including $12,255 for furniture and $12,695 for clothing. The Haydenville 
 losses will vary little from $345,000, exclusive of furniture and clothing. 
 Leeds reports a loss of $107,600, not counting in clothing and furniture. 
 Tlie grand total for the four villages by this reckoning is $954,100, which the 
 additions for clothing and furniture destroyed in Haydenville and Leeds will 
 swell to fully one million dollars. This does not include the damage to roads 
 and bridges, which is put at about $115,000 in the town of Williamsburg 
 and $80,000 in the town of Northampton, nor the land damages all along the 
 course of the flood. The Williamsburg losses in detail are as follows : 
 Eleven houses owned by H. L. James, totally or partially destroyed, includ- 
 ing damages on woolen mill, $19,800 ; O. G. Spellman's flouring and saw 
 mill, with stock, entirely destroyed, $18,000; Prosper Merrill's flouring mill, 
 run by William Adams, $17,000; private houses and barns, $56,100; furni- 
 ture, $17,700; clothing, $12,600: tools, teams and wagons, $6100; money 
 and bonds lost, $7000. At Skinnerville William Skinner's losses are : Fac- 
 tories, including steam power, stone work, etc., $40,000; machinery, 
 $27,000; stock in mill, $70,000; damage to 15 houses — 13 of which were 
 ruined — including land damages, $45,000; water privilege, $10,000, making 
 his total, $192,000. Other losses at Skinnerville were : S. K. Waite's store 
 and goods, $7000; houses and barns, $23,250; furniture, $12,255; clothing, 
 $12,695; total, $55,200. Hayden, Gere & Co. of Haydenville estimate their 
 losses as follows : Office and bank building, $49,000; brass- works, $52,000 ; 
 dam, $6000; tools and machinery in brass-works, $43,000; goods, raw, 
 wrought and in process, $75,000; patterns, $45,000; 14 tenement houses, 
 $18,000; total, $288,000. The Hayden manufacturing company, of which 
 Joel Hayden is president, loses $10,000 by the destruction of their tobacco 
 factory, while three double and four single tenement houses, which were 
 completely demolished, were valued at $16,800; the damage to the cotton 
 factory and stock was about $2000. The gas works owned by this company, 
 and situatea just below the cotton mill, were a complete wreck, and will 
 probably not be rebuilt. The works were thoroughly constructed, and fur- 
 nished gas for the street lamps and many of the residences. The cost of 
 repairing the dam, about one third of which was swept away, will not be far 
 
MILL PJVER DISASTER. 21 
 
 from $1500. This dam was one of the most securely constructed on the 
 stream, being built between ledges of solid rock. George P. Warner the 
 button manufacturer at Leeds, finds his exact loss to be .$59,800 — a little less 
 than was at first estimated — divided as follows : Brick factory, .$23 000 • 
 wooden factory, $5,000; machinery, $11,500; finished stock, $5000; raw 
 stock, $0000 ; four double and two single tenement houses, .$9300. The Non- 
 otuck silk company's losses at Leeds are : Two dams and embankment walls, 
 $10,500; boarding-house and furniture, $7000; 5 tenement houses, $5300; 
 two blacksmith shops, old mill sheds and office, $2000; lumber, $1000; 
 stock in old mill, $3000 ; total, $28,800. The Northampton emery-wheel 
 company's loss was $2000. Other losses in Leeds were : Destruction of the 
 village engine-house, $600; Congregational chapel, $2200; Mrs. Dunlea's 
 house and contents, $2400 ; Andrew Fennessey's house and store combined, 
 and livery barn and contents, $9500; Mrs. Cogan's house, barn and contents, 
 $2300. 
 
 INTERESTING AND THRILLING INCIDENTS. 
 
 WOXDEEFUL ESCAPE OF A WOMAX. 
 A most wonderful rescue — and probably the only one of an adult person 
 from the flood itself at Leeds — was that of Mrs. Mary C. Harding, a sister of 
 Miss Marcia Clark of Springfield. She was at work on the second floor of the 
 silk factory when the alarm was given, and hardly had she reached the ground 
 when the shout was raised, " Run across the bridge ! " She started, leading 
 the whole company, but soon the cries were of another sort, and "Come back ' 
 and " Don't go over ! " were sounded on every side. It was too late for Mrs. 
 Harding, though — she was on the bridge, and going back was as perilous as 
 running forward. She ran as woman seldom ran before, and no sooner had 
 she, and perhaps half a dozen others, reached the farther shore, than that 
 immense mass of debris struck the bridge, and it went down with a crash, 
 carrying with it six or seven girls and women who were just a little too late. 
 The woman kept on, running for Ross's store, and making, as she avers, 
 pretty good time, while her companions who had crossed the bridge entered 
 the fated boarding-house. She passed the little gate near the bridge, and 
 just got through the larger gate below the steps leading to the store, when the 
 water rushed up, carried oflT the gate and threw her down near the lower stair. 
 Luckily two men were on the bank, and she was drawn up, but not a moment 
 too soon, for just then the steps went ofl", and the three had to seek safety 
 higher up the shore. The escape from the bridge, from the descending debris, 
 from the chance of entering the house as her companions did, and from the 
 water afterward, make ]\Irs. Harding's case a most marvelous one. She only 
 of all the 13 who started over the bridge was saved. It so happened that one 
 of her rescuers was Willie Swift, the lover of her room-mate, Mary Wood- 
 
22 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 ward, who was swept away in the tide. Mrs. Harding lost everything she hnd, 
 her property being in the boarding-house, but, thoroughly drenched and some- 
 what bruised as she was, she went pluckily to work, spending most of the 
 afternoon attending to the dead and the bereaved living. 
 
 All along the course of the flood there were narrow escapes and thrilling 
 experiences. Mr. H. H. Tilton of Williamsburg was carrying his aged 
 mother, Widow Sarah H. Snow, to a place of safety, when the unrelenting 
 waters seized them ; she was carried away, while he grasped a tree, about 15 
 feet high, standing on a bank, and was saved, though the waters reached and 
 swayed him. Messrs. Hannum and Rhoades, living in the same house, got 
 across the street into another dwelling, the lower story of which was flooded, 
 but some apple trees broke the force of the wave, and the house stood. 
 
 One of the most striking escapes was that of the little son, George, of En- 
 gineer Alexander Roberts of Williamsburg. The family lived in a two-story 
 house, whicli was lifted up by the torrent and carried bodily a distance of 
 about 100 rods, the fiimily meanwhile keeping together. Suddenly the house 
 broke in pieces, and the boy lost sight of the rest of the fiiniily, who disap- 
 peared from view. The boy floated on some timbers of the house a ways 
 further, and was finally rescued, though in a sad condition of body and mind. 
 
 Jeremiah Ward thought to save his sister-in-law, Mrs. Knight, and died 
 with her.— A daughter of Spencer Bartlett started to flee with her parents to 
 the Hill, but the incoming waters tossed them away, and she was compelled 
 to remain in the house, and so esc'aped. — Willard Williams heard of the flood 
 at the village, and barely saved his wife, his house being entirely taken. 
 
 Two large boilers were in use at Hayden & Gere's brass manufactory, one 
 of them carrying 70 pounds of steam on the morning of the flood, while the 
 other was cold. The heated boiler exploded with a terrific report, while the 
 other was carried over 600 feet and landed in the yard in front of Joel Hay- 
 den's residence. 
 
 Mr. Raymond, employed in Mr. James's mill, saw his house sail by, and, 
 of course, expected that his family were with it, but they, not a second too 
 soon, hearing the roar of the impending flood, had escaped to a knoll, some 
 four rods in the rear of their home. 
 
 Mr. S. Gage, the head machinist at James's mill, interestingly tells his 
 experiences. He was in the basement of the mill, when the cry came. "Run 
 for your lives ; the reservoir has broke ! " Then some 25 of the operatives 
 passed over the bridge to the hill, about eight rods distant, only just quick 
 enough, for the structure crumbled almost under their feet; one second more, 
 he says, would have swamped them. 
 
 Three men — J. M. Stephenson and two new hands, whose names are not 
 known — fearing the boarding-house in which they were with a number of 
 others would give way, despite the entreaties of their associates, left it and 
 climbed an apple tree near by. The latter fell under them and they were 
 drowned, while those at the boarding-house remained unharmed. One man 
 ventured upon the roof of the boarding-house, and, though it crumbled under 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 23 
 
 him he clung to it and saved liis life. .Tohn Atkins, foreman of the weaving 
 room, died in saving the lives of his wife and two children. 
 
 A cow floated down from Williamsburg to Florence, and escaped with only 
 a broken horn. 
 
 One of the saddest cases was that of three French children, none of them 
 over nine years old, who sat among the living and dead in Mr. Warner's 
 house at Leeds, and told questioners that they had lost three sisters, a brother 
 and their mother, but their father was safe and attending to some of the dead 
 people. But many who listened to them knew that the father, as well as the 
 brother and sisters, were among the. dead, yet none had the heart to break 
 the terrible news to the children. Two of the little ones have been adopted 
 by Mr. Hallett, one of the overseers of the silk factory. 
 
 One lucky little boy got a safe ride down the stream in a small house. 
 The dwelling was picked up by the flood, somewhere between Leeds and 
 Florence, and went over the dam right side up, landing some distance below 
 on the flats. There somebody spied this novel conveyance, and took the boy 
 out, safe and sound. 
 
 One of the saddest casualties among the lower classes was that of Mr. Ed- 
 ward Mocker, an aged Irishman living near the bridge at Haydenville. He 
 was standing in front of his house when he discovered the water approach- 
 ing, and in trying to enter and save his old wife and a helpless boy he was 
 overpowered by the flood and drowned. Mrs. Mocker grasped the youth in 
 her arms, and struggled for dry land, but was twice knocked down and badly 
 wounded by floating rubbish, but although badly wounded she clung to her 
 invalid boy, and stood waist deep in the water for an hour until the flood 
 subsided. Men then came to her rescue, moving her to comfortable quar- 
 ters, but in moving the boy he was by some means dropped in the road, and 
 this, with the exposure and shock, it was thought, would shortly cause his 
 death. The boy fell on the ice, last winter, spraining his ankle, and, being 
 unable to move, his legs were frozen before being discovered, and he has 
 been a helpless invalid ever since. The mothers lament, Saturday night, 
 when applying at the town hall for bed-clothing, was most piteous. After 
 describing her husband's vain attempt to reach her, she recurred to her sick 
 boy. "Oh!" cried she, " that I should live to see this night! An' the boy 
 cried to me, ' Sure you won't leave me, mother, to be carried in the flood,' 
 an' I rushed and snatched him out of bed, and got out between the houses, 
 and as. God hears me I couldn't get farther, an' I stood there an' the boy in 
 my arms an' the water going over me. And I was knocked from here wid a 
 timber that hit me on my leg and again in the breast, but I'm alive and I 
 saved the boy, but he'll die the mornin', an' the man's gone. Edward's gone. 
 Oh, but for the rainy mornin', he'd been here at work and saved. Oh, my 
 darling, my darling, God help us." 
 
 The fatal mistake of those who got out of the button factory was in attempt- 
 ing to escape by the carriage road that runs along on the flat; if they had 
 struck immediately for tlie railroad on the high bank, they would have been 
 alive, to-day. 
 
24 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 Mr. Dunning, after floating nearly a mile on a pile of debris, gained a tree- 
 top and was saved, as was also Thomas Finnessey, after being carried nearly 
 two miles by the flood. A young French child was found safe asleep on abed 
 in a wrecked house, in attempting to escape from which the remainder of the 
 family perished. 
 
 One of the most singular incidents of the flood was the experience of Mich- 
 ael Hannegan, a meat peddler. He was driving through the main street when 
 warned of the near approach of the flood by C. S. Warner, who assisted him 
 in unfastening his horse from the butcher's cart and volunteered to lead it to 
 a place of safety. Mr. Hannegan, however, insisted on sticking to the place 
 with his horse, thinking the water would soon subside, while Mr. Warner ' 
 struggled waist-deep in water to the neighboring bank. The luckless butcher 
 was soon overcome by the waves, however, and, clambering on to a pile of 
 lumber was carried a considerable distance to a sharp turn in the river, when 
 he grasped a tree and clambered among its branches and was safe. 
 
 Charles Brady was carried nearly a mile on a pile of debris, finally landing 
 in a tree from which he was recovered alive, but insane. 
 
 Miss Carrie Bonney and Mrs. Sarah J. Ryan and child, who were among 
 those swept away and lost, had ample time to save themselves, but were com- 
 pletely stupefied with terror, and, with a fixed stare, stood motionless. 
 
 Most of the cars of the Canal road were caught on the northeast side of the 
 break at Leeds, but a train of rough cars was made up, and it ran back and 
 forth, carrying searchers for lost friends, provisions for the unfortunate and 
 blankets and spreads for both living and dead. 
 
 Frederick Clough, foreman at Warner's button factory, was one of the few 
 persons in the village who did not lose his presence of mind, but by coolness 
 and calculation aided in saving a number of lives. A young child of Mrs. 
 Sarah J. Ryan and a grandaughter of Mrs. Bonney were carried to places of 
 safety by him, while he also managed to spread a very general alarm in the 
 two or three minutes which elapsed after the first alarm was sounded. 
 
 Tommy Fennessy, a 10-year-old son of James Fennessy, who, with his wife 
 and two of his children, perished in the flood, got separated from his parents 
 when the house was first struck by the wave, and, clinging to a pile of lum- 
 ber, floatet half way to Florence, when he was rescued by James Lanby, 
 who imperiled his own life by wading far into the current. 
 
 Nicholas J. Bagley of Fitchburg, a young Englishman, postponed his usual 
 Christmas visit to his mother, Mrs. Bagley, at Leeds, until May, so as to 
 come when it was a pleasant season. As usual his wife started a few days in 
 advance, coming on Thursday. Her husband followed on Saturday, but 
 only to find the village in ruins and his wife a corpse. Mrs. Bagley was 29 
 years old, and had been married eight years. The elder Mrs. Bagley lived 
 with her son in-law, Walter Humphreys. Mrs. Nicholas Bagley was on tlie 
 piazza of the house when the flood came and swept her away. Mrs. Humph- 
 reys saved her children by holding them above the water. Mr. Humphreys 
 was at his post as engineer at the factory of George P. Warner, from which 
 

 THE FAITHFUL DOG. 
 
 IDENTIFYING THE DEAD. 
 
MILL HI VER DISASTER. 25 
 
 he escaped on the roofs of houses and finally was rescued by selectman Quig- 
 ley's daughter. 
 
 Charles E. Stevens, one of the efficient relief committee at Leeds, had a 
 very narrow escape at the office of the Northampton Emery Wheel company, 
 ■where he was busy at his ledger at the time of the flood. Glancing out of a 
 window facing up the river, he saw the avalanche of waters, then almost upon 
 him. A second later, the books were thrown into the safe, the combination 
 lock turned; and glancing an eye through the fiictory to see that all had 
 escaped, Mr. Stevens fled across the bridge to the canal, over which the flood 
 was pouring and reached the safe harbor of Mr. Field's farm house on the 
 high land. Mr. Field was in his lumber mill as the courier came with the 
 news, and ran into the silk mill to give the warning. Gen. Otis, the manager 
 of the emery works, at the time of the flood was in New York, on his return 
 from the reunion of the Army of the Potomac at Harrisburg, and, in response 
 to a telegram, hastened from the recount of war scenes to behold tliis no less 
 appalling disaster of flood. The damage to the Emery Wheel company will 
 not exceed $1500. 
 
 Peculiarly sad was the loss of Mr. Eli Bryant and his grandchild, little 
 Robbie Hayden. They lived on the south side of the river, at the extreme 
 southern end of the village of Skinnerville. Capt. Hayden was on the other 
 side of the river, some distance away. His wife, hearing the alarm bell ring, 
 stepped to the door and saw the water coming. She ran for her child, who 
 was in his night dress, and while looking for a shawl in which to wrap him, 
 Mr. Bryant caught the boy, rushed out of the house, and climbed a ladder 
 standing against a shed. Mrs. Hayden shouted to him to come down and flee 
 to the high ground only a few feet distant, but while descending the ladder, 
 the water swept both him and the boy away. They floated down only a few 
 feet from the shore, Mrs Hayden following along on the high bank a consid- 
 erable distance, the grandfather holding the boy up above the rushing waters, 
 tlie mother shouting to them, and the boy piteously crying to his mother to 
 save him. It was one of the most heartrending scenes of this terrible 
 calamity. 
 
 Peculiarly sad were the circumstances of Mrs. Jacob Hill's loss. She was, 
 with her little son, making all haste for the bank, when in crossing a little 
 brook she missed her footing and fell in. The little fellow reached her his 
 hand, but she could not regain her feet, and the flood was so close upon them 
 that the boy could only obey her last command, and run for his life. Mr. 
 Bryant, the father of Mrs. Hayden, when he saw the flood coming, climbed 
 a ladder into the upper story of a shed, and was carried away with it. Past 
 his mother's sight, but she was as powerless to prevent as if she had been in 
 heaven, floated little Robbie, crying to be saved. It could not be. 
 
 A land-mark of the flood, which will long be viewed with interest by the 
 inhabitants of Willliamsburg, is a majestic elm, which was left standing in 
 the yard in front of the residence formerly occupied by Henry Birmingham, 
 who was swept away with his entire family. A curious incident is that, 
 while the grounds in the vicinity are badly washed, about a rod of the brick 
 
26 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 walk which passed through the yard is still visible under the tree. Several 
 young lads have set up a miniature refreshment stand under its sheltering 
 branches, and, with characteristic Yankee shrewdness, proclaim their wares 
 to the passers-by. 
 
 When the water was seen coming, seven persons employed in H. L. James' 
 woolen mill at Williamsburg climbed an apple tree for safety. The tree was 
 carried away, and every one of the seven was drowned. Mr. James, who 
 has suffered several times by fire and flood, had a presentiment of the calam- 
 ity, and stated, before leaving home, that he expected to hear, on his arrival 
 in Europe, of some fearful disaster. It came, in fact, just seven hours before 
 he was to sail. 
 
 The little son of Engineer Roberts of Williamsburg who, alone of all the 
 family, was saved by clinging to a tree, will receive $3000 from the insurance 
 association of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers, of which his father 
 was a member. Division No. G3, of Springfield, to which Mr. Roberts be- 
 longed, has passed appropriate resolutions on his death. 
 
 While Charles Hooker, a Hadley farmer, was passing across a meadow 
 between Florence and Leeds, the day after the disaster, a box containing 
 money was found, and a gang of thieves and robbers of the dead insisted on 
 a division of the treasure among the group, Hooker being offered a share if 
 he would keep the finding of the box a secret. He at once rejected their 
 overtures and defied their threats, and it was due to his courage and honesty 
 that the box was delivered over to the authorities. It was found to contain 
 several hundred dollars in money, besides valuable papers, the whole belong- 
 ing to John Kaplinger of Haydenville. 
 
 A sincere mourner at Haydenville is the noble dog of Joel Hayden, the pet 
 and playmate of all the children of the village, and especially fond of Mr. 
 Ira Bryant, the father of Mrs. Col. Hayden, who was among the lost. While 
 the search for dead bodies was going on Sunday, his expression of grief was 
 unmistakable, and remaining articles of Mr. Bryant's clothing received his 
 special attention. Sunday afternoon he started out and followed the searchers 
 for bodies on the meadow lands. Monday forenoon he was seen on Miller's 
 flat pawing in the sand, and when he was visited it was found he had dug 
 quite a trench. In this excavation were the lower portions of a man's limbs, 
 the toes of the boots being upturned. They could hardly have been more 
 than half way exposed to view when the dog discovered them. The next half 
 hour revealed the form of Mr. Bryant. As the workmen prosecuted their 
 digging around the body the dog lay down at their feet. As the face was ex- 
 posed, he seemed for a second overjoyed, but when a cloth was wrapped 
 around the rigid form and the removal was begun, the faithful animal seemed 
 bowed with grief, and sullenly followed the little party home. Diligent search, 
 of course, had been made for these remains. It is hardly possible any human 
 being would have found the imbedded corpse. 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 27 
 
 THE CORONER'S INQUEST. 
 
 Soon after the search for the dead was commenced, Coroner Ansel Wright 
 of Northampton, summoned a jury of inquest, to inquire into the cause of 
 the death of John Atkinson, one of the victims of the disaster. This inquiry 
 naturally opened up the wliole subject of the reservoir, tlie treacherous dam, 
 the culpability of the proprietors and the contractors, and tlie responsibility 
 of all persons in any way connected with the subject. The jury consisted 
 of Capt. Enos P9,rsons, foreman, of Northampton, by profession a lawyer ; 
 George W. Hubbard of Northampton, President of the Smith Charities; 
 John Mayher of East Hampton, agent of the East Hampton Pump Company, 
 and a practical machinist ; Silas S. Hubbard of Hatfield, a tobacco dealer 
 and farmer ; Hiram Nash of Williamsburg, farmer ; Dr. Wm. M. Trow of 
 Haydenville, physician. The Coroner and jurors made a private examination 
 of the ruins of the reservoir and dam, and were evidently surprised to find 
 that it was such a flimsy affair. A measurement of the stone wall at various 
 points showed that it was nowhere wider than five feet and six inches, and tlie 
 average width was about five feet and three inches. Energetic and persistent 
 probing failed to reveal any " hard pan" under that portion of the dam which 
 was undermined and gave away, nor was any found under much of the wall 
 now standing. Several specimens of the cement used in building the wall 
 were examined, and it was found that much of it was easily crumbled between 
 the fingers, while contact with water resolved it very speedily into sand. A 
 juror found little difficuly in loosening almost any small stone in the dam, by 
 a judicious use of the crowbar, and without exerting any considerable degree 
 of strength. 
 
 The jury met at the court-house in Northampton on Monday, May 25, and 
 proceeded to take the testimony of witnesses. George Cheney, the gate- 
 keeper, was first called. He testified that he visited the dam shortly after 
 f> o'clock Saturday morning, and saw nothing unusual. He went in to break- 
 fast, and as he was moving away from the table he saw the earthworks mov- 
 ing off" on the east side, for a distance of 40 feet, from the bottom to a point 
 about two thirds of the way up. He ran down and opened the gate. The 
 water was then coming out in small streams, and a heavy slide of earth 
 occurred. He got his horse, mounted it, and started for the village as fast 
 as he could go. He was about ten minutes in getting there ; spent three or 
 four minutes in talking with Spellman, who at first did not believe the report. 
 When he did believe it he sent the witness to Belclier's livery stable, where 
 he met Collins Graves. Belcher said: "For God's sake. Graves, turn your 
 horse, drive down, and let them know it." Graves turned and started in his 
 buggy at once toward Haydenville. He (Cheney) mounted at once and 
 drove after Graves, but did not overtake him ; the flood cut him off within 
 200 yards, and he turned back. He testified further that he had been gate- 
 keeper for two and one-half years, and had seen small streams of water run- 
 ning through ever since he had been there, throughout its whole length, 
 
28 • HISTOKY OF THE 
 
 mostly at the bottom, and there was one good stream within a rod or two 
 from the pipe, the outlet being as large as a man's arm. He had spoken to 
 Mr. Dimock of the Reservoir company, and agent of the Nonotuck silk com- 
 pany, at Leeds, during last summer, and Mr. Dimock had said that he thought 
 it was nothing more than a spring; had often spoken to Mr. Spellman, sec- 
 retary of the Reservoir company and button manufacturer at Williamsburg, 
 about these streams. A load or two of earth had caved off a year ago this 
 spring, and had never been repaired. The reservoir had been full two or 
 three weeks. Cheney testified that Mr. Spellman had employed him for §200 
 a year, to open and shut the gates. He had few directions. He was to give 
 notice when anything was wrong. He worked at farming wherever he could 
 get a job. The Reservoir company made no requirement as to what substi- 
 tute he should leave at the reservoir while gone ; his wife was in charge at 
 such times. None of the owners have visited the dam in times of danger. 
 Mr. Dimock had examined it last year ; he had not called any special atten- 
 tion to it this year. 
 
 There was a thrill through the audience when Collins Graves was called to 
 give his testimony. He proved to be a young man, probably under 30, with 
 a well knit figure of medium hight, a quiet, strong, honest face, and a de- 
 meanor that was even shy. He was going his round in his buggy, peddling 
 milk, when he noticed Cheney ride into Belcher's stable yard with such an 
 anxious look on his face that he drove in after him to find what the matter 
 was. He said to Cheney, "George, what's the matter?" Cheney replied, 
 " The reservoir is giving way." "Do you mean it?" said Graves. "Yes,' 
 replied Cheney, " I do." Then Graves said, " Well, if that's so, somebody's 
 got to let them know it. You, George, warn the folks here, and I'll drive 
 down the river," and with the words he started. He gave the first alarm at 
 James's woolen mill, telling Tom Brazil that the reservoir had broken away 
 and he must alarm the hands and hunt up Mr. Birmingham and warn him. 
 Then he drove on to Skinnerville, met Mr. Skinner, and told him. He cried 
 aloud as he passed every house, but met no person on the road between Wil- 
 liamsburg and Skinnerville. He met Nash Hubbard at the door of the silk 
 factory, and called out, "The reservoir's given way and is right here. All 
 you can do is to get away." He also met George F. Smith, and told him. 
 Thaddeus Bartlett, Mr. Kaplinger, and a boy were told the same news in a 
 breath. All this while, he had not seen nor heard the flood. On he went. 
 At Hayden, Gere & Co.'s office he left the same word as at Skinner's. He 
 drove on to Hart's barber shop, and thence to Deacon Elam Graves's store, 
 when he turned back. He first saw the flood as lie got into the dugway 
 above the brass works, bearing down upon him ; and again turning down the 
 river, he drove this time to the hotel and told Loomis, the landlord, who 
 then got his horses out of the barn, and had hardly done it before the dam 
 was gone. Mr. Graves was questioned as to his meeting any person on the 
 way, and said he met Jerome Hillman, on horseback, coming from Skinner- 
 ville, just as he entered the dugway to go thither ; that he caught sight of 
 Hillman and the great wave at the same time, and heard him call out, " Turn 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 29 
 
 around ; the reservoir is right here !" he escaped tlie flood by driving up over 
 the railroad track by the church, and saw the houses and shops go down. 
 When he once more reached Capt. Kingsley's near the dugway, everything 
 had been swept away, the time being, he should think, some six or eight 
 minutes. He gave the alarm all along his way, but he could not tell whether 
 all the people heard him. The general alarm at Skinnerville was given by 
 ringing the factory bell, which struck as he started away. 
 
 The examination in regard to the dam elicited the facts, beyond a doubt, 
 that it was shal)bily constructed, that the contractors gave no thought to the 
 subject of safety, and that self-interest was the ruling motive with all wlio 
 were directly interested in it. The result has shown how short-sighted was 
 their policy. The proprietors and contractors were examined at length, and 
 very searchingly. The proprietors held that the amount paid was sufficient 
 to construct a permanent dam at that place ; while the contractors claimed 
 that it was not ; and argued that, if a poor dam was to be built, they might as 
 well do it as anybody ; and that the amount cleared was none too much, it 
 being from .$5000 to .$6000. We add a part of the testimony of Contractor 
 Bassett as a curiosity, as well as a luatter of great interest in the investigation. 
 How any one recognized as a man, in a Christian community, can speak thus 
 standing exposed to the gaze of public scrutiny, is a wonder. 
 
 Tlie manner of the man was defiant and combative to the last degree, and 
 he did not alter it, though brought to admit, in detail, that even the loose 
 specifications under which the partners worked were not adhered to. He was 
 with the jury at the reservoir, the day before. Asked if he did not then see 
 the original earth, full of roots, under where the embankment was, extending 
 now down to within two feet of the wall, he said he didn't know it was within 
 two feet, but confessed that he saw it all the way from four feet to 30 ; the 
 original earth was evidently not removed down to hard-pan. There were 
 a few roots left in it, but they had plowed the surface over, hauled out the 
 alder roots by cattle, he thought, and scraped off the top from IS inches to 
 two feet in depth. The work suited Engineer Fenn, and he accepted it ; at 
 least he didn't say they should do any more. They didn't think they were 
 bound to do any more than would gain the superintendent's acceptance. The 
 jury persisted in requiring Bassett to say whether he thought the work done 
 in conformity with the specifications ; and, after many evasions, he said he 
 thought it was at the time, but he found some muck left now, and finally said 
 that there was mucky and fibrous material all through the space, these speci- 
 fications required cleared, but he didn't see many roots as big as his finger. 
 As for the embankment, they didn't pick all the roots out of that, he supposed. 
 The contractors knew, when they built the dam, that there were springs under 
 the embankment. Tliey took no pains to divert them, and couldn't tell where 
 they would go to. 
 
 Bassett's conscience was at this point the subject of inquiry. He had had 
 doubts about the dam's standing on account of the slope of the inner embank- 
 ment. Did he hesitate because of this fear? No, he didn't know that he did. 
 Did he know that great loss of property, and perhaps loss of life, would 
 
30 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 result if it should break away? Yes, he s'posed he did. He didn't abso- 
 lutely protest against the change of the 18-inch pipe to a 16-inch; they ought 
 not to have taken the risk ; if it hadn't been for the change, they would have 
 made about .$8000 ; he wanted to explain, however, that his and Wells's time 
 were not counted in in reckoning their profits, which would make a slight 
 difference. Didn't know that they should have stopped out of consideration 
 for property and life. Dr. Trow qiieried, " There wasn't a great deal of con- 
 science in that?" and Bassett answered, " I don't know what you mean by 
 conscience ; I don't know why conscience should hinder me. If the dam had 
 to be built, I don't know why we shouldn't just as well build it as anybody 
 else." There ensued a long questioning on the subject of other badly done 
 portions of the work, and quite a discussion of grouting, which he said was 
 never impervious to water, and he didn't know as the specifications required 
 that it should be. Then the witness, being asked if he had a right to build a 
 dam that he knew to be unsafe, replied, •' I don't know but I have, if they 
 want such a dam." The dam was accepted, January 11, 1866 ; Messrs. Clem- 
 ent, William Clark, Jr., and Lucius Clark, Dimock, Spellman and Hayden 
 were present. When he and his partner took the contract, they expected Mr. 
 Fenn to oversee it; they had no high esteem for Mr. Gardner as an engineer; 
 they felt that tlie directors put extra confidence in them, and they had paid 
 for it — they had had to spend money to protect themselves. He expected the 
 dam to go within the first year if it was left so. They meant to have made 
 more money on it; has known jobs to pay a good deal better. 
 
 Some of the ablest engineers and dam builders in the State were called as 
 experts, including Wilson of Boston, Smith of Springfield, Raymond of 
 Fitchburg, and Ball of Worcester. The testimony was entirely unanimous 
 in condemnation of the dam and the manner of its construction. Indeed it 
 was tacitly, if not directly, admitted by the contractors themselves, that it was 
 faulty, and not such an one as the situation required. 
 
 Mr. George Raymond, the engineer from Fitciiburg, said respecting the 
 general character of the materials, he had only to say that they were entirely 
 unfit for such a structure ; and this is only the essence and summing np of all 
 the testimony. 
 
 Action of the Massachusetts Legislature. 
 
 Monday, May 18th, the State Legislature appointed a joint committee, in 
 compliance with a petition signed by citizens of Northampton, Williamsburg, 
 and 86 others, to visit the scene of the disaster, and devise measures of 
 relief. The committee consisted of Senators Edson of Hampshire, Nye of 
 tlie Island district, and Bardwell of Essex; and Representatives Billings of 
 Hatfield, Blunt of Haverhill, Wilson of Boston, Bosworth of Taunton, Rob- 
 inson of Chicopee, Jenkins of Abington, Jones of Spencer_ and Howes of 
 Reading. The next day the committee, with members of the Northampton 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 31 
 
 relief committee, went up the valley in carriages, visiting points of interest 
 along the stream. They went through Florence, Leeds, Ilaydenville, Skin- 
 nerville and Williamsburg, proceeding at once to tlie broken reservoir, arriv- 
 ing there at about two o'clock. 
 
 Among those who had joined in along the way were prominent men from 
 the several villages, and the contractor and engineer by wliom the reservoir 
 had been constructed, Joel Bassett of Easthampton and Emery Wells of 
 Northampton. At the reservoir there was a good deal of excitement among 
 the heavy losers who were present. The original contract and specifications 
 were read, and, at the conclusion, the contractor began to endeavor to prove 
 that his work had been done faithfully according to agreement. One of the 
 provisions was that the stone wall which ran across the river in the center of 
 the embankment should have a foundation resting on the solid rock. Mr. 
 Bassett was endeavoring to show that tins had been complied with, wlien Col- 
 Henry W. Wilson of the committee stepped forward and said : " Mr. Bassett, 
 that provision was not complied with ; the witness is at your feet in that loose 
 earth, and the testimony is against you." Col. Wilson then took the speci- 
 fications and showed to the committee in what they had not been comjflied 
 with, showing himself to be a master of the subject which he was discussing. 
 The most important thing that he showed was that the dam was forty feet less 
 in thickness than was agreed upon. He also showed that the central wall, 
 upon which so much dependence had been placed, had not been built upon 
 solid rock, but on the loose earth, so that, of course, the water could work 
 under it. At the <;onclusion of Col. Wilson's statement, Mr. Skinner, who 
 has lost a handsome fortune, walked up to Mr. Bassett and Mr. Wells and 
 said: " Look here ; if you want to know what I think of you two, I'll tell 
 you that you ought to have a rope around your necks, and something 
 ought to be done with the rope, too." 
 
 The joint committee having reported favorably on the petition for state aid, 
 the Legislature passed a law granting the credit of the state to the amount 
 of $100,000, for repairs of roads and bridges in Williamsburg, while no 
 appropriation was made for such repairs in Northampton. Provision was 
 also made for an abatement of taxes on damaged real estate, granting for 
 that purpose $r>000 to Williamsburg and $2000 to Northampton. 
 
 RELIEF FOR THE SUFFERERS. 
 
 Scarcely had the fateful torrent accomplished its devastations, when the 
 telegrapli had carried the news to every part of the country, and the rever- 
 beration brought back expressions of sympathy in generous offers of substan- 
 tial aid. The towns nearest the scene of devastation rushed to the rescue at 
 once, and did all in their power to alleviate the wretchedness and sorrow 
 which prevailed. On the following day, contributions were taken in most of 
 the churches in New England, and also in many other places. Contributions 
 
32 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 in money, and also in food, clothing, and house-furnishing goods, have con- 
 stantly been pouring in from all quarters. There is hardly a town in the state 
 that has not contributed, and the response from the neighboring states has 
 been general. 
 
 Mr. Lewis Bodman of Northampton, was chairman of the general relief 
 committee, to which most of the contributions have been forwarded. The 
 money received by this committee is .$70,000, while more remains to come in. 
 Accounts of the subscriptions of some of the more prominent places are ap- 
 pended, but it is impossible to specify all. Boston has been prompt and lib- 
 eral ; and has sent committees to ascertain the cases of special need. Her 
 subscriptions are up to $26 000 in money, which has not all come in; also, 
 mattresses, bedding, new clothing, &c., to a large amount. The St. Andrew's 
 Masonic Lodge of Boston was first to respond, and sent $1000. Springfield 
 has contributed nearly $5000, East Hampton about $2000, Holyoke over $3000, 
 while Westfield, Chicopee and other towns in the valley have given very lib- 
 erally. The bulk of the 'New York City subscriptions, from $G000 to $7000, 
 were sent through C. H. & F. D. Blake, Commission Merchants. 
 
 One notable contribution is a subscription of $2G00 raised by H. C. Meyer 
 & Co. and others at New York, and sent to Hayden, Gere & Co., at Hayden- 
 ville, for the benefit of their employes. Messrs. Meyer & Co. are New York 
 neighbors of Hayden, Gere & Co., and are in the same line of business, and 
 this is one of the pleasantest amenities of trade. 
 
 There have been a large number of private contributions sent in, among 
 them the following : 
 
 Benjamin F. Butler, $500 ; Thurlow Weed, $100 : George Bliss of New 
 York, $1000 ; Adams express company, $500 ; Alvah Crocker of Fitchburg, 
 $500 ; Holyoke water-power company, $500 ; M. M. Gaylord of Northampton, 
 $300 ; The Williams manufacturing company of Northampton, $200 ; E. C. 
 Bodman of Toledo, O., $200; E. H. R. Lyman of New York, $200; J. H. 
 Butler of Northampton, $300 ; R. G. Clark, $250 ; Amidon Lane & Co. of 
 New York, $200 : W. B. Hale of Northampton, $200 ; Dr. S. A. Fisk of 
 Northampton, $200 ; W. Hillyer of Northampton, $100 ; Judge C. E. Forbes 
 of Northampton, $100; G. W. Hubbard of Northampton, $200; J. H. Lyman 
 of Northampton, $200 ; Other Northampton subscriptions, $439 ; J. H. Mc- 
 Mullen of Biddeford, Me., $100; Mr. Morgan of Saco, Me., $100; Senator 
 W. B. Washburn of Greenfield, $200 ; Coe brass manufacturing company of 
 Wolcottville, Ct., $100 ; William Wright & Co. of Williamsburg, N. Y., $100 ; 
 W. & B. Douglas of Middletown, Ct., $100; Monson granite works, $200; 
 Gov. Thomas Talbot of Billerica, $200 ; Mrs. Talbot of Billerica, $100 ; 
 Jesse W. Starr of Camden, N. J., $500; Clapp & Pomeroy of Lee Center, 
 111., $50; George W. Campbell of Pittsfield, $100: Richard Goodman of 
 Lenox, $50; John Bertram of Salem, $100; Roland Mather of Hartford, 
 $100; J. J. Lathrop of Northampton, $100; Henry L. Dawes of Pittsfield, 
 $100; H. L. Pierce of Boston, $500. 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 33 
 
 "JOHN PAUL'S" SKETCH OF THE DISASTER. 
 
 We introduce a letter from "John Paul" to the New York Tribune, which 
 describes the scene of the calamity so accurately, and so vividly that it brings 
 before the mind's eye of those who have not seen it, a true and reliable rep- 
 resentation, and will be interesting to every reader : 
 
 WiixiAMSBURG, Mass., May 21.— Four times within the year have I been 
 at Williamsburg— once but a fortnight ago. No need to describe Williams- 
 burg as it then was to any who have ever passed through Massachusetts or 
 Connecticut, for to have seen one of these little manufacturing villages is 
 to have seen all. Nestling down wherever there is enough water to turn a 
 wheel, they dot the green banks with their white cottages, measure the pulse- 
 beats of time with the swifter and equally regular throbs of their ponderous 
 hammers, make the night as well as the day alive with the hum of their busy 
 industries, and tangle the tops of their tall chimneys in among church spires. 
 If " to labor is to pray," the mingling is not incongruous, for the chinmey of 
 a work-shop must in logical sequence be very nearly akin to a steeple, the 
 ringing of anvils to that of church bells ! 
 
 One who now for the first time visits these villages of the valley cannot 
 " realize" the change which that brief, terrible half hour, with the details of 
 which you are all familiar, wrought. He will come, for instance, upon naked 
 areas of territory where nothing seems to have been destroyed, simply because 
 there is no evidence to lead you to suppose that anything ever existed. To 
 mention one case in point, he will find a long reach of plain, covered with 
 sand and bowlders, over which a stream trickles in irregular channels — you 
 do not know that this waste but five days since was a fertile meadow, for there 
 is nothing to show that it has not been as it now is since the first flood. In 
 another case, picking your way along over broken ground, where never a 
 wheel seems to have rolled, how is the stranger to know that he is in reality 
 threading what was a main street, along the line of which stood the usual 
 array of houses. Even I, who should be somewhat familiar with the old 
 localities, stood on a piece of low ground just outside the village of Williams- 
 burg, as I supposed, over which the water had evidently swept, and remarked 
 to a bystander what a fortunate thing it was that no one had builded there. 
 To my surprise he informed me that I was standing near the junction of two 
 streets, and on grovmd once covered with houses. Twenty-six dwellings were 
 swept away in this vicinity alone, and with them fifty-seven human beings 
 were borne to destruction. Inquiring what some twisted leaden pipes were 
 which at odd intervals protruded from the ground and spouted water into the 
 air in an apparently aimless way, I was told that they once led spring water 
 i nto the kitchens of houses which had gone away from over them, and of wliich 
 no other trace remains. 
 
 I have heard the devastation here wrought compared to that occasioned by 
 a great fire. Fire leaves vestiges of what it consumes — aslies at least ; in the 
 path of this fierce flood you find patches of naked sand upon which you would 
 
34 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 swear that nothing ever stood, and yet at the very moment, perhaps, are 
 standing in a depression that last Saturday morning was the cellar of a siib- 
 st.antial dwelling. Destruction is not the word ; annihilation alone can 
 describe it, and scarcely adequately at that. Compare this fearful work with 
 that wrought by a fire, indeed. When fire comes you have something to fight ; 
 you can stay and defend your property until the flames die out or the rafters 
 fall in. "When this avalanche of water dashed down upon Williamsburg there 
 was nothing to do but run for it, and fortunate indeed was the father or mother 
 with children in arms that could run fast enough to find safety. Fancy the 
 swiftness of destruction, when the bell which rung to warn the inhabitants 
 came near being whirled from the belfry and carried along on the crest of the 
 torrent with its first stroke choked upon its iron lips, and the bellman had to 
 drop the rope and take to the hills. Even he who on a swift horse flew through 
 the valley shouting "Fly! for your lives, fly! " could not stop to gather a 
 breath or say to the wondering dwellers along the stream why they should fly 
 or where they should fly to, for death roared at his horse's heels, and to pause 
 for one instant was to be overtaken and overwhelmed. 
 
 The suddenness and completeness of the fate which came upon Her- 
 culaneum and Pompeii is thought to be marked by the bread and roasted 
 meats found in ovens. Here you may see ovens with unbaked loaves therein 
 — loaves that did not even have time to brown before the fire was extin- 
 guished and both stove and kitchen carried into another village. 
 
 If I have now in any degree made you understand the suddenness and 
 completeness of the catastrophe which came upon Williamsburg and its sis- 
 ter hamlets, I have brought you to a point at which I myself have not yet 
 arrived, though in addition to the accounts which have met my eye and all I 
 have heard from eye-witnesses, I am personally upon the ground and have 
 explored it thoroughly in every direction. 
 
 Can you imagine or enter into the feelings with which I now seat myself 
 to write what I have seen, the sensation akin to despair of its accomplish- 
 ment which comes upon me as I contemplate the task? For two days I have 
 been wandering through a desert where but yesterday, as it were, I left a 
 garden ; for two days I have been dwelling amid desolation, and yet this 
 very spot where even the trees are now uprooted, when I before was here, 
 blossomed with thrift, was hung on every side with the ripened fruits of 
 industry. Sad women on every side you see, going about in black, but of 
 the bereaved the greater number by far have no black to wear, for with the 
 bereavement came the loss of all that could enable them to symbolize it out- 
 wardly. Of friends whom I loved, and whose hospitalities I have received, 
 some are utterly ruined ; others have lost what it will take them years to 
 regain ; others still are in suspense and do not know whether or not they are 
 worth a dollar among them all. Is it strange, then, that I take up my pen 
 as one might who dreams that he but dreams and is going to put upon paper 
 that which he will find blotted out on awakening; to record what he hopes 
 and almost believes will turn out to be but a distressing vision which came 
 with the night and will vanish with the day? 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. " 35 
 
 You remember it was claimed for a clergyman once, as a reason for giving 
 him a "call," that he was "powerful in prayer, and especially happy at 
 funerals." Now funerals never were a source of much enjoyment to me, 
 and the funeral of several whole villages at once I hope never again to 
 attend. 
 
 My attention was just now called to a man evidently bearing an over- 
 burdening sorrow about with him. His face had the restless look you have 
 seen on the faces of those haunted by a great grief, who go about with wistful 
 eyes which seem to ask of strangers if they know not some way in whicli 
 they may turn for escape. A wife, two children and a home he had, and lost 
 them all at the first swoop of the torrent. There are different ways of view- 
 ing things. Mr. Birmingham, for instance, the superintendent of the James 
 woolen mills, perished in the flood, with his wife and three children. I have 
 seen this alluded to as "the most dreadful case of all." Not so dreadful to 
 my thinking as the instance mentioned above, and similar ones which I could 
 recite. Grief remains with those who are left behind, and when all are 
 taken there are none left to mourn. Anything but the separation of families, 
 husband taken from wife, wife from husband, children from parents, or, 
 worst of all, children left to the cold fatherhood of a preoccupied world. 
 
 We arrived at Williamsburg late at night. So dark was it that from the 
 car-windows we could see nothing of the ruin that had been wrought along 
 the line of road near the village. On getting out the same station met us. 
 The only thing unusual that we noticed was the arrival on the same train 
 which brought us of a company of soldiers, in blue overcoats and carrying 
 nmskets, who filled the only wagon that was in waiting, so we had to pick 
 our way to the village as best we might. The James woolen mill was stand- 
 ing and looking much the same as ever when we passed it, picking our way 
 over stumps and bowlders, and occasionally wading over streams, and I 
 remarked that the disaster seemed to have been much exaggerated. True, 
 we found few or no houses between the station and the village, but I ac- 
 counted for this by supposing that we had somehow lost our way and were 
 blundering along through the fields, though I could remember no such pecu- 
 liar geological formations as we were stumbling over. That the whole sur- 
 face soil had been skinned off, exposing the raw clay and gravel below, was 
 an idea wliich never occurred to me. And I found the house of the friend 
 who insisted on my making that house my headquarters with a natural hos- 
 pitality which a dozen floods could not quell, intact and unchanged, as were 
 all the houses immediately surrounding it. Church, post-office, Lyman 
 James's store, there they all stood unharmed. For this portion of the vil- 
 lage, lying along this tine of the fork whereof Mill River represents the han- 
 dle, was untouched. Early in the morning myself and companions were up 
 and out, and a very few steps brought us into the midst of a scene of devas- 
 tation which I have already hinted at, but which no pen is competent to des- 
 cribe. With our starting point I was familiar, and could now form some 
 idea of what had occurred. Rather a faint one at first, however, for stand- 
 ing on the very sites of the grist mill and carriage shop, I asked what part 
 
36 HISTOET OF THE 
 
 of the village they were in; it seemed to me I must be mistaken in suppos- 
 ing that they were ever situated where I then stood. 
 
 One of the freaks of the flood seems to have been the lifting bodily of 
 buildings and moving them a considerable distance, then to set them down as 
 squarely as they were set on their original foundations. There is one barn 
 in particular, Culver's, I think, which has been so moved. You almost refuse 
 to be persuaded that it has been moved by any accidental agency, yet it 
 stands rods from the place where it was built. 
 
 In some instances houses have been protected by single trees which stood 
 in front of them ; in others, the trees were torn xip and became missiles of 
 destruction. In the trees which the flood strewed along its path you see evi- 
 dence of the violence of the torrent; huge pines lie stripped of their bark 
 and branches, and with their bleached roots twisted and torn into splints, they 
 look to be gigantic brooms. 
 
 Of the amount of debris — surface earth, sand, and brushwood brought 
 down and deposited — you will get some idea when I tell you that several of 
 the bodies which have been recovered were found buried 20 feet below these 
 accretions. And I fear me that all the mischief is not ended ; like the fabled 
 monster of old, a flood slays with its breath, and unless malignant fevers pre- 
 vail in tliis valley through the Summer, there is nothing in precedent. This 
 has been the case in all fresh-water floods of which I liave any recollection ; 
 terrible, is it not, to think that to such a testament of destruction there is 
 still a codicil of death attached ! 
 
 The scene around the Haydenville brass foundery reminds one of placer- 
 mining in the early days of California. Workmen with pick and shovel exca- 
 vate the sand and sift it carefully, exhuming, not nuggets of gold, but metals 
 that glitter similarly — ingots of copper and brass, and silver-plated goods. 
 But the mining going on of the huge piles of debris at which men are digging 
 and hewing, and hauling, is of a more terrible character. It is for corpses 
 they are looking. 
 
 Strange how everything in this Avorld seems to exist simply l)y comparison ; 
 that we can pronounce upon nothing absolutely in itself until we consider 
 relative positions. As instance in point: under any ordinary circumstances 
 my friend Henry James, proprietor of the Champion Woolen Mills, would be 
 thought to have been strangely unfortunate. His mill is left high and dry by 
 the changed course of the river-bed ; its lower story is wrecked, his dam is 
 torn away, the pond filled with sand, the dye-house dismantled, the woolen- 
 shed shredded, and a large stock of wool gone ; tenements for the operatives 
 swept away, a fine piece of meadow land ruined, and, greatest misfortune of 
 all, the services of a faithful superintendent lost. But in comparison with 
 +he loss incurred by some others Mr. James seems eminentlj" fortunate, one 
 set apart by the signal favor of Providence. His mill with all its valuable 
 machinery is tliere, its upper stories just as they were left when tlie opera- 
 tives fled. The looms stand with the warps in them, and full bobbins are in 
 the shuttles, only awaiting the impetus which shall send them flying to and fro 
 as of old. Clear the rubbish away from the lower floor, straighten up the 
 
MILL RIVER DISASTER. 37 
 
 macliincry a little, and apply power, and again rivers of cassimeres and fus- 
 tians and flannels would flow over the rollers. Wife and children are around 
 him, his house stands where it did, untouched, and looking from its windows 
 they see but the village as it was. 
 
 In contrast with his case, take that of William Skiimer, proprietor of a 
 large silk mill which stood a mile or so lower down the river. Thirty years 
 ago Mr. Skinner came to this country a poor boy, whose only capital was a 
 knowledge of the silk business acquired at Spitalfields, England, where the 
 curriculum is thorough, and the graduate can only get through by slee])ing 
 under the loojns. After various vicissitudes, he succeeded in developing a 
 large and profitable industry, and established the silk mill which, with its sur- 
 roundings, made Skinnerville. He had lately finished and furnished a large 
 dwelling house, one of the finest in the valley, on the rise of ground opposite 
 his mill property. In 15 minutes he saw that mill property, with everything 
 appertaining to it, go from before his eyes so cleanly that were it not for cer- 
 tain landmarks which could not be swept awaj^, the proprietor himself would 
 be puzzled to tell precisely where it stood. So completely is every trace 
 blotted out that I imagine Mr. Skinner must sometimes regard it as merely 
 the mill of a dream, a fancied possession, which never had even a foundation 
 stone in fact. His house remains, but in a most shattered condition — piazzas 
 torn away, floors burst through, books washed into pulp, and furniture ruined. 
 Looking out of the windows he sees his empty mill site, the few tenements 
 that have not been swept away overturned, uprooted trees, huge piles of 
 driftwood and debris — a perfect picture of devastation and desolation. And 
 I question if the noon of that sad Saturday, whose morning found Mr. Skin- 
 ner a prosperous manufacturer and a rich man, saw him worth a dollar in the 
 world. But lo, he gathers his wife and family all safe about him, and point- 
 ing to a man who lost wife and children and house — the latter all the property 
 he had — who goes about dazed like one not yet thoroughly awake, he says : 
 " In comparison I have lost nothing, and have reason to be glad it is no 
 worse." 
 
 The foundery of Ilayden, Gere & Co., at Ilaydenville, if not the largest, 
 was certainly the best appointed one in the country. The offices were finished 
 and fitted up in a way that you seldom see even in the banking establishments 
 of large cities, and cost about f 75,000 I am told. When at Ilaydenville little 
 more than 10 days ago, I asked " Jo Hayden" why he had such magnificent 
 offices in such an out-of-the-way place, where no one could ever see them. 
 He replied that he had an excellent opportunity of seeing them himself; 
 spending the greater portion of his time there, he liked to have things pleas- 
 ant around liim. The foundery and all being constructed of brick, in the 
 most substantial manner, it would have seemed that witiiin such walls all the 
 valley might have found safety, but eye-witnesses say tliat when the flood 
 struck them they tottered for a moment and in the next fell crumbling and 
 crushed; now the trophy-seeker looks for a brick to carry away almost in 
 vain. Well, I found this same *' eTo Hayden" on the ground in his business 
 blouse, actively superintending the clearing away the rubbish and other prep- 
 
38 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 arations for rebuilding, too busy even to figure up his loss, and receiving 
 laborers who came to go to work much more heartily than he did men who 
 came only to express sympathy and find out how much he is still worth. In 
 the improvised oflice, bearing little resemblance to the former ones, was his 
 partner, Gere, dictating circulars to the trade and letters to customers, telling 
 them that the firm still had enough goods on hand to supply orders, and no 
 interruption of business would occur. 
 
 And when I left the scene Skinner was reeling the silk oft' a tangled bob- 
 bin that some one had found down at Leeds and brought him— to twist into a 
 rope for the contractors who built that dam, I hope — and manufacturer 
 James was scouring the plains some ten miles below his mills, picking up all 
 of his own wool and as much of anyone else's as he could find lying loose 
 or in bales, while Spellman came down to the cars with me to prove by the 
 fourth article of the by-laws of the Williamsburg reservoir company that he 
 was in no wise responsible for the loss of life and property laid to his charge 
 — which I hope he was not, and do not see that he was. But Spellman is 
 fortunate too, comparatively. True, he has lost a button fiictory and a good 
 many buttons, and he is blamed in many quarters for not paying closer atten- 
 tion to a work of which he says his superintendency ceased in May, 1872, 
 but a mob was organized to hang him and did not succeed in its purpose ; so 
 even he has serious cause to congratulate himself. 
 
 Talk of this valley and these men being "wiped out!" You could not 
 wipe out the industry and business energy which has abiding place here with 
 a dozen such floods ; brains survive even capital. This valley will rattle 
 again with clang of mill wheels and the click of shuttles. It is not charity 
 these men want, just now, but help. Help to clear up the rubbish that half 
 buries them, rebuild their manufactories, that this same Mill River that over- 
 rode them may be again chained down to its proper and peaceful work of 
 turning wheels ; help to feed and clothe operatives for whom there is neither 
 food nor raiment in the valley, until a new field for their producing power 
 can be found. Brought to their knees a moment by this sudden blow — which 
 would permanently floor hearts less stout — these men only want to be helped 
 to their feet now ; let this be done for them, and they themselves will take 
 care of the rest. Their money when they had it was held with no niggard 
 hand ; much of it came here to New York, and from New York much of it 
 should now go back to them. So far I see the names of no hotel-keepers on 
 the subscription lists. Have those who absorb so much money from men like 
 those who now lose heavily, none to spare when such calamities come? 
 
 It must be remembered that this Mill River disaster is not the sensationof 
 a day ; it means in its full interpretation suflTering for months, struggling for 
 years. And more than a spirt of sympathy, a spasm of subscription, is 
 needed. The Lord loves a cheerful giver, and he who gives quickly gives 
 twice ; if on the heels of his first giving he gives again, by the progressive 
 ratio which follows he gives eight times. 
 
 Of the cause of the disaster I will say but a word. It has already been 
 more than touched in The Tribune, but I wish to describe the work as it 
 
MILL KIVER DISASTER. 39 
 
 shows itself to an unprofessional visitor. The "wall," instead of being set 
 in a trench, as you doubtless have supposed that all such dam walls are, and 
 as they certainly should be, was simply planted in earth from which the sur- 
 face soil had been skinned to a trifling depth, and on which it slid as a flat- 
 iron might on a greased skid. 
 
 Had as many gone to see it while building as have gone to sec its ruins, it 
 would never have been suflTered to be built; it was only kept from falling over 
 of its own weight, while in course of erection, by the embankments of earth 
 that were piled up against it. The "masonry wall"— what remains of it, at 
 least — looks not unlike the fences of loose cobble-stone which you see piled 
 up in sections of country where decent stones are scarce, except that the in- 
 terstices are filled with sand. I say sand, for I dug a lot of stuff" out of the 
 heart of the "wall"' and brought away a handkerchief full of it, which any 
 one can examine who chooses. As for "cement" there is not a trace of that 
 nor of lime in it ; such as it is it is just good enough to stuff" down tjie throats 
 of the contractors who did the work, and good for nothing else, and if any mild 
 and judicial body of men wish to stuff" these contractors in the way that I 
 suggest, I shall be proud to lend a hand to the work as well as a handker- 
 chief full of material. 
 
 JOHN PAUL. 
 
GEORGE CHENEY'S WARNING, 
 
 At the Breaking of the Dam. 
 
 From tlie New York Graphic. 
 
 Ride ! Cheney, ride ! For close beside. 
 
 On a ghostly galloping steed. 
 Is a grizzly shade, in a shroud arrayed ;— 
 
 Death rides behind thee 1 Speed I 
 
 Ride well, ride fast, for the dk is cas^t. 
 And the game has been won by Death : 
 
 And he cometh now with exulting brow. 
 Aud a laugh in his icy breath. 
 
 And after him two spectres grim ; 
 
 My friends, the Pale One saith— 
 They are come with me ; good friends arc we ; 
 
 Destruction I Ilavoc 1 Death I 
 
 Ride fast and well, the news to tell ! 
 Fly I Neighbors for your lives 1 
 
 If ye would save from a watery grave 
 Your little ones and wives ! 
 
 Fly! Neighbors, fly ! for the flood is nigh ; 
 
 It has shattered it« flimsy bound ; 
 It is coming fast as the whirlwind's blast — 
 
 Hark ! hark ! to its dreadful sound ! 
 
 So Cheney rode, but the torrent strode 
 
 With giant steps behind ; 
 And it' fateful roar went on before. 
 
 On the wings of the morning wind. 
 
 He rode full well, but the echoes tell 
 
 Of a wail of deep despair; 
 For the spectral Three, with murderous glee 
 
 Were holding carnival there. 
 
THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES. 
 
 (From the Springfield Republican.) 
 
 'Tis a cloudy morn in the month of May, 
 
 And each hill and emerald plain 
 Has donned its spring-tiaie's bright array 
 
 'Neath the touch of the gentle rain. 
 The rollicking bobolink trolls his song 
 In the fields where the river rolls along, 
 Tossing in air its snowy locks 
 As it leaps in its course the dripping rocks 
 
 Opposing its way in vain. 
 
 Smiling and fair is Nature's look, 
 
 The trees are putting forth leaves. 
 The cattle are standing knee-deep in the brook, 
 
 And the swallows dip under the eaves. 
 Guiding his oxen with steady hand 
 The farmer is plowing the meadow land, 
 From the open windows of factories come 
 The sleepy drone of the spindle's hum 
 
 And the engine's throbbing heaves. 
 
 Fair smiles the Hampshire valley, to-day. 
 
 And no tremor is in the air 
 To foretell the death that is on its way 
 
 And bid the people beware. 
 No cry is heard, not a word is said 
 To call them out from the river's bed, 
 And bid them flee from their shops and homes 
 E're the terrible rush of the river comes 
 
 Like a lion from its lair. 
 
42 THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES. 
 
 What is that sound from the distant hill 
 
 Where the reservoir's waters sleep, 
 By huge embankments prisoned and still, 
 
 Broad and frowning and deep? 
 "Tis the thunder's smothered growl and mutter 
 Or the heavy breath that the whirlwinds utter; — 
 'Tis nothing more, we have heard before 
 On the hills the thunder's ponderous roar, 
 And seen the wild wind sweep. 
 
 Down the road into Williamsburg 
 
 Comes a horseman, breathless and pale, 
 Swift as his dripping horse can urge 
 
 'Neath blows that are showering like hail. 
 The horse is panting, his nostrils spread 
 Display their lining of burning red, 
 His eyes stand out from their sockets deep, 
 His breath comes shorter at every leap 
 And his strength is beginning to fail. 
 
 Who is this rider, who, hatless and white, 
 
 So presses his bare-backed steed. 
 And, looking neither to left nor right. 
 Drives on at such headlong speed? 
 "Tis the keeper who lives on the reservoir's rim 
 To watch the giant that sleeps within ; 
 And the lines of fright on his pallid fece 
 As he urges his horse to the headlong race 
 Declare a terrible need. 
 
 Down into Williamsburg street he rides. 
 
 Hoarse screaming a threatening sound; 
 The air with its terrible echoes divides 
 
 As his horse sinks down on the ground, 
 While he cries from its back he still bestrides, 
 
 To the people wlio cluster around, — 
 Curious, laughing, or dreading the worst — 
 * " Flee for your lives I The reservoir's burst! 
 
 Flee, or you all are drowned ! " 
 
 Then to the message spake Collins Graves, — 
 
 " Your horse can travel no more ; 
 And all in vain are your powers to save 
 
 The people below on the shore. 
 So loose my horse from my old milk-cart. 
 And aid me in gaining a speedy start, 
 For I will ride down to the towns below, 
 
THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES. 43 
 
 And if I escape from the water's flow 
 Some lives I may answer for." 
 
 A moment more and his horse is free- 
 He leaps with a bound to his back, 
 
 And gazing backward the stream to see, 
 He turns him about in his track. 
 
 Far up the valley a shapeless mass 
 
 Is struggling down through the mountain pass,— 
 
 A wall of waving, shuddering foam, 
 
 Its dread crest crowned with a snowy comb. 
 And its foot_a sickening black. 
 
 No longer he pauses— a clatter of feet 
 
 As his horse speeds over the bridge. 
 And borne as on eagle's pinions fleet, 
 
 He vanishes over the ridge. 
 While the roaring torrent nearer sweeps. 
 And gaining upon him closer creeps. 
 Courageously plying rein and whip 
 He rushes on without pause or slip 
 
 O'er the road by the river's edge. 
 
 His hat is gone— liis hair in the wind 
 Streams back from his earnest face, 
 And turning his head he glances behind, 
 
 Yet never relaxes his pace. 
 He sees the tossing of shattered beams. 
 And hears in the tumult the dying screams 
 Of those o'er whom the torrent has gushed,— 
 An instant more and their shrieks are hushed. 
 
 And faster he urges his race. 
 
 Oh ! what a ride ! a race with Death ! 
 
 Death in more terrible form 
 Than ever rides on the simoon's breatli. 
 
 Or the bolt of the tlmnder storm ! 
 He hears the roar of exultant floods 
 As they bow like grasses the strongest woods, 
 And dissolve like a wreath of vapory snow 
 Man's strongest homes, that an hour ago 
 Might fear no earthly harm. 
 
 • 
 
 Flee to the hill-tops, Collins Graves ! 
 
 In vain thy eflforts will be 
 In the towns below the people to save 
 
 From the rusli of that angry sea I 
 
44 THE RTDE OF COLLIXS GRAVES. 
 
 But no thought has he of danger or harm, 
 And his clarion voice spreads the wild alarm 
 As he rushes the tossing river by, 
 And rouses the farmers with eager cry 
 From the terrible waves to flee. 
 
 His brave horse struggles with panting sides 
 
 'Neath the urging of voice and rein, 
 As into Skinnerville noAv he rides, 
 
 And shouts with his might and main. 
 From the busy factories' open doors 
 The frightened body of workmen pours, 
 Rushes to hills on the left and right 
 While Graves still urges his headlong flight 
 And rides from the village again. 
 
 Five minutes have passed — down comes the flood 
 
 With crashing timber and beam, 
 And on the spot where the factories stood 
 
 Is naught but the tawny stream. 
 Down crumble the masses of brick and stone 
 By the terrible might of the tide o'erthrown, 
 Dissolved like hay in the furnace's breath, 
 As the swirl of a brook sucks a leaf beneath, — 
 Gone like the forms of a dreatn. 
 
 Down the road to Ilaydenville fly 
 
 Breathless rider and horse. 
 So swift that the river rushing by 
 
 Seems flowing back on its source. 
 Down the road by the stream they go. 
 The water licking the rocks below. 
 While behind them the stones but lately passed 
 By the rushing waves in the air are cast 
 
 And the stream is bellowing hoarse. 
 
 Haydenville lioth two miles before, — 
 
 The flood, five minutes behind. 
 Tearing and gnawing the crumbling shore. 
 
 Comes rushing on like the wind. 
 Graves, turning his head, for an instant sees 
 A horror of bowing and twisted trees, 
 Of houses tossed on the wave like ships, 
 Of bowlders hurled in the air like chips, 
 
 And hears the pebbles grind. 
 
THE EIDE OF COLLINS GKAVES. 45 
 
 Ilaydenville lieth a mile below, 
 
 Four minutes behind the wave 
 Sweeps crashing on with a swifter tiow 
 
 And a louder roar and rave. 
 Over the way but just now crossed 
 The towering mass of the flood is tossed, 
 Gulping down in its hungry maw 
 The solid road like a line of straw 
 
 In the wreck of that yawning grave. 
 
 Louder and closer the river's roar, 
 
 Swifter and nearer its fluw. 
 And with its surges it melts the shore 
 
 Which was crossed three minutes ago. 
 Louder and louder the brave horse pants 
 As he rushes along like a flying lance. 
 While the rider, guarding 'gainst stumble and fall, 
 Hears just behind him the torrent brawl, 
 
 And the town half a mile below. 
 
 The river is rising beneath their fuet 
 
 And climbing the rocky wall, 
 Two minutes behind them the billows beat 
 
 And the groaning forests fall. 
 Graves turns again, — the flood lies still 
 Within the arms of the circling hill ; — 
 A moment only, — but seconds are life 
 Before that roaring tumult and strife, — 
 
 And that moment effecteth all. 
 
 Loud in the street of Ilaydenville 
 
 There is heard a flying cry. 
 And a horse comes rushing below the hill 
 
 With pain in his staring eye. 
 His hot flanks heave, his skin of jet 
 Is tiger-striped with mud and sweat ; — 
 His strength is gone, he staggers and falls 
 Beneath the shade of the factory's walls, 
 
 And the tossing wave is nigh. 
 
 A minute passes, — a towering wall, 
 
 A grinding, sickening roar. 
 And the muddy waters fiercely fall 
 
 Like the boiling surf on the shore. 
 Down with a moan go stones and bricks. 
 The strongest braces are snapped like sticks, 
 
46 THE RIDE OF COLLIKS GRAVES. 
 
 And up and down in a devil's dance 
 The heavy beams in the tumult prance, 
 Then sink to be seen no more. 
 
 But where is the rider and coal-black horse 
 
 Who brought the alarm so well ? 
 Are they swept away in the mighty course 
 
 Of that boiling, seething hell? 
 Oh ! Heaven be praised ! we saw him lead 
 To a place of safety his gasping steed, 
 And though the flood rushed over the street 
 And strove to tangle their flying feet, 
 
 They are living the tale to tell. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ H^ 3f: 
 
 There is sorrow and mourning at Haydenville, 
 
 There is weeping and wailing at Leeds, 
 There comes a cry from Williamsburg's hill 
 
 And from Florence's grassy meads. 
 Yet at the mention of Collins Graves 
 There comes a blessing from those he saves, 
 And thanks are wafted above to Heaven 
 That its strength is always to some heart given 
 Whene'er the occasion needs. 
 
 The deed of Revere is graven on brass 
 
 We read of Sheridan's fame. 
 But another there is whom none surpass 
 
 In the glow of an honored name. 
 And in the future the Hampshire vale 
 Shall echo the fame of that wondrous tale, 
 And white-haired grandsires long shall tell 
 How bravely the hero rode and well 
 
 In the day when destruction came. 
 
 SIDNEY DICKINSON. 
 Amhekst, Mass., May IS. 
 
AN INCIDENT OF THE GREAT FLOOD. 
 
 (From the Boston Pilot.) 
 
 No sonp; of tlie soldier riding down 
 
 To the raging fight from Winchester town ; 
 
 No song of a time that shook the earth 
 
 AVith the nation's throe at the Nation's birth ; 
 
 But the song of a brave man, free from fear 
 
 As Sheridan's self or Paul Revere; 
 
 Who risked what they risked, free from strife 
 
 And its promise of glorious pay — his life. 
 
 The peaceful valley has waked and stirred, 
 And the answering echoes of life are heard ; 
 The dew still clings to the trees and grass, 
 And the early toilers smiling pass. 
 As they glance asi(le at the white-walled homes. 
 Or up the valley, where merrily comes 
 The brook that sparkles in diamond rills 
 As the sun comes over the Hampshire hills. 
 
 What was it, that passed like an ominous breath? 
 Like a shiver of fear or a touch of death ? 
 What was it? The valley is peaceful still, 
 And the leaves are afire on top of the hill. 
 It was not a sound, nor a thing of sense — 
 But a pain, like the pang of the short suspense 
 That wraps the being of those who see 
 At their feet the gulf of Eternity ! 
 
 The air of the valley has felt the chill ; 
 The workers pause at the door of the mill ; 
 The housewife, keen to the shivering air, 
 Arrests her foot on the cottage stair, 
 Instinctive taught by the mother love. 
 And thinks of the sleeping ones above. 
 
 Why start the listeners? Why does the course 
 Of the mill stream widen? Is it a horse. 
 Hark to the sounds of his hoofs, they say, 
 That gallops so wildly Williamsburg way? 
 
 God ! what was that, like a human shriek 
 From the winding valley? Will nobody speak. 
 Will nobody answer those women who cry 
 As the awful warnings thunder by ? 
 
48 
 
 LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
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 014 076 779 7 ^ 
 
 AN- INCIDENT OF THE GREAT FLOOD. 
 
 Whence come they ? Listen ! And now they hear 
 
 The sound of the galloping horse hoofs near : 
 
 They watch the trend of the vale, and see 
 
 The rider, who thunders so menacingly, 
 
 With waving arms and warning scream 
 
 To the home filled banks of the valley stream. 
 
 He draws no rein, but he shakes the street 
 
 With a shout and tlie ring of the galloping feet. 
 
 And this the cry that he flings to the wind : 
 
 "T'o the hills for your lives ! The flood is Ichind ! " 
 
 He cries and is gone ; but they know the worst — 
 The treacherous Williamsburg dam has burst! 
 The basin that nourished their happy homes 
 Is changed to a demon — It comes ! it comes ! 
 
 A monster in aspect, with shaggy front 
 
 Of shattered dwellings, to take the brunt 
 
 Of the dwellings they shatter — white-maned and hoarse. 
 
 The merciless terror iSlls the course 
 
 Of the narrow valley, and rushing raves, 
 
 With death on the first of its hissing waves, 
 
 Till cottage and street and crowded mill 
 
 Are crumbled and crushed. 
 
 But onward still, 
 In front of the roaring flood is heard 
 The galloping horse and the warning word. 
 Tliank God, that the brave man's life is spared ! 
 From Williamsburg town he nobly dared 
 To race with the flood and to take the road 
 In front of the terrible swath it mowed. 
 For miles it thundered and crashed behind, 
 But he looked ahead with a steadfast mind ; 
 '■^They must he warned!" was all he said, 
 As away on his terrible ride he sped. 
 
 When heroes are called for, bring the crown 
 To this Yankee rider ; send him down 
 On the stream of time with the Curtius old ; 
 His deed as the Roman's was brave and bold, 
 And the tale can as noble a thrill awake, 
 For he oflfered his life for the people's sake.