This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1901 Excerpt: ... tale too big for tongue to tell, And with a sense of penitence profound, Commiserate the grieved and hapless drowned. No time nor chance for the brief funeral rite, Kidnaped and swiftly swept from mortal sight. A nation doles her requiem of distress, In plaint lament of boding wretchedness. From Allegheny's heights by ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1901 Excerpt: ... tale too big for tongue to tell, And with a sense of penitence profound, Commiserate the grieved and hapless drowned. No time nor chance for the brief funeral rite, Kidnaped and swiftly swept from mortal sight. A nation doles her requiem of distress, In plaint lament of boding wretchedness. From Allegheny's heights by steep descent, A thousand streamlets their bold currents lent To swell the volume of the waterflow, Till all the valleys and the streams below, Were a wild waste of turbid waters wide, Bound by the range of hills on either side. A reservoir, a lake of vast extent, To the grim horror its deep waters lent. In measured longitude three miles or more, More than one mile in breadth from shore to shore. Deep were the soundings of this little sea, Ere its strong barriers broke and left it free; And on, and onward to the Conemaugh; Of deafening sound the maddening waters pour Then with a wild tempestuous rush and roar Adown the rugged mountainous descents, Clefting its course through granite battlements, While on its tide the wooded wild was borne, And from the mountain sides huge rocks were torn; To swell the tide--while a resistless awe And consternation seized the fated crowd, That piteous cried for help, cried long and loud; While to the floating driftwood many clung, And some on roofs of houses helpless hung. Whole towns and cities from their moorings swept, Where desolations wide alone are left To tell the rueful, tragic tale of awe, The blighted prospects of the Conemaugh. PASTORAL ADDRESS. Delivered by Dr. J. P. Russell, of Waveland, Ind., at the Old Settlers' Meeting, held at Eussellvllle, Ind., August 5,1886. Time ever onward, ever infinite, And ever boundless and indefinite, Without beginning, without end of day; Immortals only may its sco...
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