The Indian's Prayer. Let me go to my home in the far distant land, To the scenes of my childhood in innocence blest, Where the tall cedars wave and the bright waters flow, Where my fathers repose, Let me go, let me go, Let me go, let me go, Make Your Mark. In the quarries should you toil, In whatever path you go, In whatever place you stand; Make your mark; make your mark! Moving swift, or moving slow, Make your mark; make your mark! Johnny Sands. A man whose name was Johnny Sands, And tho' she brought him gold and lands, He said that he was tired of life, And she was tired of him, And she was tired of him; Says he, "Then I will drown myself, Says she, "Pray do you silly elf; Says he, "Upon the brink I'll stand, And push me in with all your might," Says she, "My love I will." Billy Boy. Oh where have you been, Billy boy, Billy boy, Oh where have you been charming Billy? I have been to seek a wife, She's the joy of my life, She's a young thing, and cannot leave her mother. THE FLOOD OF 1884 IN THE ALLEGHENY RIVER AT PITTSBURGH.* Allegheny, Pa., February 8, 1884. On Tuesday, Wednesday and yesterday (Thursday) the big flood was on us. The signal service office had sent out telegrams of warning so that the people living in the low places or having stores or manufactories there, were in a measure, prepared. On Tuesday the rivers began swelling, and on Wednesday they reached their highest stage. Wednesday morning I had business in Pittsburgh and took an Ohio Street car to go there. When I got into the car I noticed that the floor was wet; I thought the car had just been scrubbed, and felt rather indignant that such a thing should be done just before starting on the trip. When we arrived at the Depots on Federal Street it dawned upon me how the car came to be wet. The street was crowded with curious people watching the advancing water. The Allegheny River was then about half a block from Lacock Street, and was steadily creeping up. Innumerable wagons were standing about waiting to take people across the flood. The drivers were reaping a rich harvest, and their shrill cries of "This way to the other side!" filled the air. Our car ploughed through the water, the passengers mounting on the seats until the dry cobble stones were reached near the bridge. After attending to my business I went back the way that I had come, having the same experience as before, with the water a few inches higher. When Charlie, our messenger, returned from luncheon he told me that the water was coming into his father's house, and that his father had wanted him to stay at home. I told him to go home again as soon as John returned from his luncheon. When John came back I requested him to go to the Grant engine house and telephone to F to come down so that we would have two persons in the bank all the time. In the afternoon I went to town again, more out of curiosity than from necessity. I proceeded to the Fort Wayne *The writer of this account at the time held an executive position in a bank on Ohio Street in Allegheny, and lived in the western end of the city. Depot in a street car (that being as far as it went) and then pushed through the crowd to Lacock Street, which the water had reached. Only one wagon crossed the flood while I was waiting and this was considered so dangerous that the police on the other side would not allow it to return, as the water was almost up to the horses' heads at the lowest point on the street. I saw two teams stuck fast in the middle of the flood. Finally a number of men entered the water and unhitched the horses and rode them to dry land, the wagons being abandoned. Anxiously I waited for a craft to take me over. A skiff landed on the side of the street close to where I was standing, but before I could get near, it had been filled and started. I crossed to the east side of the street and a skiff came up and discharged its load and as I and many others were about to get in pushed off. At last a flatboat came up Robinson Street and landed in front of Studer & Frodey's jewelry store. I made a detour through several inches of water and just as I reached the flatboat, a skiff came along, so I changed my mind and jumped into this and soon we were being pushed and rowed across. As we were passing Robinson Street the skiff commenced whirling around and going down that street. As most of us were standing I felt nervous for a second, and then as we caught hold of a telegraph pole and pulled up, and were again on Federal Street, I was reassured. We encountered several huge cakes of ice and the two abandoned wagons. In Collonade Row the windows were lined with people, some anxious, others looking down, careless and happy. As we passed Renter's cigar store we saw the cigars and tobacco floating in the show windows and the storeroom. On landing on the bridge we were compelled to walk through the water as the people waiting to come to the North Side were already crowding on the planks leading from our skiff. After crossing the bridge to Sixth Street I was greeted with the sight of more wagons waiting for passengers. At first I thought the wagons were either to cross the bridge to Allegheny, or were for the purpose of taking people around to see the flooded district; and I was about proceeding up Sixth Street when on looking ahead I saw the water at Penn Avenue. I turned back and had barely time to jump into a wagon as it was about to start toward Liberty Street. Penn Avenue was covered with water and Horne's retail store had perhaps a foot of water on the first floor. On Sixth Street all the buildings were under water for about half a square on either side of Penn Avenue. Returning I thought it best to avoid the risk of going by way of Sixth and Federal streets, so I crossed over the Railroad Bridge. Thousands of people were going that way. The narrow walk was so crowded with persons leaning over the railing watching the water, or going in both directions that it was no small matter to get along. It was a sight long to be remembered. On the Pittsburgh side everything along the river was under water, and on the Allegheny side the only thing to be seen of the Pittsburgh & Western Railroad was the telegraph poles. In Seibert's lumber yard the water was almost as high as the fence around it. The water extended all the way to the West Penn Railroad. After we were through for the day at the bank, I made a tour of part of the flooded district. On Madison Avenue the water extended nearly to South Canal Street. On Walnut Street it was within about thirty feet of South Canal Street. Here I spoke to Joseph Slapnick, a Bohemian customer of ours, who owns the property at this corner. He had just finished building a row of houses on Walnut Street. On Chestnut Street the flood had reached Main Street; and that street in both directions was a sheet of water. I walked down the West Penn Railroad track and at every opening or cross street the water could be seen. On Federal Street it was near the West Penn Depot. From Stockton Avenue at Sherman Avenue the water could be seen lapping the walls of the tunnel under the Fort Wayne Railroad. Craig Street looked like a canal with skiffs flitting to and fro. In the evening I went down to Beaver Avenue and called for S, and together we proceeded to Squire Clark's office. The water was in the street at the office, but about an inch lower than the sidewalk. It was rising an inch an hour. On Thursday morning I made another long tour of the flooded district. On Chartiers Street the water was near the Salt Works. Manhattan Street, lower Western Avenue and Rebecca Street looked like a vast lake. It reminded me forcibly of the pictures of inundations I had seen in illustrated papers in my early boyhood. There was one expanse of water with houses half submerged, standing out like dead trees in a swamp. The newspapers claim that this flood was worse than that of 1832, when the river meas |