low it, leaving the house itself uninjured. It is this part, which is generally supposed to have carried away my brother and his family. It is judged from appearances, to be the last that came down. It is the common and very probable conjecture, that the family designed at first, to keep the house, and did actually remain in it, till after the descent of most of the slips. From the commencement of the storm in its greatest fury, they were probably on the alert, though previous to this some of them might have retired to rest-that the children had, was pretty evident from appearances in the house, when first entered after the disaster. My brother, it is pretty certain, had not undressed; he stood watching the movements and vicissitudes of the awfully anxious season. When the storm had increased to such violence, as to threaten their safety, and descending avalanches seemed to be sounding "the world's last knell," he roused his family and prepared them, as he could for a speedy flight, trembling every moment, lest they should be buried under the ruins of their falling habitation. At this hurried, agitating moment of awful suspense, the slide which parted back of the house is supposed to have come down, a part of which struck, and carried away the stable. Hearing the crash, they instantly and precipitately rushed from their dwelling, and attempted to flee in the opposite direction; but the thick darkness concealing all objects from their sight, they were almost instantly engulphed in the desolating torrent, which passed below the house; and which precipitated them together with rocks and trees into the swollen and frantic tide below, and cut off at once all hope of escape. Amidst the rage and foam of so much water, filled as it was with so many instruments of death, they had no alternative, but to meet the doom which was their appointed allot ment. Such were, probably, the circumstances; but as there are no survivors to tell of the horrors of that awful night, we shall never know them with certainty, till the records of eternity disclose them. We know the family perished, and we know the circumstances of their death must have been distressing beyond description. Bring them, for a moment, before your imagination. The slide which only two months before had nearly caused their immediate death, if it had not induced timidity, must have greatly increased their sensibility to danger, aud filled them with ominous forebodings, when this new war of elements began. Add to this the "horror of thick darkness," which surrounded their dwelling-the tempest raging with unabated violence-the bursting thunder, peal answering to peal, and echoing from hill to hill-the piercing lightning, whose momentary flashes only rendered the darkness and their danger the more painfully visible-huge masses of the mountain tumbling from their awful height with accumulating and crashing ruins into the abyss below-their habitation shaken to its foundation by these concussions of nature-with all these circumstances of terror conspiring, what consternation must have filled the soul! And then, the critical instant, when the crashing of the stable by the resistless mass, warned them to flee-who can enter into their feelings at this moment of wild uproar and confusion? Snatching what of clothing they could, as a slight defence from the "pitiless storm," children shrieking through fear-parental love consulting for their safety at the risk of their own-all rushing instantaneously from the house, as the last resort, and alas! instead of finding safety abroad, plunging into the jaws of instant death! But oh how feeble are our conceptions, compared with the reality! It is impossible for us to know what they endured-they cannot return to tell us the story of their sufferings. They are gone. Their spirits fled away hast. wings of the wind, from one of the spots on earth, aud rendered doubly cumstances above narrated. R friends have one consolation; the pri ing, that, from the temper and cor hibited, they have departed from and dangers of earth to the peas se rity of heaven.--But it is not ! speak their eulogy, or decide on t I leave them in the hands of God: presence they have sped. Meanwh have a lesson to learn from the mo From their graves should arise so S tos of our own mortality. Their throw on that fearful night, present haps, one of the liveliest images of 1 scene. Our minds should be deep with that inspired exhortation, to w fliction gives a most affecting emphasis:-"Be ye therefore, ready, also; for the Son of man cometh in an hour when ye think not.” I am persuaded you will think with me, that the above extract is worthy of being preserved, both for its facts and spirit, and also for the source from which it comes. No person could feel more interest in knowing the truth in relation to this sad event, and none can appreciate more perfectly the various causes of heart-rending distress connected with it. I hope you will excuse the length of this letter. With sentiments of sincere regard, I remain yours, &c. THOMAS C. UPHAM. JOHN FARMER, Esq., Concord, N. H. Letter of Rev. Joshua Moodey. [The following Letter from Rev. Joshua Moodey, of Portsmouth, to Rev. John Cotton,of Plymouth, und dated at Ports'o. 1 [2m] 76, has been lately communicated to the Publishing Committee, by CHRISTOPHER C. BALDWIN, Esq., the diligent Librarian of the American Antiquarian Society. The first paragraph in the original is obliterated. Words abbreviated are rendered at length.] Mr. John Cotton, We I thank you for the intelligence. I have read it and showed it unto many who have perused it with great sympathy, and hope it hath been of some good use. If anything remarkable of this nature occurs among you for the future (which the Lord in his mercy prevent) your handing it to us would be matter of great satisfaction, that we might know things particularly and truly. Reports are so many, and various, that one knows not what to believe. had heard a report of the solemn tragedy* before yours came, but was nothing so satisfactory. I may say (as in the beginning of yours you doe,) hitherto things have been quiet among us this winter and spring, but what I may send you in the close of my letter, (if a speedy conveyance prevent not, of which I am not certain,) is with the Lord. The Indians about us are many of them come in, and more coming. Their words are very good, fair: the Lord only knows what is in their hearts; tho' as yet their actions are not contradictory to their words, so far as we know. There is no trusting to them: they often mean worse when they speak best. We have no cause to think our troubles over, tho' some seem to run high in their thoughts [* Doubtless the fall of Capt. Michael Pierce, of Scituate, who with about 50 English, and 20 friendly Indians of Cape Cod, was cut off by the enemy with most of his party, five days before the date of this letter. EDITORS.] gone. Their spirits fled away hastily, as on the wings of the wind, from one of the most dreary spots on earth, aud rendered doubly so by the circumstances aboye narrated. Relatives and friends have one consolation; the privilege of hoping, that, from the temper and conduct they exhibited, they have departed from the turmoil and dangers of earth to the peace and security of heaven.--But it is not my object to speak their eulogy, or decide on their condition. I leave them in the hands of God, into whose presence they have sped. Meanwhile, survivors have a lesson to learn from the mournful event. From their graves should arise so many mementos of our own mortality. own mortality. Their sudden overthrow on that fearful night, presents to us, perhaps, one of the liveliest images of the judgment scene. Our minds should be deeply impressed with that inspired exhortation, to which this affliction gives a most affecting emphasis :-"Be ye therefore, ready, also; for the Son of man cometh in an hour when ye think not." I am persuaded you will think with me, that the above extract is worthy of being preserved, both for its facts and spirit, and also for the source from which it comes. No person could feel more interest in knowing the truth in relation to this sad event, and none can appreciate more perfectly the various causes of heart-rending distress connected with it. I hope you will excuse the length of this letter. With sentiments of sincere regard, I remain yours, &c. THOMAS C. UPHAM. JOHN FARMER, Esq., Concord, N. H. |