“But if the scene forward was terrible, that aft was appalling, for there the flames were raging in their greatest fury.  Some madly rushed into the fire; others, with a yell like a demon, maddened with the flames, which were all around them, sprang headlong into the waves.  The officers of the boat, and the crew, were generally cool, and sprang to lower the boats, but these were every one successively swamped by those who threw themselves into them, regardless of the execrations of the sailors, and of every thing but their own safety.

“I tried to act coolly—­I kept near the captain, who seemed to take courage from despair, and whose bearing was above all praise.  The boat was veering toward the shore, but the maddened flames now enveloped the wheel-house, and in a moment the machinery stopped.  The last hope had left us—­a wilder shriek rose upon the air.  At this moment the second engineer, the one at the time on duty, who had stood by his machinery as long as it would work, was seen climbing the gallows-head, a black mass, with the flames curling all around him.  On either side he could not go, for it was now one mass of fire.  He sprang upward, came to the top, one moment felt madly around him, and then fell into the flames.  There was no more remaining on board, for the boat now broached around and rolled upon the swelling waves, a mass of fire.  I seized upon a settee near me, and gave one spring, just as the flames were bursting through the deck where I stood—­one moment more and I should have been in the flames.  In another instant I found myself tossed on a wave, grasping my frail support with a desperate energy.”

One of the not least interesting facts connected with the catastrophe, was that the helmsman was found burnt to a cinder at his post.  He had not deserted it even in the last extremity, but grasped with his charred fingers the wheel.  His name was Luther Fuller.  Honor to his memory!

A boy of twelve years of age, named Levi T. Beebee, belonging to Cleveland, Ohio, was among those saved.  He exhibited a degree of self-possession and fortitude rarely surpassed.  Though molten lead from the burning deck was dropping on his head, and his hands were scorched by the flames, he clung for at least two hours and a half to the chain leading from the stern to the rudder.

CONFLICT WITH AN INDIAN.

David Morgan had settled upon the Monongahela during the early part of the revolutionary war, and at this time had ventured to occupy a cabin at the distance of several miles from any settlement.

One morning, having sent his younger children out to a field at a considerable distance from the house, he became uneasy about them, and repaired to the spot where they were working.  He was armed, as usual, with a good rifle.  While sitting upon the fence and giving some directions as to their work, he observed two Indians upon the other side of the field gazing earnestly upon the party.  He instantly called to the children to make their escape, while he should attempt to cover their retreat.