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Page 66 TRAGEDIES OF THE
FOREST
into the Sandy Lick Valley, passing up the same to where the Borough
of Falls Creek is now located; thence across what is now known as
the Hopkins lands, and from thence onto the lands of John DuBois,
where it blew down a valuable lot of timber of all kinds.
"The path of the storm varied in width from one-fourth
to three eighths of a mile wide, and in some places it would
separate into two parts, and at some distance further on would come
together again, forming, like in a river, an island of several acres
in extent, wherein but very few, if any, of the trees would be blown
down.
"In other places the storm would rise into the air, for
some distance, leaving in its track a batch of timber undisturbed,
before coming down to earth again.
"Much, if not all, of the fallen pine was made into
square timber, and run to the Pittsburgh market, during the spring
of 1861 and 1862. The Civil War coming on, the market for timber was
very dull, and the price low, and much of the square timber was
disposed of at a loss.
"This fourth day of July was a very hot sultry day with
the air humid and close, with a weird darkness that came from the
storm, and the feeling that it engendered can only be realized by
those who have witnessed a total eclipse of the sun, at the time of
its totality.
From our vantage point on the Lines hill, we could see
the black storm cloud off to the southwest and west, from about ten
o'clock A.M., until about three P. M., at which time it passed to
the north of where DuBois is now located.
"For some time previous to the arrival of the storm at
the above named place, the air seemed overcharged with electricity
and was filled with vast quantities of floating leaves, and small
twigs off of oak trees, that had been borne from trees many miles
away. Frequently for some time thereafter, white oak shingles, and
pieces of oak clap-boards, with six penny iron nails in them, were
found in the fields in the vicinity of Luthersburg, and were
supposed to have been carried by the wind from Armstrong County.
"My brother, Boyd Kirk, was driving the stage during
the summer of 1860, and was on his way from Brookville to
Luthersburg, with five men and two women in the coach. At the Baum
Hotel, they could hear the roar of the oncoming storm. Not long
after passing this hotel, he soon saw that unless he made haste, the
storm would overtake him in the timber at the top of the hill west
of Reynoldsville. Realizing his danger he started the horses on the
run, and when they reached the top of the hill, the timber was
falling a short distance behind them. With the horses on a dead run
down the hill, the roar of the storm, and the men urging him to
drive faster, the women screaming, and the darkness so dense that
only when a flash of lightning came, he could see the horses and the
road. When he had reached the Reynolds Hotel, the women had fainted,
and the men were so
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