JUST as all the losses of life at Johnstown will never be accurately known, so there will probably never be an end of telling heroic, pathetic, or other incidents of the great flood.

    One of the characters of Johnstown who did not drown is little Joe Dickson, the fifteen-year old newsdealer. A few days before the flood he purchased a news-stand of his own for one dollar and fifty cents, and thought his fortune already made. A stout friend picked him up and carried him to a place of safety when the wave swept over the town. From where he stood he could see his one dollar and fifty cents business going up in the air, stock and all. His father was drowned, his mother badly injured, and all that the family owned was destroyed. Their sole dependence now is upon little Joe, who is already trudging about peddling papers as contentedly as though he had never tasted the sweets of being an independent proprietor. He is actively at work, however, disputing for a share of the business with the only firm of regular newsdealers that survived the flood, and expects to be ready to start up a store of his own as soon as the town is rebuilt. He is short and stout, wears knickerbockers yet, looks about twelve years old, and talks business with the dignity and ease of a man of mature years. He laughs about the way his one dollar and fifty cents flew up in the air when the water struck it, but adds more soberly:

    “I've got to fix it somehow to do more business than I used to, father being dead and they all depending on me, you know.”

    People who noted the time of the breaking of the dam and of the arrival of the flood at various points have been comparing notes to ascertain the velocity of the first wave. They figure out that the wave covered twelve miles from the dam to Johnstown in seventeen minutes. As its speed must steadily have increased from the time it left the dam, it is probable that when it struck Johnstown it was going at the rate of a mile a minute. Its point then bristled with houses, trees, and other heavy debris, and it is a wonder that it did not smash everything before it. It is about agreed that the flood came in three great surges, two following the first wave, before it settled to the steady torrent which it maintained for fully an hour. Estimates of the height of the wave vary from thirty to sixty feet. “It seemed as high as the mountains,” one man says, and another who saw it come around a bluff says that he thought the mountain was falling over. There were no water-marks left about the town from which the height can be told with any exactness, but in the Cambria Iron Works the water-mark is thirty feet high. This was after the crest of the wave had been broken by the bridge.

    Writing from Johnstown a few days after the flood, a Philadelphia Inquirer correspondent said: “A large crowd of people attracted my attention about six o'clock this evening on Main Street. On going closer I noticed that a number of men and women were surrounding a dog on which each and every one of the crowd was anxious to lavish attention and endearing terms more appropriately bestowed upon a favorite child than upon an animal.

    “ 'Come here, Romeo, my noble old dog!' said one woman.

    “ 'Give me a kiss: there is a dear.' 'Ah! Romeo,' said another, 'it was a pity Johnstown had not more such noble creatures as you are, and there would not be so many people dead here now.'

    “The dog, a beautiful water spaniel, whose fur was clipped so as to give him the appearance of a miniature lion, stood as quiet and dignified among the people as if he understood each word addressed to him, taking the evidences of appreciation as matters of course which he had every right to expect. Soon I understood what it all meant.

    “Romeo belonged to Mrs. C. F. Kress, of Washington Street, Johnstown. Last Friday, the day the flood-gates of the South Fork reservoir broke loose, the lady went to the house of her sister, Mrs. A. C. Kress, on Main Street, taking the dog with her. While there the awfully disastrous waters came sweeping down upon them from Conemaugh, so that all the people in the house were compelled to get upon the roof. There were seven in the party, and Romeo made a good eighth.

    “But soon the terrible waves and floating debris raised horrible havoc with the buildings. Suddenly a big wave dashed upon the roof. Mrs. C. F. Kress was knocked off her place of refuge and rapidly floated along with the wild stream. No human being attempted to jump after her to make an effort for her rescue, because the surging flood had already dragged her beyond all human reach. But Romeo, the lady's dog, forgetful of his own danger, had apparently been expecting what was coming.

    “The waters had no more than closed above the sinking lady when the dog jumped after her, and when her dress appeared again above the surface he immediately grasped it between his teeth. It was a heavy burden, but the animal seemed to made a double effort. Holding the dress in his mouth he gently but firmly pushed her forward through the waters toward a frame house, which was still defying the waves. Romeo's noble efforts proved successful, and in a few moments Mrs. Kress was able to lay hold of one of the spars on the frame house and drag herself into comparative safety.

    “But alas! it was only temporary safety. Even before the woman had realized her escape the devastating waves came mountain high, rushing against the frame house. This time the building could not withstand. With a terrific crash the wooden walls seemed to be bursting apart, and once more the woman and her dog were at the mercy of the flood.

    “ The noble brute, however, was not to be daunted. Again he clung to his mistress very closely, not as if he were to rescue her from a watery grave, but as if his whole life depended upon her safety. Constantly swimming by her side while she was borne upon the current, he contrived to keep her head above water so as to prevent her drowning. For over half an hour the dog battled with the waves for her preservation. His noble faithful endurance was at last rewarded. He succeeded in directing his valued burden toward Alma Hall, and here Mrs. Kress was pulled out of the water.

    “As she reached the roof unconsciousness overcame her, and during all that time Romeo, who seemed to think the woman dead, barked and howled in the most frantic manner. Only her returning breath pacified him, and then he quietly and contentedly lay down at her feet.

    “This was the story gleaned from the people surrounding the dog, and when I called to see Mrs. Kress at her sister's home, she verified every particular of the above.