I 
Written for Moore's Rural New-l’orker. 
THE GREAT FLOOD ON THE GENESEE 
BY ONE WHO TOOK PART IN IT. 
% & 6 
I 
descended in surging tides upon the doomed 
plains below ! Rising higher and higher, and 
higher, from eastern hills to western, one great 
sea of waters bears on its mad waves large irregu¬ 
lar pieces of icc, trees of the forest, the wreck 
of bridges and buildings, fences, Stooks of corn, 
sheaves of wheat, every variety of farm imple¬ 
ments, household furniture, ascumulatcd rub¬ 
bish— the sweepings of the great valley by the 
bosom of destruction. The inhabitants,'driven 
to their houses, and then to their chambers, see 
with consternation the still rising waters, and 
begin to doubt whether anything will withstand 
the wild riot, of the elemonts. 
Having a’valuablc flock of sheep in the Valley, 
opposite Moscow and about four miles below 
Mt. Morris, I went on Thursday morning to look 
after them. On reaching the Valley, which was 
here about two miles wide, not one foot of land 
was visible from one side to the other. Large 
numbers of people were viewing from the high 
lands the scene of desolation. I was at ouce 
greeted upon my arrival with the announcement 
that my sheep had in all probability “gone 
down stream." I expressed a hope that they 
were safe, os I had directed them to bejput in 
the barn in the event of a flood. “ Your barn 
floor is at least two feet under water," said a 
friend who owned a farm just opposite. “ I 
will see," said I, heading my horse towards the 
flood. “But you can’t get there," he replied. 
“I will try it," said I, and went in. 
Mounted on a spirited and powerful horse, for 
more than a mile I waded and swam, sometimes 
through powerful currents, till I reached the 
barn, where my sheep greeted my eyes, all safe! 
The grouud was a little elevated where the barn 
stood, and the floor was raised some three feet 
above the grouud, and the water Just even with 
the door. I fed tho sheep as well as t heir crowded 
quarters admitted, when Mr. Pickard ami Mr. 
Emory’ came to me In a boat, having Just been 
to the residence of Maj. Jones to offer assistance 
to his family, who had taken refuge in their 
chambers, their lower floors being move than 
three feet under water, and their woodshed 
swept away. They declined taking passage in 
the boat, thinking the house quite as “ sea¬ 
worthy " as the frail craft, tossed by the waves 
and swept by the currents. I took passage, and 
we were soon at Mr. Emory’s hospitable man¬ 
sion, where I spent the night, aud slept sound, 
in spite Of raging waters ou every side. 
In the morning Messrs. Pickard and Emory 
were preparing to take me back to the barn, 
when Mr, Pick Alto’s corn-house was observed 
going down stream. I advised them to go and 
tie up the run-away concern, and I would take 
another boat, which was at hand, and go and 
spend the day with my sheep. They left In haste, 
aud I saw no more of them till afternoon. 
Taking the other boat, I started for the barn, 
about half a mile distant. 1 soon discovered 
that 1 had a high wind, a rough sea, aud strong 
currents to contend with; and besides that, I 
was neither a swimmer nor a boat-man. Pulling 
6trong at tho oars, I got about half way to the 
barn, when a furious blast drove the waves into 
my boat, which rodo very low iu the waters. 
Fearing it would sink, I began to bail out the 
water, when a wave lifted oue of the oars from 
its socket, and before 1 could grasp it, it was be¬ 
yond my reach. I involuntarily east my eyes 
down stream to sec where I was drifting, for I 
saw at once that I was at the mercy of the waves. 
Just above me the river makes a sudden turn, 
and right where I was It threw u strong current, 
threatening to cut a new passage—down this I 
was drifting rapidly toward the main channel 
where the force of tho waters was terrific, A 
little below mo were some trees. “ If I can but 
reach oue of them," thought I; but the boat 
was nearly lull of water, and with oue oar 1 Could 
control It but little—with my utmost strength I 
could not strike the body of the tree. There is 
another chance—perhaps I can seize one of its 
drooping branches. I rose with a vigorous bound 
and grasped a limb which felt pleasant to my 
touch. Dead and rotten it gave way, and I felt, 
as never before, how uncertain are the things of 
earth. A moment after I sought to arrest my 
progress by seizing the tops of a young apple 
tree, when the waters closed over the boat. In 
an instant I sprang toward the tree 1 had just 
passed, uncertain whether I could touch bottom, 
or whether the surging waters would sweep tne 
away. We were evenly matched, and lor a mo¬ 
ment it seemed a doubtful struggle butwoen the 
waves and me. By a desperate effort, I advanced 
a pace or two where the waters were less deep, 
and I approached the tree which seemed to reach 
dowu its lriendly branches to greet and save me. 
No sooner had 1 'got a Arm foothold ou oue of 
its limbs, than I looked rouud to see what were 
my chances to escape. No living thing could I 
see, but around me, and on every Bide were 
muddy w aters tossed by the winds, and rushing 
forward as if driven by the furies. 
Concluding that It would be mere ehauce 
whether 1 wou’d bo discovered that day, I de¬ 
termined at once to conquer tho main difficulties 
of my position, and prepare to stay as long ns 
the occasiou required, without danger or ex- 
FLOOD AT ROCHESTER, N. V.—STREET VIEW, LOOKING WEST FROM EAST END OF MAIN STREET BRIDGE 
treme discomfort. Placing my foot in a crotch 
of the tree—doubtless the original boot jack—I 
drew my boots and liung them in the branches, 
legs downward ; then taking off my garments I 
wrung them by placing one end under my foot 
and giving such a twist as few washer-women 
are capable of, handling and fastening them with 
great care—for I would not have exchanged a 
stocking for a sheep, precious as my Merinos 
seemed to me a little while before. 
Having made my toilet as expeditiously as my 
unique dressing room permitted, I found myself 
well chilled from toy ice water bath, and the cold 
winds, now at their height. 
The main part of the water removed from my 
garments, I now determined to make myself 
comfortable by violent exercise, so I bold to a 
limb above me, and jumped up and down in a 
most violent manner; then I would stretch 
out ono log behind me and shake it furiously, 
then the other, then jump again, and so on till 
I had attained a condition of comparative com¬ 
fort. There is little in this world that will not 
yield to a firm resolve, to a vigorous effort. 
I had now abundant opportunity for observa¬ 
tion aud reflection. I looked into the muddy 
waters beneath me, and thought what a pity so 
much precious soil should be carried to the 
ocean’s depth. Why not by strong embankments 
detain a good share of these waters near their 
source, and save this soil to fertilize the fields 
now swept and impoverished to till the caverns 
of lakes and ocean. Depend upon it, every gallon 
of these spring floods that you can detain upon 
pastures aud meadows, is a gain you can ill af¬ 
ford to lose/ Detaining them you diminish the 
flood. Theu I was theologically inclined, aud 
reasoned that the earth, in its present form at 
least, was a new thing, for if It was uncreated 
aud eternal, before this, the mountains would 
have washed into the sea. Then I saw a hawk, 
the first living object, sitting among the bushes 
aud peering feloniously about. “ Ah! ’’ said 1, 
“you remind me of human kind, who turn the 
wreck of fortunes to their own account." Then 
I saw a hay-stack riding majestically down, and 
wished myself aboard. Theu I thought that 
every body, taking warning by my sad example, 
Should learn how to swim aud row a boat, and 
afterwards — keep clear away from tho water! 
Then I wondered how all this water would get 
post Rochester. 
Then I canvassed the chances for getting off’. 
My chief hope was from ray friends who follow¬ 
ed off' the corn house; I could see that at an¬ 
chor, but no boatmen. I concluded that they 
had gone, as they had been talking of doing, to 
Mr. Pickard’s residence near Moscow, and per¬ 
haps would not come back in a way to discover 
me during the day. Still I was perfectly com¬ 
posed, and was determined to make my stay 
as comfortable as possible. With little poetry 
or sentiment about me, the scene was really in¬ 
spiring, and certainly novel. 
Alter awhile I saw a boat leave the Cylerville i 
bridge, about half a mile from me, and I hoped 
I was discovered. No,—it went to look after 
Farmer Abel's live stock. Then I saw another 
boat, but it went the other way. Then I saw a 
boat, painted red, gliding swiftly over the waters, 
aud I hoped again; but the dexterous oarsman 
ran too far toward the west, and my rising for¬ 
tunes were down again. See, it bears a little 
toward me, aud a little morel it comes to the 
side of a barrack for bay. The font man with one 
hand holds fast to rest hims'df, and with the 
other swings his hat, looking toward me. I 
swing mine iu reply, assured that deliverance is 
at hand! Running to the westward to get into 
stiller waters, and passing a little above, he at¬ 
tempts to drop down the eurrtnt to where I was 
but is carried some way s below; he tries the 
other side, directing me to lower myself to the 
waters edge, prepared to hold the boat if he 
reached me. He reaches'nn-, and I hold the 
boatThen I jump in, and we drop down to 
the Cylerville bridge. The daiiug boatman was 
Stephen Emory, who went in pursuit of the 
corn-house, and was unable to return against the 
winds and tides and took refuge in a barrack be¬ 
low, from which ho saw my boat go down the 
current, for it rose again as soon as I leaped from 
it. Looking around to see what had become of 
me, he saw me in the tree, and went for a light¬ 
er and more manageable boat with which to res¬ 
cue me. The owner very kindly' lent him the 
boat, but feared the wind was too high and the 
curreut too strong to reach me. Arriving safe 
at Mr. McNacguton's at 2 o'clock, 1 was gen¬ 
erously furnished with dry clothes, a warm 
room, and a good dinner to which I did ample 
justice. Emory declaring that I was as cool a 
man in danger as it had been his fortune to 
meet. 
About sun down the wind subsided. We went 
to the barn and fed the sheep, and returned to 
Mr. Emory’s to find that Mrs. Emory had seen 
me swept down by the current, rise in the boat, 
and then disappear from hci view. Filled 
with apprehension, she looked lor me, though 
a stranger, during the whole day, iu her anxiety 
taking uo food. Mysterious huinau sympathy ! 
Thou art indeed a power upon the earth!—at 
bottom stronger than all selfish instincts, and all 
by no means an unusual occurrence in the past, 
no great anxiety was felt regarding other por¬ 
tions of the city. Early in the same evening 
however, the water began to pour down the 
pavements, and a few merchants on State street 
and elsewhere, becoming alarmed,;removed their 
goods to the upper stories. By midnight the 
waters were rushing in an angry torrent across 
Main street bridge, and early on Saturday morn¬ 
ing the flood had reached Us height. At this time 
State street was navigable for rafts and lighter 
crafts for nearly half, aud Buffalo street for quite 
a quarter of a mile. This comprises only that 
business portion of the city which was su’ merg¬ 
ed. In the out-iyiDg districts in the 9th, Sd, 4th 
and other wards, quite as large a territory, here 
and there, was inundated, and much suffering 
and loss of property ensued. In many cases 
families had to retire to the upper apartments 
of their dwellings and live on scant “ rations" 
until relief reached them. 
We cannot, iu the brief space accorded us, 
hope to give our readers an extended account of 
the incidents of this inundation; and moreover 
it is not necessary to attempt it, as its history in 
detail has been scattered by onr daily local press 
all over the land ; but we present what we hope 
will be quite as acceptable — accurate illustra¬ 
tions ot some of its scenes. 
The first engraving gives a street view in the 
submerged business part of the city, aud looks 
through Buffaio street west, from the east end of 
l Main street bridge. The haudsome block of 
| buildings on the right, and in the immediate 
foreground of the picture, are built, as some of 
| our readers are aware, upon arches, directly over 
the bed of tho river. The rear walls of several 
of these bnildings were swept away by the cur¬ 
rent; aud when the flood had subsided, large 
logs and other ponderous floating matter brought 
! down from the Valley above, were stranded, high 
aud dry upon the bridge, in the very heart of our 
business locality. From the spot where this 
view was taken, it would be impossible to give 
an adequate idea of the extent of the damage 
caused ou Front street—the first street on the 
right in tho illustration — that part of the city 
which suffered most severely from this calamity. 
Here the water was iu places twelve feet deep, 
with a current like that of a mountain torrent. 
The foundations of whole blocks of Buildings 
upon the east side of the street were partially 
undermined by the weight and force of tho wa¬ 
ter, while the pavement and earth were torn up 
to the depth of several feet, exposing the gas 
mains aud great portions of the sewer. The in- 
; undation extended, in the direction indicated by 
organized wrongs! Thou shalt yet reconcile 
diseorduut elements, and blend into harmony 
the alienated brotherhood of man! 
On Saturday the waters went down rapidly, 
and as the sun shone forth on the pleasant Sab¬ 
bath morning, the laud was mostly visible, the 
fowls left their hiding places, the cocks crowed, 
the crows went forth on foraging expeditions, 
large flocks of wild ducks sailed the air and 
lighted iu the pools aud on the ground, horse¬ 
men went forth on tours of observation, aud all 
Nature seemed Itself again. n. t. b. 
THE GREAT FLOOD IN THIS REGION 
In our issue of March 25th, will be found an 
account of the greatest flood which was ever 
known tc visit this locality. It commenced up 
the Valley of the Genesee on Thursday the 16th 
of March, and reached its height here on Satur¬ 
day forenoon. 
The Genesee river overflowed its banks for 
miles, and at Scottsvile, eleven miles south of 
this city, aud up the river, the water rose three 
feet higher than ever before known. Great des¬ 
truction was caused in the Valley above us, and 
a large portion of our own city was submerged 
at a frightful cost of property destroyed aud 
swept away. The river poured its floods over 
Main street bridge and through the alley oppo¬ 
site Front street; and the Erie aud Genesee Val¬ 
ley Canals, overflowing their banks, added their 
turbid contents to the “ waste of waters," which 
made Rochester for the time appear like another 
Venice. This city, as is well known, is bisected 
as it were, by the Genesee river; and for two 
days aud nights we were literally aud emphati¬ 
cally a divided community. On Saturday morn¬ 
ing, the ISth, two immense crowds of people 
might have been seen, one just east of the bridge 
ou Main street, and the other west of Washing¬ 
ton ou Buffalo street, anxiously gazing acress 
the Intervening waters. A ferry had been tem¬ 
porarily established between the National Hotel 
and Savings Bauk on the corner of Buffalo and 
Fitzhugh streets, and passengers were being con¬ 
veyed to and fro. Crafts of various descriptions, 
hastily improvised to meet the emergency, were 
moving about iu a lively manner, and here and 
there horsemen might he seen picking their way 
where the water was not too deep nor the cur¬ 
reut too strong. It was a scene which, it may 
well be imagined, had its ludicrous as well as its 
serious aspects. 
The water began to rise iu the cellars on Front 
steeet early Friday afternoon; but as this had been 
FLOOD AT ROCHESTER, N. Y. — VIEW ON THE GENESEE RIVER, LOOKING OVER ANDREWS STREET* BRIDGE. 
