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Updated: July 9, 2025
"Blair in Athol's mine, Jamie, Fair Dunkeld is mine, laddie; Saint Johnstown's bower, And Huntingtower, And all that's mine, is thine, laddie." "Very pretty," said Jim, "but you've mixed it, my dear. Jamie bestowed all his possessions on the lassie. You sang it the wrong way round." "No, no," cried Myra, eagerly. "There is no wrong way round.
The accounts contained in the foregoing chapters bring this appalling story of death down to June 4th. We continue the narrative as given from day to day by eye-witnesses, as this is the only method by which a full and accurate description of Johnstown's unspeakable horror can be obtained.
If the people who are on the outside and who are engaged in the labor of love of sending the food that is keeping strength in Johnstown's tired arms and the clothing that is covering her nakedness could understand the situation as it is they would redouble their efforts. Johnstown cannot draw on the country immediately around about her, for that was drained days ago.
John T. Crimmins reported that more than $70,000 had been received at the Mayor's office during the morning. He also reported that the Leake and Watts Orphan Asylum had offered, through the Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix, to take twenty-five of Johnstown's orphans, between the ages of five and twelve, and care for them until they were sixteen and then provide them with homes.
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