In modern life and experience there has been no near
parallel to the catastrophe, of Tuesday, January 10th, 1860,
when this mill, in full operation, fell in a moment without
warning, in an indescribable and utter ruin. On that
memorable day an observant citizen was walking on Canal
street at 4.45 o'clock p.m. As he stood before this modern
mill he saw it outlined against the winter sky, a perfect,
complete and symmetrical whole. Within its walls, six
hundred and seventy people were working, each with his or
her duties, hopes and expectations. . . .He had not gone six
rods away when there was a roaring sound, a tremor of the
earth and a simultaneous crash. He turned and saw in
place of the stately walls that stood but a moment before
perfect in every outline, only a mass of ruins, shapeless
and huge, from which bewildered men and women were
here and there escaping, some unhurt, some wounded and
bleeding...
The tidings flew like wildfire throughout the city and,
without delay a sturdy corps of volunteer mechanics and
workers, of every occupation, covered the ruins, clearing
away the debris and rescuing those confined therein.