Another had been waiting for a wife and child. He came and found them dead. The dread reality was worse than the worst of fears. But the morning came. The friends at Cleveland hastened to the cars at an early hour thinking to take them and reach the spot by 9 o’clock, but at the hour assigned the train delayed. Those who were warned of the wreck by the morning papers also went to the depot, but they could not go. Women, whose husbands were on the fatal train, were there and became anxious to start, but the train delayed. The fathers, whose sons were wounded, became uneasy at the delay. Business men, who knew that their partners were among the lost, wondered at the long delay. Mothers, whose little children were among the dead, also were sick at heart; but the train delayed. The suspense became too much to bear; the train delayed. The agony increased; some fainted in their seats, and were taken to the air; the feeling became intense; that busy depot became a house of weeping; sorrow was depicted on every face. Sympathy moved the hearts of strangers; those gloomy walls became a prison to the heart; those heavy columns and lofty arches seemed draped with mourning; the iron roof seemed filled with bars; it was a castle of despair. Even the stir and confusion of the place mocked the grief. Never was that place so full of sorrow; the train delayed. Some returned to their homes and again came down. The city was moved; the fact became known upon the streets; excitement even entered the business circles, yet the train delayed. A young man lay in the Culver House; his face was deathly pale, his breathing labored. He was slowly dying. The father was in that train, delayed, and became very anxious; he was wealthy and offered money. Yes, the expense of the train he was willing to pay, but the train delayed. At last, when patience was almost exhausted, and the feeling was so intense, and the night began to darken, the train moved out. The suspense was relieved, but the time was still too long, and the distance great. They arrive at last. The son is dead. He breathed his last among the wounded. Strangers were there to lay him out, but the friends could only bury him.