The Drowning of Lizzie Phelps

Miss Lizzie Phelps was the second daughter to a President of Hope College. She became a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania, where her life was cut short, along with several others, in a tragic flood. Her story appeared in De Grondwet, a Holland, Michigan Dutch-language newspaper on 25 June 1889. This is a full text of an English translation. 

An Episode from the Great Flood.

THE PARTICULARS OF THE DROWNING OF MISS LIZZIE PHELPS. HOW BRAVELY THEY SURVIVED THEIR DEATH.

Miss Lizzie Phelps, our former townswoman, the second daughter of the amiable and universally beloved Dr. Phelps, the former President of Hope College, was employed as a teacher in the family of Mr. George Youngman at Antes Fort, Lycoming Co., Pennsylvania.

George Youngman and his brother William lived near each other, about two hundred feet apart, on the banks of Antes' Brook, a mountain stream which rises from a plentiful spring in a narrow gorge only three miles distant. About a third of a mile from the Youngmans' homes was a dike, by which the waters of the stream were held up to furnish the motive power for a wool-spinning mill. George Youngman's family consisted of himself, his wife, and seven children, namely Mary 17 years old, Reynold 13 years old. Gardner 10, Ralph 8, Phebie 6, Charlie 3, and a baby four weeks old.

William Youngman's family consisted of himself, his wife, and two children, namely Walter 11 years old and a younger girl.

Miss Phelps taught the five eldest children of George, with Walter the son of William, and Hattie, the daughter of a neighbor.

On Friday the 31st of May the school-room in Geo. Youngman's house was closed with the usual simple religious service, and at 11 o'clock all went to bed. Besides the usual family, Miss Margaret Pfoutz, an old school friend of Mrs. Youngman's, and a cousin of Mrs. Youngman, named Emily Hull and 11 years old, so that there were twelve persons in the house that night, as the servants had left a few days before.

It had rained all day and the storm increased so much that Mr. Youngman could not sleep. About two o'clock in the morning he got up, dressed himself, putting on large water boots, lit a lantern and went outside to warn the families living further away. Not, however, because he feared danger to his life, as the dike had already been broken twice before, but the houses had remained unharmed.

After warning the others he returned along the bank of the stream to the bridge in front of his house, where he met his brother William and they stood together talking about the possible danger, when suddenly the bridge was swept away with a loud noise. They both then returned to their own homes, but just before he entered his house, William cried out, "George, the dike is broken!" to which George replied, "That is well, then the water will soon fall." He said this because such had always been his experience.

Entering the house, he found the whole family assembled in the parlor on the first floor, and he said, "The dike is broken, and the water will fall in ten minutes."

He immediately went out with his lantern, but found that the water, instead of falling, continued to rise. He did not understand this at the time, returned to his house, and went to the stable to look after his horse, when suddenly there came the first stream of a new flood between him and the stable. The dike was connected to the hill on that side by a natural embankment, and as the increasing mass of water washed over the earthy surface of it, it had gradually washed it away and cut a new channel, through which the stream rushed behind his house. This cut off all retreat to the hills, and the bridge fell before the house was washed away. Yet Mr. Youngman did not suspect any danger, as he hoped that the dike would give way entirely, in which case the water behind the house would soon be gone.

So when he re-entered his home, he renewed his assurance that there was no danger. But very soon the water began to fill the first floor, so that they all had to go upstairs to Miss Phelps' room, which was the safest in the house. It was on the side of the house farthest from the dike.

When they were here together, Miss Lizzie said, "We must all pray," and this she repeated several times during the long anxious interval, for they were a full hour in this sad place before the end came. Taking her Bible, she read aloud the second verse of the forty-third chapter of Isaiah: "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou passest through the fire, it shall not burn thee, neither shall the flame kindle thee." -- "Why, Lizzie," cried Mrs. Youngman, "did you just happen to open that place?" -- "No," replied Lizzie, "I knew where that verse was, and so I turned to it." -- "Oh, how comforting!" said Mrs. Youngman. "Yes," added Lizzie, "I have come through the fire (referring to her experience in the burning of Holland), and the Lord can carry me through the water also." The building was two stories high, with a one-story kitchen at the back and a T-shaped projection built on in front.

The flood rose rapidly, throwing pieces of wood of all kinds against the house until the kitchen was soon torn away, followed shortly afterwards by the piece built on in front. Throughout all this, Mr. Youngman says that Miss Lizzie remained perfectly calm. "This family," she said repeatedly, "will not be exterminated; I know it," and she added, "I shall see my poor sick mother again," which will now be spiritually fulfilled. It was an excellent family and it is not exterminated, and she will see her dear mother again in the blessed reunion.

When the house began to rock under the violence of the rising flood, Mr. Youngman felt it his duty to give a faithful account of the situation, and he said, "We must be prepared for the worst." His wife threw her arms around his neck and said, "George, are you ready to die?" -- "Yes, I am," he answered, "and I know you are." -- "Yes," added Miss Phelps, "I know you are ready, and we shall all be saved, I know it." His daughter Mary then embraced her father and cried, "Papa, we shall all go together!" -- "Yes," he answered, "but we must fight for our lives; take off all superfluous clothing." And at the same time he took off his heavy water boots, and his coat and scarf, and turned up his shirt sleeves. The boys did the same, and the rest also took off their superfluous clothing.

The upper part of the main building, against which the water was striking, was the first to yield to the storm and was broken to pieces, so that only the part which was occupied by that brave party on the second floor was left; it was a shelter with four walls, a floor and a loft. There was a desk in it with a marble slab on it, and as the remains of the building began to shake, Miss Phelps said, "That desk will fall on somebody: you better take it away." So Mr. Y. took off the marble slab, laid it on the floor and laid the desk backwards. Mr. Youngman related this afterward as an evidence of the calmness which Miss Lizzie displayed during the whole incident. "She displayed the courage of a hero," he said, "and she communicated it to others."

As the foundations of the house were washed away, the floor began to bow until it made an angle of nearly forty-five degrees. Mr. Youngman told them to lean in a corner of the room, out of danger from the chimney. Then the whole outer wall fell away, and as Saturday morning dawned they looked out upon the angry river. Not a sound was heard from this brave circle. The babe slept quietly in its mother's last embrace; little Charlie slept in his sister's arms, and the others looked death in the face, still as death, without a sob or a cry. A few more moments of anxious suspense--a violent jerk--and they were hurled into the flood, which seemed to await them, but out of reach of the crushing beams.

Mr. George Youngman is a large and powerful man, and an expert swimmer. Swimming, however, was impossible in such a boiling wave, but his skill gave him a certain confidence in the water. He at once succeeded in clinging to a piece of wood, and when he looked around, the only thing he saw was Miss Phelps' arm sticking out of the water. He tried with all his might to seize this arm, but a whirlpool carried it out of reach and out of sight. His son Reynold, aged thirteen, who could also swim, succeeded in getting on the same piece of wood as his father, and they both stood there to see the better, for the early morning was still dim. As the feeble support heaved, Mr. Y. put his hands on his son's shoulders to hold him up, but the latter cried out, "Never mind me, father, I can swim; look out for the others." In a few moments little Emily Hull came up, and Mr. Youngman pulled her out of the water with such force that she sprained her shoulder. After a short interval Miss Pfoutz appeared again, and he pulled her also onto the little raft. She was in an unconscious condition. Twice they both, Miss Pfoutz and Miss Hull, rolled off the raft into the water, and both times Mr. Youngman pulled them back on. He himself fell off twice, but regained his hold. The raft floated rapidly to a point where two projecting beams were fastened, one of which pushed Miss Pfoutz from her place, so that she sank, never to be seen again. Reynold was also pushed into the water by one of these beams, but he succeeded in getting on to another piece of wood, and stepping forward he fell through what had once been a window-pane, so that he was covered by the water for the third time. When he came up again, the current brought within his reach the foot of a bedstead, which he pulled himself up to, and with which he drifted down the stream and over a dike. A little farther on he perceived a large mass of broken cloth packed together, and knowing that if he struck it death would inevitably follow, he took a leap as he approached a tree, and though nearly senseless from the force with which he struck it, he managed to cling to it. It so happened that in a neighboring field a cottage had been overturned by the water, and two men had gone there in a boat to rescue the occupants. Hearing the noise in the tree, they rowed to it and rescued Reynold.

Young Gardner, 10 years old, could not swim, but he seized a piece of driftwood and drifted with it to a spot where the current met an obstruction, and remained there until he was brought off alive and well after a few hours.

The flood covered a large area, and was naturally less violent among the trees and undergrowth at some distance from the greatest depth, and when Mr. Youngman's raft came near the shore, he was able to reach safety there with his cousin Emily Hull, who had been saved by him.

Mr. William Youngman's house was broken up soon after that of his brother George. His wife and both children were killed. William Youngman himself was carried a considerable distance by the current, until he reached a tree, where he clung to the branches, and when he was found there thirty-two hours later, he was almost completely exhausted.

All the bodies were recovered, even that of the infant, and there was no sign of any injury to it in the collapse of the building. Of the eight who perished in George Youngman's family, Miss Phelps was the first to be found, after having been in the water for six or seven hours.

On the following Wednesday, June 5th, George Youngman's wife and five children were interred with Miss Lizzie Phelps in the family plot in Wildwood Cemetery, while religious services were held in the Presbyterian Church.

It was not until the same Wednesday that the family of Miss Phelps learned of her death. Her father was on a journey to the General Assembly when he picked up a newspaper at Albany and learned the sad news. Although the railroad had been interrupted, he and his eldest son reached Williamsport, Pennsylvania, on Thursday, June 6th, and they took with them the body of their dear one.

At Albany the funeral service was conducted by Dr. Dowling, the new Pastor of the Church of which Miss Phelps was a member, and by the Rev. Christian Van der Veen, who had known her from her childhood, and who paid a beautiful tribute to her virtues and her memory. She now rests in the family grave in the Rural Cemetery at Albany.

A bond of extraordinary attachment existed between Miss Phelps and her pupils. That bond even extended to the grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Youngman Senior, and Mr. and Mrs. Mahafy, the parents of Mrs. Geo. Youngman, and to all the blood relations. She devoted herself entirely to the interests of those entrusted to her, and after having been faithful to her humble duty, she was promoted young to the reward of heavenly grace.