The shock of collision was fearful. Two noble engines were almost entirely demolished, the "171" and "237." The tender of the "171" was heaved upon end, hurling its load of wood into the cab, effectually walling in both engineer and fireman against the hot boiler, and crushing them terribly. Both were found standing at their post, dead. This was the train carrying the prisoners. The first two or three cars were box freight cars, and their frail frames were crushed like rushes. Only one man was saved from the forward car. In the others very many were wounded, and scarcely a car escaped without being crushed. The most industrious endeavors were at once put in requisition to relieve the mangled beings in the wreck. But it was slow work, and their sufferings were intense. As fast as possible the wounded were carried to Shohola, and the dead placed beside the road. On the bank, near the engines, lay some twenty-five rebel dead -- many mangled past recognition. Another squad, of as many more, lay further down the road; and still further, wrapped in blankets, lay fourteen of the guard -- their duty done forever. Viewed by moonlight, and with lantern, it was a ghastly and horrible sight, although kindly hands had done much, by coverings of leaves, &c., to relieve the horror of the scene and the ghastliness of the dead. As we left, MR. McCORMICK, wood agent and paymaster of the Delaware division, had arrived with pine boxes for the burial of our own dead. This morning all were buried on the spot, and the graves marked for future recognition. The rebel dead were also decently interred in pine boxes.