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An hour agone, and prostrate Nature lay, Like some sore-smitten creature, nigh to death, With feverish, pallid lips, with laboring breath, And languid eyeballs darkening to the day; A burning noontide ruled with merciless sway Earth, wave, and air; the ghastly-stretching heath, The sullen trees, the fainting flowers beneath, Drooped hopeless, shrivelling in the torrid ray: When, sudden, like a cheerful trumpet blown Far off by rescuing spirits, rose the wind, Urging great hosts of clouds; the thunder's tone Swells into wrath, the rainy cataracts fall, But pausing soon, behold creation shrined In a new birth, God's covenant clasping all!

Galveston and Baltimore, not to mention Charleston, Boston and Chicago, showed the spirit of material resurrection in American communities, sore-smitten by calamity. After Galveston had been made a desert of sand and debris, there were predictions that it would never rise again. What was the outcome?

Like the rest of the sore-smitten and wounded world, he screamed to the sky for Justice, and, like the rest of the world, forgot or did not know that Justice is only a part of Truth, and therefore as far beyond man's reach as Truth itself. Justice can only be conceived by humanity, and that man should even imagine any abstraction so glorious is wonderful, and to his credit.

"Ah; war, war, what a hateful thing it is!" said Henriette to herself, looking out on the sore-smitten city.