he streets were
flooded. Rushing rivers of muddy water roared over its cobble stones and
leaped down its steep hills into the yellow tide of the James.

Every flag drooped and flapped in dismal weeping against its staff. The
decorations of the houses and windows outside were ruined. The bunting
swayed and sagged in deep curves across the streets, pouring a stream of
water from the folds.

At twelve o'clock, the procession formed in the Hall of the Virginia
Legislature and marched through the pouring rain to the platform erected
around the statue of Washington. In spite of the storm an immense crowd
packed the space around the speaker's stand, presenting the curious
spectacle of a sea of umbrellas.

Socola watched this crowd stand patiently in the downpour with a
deepening sense of the tragedy it foreshadowed. The people who could set
their teeth and go through an inauguration ceremony scheduled in the
open air on such a day might be defeated in battle, but the victor would
pay his tribute of blood. He had not dared to ask Jennie to accept his
escort on such a day and yet they drifted to each other's side by some
strange power of attraction.

The scene was weird in its utter depression of all enthusiasm, and yet
the sullen purpose which held the people was sublime in its persistence.
An awning covered the speaker's stand and beneath this friendly cover
the ceremony was performed down to the last detail.

The President rose and faced his audience under the most trying
conditions. Oratory was beyond human effort. He did not attempt it. He
read his frank dignified address in simple, clear, musical tones which
rang with strange effect over the crowd of drenched men and women. Not a
single cheer broke the delivery of his address. He sought in no way to
apologize for the disasters which had befallen his people. He faced them
bravely and summoned his followers to be equally brave.

The close of his address caught the morbid fancy of Socola with peculiar
fascination. Clouds of unusual threatening depths were rolling across
the heavens, against which the canopied platform was sharply outlined.
The thin form of the President rose white and ghost-like against this
black background of clouds. He was extremely pale, his cheeks hollowed
deep, his head bared regardless of the chill mists which beat through
the canopy.

His tall figure stood tense, trembling, deathlike--the emblem of
sacrificial offering on the altar of his coun