Page:The Wreck of a World - Grove - 1890.djvu/88

72 last night on the American Continent was hot and oppressive. I lay awake hour after hour, thinking over the strange fate that had befallen our country, and forecasting the destinies of the little remnant of which I was leader. America was become a geographical expression. Her amazing wealth and fame were no more:—

But even as these sad words crossed my mind there came by way of contrast and consolation others more cheering:—

So was it written of the old House of Judah, and was it not possible that after a more complete and terrible uprooting our national vine might have a still more glorious renewal than they? As I pondered these things and thought how we were about to commit the whole population of a continent to three frail undermanned ships, I trembled