The True Story of Our National Calamity of Flood, Fire and Tornado - Logan Marshall

WHERE THE NATION'S SYMPATHIES ARE CENTERED

I	The Greatest Cataclysm in American History	[11]
II	The Death-Bearing flood at Dayton	[23]
III	Dayton's Menace of Fire And Famine	[36]
IV	Dayton in the Throes of Distress	[55]
V	The Recuperation of Dayton	[74]
VI	Dayton: "The City of a Thousand Factories"	[104]
VII	The Devastation of Columbus	[110]
VIII	Columbus: the Beautiful Capital of Ohio	[138]
IX	Cincinnati: A New Center of Peril	[142]
X	The Flood in Western Ohio	[152]
XI	The Flood in Northern Ohio	[163]
XII	The Flood in Eastern Ohio	[169]
XIII	The Flood in Eastern Indiana	[179]
XIV	The Desolation of Indianapolis and the Valley of the White River	[184]
XV	The Roaring Torrent of the Wabash	[191]
XVI	The Plight of Peru: A Stricken City	[197]
XVII	The Death-Dealing Tornado at Omaha	[204]
XVIII	Struggles of Stricken Omaha	[212]
XIX	Omaha: "The Gate City of the West"	[217]
XX	Other Damage From the Nebraska Tornado	[220]
XXI	The Tornado in Iowa and Illinois	[225]
XXII	The Tornado in Kansas and Arkansas	[228]
XXIII	The Tornado in Indiana	[231]
XXIV	The Tornado in Pennsylvania	[239]
XXV	The Freak Tornado in Alabama	[243]
XXVI	The Flood in New York	[246]
XXVII	The Flood in Pennsylvania	[254]
XXVIII	The Flood in the Ohio Valley	[263]
XXIX	The Flood in the Mississippi Valley	[270]
XXX	Damage To Transportation, Mail and Telegraph Facilities	[277]
XXXI	The Work of Relief	[285]
XXXII	Previous Great Floods and Tornadoes	[294]
XXXIII	Lessons of the Cataclysm and Precautionary Measures	[308]

The Unleashed Gods By Percy Shaw Iron and rock are our slaves;
We are liege to marble and steel;
We go our ways through our purse-proud days,
Lifting our voices in loud self-praise—
Forgetting the God at the wheel.
We build our bulwarks of stone,
Skyscraper and culvert and tower,
Till the God of Flood, keen-nosed for blood,
Drags our monuments into the mud
In the space of a red-eyed hour.
Kings of the oceans are we,
With our liners of rocket speed,
Till the God of Ice, in mist-filled trice,
Calls to us harshly to pay his price
As we sink to the deep-sea weed.
Muscle and brain are our slaves;
We are liege to iron and steel;
But who shall say, tomorrow, today,
That we shall not halt on our onward way
To bow to the God at the wheel?

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