No prophecies were uttered when it all began, when the wind blew and the rain descended on the plains. No dire predictions augured the disaster; no omens hinted at a catastrophe of epic proportions. But for a month, the sky has fallen, bit by bit and drop by drop, and the waters have gathered on the face of the earth to flow into the river; and now it has risen up and rolled onward like an ocean on the march, capturing farmland and township, bridge and barge.
The flood does not discriminate. Among its detritus are picnic tables and automobiles, tree...
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