Fulfillment of the Judge's prophecies seemed immediate and certain. Then,
as mysteriously as they had come, the boom days departed. The mills,
factories and shops that were going to be, established themselves
elsewhere. The sound of the builder's hammer was no longer heard. The
Doctor says that Judge Strong had come to believe in his own prediction,
or at least, fearing that his prophecy might prove true, refused to part
with more land except at prices that would be justified only in a great
metropolis.

Neighboring towns that were born when Corinth was middle-aged, flourished
and have become cities of importance. The country round about has grown
rich and prosperous. Each year more and heavier trains thunder past on
their way to and from the great city by the distant river, stopping only
to take water. But in this swiftly moving stream of life Corinth is
caught in an eddy. Her small world has come to swing in a very small
circle--it can scarcely be said to swing at all. The very children stop
growing when they become men and women, and are content to dream the
dreams their fathers' fathers dreamed, even as they live in the houses
the fathers of their fathers built. Only the trees that line the unpaved
streets have grown--grown and grown until overhead their great tops touch
to shut out the sky with an arch of green, and their mighty trunks crowd
contemptuously aside the old sidewalks, with their decayed and broken
boards.

Old Town, a mile away, is given over to the negroes. The few buildings
that remain are fallen into ruin, save as they are patched up by their
dusky tenants. And on the hill, the old Academy with its broken windows,
crumbling walls, and fallen chimneys, stands a pitiful witness of an
honor and dignity that is gone.