midday
The days dawned lurid and long . The nights fell dewless and deadly . Fatal and beautiful colors lurked in the swamps , and in the sifting dust , fine and hard , blown by siroccos across the glare of noon , like sands on the shores of the Lake of Fire . The pestilence walked in darkness , and the destruction wasted at midday . Men died , in that little town of a few thousand souls , at the rate of a score a day -- black and white , poor and rich , clean and foul , saint and sinner . The quarantine laws tightened . Vessels fled by the harbor mouth under full sail , and melted like helpless compassion upon the fiery horizon .