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Title: Cottage scenes during the cholera

Author: William Isaac Coppard

Release date: January 1, 2022 [eBook #67063]

Language: English

Credits: Transcribed from the 1848 F. & J. Rivington edition by David Price. Many thanks to the British Library for making their copy available


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COTTAGE SCENES DURING THE CHOLERA ***


Transcribed from the 1848 F. & J. Rivington edition by David Price.  Many
thanks to the British Library for making their copy available.

                   [Picture: Plympton St. Mary Church]





                              COTTAGE SCENES
                                  DURING
                               THE CHOLERA.


                                * * * * *

                  BEING EXTRACTS FROM A DIARY WRITTEN IN
                          JULY AND AUGUST, 1832.

                                * * * * *

                                  BY THE
                        REV. W. I. COPPARD, M.A.,

         INCUMBENT OF PLYMPTON ST. MARY, DEVONSHIRE; AND DOMESTIC
                     CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF MORLEY.

                                * * * * *

                                * * * * *

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:
               F. & J. RIVINGTON; HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO.;
                       HATCHARD & SON; AND MASTERS;
              EXETER: H. J. WALLIS.  PLYMOUTH: R. LIDSTONE.

                                  1848.

                                * * * * *

    “TAKE HEED UNTO THYSELF, AND KEEP THY SOUL DILIGENTLY, LEST THOU
    FORGET THE THINGS WHICH THINE EYES HAVE SEEN, AND LEST THEY DEPART
    FROM THY HEART ALL THE DAYS OF THY LIFE.”

                                                              DEUT. IV. 9.




PREFACE.


IN compliance with the repeated request of some highly valued friends,
these Extracts are offered to the Public.  They possess no recommendation
beyond that of being a plain statement of facts, for the authenticity of
which, there are many living witnesses: and the writer of them humbly
prays that, by the blessing of God, they may contain some hints which
will be beneficial to his fellow-creatures.




INTRODUCTION.


THE Parish of Plympton St. Mary, at a distance of about four miles from
Plymouth, is bounded on the west by the river Plym.  From Long-Bridge,
which crosses the river, it extends eastward nearly six miles.  The
population, {1} at the time of the census of 1831, consisted of 2152, and
is scattered over an area of nearly thirty square miles.  Independently
of gentlemen’s seats, numerous farm houses, and small clusters of
cottages in isolated spots, there are seven villages within the parish;
viz., Ridgeway, Underwood, Colebrook, Hemerdon, Sparkwell, Venton, and a
part of Lee-Mill-Bridge, containing, upon an average, in each, from 150
to 300 inhabitants, chiefly agricultural labourers.

Near the western extremity, stands the venerable Parish Church, in a
picturesque valley, within a few hundred yards of the three first-named
villages.  Colebrook is on the lowest ground, adjacent to a small river;
Ridgeway is situated higher; and Underwood, the main scene of the
disastrous ravages of the cholera (having been nearly decimated out of a
population of 300, and where, at one time, 200 individuals were affected,
more or less, with symptoms of the fearful epidemic), lies east and west
on the north slope of a hill which rises above a valley {2} terminating
at the river Plym.  A small brook winds its way at the foot of the hill;
and a little stream, issuing from a spring which rises at the western
end, runs through a part of the village, in an open gutter on the side of
the road.

The poorer portion of the inhabitants are as well conducted and cleanly
in their habits as the generality of labouring people; and their
cottages, for the most part, are kept in a creditable condition.

The four last-named villages are at the eastern end of the parish, three
or four miles distant from the Church, and are situated on elevated
ground, bordering on the Moors.  The air in the neighbourhood is
considered to be very healthy.  No such density of population exists in
any one locality which might be supposed to produce a prejudicial effect
on the salubrity of the atmosphere.  Therefore, as far as local
advantages could be depended upon, every thing tended to encourage the
idea, that the parish was not so liable to be infected with the cholera
as many other places.

Up to the month of July, 1832, when that disease was making fearful havoc
at Plymouth and the adjoining towns, a flattering hope was still
entertained that, by the mercy of God, we should escape.  But it pleased
Him “who ordereth all things with infinite wisdom,” and “whose ways are
past finding out,” that it should be otherwise; and on the 13th of July,
the first instance of a case of the cholera in the parish, occurred at
Underwood.

It must not be supposed, however, that no precautionary steps had been
taken.  The great importance and necessity of sanatory measures had been
felt and acted upon in the neighbourhood, long before.  A public meeting,
especially convened for that purpose, was held at Ridgeway, on the 8th of
November, 1831.  The principal gentlemen of the parish were present.  A
Board of Health was formed; and the immediate attention of the board was
directed to the following objects:—

“1.  The state of the highways, dung pits, and gutters.
“2.  The state of the houses of the poor, as regards whitewashing,
ventilation, and bedding.
“3.  The providing common necessaries, and requisite medicines.
“4.  The engaging (provisionally, so as to be able to enter it at a
moment’s warning) a proper house, to be used as a hospital; or,
otherwise, to arrange with adjoining parishes for a joint occupation of
any such convenient building; so that the distance for the removal of the
sick should be as small as possible.
“5.  That two members of the board (to be arranged among themselves) do
daily take the duty of superintending the due execution of the above
regulations.
“6.  That a subscription be forthwith entered into for the above
purposes.
“7.  That the Rev. W. I. COPPARD be requested to act as treasurer and
secretary.”

A subscription was immediately raised; and the measure, as far as it was
practicable, was carried into effect under the superintendence of those
gentlemen who were members of the committee, at the villages which were
contiguous to their respective residences.

During the month of November, the poor who whitewashed their dwellings,
in compliance with the recommendation of the committee, were paid for the
time they had lost.  Lime was conveyed to their houses, and delivered to
them free of expense.  If unable to use the whitewash themselves, masons
were employed for them.

All heaps of manure, &c., which had been accumulated near
dwelling-houses, were removed; drains were cleansed, and some enlarged.
In several instances, blankets were supplied to those whose bedding was
in a bad state, or too scanty.

Thus far, sanatory measures were adopted more than eight months before
any symptoms of the disease appeared in the parish.

From this time to the month of July, 1832, it pleased God, in mercy, to
spare us.  The pestilence, however, was raging far and near.  The dark
and threatening cloud still lowered around.  But months passed on; until,
at last, it approached with awful warning.  Then “fearfulness and
trembling came upon us.”  And “in the time of trouble we called upon the
Lord.”  Then were acknowledged “the neglect of God’s ordinances, the
misuse of his bounties, and the offences which had been multiplied in the
land.”

As, long before this, temporal precautions had been resorted to, with the
hope that, under the blessing of God, they might be instrumental towards
the averting of the impending danger; so, trembling penitents also
sought, in humble prayer, the only effectual remedy to assist in setting
their spiritual house in order,—the merciful aid of a pardoning God,
through the merits and intercession of a crucified Saviour.  Humbled to
the dust, under a sense of sin and unworthiness, which now appeared in
fearful reality, they pleaded for mercy before the Throne of Grace,
comforted by the promise of their Heavenly Advocate, “Whosoever cometh
unto me, I will in no wise cast out.”  They fled in earnest to the “Rock
of Ages,” for shelter from the storm.  Having been thus prepared for the
approaching trial, when it did fall on them, they experienced a merciful
answer to their cry for help, and were supported in their last hour; for
the nearer death approached, it was, in numerous instances, met with
resignation, tranquillity, and peace.

When we ponder these things, and reflect upon the uncertainty of life,
whether exhibited in the ordinary or the extraordinary course of nature,
we cannot but feel how important it is to cherish within us a spirit of
watchfulness and prayer.  This, by the blessing of God, and the merits of
the Saviour, will disarm death of its sting, and dispel, or at least
mitigate, the fears which assail us in the time of danger.  Amidst the
varying scenes of life, this frame of mind carries a blessing with it;
and, when we are about to quit them, it will bring us peace at the last.

“Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is.”

“Blessed are those servants whom the Lord when he cometh shall find
watching.”

God grant that the recollection of the fearful events which the following
plain narrative recalls, may revive, and render permanent, not the
terrors of the mere outward circumstances, but the pious vows and
resolutions which accompanied them.

It may be necessary here to remark, in reference to the prominent
allusion, in the following pages, to the writer himself, that in the
details of a Diary it could not be avoided.  A panic had spread in the
neighbourhood, from a conviction that the disease was not only epidemic,
but contagious.  The consequence was, that all intercourse between the
inhabitants of other villages with Underwood, was either prohibited, or
avoided as much as possible.  As one proof of this, a servant in another
part of the parish, who went to Underwood to see a relation, at a house
where there was no sickness, was immediately discharged.

Thus the difficulty of obtaining assistance, and of providing nurses, was
lamentably increased.  The sick and dying, who had no one to help them,
sought their minister, as their only earthly friend: and in the closing
scenes of their existence, they called aloud for his presence.  Such an
appeal, both to the common feelings of humanity, as well as to one of the
highest obligations of a Christian minister, could not be otherwise than
irresistible.  There is nothing remarkable, therefore, in the
circumstance of a clergyman, residing close to the village afflicted with
such an awful visitation, having endeavoured to render all the assistance
in his power, independently of attending to the important duties of his
sacred office.  Who, among the clergy, would not have done the same, in a
similar case of emergency?  Many names are on record, of those who
exerted all their energies, in a manner far more valuable and important.

When we recollect the scenes at Bilston, Sedgly, Plymouth, and other
populous districts, where the epidemic spread among thousands, it is
evident that the labour and exertion of those whose duty called upon them
to attend the sick, must have been past description.  Few, under such
circumstances, had an opportunity of remaining any great length of time
to watch the progress of particular cases, or of taking minutes of them.
But where the disease was confined within narrower limits, and not more
than two or three hundred had been affected by it, the difficulty of
taking notes became proportionably less.  This has probably been done in
many instances, which, at present, have not been made known.  But it has
been strongly urged that the publication of them might be highly useful;
as an opportunity would be thus afforded for those who are the most
competent for the undertaking, to compare the details of variation of
character, which this extraordinary disease may have exhibited under
different circumstances; and by these means to arrive at some additional
conclusions as to how far it has resisted or yielded to the application
of particular modes of treatment.

The _Christian Observer_ (No. 381, Sept. 1833, page 511) expresses this
opinion in the following words:—

    “It might be well if clergymen, or other persons, would draw up a
    record of any remarkable circumstances, in their respective
    vicinities, connected with the visitation.  These local narratives
    would form valuable notices towards a history of this mysterious
    disease.

    “It would not be uninteresting to compare the memoranda, moral and
    physical, of an inland manufacturing town like Bilston, suffering
    under the affliction, with those of a scattered rural district, or a
    seaport population, such as that of Plymouth, which the disease
    visited with almost unexampled rigour.”




EXTRACTS FROM A DIARY,
&c.


1832, _July_ 13.  Mellonia Thorn (who came from Plymouth, where the
cholera was prevailing, on Wednesday, the 11th, in perfect health, to
Underwood, on a visit to her daughter, Mary Pepperall), after a few
hours’ illness, died this evening of that disease.  I called to see her,
but she was too near her end to derive benefit or consolation from any
one.

So sudden was the attack which seized this poor woman, that the greatest
dismay and confusion prevailed among the inmates of the house.  She rose
in the morning, apparently quite well, and was occupied during the day,
until three o’clock, p.m., in ironing her son’s linen.  About this time,
she complained of sickness, and in less than half-an-hour, other symptoms
of cholera followed with fearful rapidity.

While she was in this state, a neighbour called to see her, and advised
her to try the effect of _brandy_.  _Her friends followed this advice_,
_and gave her half a glass of brandy every ten minutes or quarter of an
hour_, _until she had taken half a pint_.

Between six and seven o’clock, Mr. Langworthy {14} arrived.  But the
second or cold stage had come on.  The poor woman was more tranquil than
she had been, but much exhausted, and harassed by continual thirst.  The
disease progressed so rapidly, that it baffled every effort to afford
relief.  Various remedies were tried, without the least effect.  A vein
was opened,—no blood flowed,—it was congealed,—and, gradually, between
nine and ten o’clock, the poor sufferer ceased to breathe.

The news of this fearfully sudden death soon spread through the parish.
Many a heart, with anxious throb, sickened under gloomy forebodings; and
many lips, hitherto unaccustomed to prayer, began to seek, through that
neglected resource, the mercy of God.

_July_ 14.  The funeral of Mellonia Thorn took place to-day.  The advice,
that as few persons as possible should be present, was strictly attended
to.  Two only, besides the bearers, were there! and, in the stillness of
a lovely summer eve,—no sound interrupting the sublime burial service of
our Church, and with an increased solemnity, consequent upon such an
awakening occasion,—the mortal remains of this first victim of the
cholera in our parish were consigned to the grave!

_July_ 27.  John Gulley, of Underwood, aged fifty-three, died this
afternoon.  He was unwell a few days; but thought that, as his
indisposition was unaccompanied by pain, it was of no importance.
Medical aid was not called in, until he had fallen into the second stage
of cholera; and he was rapidly carried off.

_July_ 28.  Having been informed that precautionary measures were much
required at the house where John Gulley died, I went there, enquired for
the family, and gave directions for fumigating the rooms, the use of
chloride of lime, &c.

When I quitted this house, some poor people implored me to go to Edward
Tretheway’s cottage (situate very near John Gulley’s), to see his
daughter, a little girl, ten years of age, who was “in a dying state.”
She was much beloved by the neighbours; and several women were standing
in groups about the house, anxiously enquiring about her.  She was also
an object of more than ordinary interest to myself, as she was one of the
best-behaved children in our Sunday School.

On entering the cottage, the alarm of the family was manifested in the
neglected state of every thing around,—tea-things scattered about the
table—the homely meal left half-finished—by the fire-side, a poor man was
endeavouring to pacify two or three frightened children—some women who
had called to assist their neighbour, stood aghast, incapable of doing
any thing.  The afflicted mother pointed to the stairs, and begged me
hasten to see the child before it was too late.  In the room above, the
scene was very affecting.  The poor little creature was on a bed, with
her clothes on, supported on her weeping father’s arm—her countenance
collapsed, and her hands characterized by all the signs of the second
stage of cholera,—no indication of pulse—scarcely a sign of life—from all
appearances, the disease had secured its prey.

That no time might be lost before the arrival of Mr. Langworthy, who had
been sent for, I recommended that she should be immediately undressed,
and placed between hot blankets; and I went home for some medicines, {18}
blankets, &c.  Mr. Langworthy came, and the application of friction was
adopted with apparent success, as indications of returning animation were
shortly visible, but not of warmth about the body.  On recovering her
recollection, and being timid of strangers, she could not be prevailed
upon to take any thing except from myself.  I left her for a short time,
to attend the funeral of John Gulley.  When I returned, a hot-air bath
had been procured, and a fair trial given to it; but the only effect
produced was a profuse, but cold, perspiration.  The harassing symptoms
of the disease were not subdued.  Every thing was tried which human aid
could suggest to relieve her, but she was rapidly sinking.

Mr. L. requested me to remain with her during his absence, which was
unavoidably prolonged two hours.  When he returned, she was sensible, and
free from pain; but no warmth could be produced.  About twelve o’clock,
her countenance suddenly resumed its natural appearance—her eyes, their
intelligence.  I took her hand, which she held out to me.  The icy chill
seemed to have yielded in a slight degree.  We thought the crisis was
over, and that she was on the recovery; but, in an instant—without a
sigh—without even a lengthened breath—her eyes were glazed! and her
gentle spirit winged its flight, I trust, to that blessed Lord, who said,
“Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such
is the kingdom of heaven.”

I called the parents aside, before they were conscious of what had
happened, and remained conversing with them, until their minds were
sufficiently tranquillized to offer up an evening prayer, in which all
the family devoutly joined; and at one in the morning, I concluded my
pastoral visit, sincerely sympathizing with that poor family.

_July_ 29.  Ann Tretheway, aged ten years, was buried.

_July_ 30.  Edward, the father of Ann Tretheway, taken ill.  Mr.
Langworthy having been sent for to attend another patient, in compliance
with his wish, and under his directions, I watched the case, as it was of
a serious nature, attended with incessant sickness, diarrhea,
considerable cramp, weakness, and slight discoloration of the fingers and
nails.

Five fresh cases reported.

_July_ 31.  All the patients going on favourably.

_August_ 1.  Edward Tretheway slightly salivated, but much better.  Very
sensible of the mercy he has experienced, and devoutly thankful.  May the
impression, arising from the death of their child, and the man’s own
recovery from the threatened danger, never be obliterated from the minds
of this family.

_August_ 2.  No new cases.

_August_ 3.  Several people came in the morning for castor oil, rhubarb,
&c.  Went to Venton and Lee-Mill-Bridge, to see some people who were ill.

_August_ 4.  At ten, a.m., sent for to William Williams, aged
thirty-nine, at Underwood.  His wife, in great distress, said he had been
very ill on the preceding day, and all the night.  _He had tried to stop
the pain in his bowels with hot brandy and water_, and peppermint; but he
had derived no relief.  After eighteen hours’ sickness, the medical
gentleman who always attended the family had been sent for.  When he
arrived, he did not consider the symptoms serious; but, being summoned to
a very bad case, he went away, merely ordering the patient to be kept
warm until his return.  He had been gone two hours; and during that
interval the poor man had fallen into the second stage of cholera.

Much valuable time having already elapsed, it was suggested that active
measures should be immediately commenced, to restore warmth, if possible.
Mustard poultices and friction, as in other cases, were then adopted.  He
was quite sensible; and, appearing somewhat easier, on being asked how he
felt, he shook his head, saying, “It is a bad business: I shall never get
over it.”  He had become much weaker, and was perfectly aware of his
danger.  It was proposed that we should again address ourselves, in
prayer, to the Throne of Grace.  This, he most earnestly desired; his
wife and aged mother, at the same time, kneeling by the bed, seeking
refuge where alone it could be found.  It was a sad and solemn scene,—no
ray of hope that he would recover.  These poor afflicted people, however,
derived much comfort from having thus lifted up their sorrowing hearts in
prayer to their God and Saviour; and they became more composed and
resigned.

As medical advice had been procured, we did not feel justified in having
recourse to other remedies than those of the simplest kind, our object
being merely to allay, or prevent, suffering.  When the medical attendant
returned, he was much surprised to find the disease had made such a rapid
and fatal progress.  He ordered the patient to be immersed in cold water.
This could be borne only one minute.  The poor creature was sinking; and
shortly afterwards he died.

The death of this man created great sympathy among the people of the
village; many with tears lamenting the sudden loss of a quiet and
respected neighbour.  At the same time, increased alarm became very
apparent throughout the little community around.

The neighbourhood was now considered to be infected with the awful
disease.  After the sad scene at this house, every precaution, to prevent
it from spreading, was promptly attended to.  Chloride of lime was
abundantly used, and the rooms were whitewashed.

On the opposite side of the road, a woman, named Honey, was labouring
under a serious attack of the disease.  Several persons, from different
houses, came to me and entreated me to step in, if only for one minute,
to see a husband, a wife, or a child, who were unwell.  This arose, not
only from an anxiety for spiritual comfort; but, in many instances, from
an apprehension of danger, on the least indication of indisposition, and
a wish to know how to proceed, if medical advice could not be immediately
obtained.

_Sunday_, _August_ 5.  As I passed through Underwood before the morning
service, I visited Michael Mc. Kenny, who had been taken suddenly ill
yesterday, whilst at work.  The disease was gaining ground—Mr. Langworthy
away from home, and his return uncertain; therefore, I adopted the same
course which he had previously recommended me to pursue under similar
circumstances.

A larger congregation than usual assembled at the Church, both parts of
the day; and, although our services are generally observed with strict
propriety, upon this occasion, a death-like stillness, and a marked
solemnity of deportment prevailed.  About double the usual number also
availed themselves of the opportunity of receiving the Holy Communion.
If the serious contemplation, that the fearful visitation, with which it
has pleased God in his infinite wisdom to afflict our land, has now
entered within the borders of our parish, and approached the threshold of
our own homes—if the awful and sudden death of our near neighbours has
awakened us to a sense of our mortality, and the uncertainty of our own
lives—if this has added to the number of sincere worshippers in the
sanctuary, and touched the hearts of the careless with a sense, not only
of the danger of the perishable body, but especially of their immortal
souls, thereby leading them to sincere repentance,—then this very
dispensation at the hand of God, though an affliction heavy to be borne
by poor, weak, sinful mortals, will be acknowledged to have been a
blessing in disguise; and, although a severe chastisement to hundreds, a
dispensation of mercy to tens of thousands.

May God, in mercy, hear the devout prayers of his people, which have been
offered up this day.

After the services were ended, two fresh cases were reported, at
Underwood.  At Hurrell’s cottage, which joins that where Williams died,
John Hurrell and his wife Jane, both aged twenty-seven, were in bed, very
ill, with undoubted symptoms of cholera.  At first, they expressed the
greatest terror; but, having raised their thoughts to Him who is “mighty
to save,” and being no strangers to religious habits, or the happiness
which ever accompanies the true Christian in the exercise of religious
duties, they soon became more tranquil, and could feel the truth of the
words, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee,
because he trusted in thee.”

Medical assistance had been obtained.  I was obliged to leave them for a
time to attend the funeral of Wm. Williams.

_August_ 6.  Called between five and six in the morning, to go to Hurl’s,
at Underwood.  The man and his wife were in great distress; their eldest
child, a fine boy, six years of age, being in a decided state of
collapse.  Before Mr. L.’s arrival, every thing requisite for such a case
of emergency was prepared; but the sickness, &c., was so incessant, and
the prostration of strength increased so rapidly, little hope could be
entertained of his recovery.  I endeavoured, as far as I could, to
comfort the afflicted parents.

At ten o’clock, went to John Andrews’s to see his daughter, whose
symptoms could not be mistaken.  As she had medical aid, I returned to
Hurl’s.  Mr. L. was there, and we both went to see West, who had been
unwell a few hours, but was becoming seriously ill.  Mr. L. took a very
small quantity of blood from him.  West then expressed a desire to avail
himself of the present opportunity to offer up a prayer to God.

We returned to Hurl’s.  The little boy was much worse; but quite
sensible, and very patient, though suffering much from cramp.  At twelve
o’clock, I went again to Andrews’s.  The little girl relieved as to
sickness, and other symptoms much mitigated.  Went home for medicines,
and was afterwards occupied at the houses of Hurl, Andrews, and West, all
near neighbours, until late in the afternoon.  At five o’clock, Hurl’s
child died.

A messenger came in haste, begging me instantly to go to the western end
of the village to see William Parsons, as he was in a fearful state of
suffering, and no one could be induced to go near the house to help the
family.  On entering this cottage, the scene was truly appalling.  The
room inhabited by the family, consisting of the man, his wife, and five
children, is sixteen feet by fourteen—two beds in it, and on the ground
floor—every thing indicating poverty and confusion.  The man, aged
thirty-nine, lay on his bed, an object horrifying to the
beholder,—writhing in torture from the cramp, and groaning dreadfully—his
countenance much distorted—his flesh ashy blue—his fingers puckered and
twisted, and his nails purple—his knees drawn up to his chin!

Medicine had been left, with directions, by Mr. L., who had been called
away to other patients.  Only one nurse could be found.  A child, three
years old, in a cradle in a corner of the room, discoloured and cold, put
aside, by the mother and nurse as in a hopeless state, as “just dead.”  I
applied a mustard poultice to the pit of the stomach of the poor man, who
was shrieking in agony; but he would not permit it to remain on five
minutes.  We rubbed his arms with a stimulating liniment.  I gave him the
medicine which was ordered.  This frightful scene before me, and the
offensive effluvia in this wretched place, overcame me.  I thought I must
have retreated from it; but if I had done so, the whole family must have
perished, the case having been reported so malignant, that no one,
excepting the two medical attendants, together with Susan Taylor, and one
neighbour, who called occasionally, would venture near them.

An effort was made to revive the child, as by holding a piece of a broken
looking glass to its mouth, it appeared that she still breathed.

A faggot having been obtained from a neighbour, a large fire was made up.
The child was put between hot blankets, and brought near to the fire, and
well rubbed.  After a short time, some saline mixture trickled down her
throat.  In the course of three hours, she turned in her cradle, and the
discoloured appearance of her body began to wear away.  At intervals I
attended to the father, and whenever he became tranquil, we had resource
to prayer.  He gave himself up; and it was extremely difficult to
persuade him to take any medicine.

I went away to see the Hurrells,—both better,—then returned to Parsons.
Susan Taylor remained, by my request, to assist as a nurse.  The house
was in a state of utter destitution.  Not a morsel of food,—no fire,
before the faggot was procured.  Those necessaries which were immediately
required, were provided from a neighbouring shop.  The poor man was
evidently sinking, and his end fast approaching; but his sufferings had
been considerably diminished during the last three or four hours.  The
child was better.  Upon observing a sudden change for the worse in her
husband, his wife fainted; and the scene altogether of distress and
terror was appalling.  After awhile, the poor woman revived.

At twelve o’clock, I went to a neighbouring cottage, wrote a letter to
the overseers, and sent it off.  I entreated them to do something to save
the lives of others, by adopting requisite measures for the speedy
removal of the dead, as well as of every other cause which might increase
the violence of the disease.  I stated the circumstances at Parsons’s
house, and that the man would most probably be a corpse before my letter
was concluded.  I returned home at one, a.m., very unwell, and so
fatigued and excited, I could not sleep.

_August_ 7.  At six o’clock in the morning a messenger requested me to go
to Underwood, several new cases having occurred.  I was informed, that as
soon as I left Parsons’s, the two Messrs. Langworthy arrived, and that
the poor man lived about half-an-hour afterwards.  Mary Pepperall (the
daughter of M. Thorn, deceased) sent for me; she was in a state of
extreme agitation, and was labouring under severe symptoms of cholera.
She had taken calomel and ginger, in small doses.  In accordance with the
suggestions of Mr. L., I gave her powdered rhubarb and ginger, and at
intervals, to allay sickness, carbonate of soda, salvolatile, &c.  She
appeared to be much relieved from pain, and expressed herself grateful in
the highest degree.

Saw Richard Gullett, aged seventy-two.  This was an aggravated case: he
was much distressed with cramp, and had no interval of rest.  I merely
assisted the medical attendant, Mr. Osmond, in administering such things
as he ordered.  From thence I went to Hurrell’s: his wife was worse,
suffering much from continual sickness and the cramp, and in a profuse
perspiration, approaching to the cold damp of the second stage of
cholera,—the husband, also, harassed by sickness, &c. complained of
violent pain at the pit of the stomach, and was becoming very restless.

When I contemplated this couple,—both ill in bed, and, in the prime of
life, dreading a rapid dissolution, afflicted with the agonizing thought
that no friend dared to approach their dwelling to afford them
consolation, and appalled at the hasty manner in which the poor victims
of the disease are necessarily consigned to the grave,—a feeling of the
deepest commiseration for the wretched sufferers weighed heavily on my
spirits.  And when I observed the wistful glance directed towards me, as
if my countenance could be the index of their fate, the responsibility of
my situation pressed with redoubled force upon my mind; and though “in
the midst of life I was in death,” having cast myself upon the mercy of
God for “help in the time of need,” I became strengthened in my
resolution, that, in dependence upon Divine aid, I would devote myself,
to the utmost of my power, to the service of my poor dying parishioners.

I remained at Hurrell’s, as they required constant attendance, and they
had no nurse at that time.  Towards the evening, both were better.  They
had applied for medical advice in the earliest period of their attack.
In their habits they are remarkably cleanly.  Besides this, the
satisfactory state of their minds upon religious subjects dispelled much
of their alarm, particularly after they had received the Holy Communion.

Andrews’s little girl, much better.  Richard Gullett, in a dying state.

_August_ 8.  Hurrell and his wife both convalescent, though slightly
salivated.  Six new cases, with alarming symptoms.  Many people applied
for “something to stop the sickness,” &c.  The disease appeared to have
spread all over the village.

Richard Gullett, buried.  I visited Peggy Andrews’s daughter, and several
cholera patients, all anxious for spiritual as well as medical
assistance.  Ann Parsons and her child very ill.  Mary Pepperall, much
better.  Jane Hurrell, convalescent.

Here, it may not be out of place to mention, that, during the last month,
I had been preparing candidates for confirmation.

_August_ 9.  The Bishop arrived, at the time appointed, for that purpose.
Eight hundred young persons entered into that sacred rite,—a ceremony
which, in too many instances, is lamentably abused, notwithstanding all
the precautions of the most vigilant ministerial care.  Upon the present
occasion, a subdued tone in their deportment was manifest throughout the
congregation.  I was relieved from great anxiety when all was finished.
Men were stationed at each approach to Underwood and Colebrook, to
prevent the young people from going to the villages and loitering there;
to avoid the possibility of any risk of spreading the prevalent disease.
When all had left for their homes, I went to Parsons’s, where I had been
summoned in haste, as there were three fresh cases of cholera.

On entering this ill-fated cottage, the scene was quite sickening.  On
the same bed where the husband had died, I now beheld his widow and her
mother (Mary Pote, aged 77) in a state of collapse, and two children in
cradles, apparently dying!  No medical aid was then at hand, though Mr.
L. had been there, and left directions to guide my proceedings until he
could return.  The widow at first resisted taking any medicine.  After
some persuasion, however, she consented, if I would give it to her; but
she positively refused to take it from any one else.  The old woman, poor
creature! was in agony from cramp; and her appearance was quite
appalling.  A more striking picture of despair than that which was
depicted in her discoloured, shrivelled, and distorted features, cannot
be imagined.  Recourse was immediately had to friction, with stimulating
liniments; mustard and vinegar poultices, &c. were applied, which in some
measure alleviated her sufferings; but after two hours’ incessant but
ineffectual hard work by two nurses to restore warmth in the system, she
rapidly sunk, and expired.  The bedding was changed, and the daughter
Jane, aged ten, who had suddenly become collapsed, occupied the vacant
place beside her mother, who was still labouring under the disease.  This
poor girl clenched her teeth, and resolutely refused any medicine.  I
left this fearful scene for half-an-hour, to visit E. Honey and her
child.  The woman was better; but the child, aged nine, was dying.
Through ignorance of the danger of neglect, the parents had allowed the
child to fall into the second stage, without having previously applied
for medical assistance.  The poor little creature was lying quite cold,
in its scanty night-dress, _on_ the bed, _uncovered_.  The woman herself
was salivated.  The room was in such a filthy state it could scarcely be
tolerated.

On returning to Parsons’s, Ann Parsons had suddenly become much
worse—cold—quite collapsed.  Her daughter Jane, aged ten, in the same
bed, sinking rapidly, the other two children, very bad, requiring
constant attention,—all complaining of insatiable thirst.  The room
shockingly offensive.  Chloride of lime—burnt vinegar—burnt tar were
used.  This scene lasted till eleven at night,—then Mr. Langworthy came.

_The effluvia in this room was so especially offensive_, _that we thought
there must be some particular cause for it_.  _In the centre of the
floor_, _which is paved with slate_, _I perceived an opening between the
slates_, _and upon asking the reason of the chasm_, _being apparently
deep_, _the mystery was solved_.  _A drain_, _which was choked with every
description of filth_, _passed across the room_, _under the floor_!
_Here was a reply to the wonder_, _why the disease was of a species so
much more aggravated_, _and attended with circumstances so much more
awfully terrific in this house than in others_.  _It is only wonderful
how any family could have taken their meals_, _and slept in such a
vitiated atmosphere_, _without having been swept off before by some
malignant disease_.

_August_ 10.  Scarcely slept during the night.  Sent a mason early to
take up the slates at Parsons’s house, to clean the gutter, and fill it
with quick-lime.  Gave orders to masons for cleansing and whitewashing
other rooms where it was required.  Some nuisances were removed at
Colebrook.

Parsons’s daughter had died in the night.  Her mother not worse;—so much
remaining strength, we hoped she might weather the disease.  This would
be almost miraculous, as three individuals had already died in the same
bed, where she herself lay in a state of collapse!

Another case of cholera in the room!  Old Mary Parsons, suddenly seized
with violent internal pain.  She came, in health, from the town of
Plympton, to assist her dying relations.  In a very short time, her
sufferings were excessive, the cramp was indomitable.  Some cases
appeared to be of a much more aggravated character than others; and the
reason why it has been particularly so at this devoted cottage was
solved, at least to us, last night.  The change of colour, in these cases
was appalling.

Jane Paddon, aged seventy-five, a near neighbour, had been seized with
the fearful malady about two hours—quite sensible—far advanced in
confirmed cholera—gave herself up, and at her particular desire partook
of the Holy Communion.

Richard Woods very ill, much excited and alarmed—his mother and wife in a
state of extreme agitation—Mr. Langworthy present—we all knelt around the
bed—a solemn scene it was; but it brought consolation with it—the poor
afflicted family became more tranquil.  The symptoms were serious, and
recourse was had to medicine as soon as possible.

As we were quitting this house, a messenger came, in great haste, for
advice as to what should be done, in a case which had occurred at
Ridgeway.  A poor woman had been taken suddenly ill in a waggon, which
was at the George Inn, and she was in the cold stage of the cholera.  Mr.
Langworthy could not at that moment quit a patient who was in a truly
distressing state.

I hastened immediately to the George Inn, and found the report to be too
true.  The poor creature was lifted out of the waggon by the ostler,
William Webb, and carried to a building which had been fitted up as a
Hospital, near the Inn.

This forlorn and pitiable object was the widow of a sergeant in the 22nd
regiment, who had died of cholera a few days before in the citadel at
Plymouth.  Her name was Ellen Higgins, {42} thirty-five years of age.
She had a pass for herself and four children; and they were on their way
to Cork.  Soon after leaving Plymouth, she was seized with pain in the
bowels and sickness.  One of her fellow-travellers gave her some brandy,
which was repeated on arriving at Ridgeway.

Mr. L. soon arrived, and every possible attention was paid to her.  Owing
to continued cramp, it was difficult to obtain from her any satisfactory
information as to her wishes.  The fatal symptoms rapidly increased, and
her darkened features became wild; her eyes stared with an expression of
frenzy; her pulse had ceased to beat; and her flesh had assumed that
peculiar livid hue, so characteristic of the disease.  As calmness,
attended by a perfect clearness of intellect, often preceded the last
moments in these afflicting cases, I felt it to be my duty to remain with
this suffering and friendless stranger, as there might be a chance of
affording her spiritual assistance.  That moment did arrive, and she
faintly expressed her desire to offer up a prayer to God.  She cared
about nothing, during that short interval, but the salvation of her soul.
And to her Great Redeemer she appealed in accents so tremulous, so
pitiously imploring for mercy, and yet so full of a blessed assurance of
His willingness to save a repentant sinner, that I firmly believe “His
atoning blood has cleansed her from all sin;” and that her soul now rests
in peace!  Her children came into the room, but she heeded them not—her
care about every thing earthly had passed away—the poor little orphans
were removed, to be taken care of—Ellen Higgins was no more!

On quitting the Hospital, and this heartrending scene, a note was
delivered to me from a medical gentleman, stating he had “just been at
Parsons’s house, at Underwood, to see more particularly old Mary Parsons.
What a melancholy scene to witness!  A place more likely to propagate the
disease will scarcely be found, and on the ground floor too!  The sight
quite sickened me.  Charles Taylor, brought home at two o’clock, is
already in a state of collapse.  I have sent to Mr. Langworthy to inform
him of this, as I think he ought to be very actively treated.”

I was requested to lose no time in going to Charles Taylor, {45} as “he
was dying,” and the case was represented as being most urgent.  The
sultry heat of the weather increased the great exhaustion and fatigue by
which I was almost overpowered; and I despaired of being able to get to
Underwood in time.  A gig happened, at that moment, to be standing at the
George Inn.  To the owner, I was a stranger; but I briefly told him the
sad tale, and he unhesitatingly lent it to me.  In a few minutes I was at
the cottage.  Mr. Langworthy arrived at the same time.  What were our
feelings upon entering the room!  At that instant the poor sufferer
breathed his last!  Such a combination of fearful calamity was quite
overwhelming!  Poor Susan Taylor, now a widow, fell down on the window
seat, in a paroxysm of grief.  At such a moment, talking to her would
have been in vain.  Sarah Taylor, her husband’s sister, was there as an
assistant.  We sat some little time without uttering a word.  The solemn
silence was interrupted only by the sobs of her who had just been bereft
of the object upon whom she depended for comfort and support, or by a
sigh from those around.

May the lessons which must have reached the heart at such a time, never
be erased.  The uncertainty of life—the necessity of watchfulness—the
duty of Christian sympathy,—our own utter helplessness, when it is the
will of God to afflict us—our sole dependence upon His Almighty aid;—all
these, and many more such reflections, pressed upon the mind; and well
will it be for those who receive them into their hearts, as seed sown by
the Holy Spirit, to bring forth fruit unto righteousness.  The poor widow
endeavoured to rush to the bed where her husband lay; and would have
thrown herself upon his cold and discoloured corpse.  She said she valued
not her life.  We talked to her—we endeavoured to reason with her.  She
was absorbed in grief; and, in the bitterness of bereavement, said she
had no friend—no earthly friend—no where to lay her head—no one would
take her into their house.  She again made an effort to throw herself
upon the bed.  This could not be permitted.  Every argument was used to
direct her thoughts to a merciful God, who “will not suffer us to be
tried above that we are able to bear,” and who “tempers the wind to the
shorn lamb.”  She was directed where to go, and where she might remain,
at least for a time, until her relations could arrange some plan for her
to earn a livelihood.  We were next called to the miserable apartment
below, where Mary Parsons, aged sixty-nine, had just died.  We remained
some time with that family; the other patients exhibiting no indication
of improvement.

Called to visit Jane Paddon, suddenly worse—her end fast
approaching—quite sensible—refused to take any medicine, and gave herself
up.  She was quite happy in her mind, and lifted up her heart with the
greatest earnestness in prayer to God, not to prolong her life, but to
take her to himself.  After visiting Woods and other patients, Mr.
Langworthy went home with me at eleven at night.

Susan Taylor had been to the adjoining town of Plympton, {48} to her
sister, Mary Taylor, where she was persuaded by her friends to remain the
night.  Mr. L. left me at twelve.  Both of us unwell.  My own
indisposition, during the day, I had attributed to the effect of fatigue;
but sickness, cramp, &c. ensued so violently, that, at one in the
morning, I was obliged to send for him to return.  He was astonished at
the serious character of the attack and the progress it had made.  The
usual remedies were at hand.  He immediately gave me twenty grains of
calomel; and, in an hour afterwards, an ounce of castor oil, with two
drachms of tincture of rhubarb.

_August_ 11. {50}  By the mercy of God and the timely recourse to
medicine, the disease was repelled.  At noon I attended the funeral of
Ellen Higgins.  It was a sickening office.  Owing to the heat of the
weather, the lid of the coffin had started.  Went to the poor afflicted
people at Underwood.  Parsons’s boy, aged eight, who had held Mr. Richard
Langworthy’s horse at six a.m., was dying, at noon!  Visited the
hospital, and returned home through Underwood.  Charles Taylor and Mary
Parsons, buried.  After a few hours’ rest, at half-past eight in the
evening, I was summoned in haste to visit William Gully—much worse than
yesterday—great consternation among the inmates of the house.

So great had been the mortality, in defiance of the treatment which he
had hitherto pursued, that Mr. Langworthy at length determined in this
case to try a remedy which had been adopted by many eminent
practitioners; viz.,—the injecting some principal vein with saline fluid.
He accordingly arranged his instruments on a little table near the
window.  The poor wife was crying near the fire-place.  The occupation
assigned to me, of preparing hot water, adjusting pans, basins, &c. to be
in readiness for injecting the vein, was immediately commenced.  Susan
Gully, the patient’s sister, and his wife’s two sisters were standing by,
watching Mr. L.’s proceedings with peculiar interest, but they preserved
a strict silence.  A low and lengthened moan arrested our attention; and
then a frightfully convulsive shriek issued from above.  I had nearly
prepared the saline fluid {52} for injection; and was requested to be
ready as quickly as possible.  Mr. L. was afraid to trust any one else,
lest a mistake should occur.

Hurried footsteps were now heard on the winding stairs, which were
between the fire-place and the window.  “He’s gone! sir,—he’s gone!” was
exclaimed, with a trembling, hysterical voice.  Both the Messrs.
Langworthy and myself were obliged to summon all our resolution.  The
wife and children around us,—one ill in its weeping mother’s arms,
frightened, not knowing why—the others staring at us, aware that
something was being done which appeared to them to be fearful.  The
sister, the friend—all with their eyes intently rivetted upon us, as if
life and death depended upon our exertions!  This was natural.  How many
have watched the countenance of the physician when a much-loved life was
pending!  A piece of bread was given to one of the children, to pacify
it,—a part, perhaps, of the last loaf earned by its poor father’s labour!
Rapidly as some such thoughts rushed upon the mind, we did not remit our
work, and every thing was ready.  We were quickly by the side of the
sufferer.  From all appearances, the accounts were too well founded.  No
pulse,—Is he quite gone?  The eye moved,—he tried to raise himself—looked
at us—and, recognizing me, gave me his hand, but could not speak.  He
knew what was said, and held out his arm.  The vein was opened—no blood
flowed—it was empty.  He uttered a low moan, looked at his arm, and shook
his head.  His wife, with breathless anxiety, appeared at the door: we
persuaded her to retire.  The warm fluid was placed on the window-seat
near the bed.  It was again tried by the thermometer.  Eight quarts were
ready, and the process of injecting the vein was commenced.  The greater
portion entered.  The breathing of the patient became laborious, and the
pulse returned.  Violent sickness ensued.  Some weak gruel, with a
teaspoonful of brandy mixed in it, quieted the sickness.  The poor man
began to speak.  In a low whisper, thanked God—thanked us—and said he
felt as if he should recover.  At eleven o’clock, Mr. Langworthy returned
home with me, as both of us required rest.

_August_ 12. {54}  Gully relapsed, and was as nearly in a dying state as
before.  Saline fluid was again resorted to.  I prepared above a gallon;
but, upon this occasion, about three quarts only were injected.  Mr.
Langworthy having expressed a wish that he could obtain a pint of blood
for the purpose of injecting it, Sarah Gully, the sister, offered to be
blooded; but Mr. L. did not consider her sufficiently healthy.  Elizabeth
Veale, a sister of Gully’s wife, then came forward, and, having made a
similar offer, some of her blood (about half-a-pint) was transferred into
the patient’s vein, by a well-executed process, conducted by both the
Messrs. Langworthy.  The patient recovered his recollection.  Sickness
did not come on as it had done after saline fluid only was injected.  A
short interval elapsed, during which he appeared to labour considerably
under the action of recovering his breath.  He then spoke; and, in the
course of a short time, took gruel.  Weak wine and water, warm jelly, &c.
were also given to him in very small quantities.  His appearance bore a
more favourable aspect; though his weakness was excessive.  Gradually, he
regained a little strength towards the evening.

Jane Paddon and Edward Parsons were buried.

My friend, the Rev. Joseph Rosdew, who was on a visit to his brother at
Beechwood, kindly preached for me in the morning and afternoon; and the
Rev. E. B. St. John read the prayers.  This friendly assistance enabled
me to visit the sick during the greater part of the day.  The
congregations were very small; owing to the absence of some of the
principal families, the sickness of many, or the fear of assembling which
prevailed among others.

_August_ 13. {56}  Visited Mrs. Toope, at Underwood, and her son Stephen,
both very weak.  Mary Brown, aged fifty-six, an assistant at the
Hospital, died.  Jane Moon, of Colebrook, aged twenty-eight, recovered.
She was taken ill on the 8th.  William Gully, better.

_August_ 14.  Several people applied for medicines.  After they had been
attended to, I rode to the villages at the eastern end of the parish.
Some poor people, who were invalids, particularly requested to see me.
They were fearful that their sickness was a prelude to the cholera; but
they had no symptoms of that disease.  Debility was the chief subject of
their complaint.  Where this was the case, strengthening things were
supplied to the poor, out of the subscription fund.

Susan Taylor’s little girl, aged one year, died of cholera.  She was
taken ill on the 11th.  Her mother, also, very unwell, with symptoms of
the same disease.  Richard Parsons, aged one year and a half, died at the
Hospital.  Mary Brown, buried.

_August_ 15.  Richard Parsons, buried.  Elizabeth Hill, aged ten, died at
Underwood.  Mr. H. attended her in the morning as soon as he was sent
for.  The progress of this case was fearfully rapid.  The poor child did
not suffer much from pain; she appeared to sink entirely from exhaustion.
No remedy for restoring warmth and circulation had the least effect.

After visiting sick people at Underwood and at the Hospital, I went in
the evening to see Susan Taylor.  She was in the collapsed stage of
cholera.  The Messrs. Langworthy were present.  It was proposed that the
saline injection should be resorted to, as her pulse had ceased to beat,
and she appeared to be rapidly sinking.  I assisted in preparing the warm
fluid.  Eight quarts were ready, and seven were injected into the vein.
She revived—the pulse returned—and she seemed to be relieved.  We were
occupied a great part of the night with this case.

_August_ 16.  Between nine and ten, a.m., more poor people than usual
applied for medicines, and strengthening things; such as arrow-root,
tapioca, carageen moss, &c.

The Board of Health met at my house.  One principal object of the meeting
was to consider the state of the poor as to diet, both of those who were
slightly indisposed, as well as of those recovering from cholera.  It was
resolved to call the especial attention of the parish officers to this
important subject, and to remind them of the fact, that, from the
commencement of the disease in the parish to the present time, all extra
expenses caused by its ravages had been met by the subscription fund,
which was now nearly exhausted.  The necessity of increasing the relief
of the poor, especially by some allowance for extra diet under the
present distressing emergency, was strongly urged upon them, in a written
address; under the conviction that, even where the disease did not exist,
an addition to their ordinary support was highly essential.

As soon as the Board of Health adjourned, I set off for the Hospital, and
on my way there I called to enquire for Susan Taylor.  Just as I arrived,
Mary Taylor, the sister, met me at the door, and was sobbing so bitterly,
she could scarcely tell me the cause of her distress.  At last she said,
Susan was worse than ever—she could not live ten minutes.  Oh! sir, where
is Mr. Langworthy?  Well knowing that it was a case in which every moment
was of the utmost importance, I hastened to the Hospital, where we had
appointed to meet.  He had not arrived.  Having heard that he was at
Underwood, I rode there; and, fortunately, I came up to him as he was in
the act of mounting his horse at Gully’s cottage.  In as few words as
possible, I told him my errand.  Poor Susan’s life was an object of
peculiar anxiety to us.  She had lost her husband and her only child
within a few days; and she had been particularly active and serviceable
as a nurse, in some of the most appalling cases.  A very few minutes
elapsed before we were at the house at Plympton.  Our horses were sent to
Mr. L.’s, as we knew that, if the patient did not die, we might be
detained some time.  Mary Taylor was so unwell, with strong symptoms of
the same disease, Mr. L. gave her medicine, and advised her to remain
below.  We ascended the stairs, and at the first moment of entering the
room, we thought it was all over.  We found Susan quite cold—as cold as
death—insensible—discoloured,—having no indication of pulse.  We had no
person to help us—we had no time to procure assistance.  I knew my office
in preparing for a repetition of the expedient of injection.  This Mr. L.
at once decided to be the only chance.  Whilst he adjusted his
instruments, the syringe, &c., I went below to prepare the fluid.  I had
about six quarts ready, and rejoined Mr. L.  He was sitting on the bed,
and prepared to open the vein of the patient’s right arm.  I held the
wrist, to keep it steady; and having endeavoured to ascertain whether
there was any pulse, the cold blue hand dropped when I let it go.  Mr. L.
shook his head, and thought any attempt to restore animation would be
useless.  Notwithstanding this, as we could not tell what might be the
effect under the hand of God, even in this most desperate case, I was
ready with the warm mixture.  The syringe was applied to the flaccid
vein, which resembled a slight sinew.  No blood flowed.  To all
appearance it contained nothing but a dark, glutinous, substance, about
the colour and consistency of treacle; not more than a drop of which
could be extracted, after pressing the vein in the usual manner to
produce a flow of blood.  Every heave of her labouring chest, seemed to
be the last—weaker—weaker—at less frequent intervals.  Never surely was
life nearer extinct.  The eyes were set upwards with a fixed and
inanimate expression.  We were now ready.  I had a thermometer in the
basin, and two jugs, one with the fluid hot, and the other cooler, so as
to keep up the temperature as exactly as possible 110 degrees.  The
greatest nicety is also indispensible in using the syringe, which should
be an instrument of the best make, lest a single globule of air should be
injected with the fluid.  I have been informed that, if, owing to
unforeseen circumstances this occurs, the consequences would be instantly
fatal.  Mr. L. commenced the operation, and the fluid did not return, but
went upward through the vein.  Mr. L. whispered, “that is well.”  A
breathless silence ensued—one quart was injected—a slight indication of
movement followed;—another quart—and another—a trembling movement of the
eyelid was visible—gradually the ashy hue of death began to recede from
the forehead—then from the cheek—the dawn of returning life appeared;
soon afterwards, the eye changed from its fixed character of
unconsciousness to that of recognition.  I ventured to ask, whether, if
blood could be procured, there might not be a better chance of saving the
patient’s life.  Mr. L. replied that no one could be found who would
enter the room, much more to spare a pint of blood.  Without further loss
of time, I went to a neighbour next door, who had been very attentive to
Susan, and who did not shew indications of fear.  She was in the prime of
life, in strong health, and had no family.  I told her in as few words as
possible the precarious state of Susan, and that the only apparent chance
of saving her life, was to obtain a pint of blood, to be transferred into
her vein.  “Will you consent to spare that quantity?  If you have the
least fear about it, do not hesitate to say so.”  She instantly replied,
“You may take a quart if it is required.”  She went with me into Susan’s
room.  Two basins were instantly in readiness, one floating in the other,
in hot water, to prevent the blood from congealing.  Mary Chapman’s vein
was opened.  The purple stream gushed, and well performed its benevolent
design.  This had scarcely been transfused to the amount of half-a-pint,
when the throbbing index of life returned; and what a thrill did it give
us when I was able to pronounce that “the pulse beats distinctly.”  But,
at this instant, it was evident by the appearance of the eye, that the
utmost caution was necessary,—to avoid another extreme—apoplexy—to watch
the eye as well as the pulse,—scarcely a pint could be borne—the process
was instantly stayed—and the noble spirited woman was advised to return
as quickly as possible to her own apartment.  Her conduct throughout was
heroic and cool to admiration. {65}  Now on each side of the bed, Mr. L.
and I took our station.  The poor sufferer seemed as one awaking from a
deep sleep.  She knew us both, and spoke.

Mary Taylor, in the room below, very sick and faint, and with other
symptoms of incipient cholera, which appeared to be increased by her fear
about her sister.  Every thing was said and done which could be thought
of, to calm her spirits, and to dispel the peculiarly restless anxiety
under which she had laboured some hours.  She said she knew she should
have the disease, and it would be the death of her.

Susan had become very drowsy.  Soon afterwards, a violent trembling came
on, this was followed by a profuse perspiration.  In about an hour, she
became more tranquil; still requiring the greatest attention—life hanging
by a mere thread.  This lasted three hours.  Mr. L. then considered it
safe, at her request, to allow her to sleep.  Her sleep was as tranquil
as that of an infant, with the exception of a start at intervals.  A
nurse having been obtained, she was left under her care, with strict
orders from Mr. L. how to proceed.

We went to the Hospital, and found the poor people much the same as
yesterday, excepting Sarah Parsons, aged three years, whose case was
hopeless.  At seven, p.m., Elizabeth Hill and James Parsons were buried.
Sarah Parsons died during my absence.  This was the child already
referred to, as having been “put aside” for dead; but after active
treatment, she had revived, and appeared to be progressing towards
perfect recovery.  At the end of a fortnight, a fever attacked her, which
harassed her to such a degree, that she required the constant attendance
of one person.  Her mother, slowly mending, exhibited a state of apathy,
almost amounting to stupor, and no wonder; in addition to the effects of
her own severe attack, her mind had received a paralyzing shock, from the
death of her husband and, now, four children!

After prayers in the sick-ward, I again visited Susan Taylor.  She was
going on favourably, but too weak to bear any thing to be said to her.

_August_ 17.  A young person at Merafield, one mile from Underwood,
labouring under a rather severe attack of cholera, somewhat better than
yesterday.  She spoke of her illness with great calmness; and the blessed
effects of full trust in God’s mercy, through the merits and intercession
of the Saviour, were beautifully displayed in her whole deportment.  Into
the hands of God she implicitly and prayerfully cast herself.  She
appears so free from that restless anxiety which frequently attends cases
that prove fatal, great hopes are entertained of her recovery.

_August_ 18.  Mrs. Jenny Cocker, of Underwood, was seized this morning,
at five o’clock.  Dr. Cookworthy, of Plymouth, and Mr. Hook, the family
surgeon, were present.  The former had been sent for after the most
alarming symptoms had come on; and when he arrived, she was cold,
discoloured, and sinking under extreme prostration of strength.  Her
husband was absent, upon the farm, during the early part of the day, and
was struck with horror and alarm when, on his return, he found her in
such a state of danger.  She was quite sensible, and prayed continually
that she might be supported “in that hour when flesh and heart faileth.”
Whilst the medical gentlemen were consulting together in the adjoining
room, we all addressed ourselves to the Throne of Grace; and most
devoutly and heartily did the poor sufferer bear her part in that solemn
duty, as well as her relations who were assembled in the room.  Fear and
dismay were strongly depicted upon their countenances.  Mrs. Cocker, sen.
was in a state of extreme agitation, shewed symptoms of being ill, and
fainted.  After the medical gentlemen returned into the room, active
stimulants and friction were resorted to, with the hope of restoring
warmth in their patient.  She became weaker, the pulse had ceased, and so
had her power of speaking; and at two, p.m., her mortal career was
closed.  During the last three or four hours, she indicated no appearance
of suffering; and perfect consciousness was maintained to the last.
After this scene of affliction, I remained with the family some time, all
of us having retired to an adjoining room.  The relations gradually
became more tranquil, and when we separated, one sorrowing individual,
raising her eyes to heaven, though streaming with tears, exclaimed, “It
is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good.”

Attended the funeral of Mr. Josias Cork, and went to the Hospital.
Blake’s child, aged one year, died there to-day.

_August_ 19. {70a}  My kind friend, the Rev. Joseph Rosdew, preached for
me twice, as I was too unwell to undertake two full services.  In the
evening, Mrs. Jenny Cocker and Elizabeth Blake were buried.  Several
fresh cases of cholera reported.  Received a letter from the secretary of
the Central Board.  The Plympton St. Mary Board of Health regularly
appointed. {70b}

_August_ 20.  Amongst others, I visited Betty Heard, at Underwood, a poor
industrious woman, aged seventy-two.  She was quite alone—no one had been
near her—creeping about the cottage in great pain: she could hardly
stand, but refused to go to bed.  She had taken some precautions to check
the premonitory attack.  She stood near her spinning-wheel, and when she
perceived I was looking at it, she shook her head, and said, “Ah! sir,
that is of no use to me now.  When I can use it, I get but a very small
matter to live upon! and now”—She could not finish the sentence; but sat
down and cried like a child.  How gladly did I avail myself of the
subscription fund to relieve this helpless creature.  In a short time, a
proper nurse was with her.  Page’s children better; the cramp had
subsided.

A messenger came to me, requesting my immediate attendance at old Mrs.
Cocker’s.  She was in a room below, harassed with incessant sickness,
&c., and in great pain.  Her agitation of mind at the time of her
daughter’s death on Saturday, caused a shock from which she had by no
means recovered.  Mr. Richard Langworthy {72} had seen her, and
administered a dose of calomel; but the progress of the disorder was
astonishingly rapid.  She fainted: her son Elias was with her, and we
supported her as well as we could.  When she revived, her countenance
assumed the common character of the collapsed stage of the disease.  With
much difficulty, we carried the poor sufferer up stairs; two women were
sent for, and they assisted in putting her in bed.  Having become a
little easier, she requested me to pray with her.  From that moment, when
not in extreme pain, she was incessantly occupied in that sacred duty.
On the first indication of sickness, she said she had the cholera, and
she knew “she should not get over it.”

Being confident that this was a desperate case, from its exhibiting those
fatal symptoms which often terminate in death within twelve hours, I went
for Mr. L., who had, unfortunately, been detained at Shaugh, five miles
off, and did not return for two hours.  On his arrival, he said he quite
approved of all the measures which had been adopted; and he considered it
an extreme case.  The rooms were fumigated, and chloride of lime was
sprinkled all about the house.  The poor creature suffered much from
cramp and spasms.  It was, indeed, distressing to see her.  Every limb
seemed to be contracted—her teeth grinding, and her blue shrivelled
fingers clenched so tight, it was very difficult to open her hand; and
her long grey locks, matted with perspiration, adhered to her cold damp
cheek.  Mr. L. proposed, as a last resource to allay such misery, that a
vein should be injected.  I prepared about six quarts of the fluid.  The
vein was opened, one or two dark drops trickled out, like treacle; after
this, the vein appeared to be empty.  The process of injection was
immediately commenced, and the suffering almost instantly subsided.  We
knew her age was against her; but feeling that though life might not be
saved by it, yet that this experiment would be valuable, inasmuch as we
had remarked that all suffering from cramp ceased when recourse was had
to it; it was, therefore, adopted.  The pulse returned; but it fluttered
and intermitted.  She said she knew her time was very short.  Her younger
son was hanging over her, the tears flowing down his cheeks.  Throughout
this sad scene, his anxious and tender care for a dying mother was
incessant.  She said, “Let us pray—it is my only comfort.”  We all knelt
round the bed.  Clasping her hands, she prayed aloud.  Nothing could be
more devout; and there was something so indescribably affecting in the
plaintive tone of her voice and the aspirations she uttered at intervals,
that a common feeling of sympathy vibrated through the hearts of those
who witnessed the touching scene.  She expressed herself cheered and
refreshed by such an employment; then with her cold hand she grasped
mine, and begged me not to leave her.  She became rapidly weaker, the
pulse again intermitted and sunk, sickness returned, but not the cramp.
Although she had for a long time refused to take any nourishment, in
twenty minutes after the injection of the fluid, she vomited a great
quantity of what appeared to be water, with a dark sediment, like
decomposed blood, which sunk immediately.  From this time, nothing would
stop the incessant sickness.  Every animal function seemed to be
exhausted; yet her senses were perfectly unimpaired to the last.  I did
not quit her—it was her dying request.  “Thank you—thank you for
remaining,” she, faltering, said to me.  I observed to her that although
_we_ must part, there was one above, who has promised to his faithful
disciples, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.”  “Oh! yes—yes,”
she said, in a low whisper,—“it is true: I feel the comfort of it.
‘Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have
seen thy salvation.’  I am so—so weary,—when will this be over.”  She
then sunk into silence: for some time it was difficult to say whether
life was extinct or not; at last she sighed, and her spirit departed in
peace.

This affecting scene lasted six hours after the violent symptoms of the
disease commenced.  Returned home and endeavoured to answer some kind
notes from enquiring friends.  I could not write, owing to the excited
state of my feelings; but, thankful to a merciful Providence for
preservation, I retired early, hoping to be refreshed by rest.

I was awakened from a sound sleep by a loud knocking at my door.  It was
half past twelve at night, when my servant informed me that a person had
arrived from Plympton, entreating me to go instantly to Mary Taylor, a
parishioner of Plympton St. Mary, who was in the last stage of cholera,
and was particularly anxious to see me before she died.  I was a little
refreshed by sleep; but still so unwell, my servant intimated that it
might be in time, if I went in the morning.  The morning might be too
late!  The idea of her having expressed an earnest desire to see me—in
her dying moments too—something, perhaps, required or to communicate,
which might tend to relieve her mind, and soothe the pillow of death.  I
could not have rested, if I had delayed to go.  Before one o’clock, I was
at the house.  Mary Taylor had given up her own comfortable room to
Susan, from the kindest and most considerate feeling; and, that she might
be kept as quiet as possible, had removed to the dwelling of her parents,
which was, indeed, a miserable place for a sick person.  Below sat her
father, by a small remnant of a fire, his face between his hands, his
elbows resting on his knees, not caring to speak.  He told me Elizabeth
Job was with Mary, and that Mr. L. had been there in the evening, but not
since—that he was very unwell when he went away.  I heard the poor
creature moaning—went up to her.  The chamber where she lay was on the
landing-place, without a door or partition—no ceiling—open to the roof.
A common bedstead, without hangings or curtains, an old-fashioned oak
chest, and a broken chair, composed the whole of the furniture.  In a
corner of the same room, covered with various old clothes, lay her
husband, who was also ill.  A rushlight, flickering in a current of air
from the roof, only added to the wretchedness of the scene.  The moment I
approached the bedside, poor Mary held out her hand to me, and burst into
an agony of tears.  “I am going, sir,—I know I shall die.  I wished so
much to see you once more.  I feared it would be too much for you to
come; but I do not expect to see the morning.  I do not wish to live; but
my poor dear little helpless infant—what will become of her when she has
lost her mother!”  After some conversation, she became more tranquil, and
appeared greatly comforted by the presence of a Christian minister.
Spoke much of the awfulness of being on the brink of eternity—prayed
frequently that God would forgive her sins, and receive her to himself,
through the merits of a crucified Saviour.  “Yes,” she said, “he died for
me.”  Stayed by this anchor, she became resigned and calm.

Before I went upstairs, I ordered the fire to be made up, and plenty of
hot water to be in readiness.  The poor old people very slow, and nothing
in the house which such a case of emergency required.  The cramp was
gaining ground, and spasms had returned.  Mr. L.’s residence not being
far off, I hastened there, thinking it possible that he might be up; but
could make no one hear, therefore I went away without disturbing him.  I
knocked up the people at a shop, and got some mustard and vinegar.  When
I returned, the medicines which were left, with directions, by Mr. L.
were given.  I had brought the cholera lotion, or stimulating liniment,
with me, which was tried; but the poor sufferer was icy cold.  Hot water
in a stone bottle was applied to the feet.  The pain at the pit of the
stomach was very acute.  I tried to get hot salt or sand; but nothing of
the sort could be obtained, it being past two, a.m.  Having noticed that,
in the fire-place below, there were some loose bricks, I heated one of
them, and wrapped it in a piece of old drugget.  This simple remedy
afforded her much relief, as soon as it was applied.  She had been
extremely patient, and said she felt better; but from the cold
perspiration, and her discoloured appearance, I feared she would not
recover.  At three, a.m., I became so unwell, I desired that Mr. L.
should be called, at all events.  As he had been up the whole of the two
preceding nights, and was very unwell, I had hitherto deferred calling
him as long as I could; but I was obliged to return home.

_August_ 21.  Being anxious to know the fate of Mary Taylor, I went at
eight o’clock to enquire for her.  I learnt that Mr. L. came to her
almost immediately after I left her, and injected saline fluid into a
vein.  She rallied for a time; but now, at nine, the alarming symptoms
had returned.  I went to Mr. L. and reported the apparently hopeless
state of the patient.  He returned to the house with me, and proposed a
repetition of the experiment.  She said it was all in vain.  Her pulse
had entirely ceased to beat.  She enquired for Susan,—then spoke of her
child with the tenderest feeling.  She “hoped God would forgive her
anxiety about the dear little soul.  She would rather it had been taken
before her, or with her, that both might be buried together; but God’s
will be done.  May we meet in a happier world.”

We had all joined with her in prayer, at her own request; she then
consented to the operation.  After a small quantity of the saline fluid
had been injected, her husband’s sister offered to be blooded, as soon as
the transfusion of blood was proposed.  The transfusion was commenced,
but no more than a teacupful could be borne, as a most startling effect
was produced; the eyes having in an instant become red and staring to a
frightful extent.  Mr. L. saw this, and stopped the process
instantaneously.  Her breathing was quick and laborious.  The pulse
merely fluttered, and then stopped.  It evidently was the will of God
that human means should not avail.  She was dying!  I left the room with
a sorrowing heart, sincerely lamenting her death.  Before the attack of
cholera, she had been in a delicate state of health; therefore Mr. L.
feared that her constitution was not sufficiently strong to bear the
shock.  Every thing tended to depress our spirits.  Such touching scenes,
in such rapid succession—so great an accumulation of misery, nearly
overwhelmed us.  The appalling reality is almost incredible!  But we have
worked together, heart and hand; and we must trust that the same merciful
Providence which has hitherto protected us, will, through the aid of the
Spirit, grant us renewed strength for the conflict.

I called to see Susan Taylor; she was better, but requiring the greatest
care.  Attended the funeral of Mrs. Cocker.  Richard Hurl, aged one year
and half, died at Underwood.  Elizabeth Hicks, of Underwood, seriously
ill—collapse had rapidly come on,—Mr. Osmond in attendance.  Very active
treatment had been pursued.  Towards the evening, she was much relieved,
but extremely weak.  Richard Smaldridge taken ill.  Mr. Hook attending
him.

_August_ 22. {83}  A vestry meeting was held, also a meeting of the Board
of Health.  On this day, the first order was made for assistance from the
parish, to be paid to the chairman of the Board of Health.  Hurl’s child
buried.  Elizabeth Hicks recovering.

_August_ 23.  George Tarr, aged forty-four, received at the Hospital: a
bad case.

_August_ 24.  George Tarr died.  Ann Higgins, aged one year, died.

_August_ 25.  I visited several people who laboured under great debility.
Not so many fresh cases during these three days.

_August_ 26.  At eight o’clock, a message was brought to me from Mr.
Crewes’s family, at Plympton, {85a} requesting me, if I possibly could,
to go to them immediately, as their servant was alarmingly ill.  Soon
after I arrived, Mr. Deeble Boger {85b} and the Messrs. Langworthy came.
It was one of those cases which exhibit great severity of
character—discolouration of the skin—incessant sickness and
restlessness—coldness of the flesh, tongue, and breath.  There was very
little hope of her recovery.  Perhaps this attack had been brought on and
aggravated by her own imprudence, in taking with her dinner, yesterday, a
quantity of vinegar, which had been left in a plate with some cucumber.
Debility and exhaustion rapidly increased.  She became calm after awhile,
and was perfectly sensible.  I left her and went to Church.  The Rev. J.
Rosdew again kindly assisted me both parts of the day.  But one feeling
pervaded the whole congregation—the ministers and the people—the deepest
solemnity!  The plague is abroad.  Who is to stand between the living and
the dead?  The fervent prayer of faith availeth much.  “Lord, hear our
prayer, and let our cry come unto thee!”  How many appeared to pray in
earnest on this day! doubtless not here only, but through the nation.
May the supplication of a suffering people be received at the Throne of
Grace.

Mr. Crewes’s servant died in the afternoon, and Maria E. Taylor, aged six
months, of Underwood, died on this day.

_August_ 27.  Whilst at breakfast, I was entreated to go as soon as
possible to Wm. Arthurs, at Underwood, as he was extremely ill, and he
was thought to be dying.  After attending to a number of applications for
medicine, I went immediately to the sick man.  His wife, in tears, was
standing at the door, watching my arrival.  Her mother, Mary Martin, and
another woman, with dismay in their countenances, were near her.  One of
the children ill with cholera, in a cradle, two other little creatures,
unconscious of what was passing, were playing about the room.  I first
endeavoured to quiet the minds of the women, impressing upon them, that
there was not so much danger to be apprehended from the disease itself,
as from giving way to such excessive alarm.  That all excitement and
agitation of the mind, tended to increase, if not to cause, an attack of
the malady.  I found the poor man very ill.  Upon enquiry, it appeared
that he had been “very bad all the night, and they thought he could not
have held out till the morning.”  But, “why did you neglect to send for
medical advice at first?”  “O, sir, we hoped it would pass.”  I told them
they must send immediately for Mr. L. or for some other medical
gentleman; but they said it would be of no use, as Arthurs refused to
take any medicines; indeed, he had said the same to me: but, after much
persuasion, he consented to take what I gave him.  At this time, he was
in a state of partial collapse—writhing with pain—large drops standing on
his icy cold forehead—his tongue cold—harassed with incessant and violent
sickness.  The wife standing by, concealing her face with her apron, not
being able to look at him when the paroxysms came on.  At a glance, the
appearance of every thing indicated the cleanliness of the family.  A
white cloth was on a little table near the window—a second bed in the
room—a little store of potatoes in a basket, in a corner near the stairs.
The women were prompt and ready in preparing the stimulants—mustard and
hot vinegar, and hot water, in stone bottles, for the feet.  All linen
was removed from the bed.  The child below was, at this time, screaming
so violently, that we were obliged to use for her similar remedies.
Rhubarb and ginger had been given to the child.  I gave a saline draught,
which appeared to check the sickness.  The poor man required constant
attendance, sickness and cramp being most distressing.  I had sent for
medical assistance, but at that moment it could not be obtained.  What
was to be done?  The poor man was in agony, and the sickness violent,
without an intermission of ten minutes.  In this extremity, I gave him
the same medicine which I had taken myself.  In half-an-hour, the man was
again extremely harassed, and the sickness was not abated.  He complained
of insatiable thirst.  I then prepared a saline mixture, composed of the
same ingredients which had in some instances been adopted by Mr. L.;
viz., carbonate of soda, one drachm, common salt, one drachm, oxymuriate
(chlorate) of potash, six grains, and a teaspoonful of salvolatile, to a
quart of cold water, of which he drank freely.  After this, the vomiting
subsided for a time, but pain and nausea remained; friction with
stimulants were continued, and hot salt applied to the stomach.  Being
somewhat relieved, he was desirous that I would pray with him.  The poor
women knelt round the bed,—tears streaming down, though they held their
hands before their faces, to conceal their grief and apprehension.  At
this time, the appearance of the man’s eyes began more decidedly to
assume the character which we had remarked in the worst cases of cholera.
Our prayer was shortened: but a sigh only, in faith, fails not to reach
the Throne of Grace.  I sent again, with the hope of obtaining medical
aid, but without success.  I began to tremble at the responsibility I had
taken upon myself; but I could not leave the patient at such a crisis,
and to have remained inactive might have been fatal.  His pulse, when I
first saw him, was scarcely perceptible, it now began to improve;
sickness again came on, but not so violent as before.  He drank freely of
the saline mixture.  At two o’clock, I left him for half-an-hour, to
attend the funeral of Maria Taylor’s infant.  Soon after my return (about
three o’clock), Arthurs became easier and more tranquil; the pulse had
improved, general warmth succeeded, and at four o’clock, profuse
perspiration: more clothing was put on the bed, to keep that up.  He
wished for some tea and biscuit, and took a small quantity.  In
half-an-hour afterwards, the pulse became extremely full and quick.  At
five, p.m., I went to Mr. Langworthy’s, and found him just returned.  I
informed him of Arthurs’s case, and we went there together; but before we
arrived, a medical gentleman had called, bled him sparingly, and had gone
away.  Mr. L. ordered him medicine, and gave directions how to proceed.
The poor man then expressed himself as being weary, and soon sunk into a
calm sleep.  The child was much better towards the evening.

I went across the way to John Andrews’s; their daughter, Mary Ann, aged
six, who was taken ill in the morning, having died at four p.m.  The
other child who was ill on the 6th, recovered.  Peggy Andrews, the
mother, though deeply afflicted, shewed much Christian resignation.  At
her urgent request, I went upstairs to see the child as she lay a corpse.
She had been carried off so rapidly, they could scarcely believe she was
dead.  Chloride of lime was used abundantly, and the poor people promised
that the rooms should be whitewashed on the following day.  Their cottage
is kept particularly neat.  Having remained some time in conversation
with them, I went to Richard Dunn’s.  Their little girl, aged two years,
sinking from exhaustion in a low fever, like typhus, which immediately
followed an attack of cholera.  Every possible attention was paid her,
but nothing would make her rally.  She lay perfectly quiet, her clear
blue eye fixed on me, being a stranger; and just at that moment a parting
ray of the evening sun beamed through the casement upon her face, her
light silken locks shone upon her spotless brow, giving to her appearance
an unearthly effect, which I shall never forget.  Very soon she was cold
and lifeless; but a smile rested on her countenance, so serene and
lovely, that the transition from life to death was not perceptible.  I
could not be surprised at the distress of the parents.  Difficult it was
at such a moment to acknowledge the reality, that their loss was the
child’s gain.  Under what a variety of circumstances does this fatal
malady strike its victims!  Equally varying, therefore, the occasions for
Christian consolation.  May this be profitable to minister and people.
Wrote to the Central Board of Health.  Two new cases.

_August_ 28.  Mary Ann Andrews, buried.  No death on this day: one new
case only reported—Betty Wills, of Underwood.  The patients generally
extremely weak.  Seven cases remaining.

_August_ 29.  Attended Board of Health.  Received a letter from the
Central Board, requesting a daily report to be transmitted as long as the
disease exists at Plympton St. Mary, as well as a return of all cases and
deaths from the commencement of the disease.

Upon referring to the several medical practitioners, it was found to be
impossible to obtain any thing like a regular return; because our Board
of Health had not been legally constituted until the 22nd instant; and no
authority for such a requirement having previously existed, no regular
notes of cases and deaths had been kept.  Besides this, in consequence of
the scarcity of medical practitioners, those who were employed in cholera
cases, were engaged with their patients from morning till night, and had
little or no time for making regular memoranda.

Visited Arthurs;—better as to the original disease, but very severely
salivated.  Elizabeth Hicks and Mary Martin, recovering.  Buried Dunn’s
child.  Visited Susan Taylor;—gradually recovering, but labouring under
great weakness.  We had some serious conversation upon the afflicting
circumstances which had occurred, and the mercy of God in her own
particular case;—her preservation up to the present time, after all she
had gone through herself, and after what she had witnessed in others,
having herself, not only passed much time as a nurse in the midst of the
worst cases of the disease, but having also assisted in the last fearful
office for three of its victims.  She entered fully into all this in a
right frame of mind.  Whilst alluding to the state in which she lay under
the influence of the collapsed stage, she said she knew what was passing,
though she appeared unconscious of every thing; that the sensation
produced by injecting the saline fluid into the vein, was that of having
taken an unusual quantity of liquid or broth, the stomach seemed to be
very full; and when the blood was transfused, she felt it in the jugular
vein, on both sides, causing an oppressive fulness, as if it would burst;
but it subsided as soon as the process was stopped.  As an instance of
consciousness being retained in the last stage of cholera,—while the
blood was being transfused, though she could neither move nor speak, she
heard me suggest that a handkerchief might be lightly thrown across her
eyes, lest she should be shocked if she revived and saw what was being
done; and Mr. L.’s reply, that it was of no consequence, as she was too
far gone.

_August_ 30.  One new case, Mary Martin, Underwood.  Five cases
remaining.  Several people suffering from weakness and debility; all who
required it, had nourishing things sent to them.  By Mr. L.’s advice, I
returned home sooner than usual, as I had been very unwell during the
last few days.

_August_ 31.  Susan Taylor {96} was sufficiently recovered to return to
Underwood.  No new cases reported to-day.  What a mercy!  The fearful
disease has nearly subsided in this parish, though as yet prevalent in
the adjoining parish of Plympton Maurice.

From this time, no death by cholera occurred in the parish; but through
the month of September, those who had been attacked by the disease,
laboured under great debility.  Some new cases were reported; but of a
milder character, with the exception of two, which were taken to the
Hospital.  One was that of an aged woman, who, on the 10th of September,
was discovered lying on the floor, at her house at Colebrook, in a state
of collapse.  A medical gentleman had seen her as he passed by, and
called to inform me of the circumstance, at the same time recommending
what medicine should be given to her.  I found her, as described, lying
on the stone floor, with all the symptoms of confirmed cholera, and in
great agony.  After much persuasion, she took the medicine, and consented
to be removed to the Hospital, only upon the condition that I would take
charge of her goods, and keep the key of her room.  Unhappily, she was
one of those whose thoughts are entirely engrossed by the objects of
time; therefore her mental agitation and alarm were proportionately
increased: and at such a moment, when life was ebbing on the brink of
eternity, there was no desire for religious exercise, although at the
eleventh hour; and all before her was worse than blank—not a shadow of
comfort!

After she arrived at the Hospital, her suffering was very considerable.
Mr. L. pursued the same treatment which had been previously adopted, with
the addition of active friction, and hot salt in bags applied to the
stomach.  Warmth was restored in about four hours, and she became
gradually better.  In three days afterwards, she walked home, recovered.

About this time, a man was found, in a wretched state, cold and
collapsed, in an open shed near Ridgeway.  He was conveyed to the
Hospital immediately.  Drinking and dissipation had most probably tended
to increase his sufferings, for they were excessive.  His habits were
well known, and there was every reason to suppose he was in a state of
intoxication when seized with the disease.  A strong emetic of mustard
and salt was first given to him, and active remedies were afterwards
resorted to.  Some hours elapsed before warmth could be restored, and it
was thought the attack would terminate fatally; but God was merciful to
him, and he so far recovered as to be able to leave the Hospital in two
days.  How far he was impressed with the awfulness of his situation, or
of thankfulness for his escape from impending danger, rested with his own
conscience.  He gave no satisfactory proof of any salutary impression
having been made upon his mind.  He was enveloped in utter darkness, and
religious duties were evidently irksome to him.

With the exception of these two cases, nothing occurred beyond the usual
routine of visiting convalescent patients, or those taken with slight
attacks, from the end of August to the 3rd of October.  During that
period, the attendance at meetings of the Board of Health, and constant
communication with the Central Board, as well as ordinary parish duties,
were attended to.  On the 3rd of October, it was reported, and with
devout thankfulness acknowledged, that the disease was mercifully
withdrawn from the parish—the plague was stayed—and the Board of Health
was adjourned.  Thus terminated the progress of the fearful visitation in
this parish.  Thirty deaths, chiefly from the village of Underwood, had
occurred between the 13th of July and the 27th of August.  In the
adjacent town of Plympton, where the population by the census of 1831 was
804, there were twenty-two deaths between the 12th of August and the 21st
of September.




CONCLUSION.


HERE it may be useful to make a brief allusion to some of the
circumstances connected with the progress of the disease in this rural
district.  The first patient who died of the cholera at Underwood,
arrived there two days before she was taken ill, from Plymouth, where the
disease was making fearful havoc.  After her death, nearly a fortnight
elapsed, when two other deaths occurred, of persons who were dwelling
near the centre of the village.  Then the disease visited the extreme
western end, taking its course eastward, and at that end finished its
career.  The time of its duration was between two and three months: its
fatal effects were limited to about five weeks.

Nearly a month after the disease had visited Plympton St. Mary, it
proceeded to Plympton St. Maurice, commencing on the 12th of August, in
the middle of the town; then, as it had done at Underwood, it went to the
western extremity, afterwards taking its course eastward, and, on the
20th of September, ceased at one of the last houses in that direction.
Although in both parishes its fatal effects were limited to five weeks,
it lingered in the neighbourhood some weeks afterwards.

It may be supposed that, because the malady, during the later period of
its existence at Underwood, did not prove fatal, it was understood better
than at first, and that the medical treatment was on that account more
successful.  But if so, it would not have been so fatal afterwards at
Plympton; as it was in the hands of the same medical practitioner.

It may be worthy of remark, that towards the end of August, the weather
became cooler, and the vapour which rises in the valley below Underwood,
concentrated in a white frost, though in a slight degree, in the month of
September; to which the gradual disappearance of the disease was in some
measure attributed.

By the entries in the Register of Burials, it appears that the deaths
were,—males, 14, females, 16; total, 30.  One male only died between the
ages of 10 and 39.  One female only died between the ages of 10 and 45.
Two males died upwards of 50 years of age; viz., 53 and 72.  Five females
died upwards of 50 years of age; viz., 56, 67, 75, 76, and 77.

Burials in Plympton St. Mary:—

1831          males, 26       females, 18      total 44
1832               „ 31              „ 31          „ 62
1833               „ 14              „ 18          „ 32

From the 1st of June to the 1st of September:—

1831          males, 4        females, 3      total, 7
1832              „ 20              „ 19          „ 39
1833               „ 4               „ 5           „ 9

The fact that nine out of twelve inmates of the cottage {103} inhabited
by Parsons’s family were swept off, under circumstances of a peculiarly
aggravated and appalling character, may be attributed to the unfortunate
inattention to sanitary precautions, which has already been mentioned.

                   [Picture: The village of Underwood]

In consequence of the Board of Health not having been regularly
constituted until above a month after the commencement of the disease in
the parish, no returns from medical practitioners were received before
the 22nd of August; and even after that period, so constantly were those
gentlemen occupied, and worn out with fatigue, the returns were very
imperfectly supplied.  Therefore, a statistical account of cases, dates
of seizure and recovery, cannot here be attempted.  It must, therefore,
suffice to state, that between 200 and 300 in this parish were more or
less affected with the disease; and in Underwood alone, about 200.  The
proportion of deaths, in cases which had advanced into the second or cold
stage before medical assistance had been obtained, was about one out of
three.  In the foregoing Extracts, only a portion of the cases of
confirmed cholera are mentioned; omitting those which are termed
incipient.

It cannot be too strongly impressed upon the attention of every one, that
if the atmosphere surrounding houses is corrupted by the effluvia of
stagnant water in pools and ditches, unwholesome sewers, choked drains,
or any accumulation of filth—if badly ventilated rooms are crowded with
an excess of occupants—if the diet is low and unwholesome, and the habits
of the people are dirty, particularly if they are addicted to drunkenness
and dissipation,—diseases of various kinds are engendered as a natural
consequence; therefore, under such circumstances, what can be expected
during a visitation of an extraordinary epidemic like that of cholera,
but its baneful effects, and those of a most aggravated and appalling
character.

It is essential that due attention be paid to the very first indication
of indisposition during the prevalence of the epidemic.  Vegetables and
fruit should be avoided.  Strong affections of the mind, arising from
anxiety, alarm, or excess of grief, are extremely injurious; therefore
the mind should be kept calm, and if any symptoms, however trivial,
should occur, medical advice should be obtained as speedily as possible.

If, through neglect, or any other particular cause, the second stage has
come on, with violent sickness, cramp, cold extremities, weakness, and
sinking of the pulse, &c. the disease is extremely dangerous.  I have not
heard of any specific having yet been discovered, which can be
recommended with assurance of success.  But even from this stage, and
under the most disheartening circumstances, several patients have
recovered.

It is hoped, that a plain statement of some of the remedies which were
resorted to in this parish, may have a place here, without a risk of
being objectionable; especially as it is unaccompanied by any attempt to
encroach upon the prerogative of those whose professional education and
experience entitle them to be the sole arbiters and directors of such
subjects.

Many instances occurred, when medical aid could not be immediately
obtained; and some, when there was every probability of considerable loss
of time.  Under such circumstances, to prevent, if possible, the early
stage of the disease assuming a more serious character, much benefit was
derived from the following recipes, supplied by Mr. Langworthy; due
regard being observed to circumstances as they arose at the time, as well
as to the proportions usually allowed for difference of age, sex, and
constitution:—

Powdered rhubarb                 8 grains.
Powdered ginger                  6 grains.
Carbonate of soda                20 grains.
Calomel, occasionally added      3 or 4 grains.

It appeared to us, that in most cases which came under our observation,
where the use of heating or spirituous liquors had been resorted to, for
the purpose of allaying pain in the bowels, it did more harm than good.

In cases which were attended with aggravated symptoms, five, ten,
fifteen, or twenty grains of calomel, with nearly an equal quantity of
powdered ginger, were given by Mr. L., according to circumstances, and in
an hour or two afterwards, from half an ounce to an ounce of castor oil,
with one, two, or three drachms of tincture of rhubarb.

When much irritation has been going on, soda water, in a state of
effervescence, or a teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, and the same
quantity of salvolatile, have tended to allay sickness, &c.

In more advanced stages of the disease, the following mixture, drank
cold, has given relief:—

Carbonate of soda                   1 drachm.
Common salt                         1 drachm.
Oxymuriate (chlorate) of potash     3 or 4 grains.

To be mixed in a quart of water, and drank when the patient complained of
thirst.

When internal cramp has caused great suffering, dry heat, by the
application of a bag of hot salt, to the pit of the stomach, has been
beneficial in relieving the pain; and, in the cold stage of the disease,
the use of friction with stimulating liniment, and mustard and vinegar
poultices applied to the extremities, have been attended with good
effects.  In extreme cases, on the verge of death, recourse was had to
injecting some principal vein with saline fluid.  This invariably stopped
the sufferings of the patient; but in the application of the experiment
by Mr. L., it did not succeed in saving the life, unless a small quantity
of blood was afterwards transfused into the vein.  This was done only in
the three cases here, of Wm. Gully, Susan Taylor, and Mary Taylor.  The
two former recovered, and are living at the present time.  The latter was
in a weak state of health before the attack of cholera, to which the
failure of the experiment was attributed.  The two former relapsed after
the injection of the saline fluid alone, and were rapidly sinking; but
upon a repetition of the process of injection, with the addition
afterwards of blood, they recovered.

It was remarked, that if calomel effected any degree of salivation, the
patient recovered.

In the event of a recurrence of such a fearful pestilence, from which,
may it please God in mercy to protect us, it may be worth consideration,
that Boards of Health become legally constituted as soon as possible;
that they may be empowered to provide for cases of emergency, and engage
medical assistance, in proportion to the requirements of the district,
with a remuneration to the medical gentlemen commensurate with their
arduous duties.  Also to provide an adequate attendance of efficient
nurses.  In the case of our Board of Health, there was no legal authority
for making orders for assistance, until the 22nd of August, nearly six
weeks after the disease had commenced in the parish.  One medical
gentleman only, with the aid of his relation, had to attend nearly all
the poor people who were ill, in addition to his own private patients;
and the other medical practitioners were fully occupied.  The consequence
was, that, in some instances, much valuable time was lost.  The
difficulty of procuring nurses at the time, has already been adverted to.

Under these circumstances, the consequences would have been still more
lamentable, if a subscription had not been raised to meet the emergency;
as extra expenses, to a large amount, which had been incurred by a series
of such fearful sickness and distress, during a period of six weeks, were
met by that resource.

In justice to those parishioners who had the means, it should be
mentioned here, that, in addition to their benevolent and liberal
subscriptions, all aided in relieving the necessities of their poorer
brethren, and mitigated much of their distress, by providing, from their
own houses, many things which could not be obtained in the poor man’s
home.  Some of the principal families were absent at the time; but they
took a lively interest in the progress of events, and repeatedly gave
directions that the poor sufferers should be supplied with whatever they
required, from their houses.

In concluding this plain record of some fearful occurrences among his
parishioners during the visitation with which God, for wise purposes,
afflicted them, the writer, in adverting to the many acts of Christian
beneficence, cannot refrain from expressing his grateful remembrance of
the affectionate kindness which he himself experienced, from the highest
to the lowest of his parishioners, to which was added, an unexpected but
gratifying testimonial of regard from the parishioners in general, and
another from the village of Underwood in particular.

In these Extracts from a Diary relating to one particular subject, many
minor details have been omitted, as superfluous; and the mention of some
circumstances of a painful nature, as to the state of mind or conduct of
particular individuals, has been avoided, from consideration for the
feelings of others.  If, however, it should be asked, what effects this
awful warning produced upon those who witnessed its solemn call, it must
be confessed, in general terms, that, with the exception of a few
individuals, no permanent change of character was perceptible.  There
were then, as unhappily there are now, persons upon whom no passing
events, however striking, make any salutary impression—who make light of
the most solemn calls to repentance and amendment—run through life
utterly heedless of the one thing needful; and when they “pass through
the valley of the shadow of death,” they have no staff to rest upon for
comfort and support.  The state of such people calls for the deepest
commiseration.  Much do they require the Christian’s prayer, that they
may be converted and live.  Well will it be for all of us, if, in viewing
the judgments of God in the world, we acknowledge them as such; and in
the endeavour to theorize upon second causes, we do not overlook the
Great First Cause.  The hand of God must be acknowledged, when, by either
of His sore judgments, whether of pestilence, famine, or the sword, He
afflicts a people for their iniquity.  His divine blessing must be
sought, with the earnest prayer of a contrite heart through faith in the
Saviour; for without His blessing, without His Almighty aid, all our
endeavours to escape the rod of His displeasure will assuredly fail.

Whether as a nation or as individuals, let us not be regardless of the
warnings and mercies which we have from time to time experienced at the
hand of God.  Let us remember the word of the Lord addressed to his
rebellious people of old, “Son of man, when the land sinneth against me
by trespassing grievously, then will I stretch out mine hand upon it, and
will break the staff of the bread thereof, and will send famine upon it,
and will cut off man and beast,” &c.  And again, “If ye will not be
reformed by me by these things, but will walk contrary unto me; then will
I also walk contrary unto you, and will punish you yet seven times for
your sins.  And when ye are gathered together within your cities, I will
send the pestilence among you.”

During a succession of many generations, the judgments of the Lord,
either of pestilence, famine, or the sword, have visited our land at
different periods.  On these occasions, days for public humiliation have
been resorted to, with confession of sin, and vows of repentance and
amendment.  The prayer of the nation has been invariably heard, and the
scourge withdrawn.  The mercies thus experienced have been acknowledged
by national thanksgiving.  But notwithstanding these things, we have been
a rebellious people.  It was only within the last year that another of
God’s judgments called forth our humiliation, and public prayers for
deliverance.  Again a supplicating nation was heard—the calamity was
withdrawn; and this was acknowledged by a general thanksgiving.  The Lord
has hitherto been merciful to us; and still, as a nation, we are
wonderfully blessed.  But fearful signs and warnings have been hovering
around, to awaken us from spiritual lethargy, and forgetfulness of the
past.  In addition to this, the storm which has recently burst forth upon
our continental neighbours, and shaken the foundations of thrones and
empires, whilst it bids us to be thankful for the privileges we enjoy,
calls upon us to put our whole trust in Him who hath hitherto succoured
us.  Therefore, amidst all the foreboding signs of the times, and the
internal convulsions that threaten other nations, may we have grace so to
acquit ourselves consistently with our Christian profession, that God may
yet be merciful to our land, and continue to us His blessing.

                                * * * * *

AT a Vestry meeting, held this 13th day of January, 1833, in pursuance of
a notice duly given,—

    Resolved, “That a small stone, in the shape of a cross, with the
    date, 1832, engraved upon it, be placed as a memorial at the head of
    all the graves of persons who had died of the awful disease of
    cholera.”

                 [Picture: Cross with 1832 written on it]




SUBSCRIBERS.


Adams, Mr. Peter, Plymouth.
Allen, Rev. John, North Huish.
Allport, D. H. Esq., London.
Andrews, Mr. H., Modbury.
Andrews, Peggy, Underwood.
Andrew, Mr. John, Ridgeway.
Ash, Mr., Topsham.
Aylwin, Robert, Esq., Blackland, Plympton (four copies).

                                * * * * *

Bedford, the Duke of
Bedford, the Duchess of
Beauford, Miss, Tavistock.
Bennett, W. Esq., Plymouth (two copies).
Bevan, John, Esq., London (four copies).
Bewes, Rev. Thomas, Beaumont (two copies).
Bewes, Captain, ditto (two copies).
Bewes, Charles, Esq. (four copies).
Bickford, Jane, Underwood.
Bickley, Mrs., Ridgeway.
Biggs, Mrs. Arnold (two copies).
Biggs, Miss Juliet (two copies).
Body, Mr., Plymouth.
Boger, Deeble, Esq., Plympton (two copies).
Boger, Mrs., ditto (two copies).
Bogue, Rev. Richard, Denbury (eight copies).
Bone, J. Esq., Devonport.
Boolds, Mr. C., Plymouth.
Bray, Rev. E. A., Tavistock (two copies).
Bray, Mrs., ditto (two copies).
Bulteel, Miss

                                * * * * *

Clarendon, the Earl of (four copies).
Clarendon, the Countess of (four copies).
Caledon, the Dowager Countess of (four copies).
Call, Sir William, Bart.
Call, Miss
Calmady, Mrs., Langdon Hall.
Cann, Mr., Ridgeway.
Catchpole, Mr., Plympton St. Mary.
Carew, Norman, Esq., Stoke (two copies).
Charrington, Spencer, Esq., London.
Clark, Mrs., Buckland-Tout-Saints (two copies).
Clark, Mrs. Erving, Efford Manor.
Cleverton, J. Esq., Boon’s Place.
Cobb, Rev. Robert, Ellingham, Norfolk.
Coles, J. B. Esq., Parrock’s Lodge, Chard.
Coles, Mrs., ditto.
Coles, Rev. James, Shepton Beauchamp (four copies).
Coles, J. S. Esq., Plymouth (two copies).
Cole, Mrs., Underwood.
Collier, John, Esq., Plymouth.
Conway, Rev. W., Rochester.
Conway, Miss, ditto.
Cork, Rev. Duncan, M.A., Ivy Bridge (four copies).
Cork, Mrs., Plympton St. Mary.
Coryton, A. Esq., Pentillie.
Coryton, Miss, ditto.
Cottle, Mr. John, Ridgeway.
Cotton, W. Esq., Highland House, Ivy Bridge (two copies).
Cotton, Mrs., Highland House, Ivy Bridge (two copies).
Crews, Mr. H., Plympton.
Cummings, Rev. Charles, M.A., Cheadle (four copies).
Curteis, Rev. Thomas, Sevenoaks (four copies).

                                * * * * *

De Dunstanville, Lady
Davis, Rev. C. G., Tewkesbury.
Dawson, J. Esq., London.
Dennis, Rev. Samuel, Stoke.
Dennis, Lardner, Esq.
Dewdney, Mrs., Plympton St. Mary.
Duff, Admiral, Braemoriston, Elgin (four copies).
Duff, Mrs., ditto (four copies).
Dyer, Mr. Robert, Norfolk Hotel, London (two copies).

                                * * * * *

Eastlake, George, Esq., Plymouth.
Eastlake, Charles Locke, Esq., London.
Edmonds, Miss, Ridgeway.
Edwards, Captain, Ludbrook House.
Elphinstone, Miss (four copies).
Elliot, Mr., Underwood (two copies).
Evans, William, Esq., Ridgeway.
Evans, W. H. Esq., Stoke Villa.

                                * * * * *

Fanshawe, Captain H., R.N., Tilbuster Lodge, Surrey (two copies).
Fanshawe, Capt. A., Stonehouse.
Flint, Rev. C. W. Raffles, Morden, Surrey (eight copies).
Forster, Mrs., Ditchingham Cottage, Suffolk (two copies).
Forster, Miss Emily, ditto (twenty copies).
Fry, Mr. E., Plymouth.
Furneaux, James, Esq., Swilly.

                                * * * * *

Gardner, Mr. John, Plympton St. Mary.
Giles, Mr. John, Plympton St. Mary.
Gordon, Mrs., Inverness.
Gordon, Mrs. Hugh, ditto
Goss, Mr. Robert, Plympton.
Grills, Mr. John, Plympton St. Mary.

                                * * * * *

Haddock, Mrs., London.
Hales, Mrs., Richmond (two copies).
Hallett, Mrs., Plymouth.
Hall, Mrs., Plympton St. Mary.
Hall, Mr. Sparkes, 308, Regent Street, London.
Hatchard, Rev. John, M.A., Plymouth.
Hawker, W. H. Esq., ditto.
Hicks, Mr. F., ditto.
Hingston, A. Esq., ditto.
Hitchins, Mr. Martin, ditto (two copies).
Holden, Mrs., Plympton St. Mary.
Holmes, Rev. Peter, Plymouth.
Holmes, Mr. Walter, ditto.
Holman, Mr. (and Coombes).
Hook, Mrs., Gascoyne Place, Plymouth.
Howse, Mrs., Plympton St. Mary.
Hullah, Charles, Esq., London (four copies).
Hullah, Rev. Thomas, M.A., Ridgeway (four copies).
Hunt, Major, Penquit Lodge.

                                * * * * *

Jago, Robert, Esq., Plymouth (two copies).
James, W. T. Esq. R.N., Plympton.
James, Mr., Exeter.
Jauncey, Francis, Esq. (four copies).
Jones, Miss Braemoriston, Elgin (four copies).
Julian, Mr. George, Plympton.

                                * * * * *

Kington, Thomas, Esq., Charlton House (four copies).
King, Mrs. James, Burrington (two copies).
Kingdon, Mr. John, Ridgeway (two copies).
Kirby, Mrs., Plympton St. Mary.

                                * * * * *

Lewis, Lady Theresa (four copies).
Lewis, G. Cornwall, Esq. (four copies).
Lane, Rev. Richard, Coffleet.
Lane, Mr. Richard, Ridgeway.
Langmead, Rev. G. W., M.A., Plymouth (two copies).
Langworthy, Richard, Esq., Plympton (eight copies).
Laskey, Mrs. Underwood.
Lavers, Joanna, ditto.
Lavers, Mr. James, Ridgeway.
Ley, George, Esq., Cockington.
Ley, Miss, ditto.
Lidstone, Mr. Roger, Plymouth.
Luttrell, Miss, Tilbuster Lodge, Surrey (two copies).

                                * * * * *

Morley, the Earl of (eight copies).
Morley, the Countess of (eight copies).
Morley, the Dowager Countess of (four copies).
Macfarlane, Mrs., Inverness (five copies).
Magrath, Sir George, M.D., Plymouth.
Mangles, Captain C. E.
Martin, the Rev. Chancellor, Exeter.
Marsh, Rev. W. M.A., Ashburton (four copies).
Mayhew, C. H. Esq., London.
May, Rev. John, M.A., Ugborough.
Mears, Rev. H., Snow Hill, Hartish (two copies).
Mellish, Miss (eight copies).
Milner, Colonel, Plymouth.
Molesworth, Rev. William, M.A., St. Brooke.
Molesworth, Rev. Hugh.
Molesworth, Rev. Paul.
Molesworth, Walter Hele, Esq., Goodamoor.
Morrice, Rev. W. D., M.A. Plymouth.
Mudge, Col. R. E., Beechwood (eight copies).
Mudge, Zach. Esq. M.A. (two copies).
Murray, Captain, Gosport.

                                * * * * *

Osmond, Mrs., Ridgeway.
Overton, Mr. S., London.
Oxenham, Mrs., Southernhay, Exeter.

                                * * * * *

Page, J. Esq., London.
Page, Mr., Plymouth.
Palk, Lawrence, Esq.
Palk, Mrs.
Parker, Montague, Esq., Whiteway (four copies).
Parker, Mrs., ditto (four copies).
Parker, Mr. I., Ridgeway.
Parkhouse, Mr. S., Plymouth.
Parsons, Mr., ditto.
Pasmore, Mrs. E., Plympton St. Mary.
Pepperall, Mary, Underwood.
Pinwill, Rev. W. James, Plymouth (two copies).
Pearse, Mr. J., Plympton.
Phillipps, C. J. Esq., 1st Royals, Landue, Cornwall.
Phillipps, Miss Caroline, ditto.
Phillipps, Miss Barbara, ditto.
Plimsaul Brothers, Messrs., Plymouth (two copies).
Pitcher, W. H. Esq., London.
Pitts, Mrs. Jane, ditto.
Pitts, Mrs., Hay, Plympton St. Mary.
Praed, W. Mackworth, Esq., Delamore.
Praed, Mrs. W. Mackworth, ditto.
Prance, W. Esq., Plymouth.
Pridham, George, Esq., ditto.
Pirdham, W. Esq., Plymouth.
Pym, Rev. F., Bickleigh.

                                * * * * *

Rack, W. M. Esq., London.
Reep, Richard T. Esq., London.
Robertson, Major, Lyncolm, Bath.
Roberts, Ann, Ridgeway.
Roe, H. Esq., Gnaton.
Rogers, Captain, R.N., Plymouth.

                                * * * * *

St. Germans, the Earl of
St. Germans, the Countess of
Seymour, Rev. Sir J. Culme, Bart. (two copies).
Seymour, Lady
Sarah, Mr., Merafield.
Saunders, Mrs., Kitley.
Saunders, George R. Esq., Wadebridge.
Scudamore, Rev. W. E., M.A., Ditchingham.
Sealy, Miss, Bristol (two copies).
Selerne, Mrs., Plympton St. Mary.
Shepherd, John, Esq. Townsend Hill (two copies).
Shortland, Mrs. George, Lipson.
Smale, Mr. G., Plympton St. Mary.
Smeaton, Rev. S. B., Sheepstor.
Smith, Rev. Hinton, Plymouth.
Smythe, Rev. John, Ridgeway (eight copies).
Smythe, Mrs., ditto.
Smythe, Miss, ditto.
Smythe, Miss Agnes, ditto.
Smythe, Miss Mary, ditto.
Smythe, Miss Altha, ditto.
Soltau, George W. Esq., Efford (four copies).
Soltau, Mrs., ditto (four copies).
Soltau, Mrs. William, Plymouth (two copies).
Southwood, Mr. Thomas, Underwood.
Spear, Miss, Halton Barton.
Spence, Charles, Esq., Stoke.
Squire, Mr. S., Plymouth.
Squire, Mr., ditto.
Stuart, Douglas, Esq., Handley House, Dor. (four copies).
Stanbury, Mr. H., Ridgeway.
Stanbury, Mr. B.
Stapleton, Augustus Granville, Esq.
Stone, Rev. D. S., Walkhampton.
Stephens, Robert, Esq., Plymouth.
Stockman, Mr. H., Underwood.
Strangways, Mrs., Plymouth.
Street, Fanny, Colebrook.
Strode, George, Esq., Newnham Park (four copies).
Strode, Mrs., ditto (four copies).
Strode, George Sidney, Esq., ditto.
Strode, Miss, ditto.
Strode, Miss Florence, ditto.
Symons, Mrs., Chaddlewood (three copies).
Symons, Major, Stonehouse.

                                * * * * *

Tallock, R. T. Esq., London.
Taylor, Rev. Henry, Southpoole (two copies).
Taylour, Mrs. C.
Thomas, D. Esq., London.
Tolcher, Edward, Esq., Ridgeway (four copies).
Toope, Mr. Stephen, Underwood.
Treby, Paul O. Esq., Goodamoor (two copies).
Treby, Henry Hele, Esq., ditto.
Treby, Miss, ditto.
Treby, Miss Blanche J., ditto.
Tremayne, J. H. Esq., Helygan.
Trench, Rev. Francis, M.A. Reading (three copies).

                                * * * * *

Verulam, the Dowager Countess (four copies).
Villiers, the Honourable Mrs. (eight copies).
Vawdon, Mr., Baccamore, Plympton St. Mary.
Vawdon, Mrs., ditto.
Vicary, Mr. T., Plymouth.
Vosper, Mrs., Merafield.

                                * * * * *

Walke, Mrs., Ridgeway (two copies).
Walke, Mr. Andrew, ditto.
Watts, Rev. Prebendary, Gunville Rectory, Dorset.
Weekes, Mr., Professor of Music, Plymouth.
Whetham, Mrs., Kirklington Hall, Notts. (two copies).
White, Miss, Seven Trees, Plymouth (two copies).
White, Miss, Sarah, ditto (two copies).
White, Miss, Smithaleigh, Plympton St. Mary.
Widdicombe, Mr. J., Ludbrook Cottage.
Williams, Rev. C. K., D.D., Plympton.
Williams, John Esq., Ham Street (two copies).
Wills, Mr., Plymouth.
Wills, Mr. J., ditto.
Wilmot, Captain.
Wilmot, Mrs.
Wollacott, Mrs., Ridgeway.
Woollcombe, Captain, R.N., Hemerdon (four copies).
Woollcombe, Rev. E. C., M.A., Oxford.
Woodman, C. B. Esq., York House, Hampstead.
Woodman, Mrs., ditto.

                                * * * * *

Yabsley, Jane, Saltram Lodge
Yonge, Rev. J., Puslinch.

                                * * * * *

                                 PLYMOUTH
                         ROGER LIDSTONE, PRINTER,
                              GEORGE STREET.




FOOTNOTES.


{1}  By the census in 1841, the population was 2757 and it is computed,
at the present time, to be above 3000.

{2}  This valley is at present little else than an extensive marsh, which
has been redeemed from the Lary, or Laira, an estuary into which the
river Plym empties itself.  A dense fog, of a peculiar character,
frequently rises from this valley, after sun-set, at all seasons of the
year, and hangs about the adjacent hill, assuming the appearance of a
white cloud.

{14}  This gentleman was the medical officer for the parish; and the
epidemic having been chiefly prevalent among the labouring class of
people, the frequent mention of his name will be accounted for.

When it pleased God to withdraw the disease from this neighbourhood, the
skilful manner in which Mr. Langworthy had treated it, and his
unremitting attention to the arduous duties of his office, were duly
acknowledged at a parish meeting, with an addition to his salary; and a
handsome piece of plate, purchased by subscription, was presented to him.
He died a few years afterwards.

{18}  A supply of all those medicines, &c., which were considered to be
requisite, was provided out of the subscription fund, and kept at my
house; viz., castor oil, tincture of rhubarb, laudanum,—packets, of
different proportions, ready made up and marked, of powdered rhubarb,
carbonate of soda, powdered ginger, and calomel.  Carageen moss,
arrow-root, patent groats, mustard, linseed, chloride of lime,
stimulating liniment, called “cholera lotion,” spirits of turpentine,
spirits of salvolatile, &c.  From nine to ten every morning, poor people
were supplied with what they required,—some, with common remedies for
slight indisposition; others, according to prescriptions which they
received from their medical attendant,—all under the direction or
sanction of some medical practitioner.

{42}  When Sergeant Higgins was suddenly carried off by the cholera, a
feeling of the deepest commiseration for his wife and children was
excited among the officers and privates of the regiment.  They
immediately entered into a subscription, and when the sorrowing widow was
about to leave the Citadel with her four young children, on her journey
to Cork, they presented her with a purse containing twenty sovereigns.
The poor creature was so overpowered by the conflicting feelings of grief
for her loss, and gratitude for such an unexpected act of generosity,
that she was unable, without assistance, to get to the waggon in which
she was to travel.  Some of her late husband’s comrades and their wives
accompanied her; and so affecting was the parting scene, that more than
one manly cheek was bedewed with tears when the sad farewell was
exchanged.  How soon was it realized as a last farewell!

Immediately after the funeral, I wrote to her relations at Cork,
informing them of the mournful event, and requesting them to inform me
what arrangements they would suggest respecting the children.  The
youngest, aged one year, died of the cholera in our hospital, in a
fortnight after the decease of its mother.  At this time, a person
arrived, to take charge of the children.  Before they left the workhouse,
where every care had been taken of them, their relation requested to know
what was due to the parish.  In reply to which, he was informed, that
“the last tribute of respect and Christian sympathy to a broken-hearted
widow, was reserved for her helpless little orphans.”  Nothing was
accepted.  The purse which she had with her was returned, with the
contents untouched.

{45}  This man and his wife had been very active and useful, as nurses,
and they occupied an upstair apartment, in the same cottage with
Parsons’s family.

{48}  The town of Plympton, in the parish of Plympton St. Maurice, is
situate a few hundred yards eastward from Underwood, in the same valley
which lies below that village.

Some displeasure was expressed, at Plympton, on account of Susan Taylor
having gone to her brother-in-law’s house, as that place had hitherto
been free from the epidemic.

An influential gentleman there wrote to me on the subject, to the
following effect:—

    I dare say you have heard that the cholera has unhappily appeared
    among us, owing to the widow of Taylor and her child, having
    emigrated last night from Underwood to Plympton, and slept at the
    house of her brother, in consequence of her having no other abode . .
    .  It is requisite that you should be aided by the practical
    co-operation of others, and particularly that you should be
    empowered, by the vote of the parish, to enforce in your overseers
    the full and immediate performance of their duty . . .  If the poor
    of Plympton St. Mary are driven from their houses by accident or
    pestilence, they are equally entitled to be taken care of by the
    parish officers, and it is their bounden duty instantly to provide
    them with some other habitation.  Had that been attended to
    yesterday, we should (at least in the present case) have been exempt
    from the pestilence to-day.

    Dated August 11th, 1832.

{50}  I received the following letter, in consequence of some difficulty
that had arisen respecting the power of our present Board of Health to
make any order for assistance from the parish; the parish officers having
hitherto taken no steps for that purpose:—

                                  Rose Cottage, Ridgeway, August 11, 1832.

    My dear Sir,

    As the dread malady with which this neighbourhood is unhappily
    afflicted does not appear to have yet run its course (neither
    Ridgeway nor Colebrook having been much affected), and as it is
    utterly impossible that one medical man, however active and zealous,
    can attend on half the cases; nor is it possible that you should be
    able to continue your exertions as you have done, unless the patients
    are more concentrated: under these considerations, I beg to suggest
    the propriety of calling a meeting to-morrow, to consider the
    expediency of appointing some place to receive the poor people that
    may be attacked, and also to depute some one to act as assistant
    overseer; as the overseer resides so far off, a deputy is absolutely
    necessary.

                            I remain, my dear Sir,

                                                                Yours, &c.
                                                               B. CROCKER.

{52}  Carbonate of soda, one drachm; muriate of soda (or common salt, now
chloride of sodium), one drachm; oxymuriate of potash (now chlorate of
potash), six grains; mixed in a quart of water, heated exactly 110
degrees by a thermometer.  In cases where this remedy was resorted to,
from four to seven quarts were injected.

{54}  Some parishioners met in the Vestry-room, after the morning
service, and it was resolved, that, as the present Board of Health, being
only self-appointed, has not the power of making an order upon the parish
for any assistance, under the present distressing emergency, the chairman
be requested to write to the secretary of the Central Board, expressing
the earnest wish of the members of the Plympton St. Mary Board to be
legally constituted.

{56}  I wrote to the secretary of the Central Board of Health, Whitehall,
informing him that a Board of Health had been appointed in the parish,
and requesting, on the part of the Board, that the Board might
immediately receive the sanction of the Privy Council, in order to their
being enabled to exercise the requisite authority for endeavouring to
prevent the spreading of the cholera; at the same time, requesting to be
furnished with copies of the “Orders in Council.”

{65}  Providentially that person sustained no injury or inconvenience
from such a beautiful trait of a feeling heart; and it was not passed
over unrequited.

{70a}  A letter from the secretary of the Central Board was received,
enclosing an order of the Lords of the Privy Council, appointing a Board
of Health at Plympton St. Mary.  Notice was given for a meeting of the
parishioners, on the 22nd.

{70b}  Board of Health, Plympton St. Mary, legally constituted August
18th, 1832:—George Strode, Esq., Newnham Park; Richard Rosdew, Esq.,
Beechwood; Capt. Woollcombe, R.N., Hemerdon; Henry Hele Treby, Esq.,
Goodamoor; George William Soltau, Esq., Efford; Augustus Granville
Stapleton, Esq., St. Mary’s Hill, Ridgeway; Rev. Edward Beauchamp St.
John, Underwood; Robert Langworthy, Esq.; Benjamin Crocker, Esq., Rose
Cottage, Ridgeway; Mr. Delville, Underwood; Mr. Pearse, Mr. Cork, Mr.
Day, Mr. Worth, Mr. Pollard, Mr. Hilson, Mr. Yolland, Mr. Willing, Mr.
Olver, Mr. Brewer; William I. Coppard, Chairman.

{72}  Mr. Richard Langworthy was at the time a student in medicine, and
came to assist his relation soon after the cholera began to spread at
Underwood.

{83}  According to notice, duly given, a meeting of the parishioners was
held on this day, in the Vestry-room, at the Church; present, Mr. Richard
Worth, Mr. Wm. Delville.  “Resolved, That this meeting be adjourned from
the Vestry-room in the Church, to the Plymouth Inn, Ridgeway; some of the
Parishioners having objected to meet in the Vestry-room in the Church, or
in the room at the Workhouse, where vestry meetings have hitherto been
held, on account of apprehension of danger of infection from the
cholera.”  The meeting was adjourned accordingly.

                                             WILLIAM I. COPPARD, Chairman.

    “An adjourned meeting of the parishioners was held on this day, at
    the Plymouth Inn, Ridgeway; present, George Strode, Esq., William
    Langmead, Esq., George William Soltau, Esq., B. Crocker, Esq., Mr. J.
    Yolland, Mr. William Delville, Mr. Worth, Mr. Willing, Mr. Joseph
    Pearse, Mr. Brewer.  Resolved, That a Board of Health having been
    regularly appointed in the parish, under the authority of the Lords
    of H.M. most honourable Privy Council, in compliance with the
    proposition of the Board, the sum of twenty pounds be paid to the
    order of the chairman of the said Board, for the purpose of meeting
    the present expenses of the Board.”

                                             WILLIAM I. COPPARD, Chairman.

{85a}  The clergyman of Plympton St. Maurice, having sickness in his
family, requested me to visit some of his parishioners whenever I had an
opportunity.

{85b}  Mr. Deeble Boger was present in several of the worst cases of
cholera, in the town of Plympton; and his benevolent and active exertions
contributed materially to mitigate the sufferings of the afflicted
people.

{96}  Susan Taylor subsequently married an honest and industrious
labourer.  They have five young children, and are living at Underwood at
the present time.

{103}  Represented on the left hand of the foreground, in the woodcut.






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