ARTHUR
48

This meditation did not weaken my resolve, nor slow my pace. In proportion as I approached the city, the signs of catastrophic conditions became clearer. Every farmhouse is filled with supernumerary tenants, fugitives from the house, and haunting the outskirts of the road, eager to hold every passenger with question after news. Passengers are many; because the wave of emigration is not exhausted at all. Some were on foot, with their faces showing signs of their recent terror, and filled with sad reflections over their country's grief. Few get asylum for themselves; some have no means to pay for food or lodging for the night to come; others, who are not so poor, do not, but not knowing where to look for entertainment, every house is already crowded with its residents, or blocking its unfriendly doors to get close.

Families of crying mothers and anxious children, who came with some indispensable furniture, were transported in vehicles of all shapes. A parent or husband has died; and the price of some movable goods, or the low price afforded by a public charity, has been spent to purchase a means of retirement from this disaster theater, the, although the accommodation is uncertain and hopeless in the neighboring districts.

Between them and the fugitives that curiosity brings to the streets, dialogue happens frequently, which makes me suffer to listen to it. From each mouth the story of grief is repeated with new aggravation. Images of their own distress, or pictures of their neighbors, are exhibited in all colors that the imagination can attach to the plague of disease and poverty.

My preconception of evil now seems to have failed to reach the truth. The danger in which I rushed seemed more numerous and close than I had imagined before. I am not shaky in my purpose. Panic crept into my heart, which required more effort to conquer or control it; but I did not hold any doubt for a moment that the path I took was determined by duty. There is no difficulty or reluctance in continuing. All my efforts are required to walk this path without any commotion or alarm.

Various circumstances have prevented me from starting this journey as early as possible. My frequent pauses to listen to the narratives of travelers also contributed to the delays. The sun was almost setting before I reached the city. I chased down the tracks I had previously taken, and entered the High Street after nightfall. Instead of equipment and crowds of passengers, the sound of frivolity and excitement, which I have observed before, and which will be produced by the softness of the season, at a later time, will be, I found nothing but gloomy silence.

The market, and each side of this magnificent street, was illuminated, as before, by lights; but between the threshold of Schuylkill and the heart of the city I met no more than a dozen figures; and this was like a ghost, and, wrapped in robes, from behind them threw a look of wonder and suspicion at me, and, as I approached, changed their direction, to avoid touching me. Their clothes were sprinkled with vinegar, and their nostrils were protected from contagion by some powerful fragrances.

I looked at the houses, which I remember before, at this hour, glittering with lights, echoing with lively voices, and filled with busy faces. Now they are closed, above and below; dark, and without any sign of habitation. From some of the upper windows, rays sometimes fell onto the pavement I was passing through, and showed that their tenants were not fleeing, but were remote or disabled.

This token is new, and it arouses all my panic. Death seemed to float above this scene, and I was afraid that the floating pestilence had invaded my body. I could barely cope with this vibration, as I approached a house whose door was open, and in front of it stood a vehicle, which I now recognize as a hearse .

The driver sat on it. I stood still to mark his face, and to observe the path he proposed to take. Currently a coffin, carried by two men, was removed from the house. The driver was a nigger; but his friends were white. Their characteristics are characterized by a vicious indifference to danger or mercy. One of them, while helping to put the coffin into the cavity reserved for him, said, "I would be damned if I thought the poor dog was dead. It wasn't the fever that made her sick, but the sight of the girl and her mother on the floor. I wonder how they all got into that room. What brings them there?"

"But why are they hugging in one room?"

"To save us from trouble, for sure."

"And I thank them wholeheartedly; but, damn, it was not right to put them in his coffin before his breath was completely gone. I think the last look he gave me told me to stay a few minutes."

"Pshaws! He can't live. The sooner we die the better for him; also for us. Did you mark how he looked at us when we brought his wife and daughter? I have never cried in my life, since I knelt-high, but curse me if I feel more suited to this business than back then. Hey!" he continued, looking up, and observing me who was standing a few steps away, and listening to their lecture; "What do you want? Is anyone dead?"

I was silent not to answer or to negotiate, but to rush forward. My joints trembled, and cold droplets stuck to my forehead. I was ashamed of my own weakness; and, with the vigorous efforts of my reason, regained some degree of serenity. The night was getting late, and I had to buy accommodation at some inns.

It is easily distinguished by its signs, but many are uninhabited. Finally I turned on one, the hall opened and the window lifted. After knocking for some time, a young girl appeared, with many signs of distress. In answer to my question, he replied that both his parents were sick, and they could not accept anyone. I asked, in vain, for every other tavern where foreigners could be accommodated. He did not know of such a thing, and left me, to someone who called him from above, amid my embarrassment. After a short pause, I returned, feeling uneasy and confused, to the road.

I continued, at a fairly large rate, at random. Finally I came to a spacious building on the Fourth Street, which was shown by the signboard to me as an inn. I knock on the door hard and often. Finally a woman opened the second-floor window, and, in an annoyed tone, demanded what I wanted. I told him I wanted to stay.