`Oh God how long shall thy terrible scourge afflict man? Death and not
Life reigns! Spare, oh spare!'

At this moment an African slave appeared crossing the deserted streets.
On seeing the expression of the gentleman's face, he asked,

`Is massa dead?'

`Yes, go and see that he is shrouded and I will send a coffin. Here is a
load.'

At this moment a wagon turned the corner of the adjoining street half
filled with coffins, many of them unpainted. The slow wagon as it
rolled along the silent, sunny streets, sent forth a hollow sound that went
to the soul. The driver asked if a coffin was wanted; and the black paid
for one and took it into the house.

`Farewell, noble Vinton,' said he, as he glanced through the open win
dows of the verandah upon the dead body of a young man laying upon a
sofa. `When the sun rose you were buoyant with health and full of hope.
Ere it sets you will be in your grave! I, too, must take warning! My
head aches, and walking and want of sleep have made me feverish. I have
done my duty in attending Vinton, and will now seek my home, for Mary
will be anxious about me, as well she may be; for who goes out well at
morn may never see the noon.'

The speaker was Lewis Foster! Five years have elapsed since the events
recorded in the preceding story. During the interval he had married a
lovely girl, James Layton's sister, and removed his business to New Orleans,
where he had now been three years a resident. The summers of
the first two years he passed North, where he went on business; the present
summer he also intended to go on to obtain goods, when he was detained
by his wife's illness, who having shortly before presented him with a
son, his second child, had not recovered sufficiently to enable him to leave
at the time he wished. It was August before she was well enough to travel,
when as the season was so far advanced he resolved to remain through it.
This was also necessary to give him an opportunity of examining his affairs,
as intelligence had reached him that his clerk whom he had sent
North in his place and entrusted with all his money, had proved unfaithful
to his trust and taken passage for Europe. The loss, as his business had
by no means been prosperous, was so great, that he found he should be under
the necessity, unless he could obtain great indulgence from his creditors,
of making over all he possessed to trustees, in a word that he must fail.

He had hardly time for reflection upon the condition of his affairs, with
a wife and two children, when the yellow fever broke out and enlisted all
his feelings and sympathies for his family and those of his friends who remained.

Night and day he devoted himself to the cause of humanity and up to
the time we meet him again, himself and his own family had mercifully

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

escaped. Vinton's (who was a young Bostonian, and had only been a few
weeks in the city) was the fifth death bed he had bent over that day. James
Layton, his brother-in-law, was also in New Orleans, and an inmate of his
family; this gentleman was now a widower. He had also been unsuccessful
in business, and allured by the rumors of fortunes easily achieved in
New Orleans, had come out the preceding fall. Hundreds of others had
also been tempted like him; and he found that the city was overrun with
them, each in turn doomed to disappointment. He found he could do
nothing, after remaining with Lewis during the winter, he proposed to return
North in the Spring with him and his wife. But her illness detained
him, and he now found himself as well as Lewis, in the midst of a
raging epidemic. He was not one to flee at such a time and leave his friends
in danger. He remained, and, like his brother, devoted himself to the care
of the sick.

Lewis Foster took his way home through the solitary streets at a slow
pace. He carried above his head a thick umbrella, for the sun was fiery
hot. The pavements were so heated as to be painful to his feet. The air
was still, and as difficult to breathe as if coming from the mouth of a furnace.
Not a cloud was in the hazy looking sky; and the dust of the ground
was so pulverized by the drought, as to float for hours after it was disturbed,
and filled the atmosphere, made it still more difficult to breathe. As he
went along, groans of the dying, or shrieks of the living over the just dead,
alone met his ears; save at intervals, the voice of prayer. The dead-cart
occasionally broke the stillness, as it rumbled along slowly with its disgusting
load, ever and anon stopping at a door to add to it. At length, James
reached his abode, a neat verandah cottage with a yard before it, once
green and adorned with flowers; but now parched by the heat and dust.
Mary was at the door and flew to meet him. She threw her arms about
his neck and wept! For meetings and partings, though for a few hours,
at such a time, were not without emotion.

`You are safe, thank God!' she said gratefully.

`And you, dearest Mary,' he said folding her to his heart. `And the
children?'

`Both well. How is Mr. Vinton?'

`Dead,' he answered in a tone that was methodical. This word of so
fearful import was then too common in men's mouths to be uttered with
the emphasis and feeling which belong to it at other times. `Where is
James?'

`A negro came for him to see Charles Wilbur.'

`Charles! I met him on my way to Vinton's not five hours ago, and he
went in with me, laughed with poor Vinton, told him not to give up for he
would get over it, and then left as he said to see a fellow clerk. Is he attacked?
'

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

`James was sent for two hours ago to see him.'

`Poor fellow! I will go to him.'

`No, Lewis! you owe duties to me and the children! You shall not go
again! You will be the next victim, and then what would become of me?'

`God!' answered Lewis, solemnly and impressively, pointing upwards.
`But I will remain with you! James will do every thing for Charles. I
am quite fatigued, and need some rest!'

`Your cheek is flushed and your eyes heavy! Oh, James, if you should
be ill!' cried the wife with anxious solicitude. `How hot your hands are!
your pulse is fearfully rapid! Oh God! what is this! He is ill!' she exclaimed
as her husband suddenly grew pale and sunk into a chair powerless.

She spoke to him but he did not reply. He grew black in the face and
violent vomiting confirmed the fearful suspicion of the poor wife! What
relief was there? What aid? Whom could she call? No one! All
around her were either dying or administering to their own sick! She
gazed upon her husband a moment as if to assure herself of the horrible
truth and then rang the air with piercing shrieks for help! Her voice
penetrated a hundred ears, but produced no effect. It was heard with indifference
and often echoed by the dying with insane wildness. She ceased
her shrieks and administered to him whatever was at hand; and tried to
shut her ears to his groans of agony. It was a terrible scene and hour for
that young and loving wife and mother. At length she heard a foot step.
She looked up. It was James—her brother! But oh, horror! he was
staggering along and his countenance betrayed the fatal signs of the epidemic.

`Mary,' be said faintly, `I have come home to die! As he spoke he fell at
his length upon the floor.

The cup of the poor wife was full. She shrieked not now! She flew to
him and raised him up! She kissed him and bade him live for her! He
embraced her and looking towards Lewis, bade her with his eyes to look
only to him. How dear to her were both. Which could she least regard?
Which could she resign?

But we will not dwell upon a scene so full of pain. After enduring six
hours of suffering, Lewis Foster breathed his last in the arms of his wife,
who the next moment fell in a state of insensibility upon his body. An hour
afterwards she was roused by the dead-carrier, who came to remove the
body; for the red cross had been made upon the door by an officer who had
just before passed in his rounds. She rose up and gazed upon it as if in a
dream. She stood silently in a stupor of horror and saw the men bear him
forth, and then, forgetful that her brother lay dying in the same room, forgetful
of her children, she followed and threw herself upon the corpse.
By main force the men removed her and then drove on. She stood like a
statue till the cart was out of sight, when the sound of her infant's voice

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

within the house recalled the mother to herself. She clasped her hands in
silent anguish, and sought her fatherless children. James lying on the
floor in the agonies of death, first met her sight. She flew to him and he
soon breathed his last upon her arm.

Again the dead cart came and the body of her brother was borne from
her sight. She sat upon the floor and moved not—nor scarcely breathed as
the men went tramping out. She had her two children firmly clasped to her
bosom as it she feared they would return and deprive her of them!

From this day the plague abated. The number of the victims was each
morning reported less and less, and hope began to take the place of despair
and horror. The widow lived! She had been saved from the pestilence by
the stronger fever of her brain. Life was a blank to her, save that she realized
that her children lived and looked to her for nourishment and life.
In affection for these she strove to forget the past. But the blow had been
heavy! It had stunned her at the first; and now that she could realize it
the anguish of her heart was terrible. A month elapsed and the city authorities
reported the cessation of the pestilence. At once, as if by magic,
a change came over the late city of the plague. The streets were once
more thronged with the gay and the busy, the good and the evil, and the
theatres, masquerades, and gambling chambers again invited their votaries.
The cathedral was less thronged, save by the few humble and grateful;
and the city had thrown aside its veil of mourning and assumed the cap of
mirth and folly. Yet eight thousand beings had been swept from the city
in the seven weeks past!

The tide of business, of pleasure, of vice and human variety once more
rolled on as before. Men began to look after their interests, and the creditors
of Lewis Foster divided his goods, save the furnishing of a single
apartment allotted to his wife. With this furniture she removed to a small
apartment, which she rented. Here she waited for health, for she had
been sick both in mind and body, that she might seek employment in sewing—
for she had nothing. Her only relative was her brother James; and
she had none but Heaven to look to—a blest and blessing trust to all who
have faith so to look. But instead of growing better she became worse
and at length she incurred debts and her physician learning her state, sued
and got judgment for his bill. It was a bright sunny forenoon in December—
the most delightful month in the year in this climate, that Mrs. Foster,
who was lying ill of a fever, with her two babes beside her, both weak
and suffering from want of proper nourishment, was disturbed by the entrance
of an officer. He civilly but firmly made known his business and
proceeded to make an inventory of the furniture of the room.

She made no reply but gazed on him with a vacant look as if not believing
such evil could come upon her and her children. Her eye followed
the motions of the officer with a bewildering gaze, while she pressed her

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

children closer to her bosom. At length recollection and a proper appreciation
of the truth flashed upon her.

`Surely, you will not leave me destitute?' she cried in an imploring voice.

The officer paused, gazed upon her face still lovely in its pallor and despair
and replied in a tone of sympathy, `I am sorry ma'am, but I have no
discretion!'

She fell back upon her pillow and for a few moments seemed to lay in
silent prayer. The officer suddenly roused her by an exclamation of surprise,
while he held up to her a paper to which was attached a ribbon,
which had fallen from a box he was handling, to the floor.

`Whose is this, ma'am?'

`Do not take that sir—it was my husband's.'

`What was his name?'

`Lewis Foster.'

`The same that is here. Are you aware of his being a member of any
society?' asked the officer respectfully yet with earnestness.

`Yes—of the `Odd Fellows,' in Boston.'

`And he died here of the fever in the fall?' pursued the officer.

`Yes,' she replied, covering her weeping face with her hand.

`Then, dear madam, take heart?' he said approaching her and speaking
kindly. `I am an `Odd Fellow' too; and as the wife of one your misfortune
is sacred to me and my brethren! Take heart, madam! Your debt
to this Doctor shall be paid before night and you and your children shall be
made as comfortable as you can wish. You shall have a Doctor, too, and
a good one, that wont trouble you with any bills, and he shall get you all
well too! Come brighten up! You will hear from me again before noon.'

Thus speaking the officer bade a kind good morning and left her, with a
heart overflowing with gratitude. At twelve o'clock, the officer was good
as his word and made his appearance. He was not alone. A lady and
gentleman (he a wealthy member of the Order) came with him. Their
carriage was at the door and Mrs. Foster and her babes were removed at
once to a luxurious abode. There every comfort was administered to them,
and in a very short time she was entirely restored to health. The smile
once more beamed in her eyes and cheerfulness and serenity took up their
abode in her heart. She is now governess in one of the most desirable
families in Louisiana, and a widower who is a neighbor and a man of great
wealth and refinement of mind and heart, has already proposed for her
hand; whether she will so far bury the memory of Lewis as to accept his
hand will probably soon be decided, probably in the affirmative, for it is
very rare that widows, especially the young and beautiful, remain long unmarried
in the chivalric land of the `sunny south.'