The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1878-11-14

formed at night; there was to be no
tolling of bells-no outward ceremonial.
But at night the fatal cart began it's
rounds, and at every infected house the
cry was heard: Bring out your dead! !"
They were thrown together in huge
piles; in the church-yards deep pits
were dug, and here, by the CLEAN of
torches, the bodies were thrown in and
lightly covered with earth. Every
house that was infected was isolated; a
watchman stood at the entrance; no one
was suffered to go in or out except the
physician; upon the door was placed a
large red cross inscribed: "Lord have
mercy on u.s." They might we'll cry for
mercy. The air seemed tainted; grass
grew in once crowded streets; the trade
of the great capital was lost; the ships
hung idly in the Thames; the misera
BILE poor died by thousands, and saved
the city from the cost Of feeding them,
which it had never failed to do. The
recreant King and court might fly from
the scene of duty, but the city officials
showed no trace of fear. The Mayor
was constantly in the streets; even the.
constables and watchmen were seldom
at rest; many of them died. Day and
night at last, an observer relates, the
labor of burial went on. Sancroft,
Dean of st. Pauls, had fed to Tun-
bridge; his canons remained, and some
of their letters to the Dean still exist
the cry of utter despair.
Whole streets of houses were shut up
and abandoned; men fed from each
other when they met; the money paid
to the butcher or baker was fumigated;
thieves wandered through the deserted
shops and dwellings,, and sometimes
died there. Fearful tales were told of
nurses who smothered and robbed their
patients; of deeds of horror that were
never punished; of the infected who
ran shrieking through the streets, and
fell dead of homes where all had died
together. August, September, passed
on with ever-growing horrors; in No
vember the colder weather seemed to
check the disease, and many who came
back too hastily were infected and died.
At last, in December the great deliver
ance came; the pestilence had ceased.
A wild, fearful joy spread over the
afflicted city; it's people came back once
more to the desolate scene, maddened
with strange exhilaration. Those who
survived were crazed with the Joy of
living. Once more the great city was
thronged with the rich, busy, gay; the
court and King came back; rigid law
was passed to punish dissenters; the
revels and crimes of Whitehall began
again; but nothing was done by court
or King to prevent the return of that
awful scourge that had SO recently
passed away. A mightier power inter
vened. A new calamity seemed to pre-
vent the recurrence of the old. The
great fire in London soon followed,
swept over the tainted ground, con-
sumed churches and church-yards-
Paul's and St. Mary's-shops, ware
houses, palaces, novels, cleansed many
a narrow close, purified many a scene of
horror. The city was rebuilt with wider
streets, better buildings, Perhaps it's
citizens had learned neatness and pro-
priety; but it is certain that the plague
never came again, and that by the labors
of modern science the vast capital has
been made one of the healthiest and
most fortunate Of cities.