The Press., 1898-08-04
IN THE PLAGUE.

The tifo plague crept along slowly, but surely. First it took poor old Pope, the blind beggar, who lived all alone in his little jacal down near the Plaza Mayor. He died. Then it made it's way straight up the Calle Alfonso. All the "unwashed'' got it and even the better people, and finally the governors fami- ly, in their villa close to the Presa, and after that-well, it became impossible to keep track of the spread of the dis ease. On Tuesday perhaps six families had the fever. The next Sunday the whole great town was stricken, and every house in the place, from the low est little peon hut up to the great mar ble fronted house of the jefe politioo, was in mourning.
 The medioos did their best. Working day and night, with no rest, no sleep, doing the doctoring and the nursing, too, they battled to stamp out the fever. Of course many of the people could leave and did. The governor and his family fled to their hacienda home over near Dolores Hidalgo. The jefe politioo also departed in haste and some of the foreigners Many of the latter, however, had gone away to the states or the tierra fria at the approach of the warm wealth CT and the threatening plague. A few "white men" in the bank and out at the mines had to remain in the city and did so with a good grace, thanking Providence that the wives and children were at home and out of the accursed hole.
 Hastings was one of the few men who stuck to it, for two reasons-to begin with, he was not 8 coward, and he knew that if he left the business of the Cia Minera Unida de Londres to take care of itself the deuce would be to pay; for another thing, there was his pretty, silly, helpless wife in England. She had gone home in March, just when the weather was getting sultry and sugges- tive of what was to follow, with many expressions of grief at leaving Harry be- hind to work alone during the hot sum- | mer. But then, as she put it, they couldn't both afford to go.
 Hastings never thought of her as be- ing selfish. It was miserable hole for a woman to live ill anyway, even at the best, and she could not be blamed. So he Loyalty defended her in his thoughts and sent every cent of his pay to her outside of the actual gastos, or expenses. The latter did not amount to much, for mine food is simple and inexpensive. But it is clean anyway, without a super fuity of germs such as you get during | plague times ill Mexico, and if he could have always got mine food it might have been all right.
 p1% &ba oIl fo1l r., two days she was dead. Next the Mexi- can foreman died, several of the arrieros | followed, few of the miners, and a dozen or so of the barreteros, at which, in 8 very bad state of fright. the re- maining mine men struck and departed in haste to Providencia, little pueblo | higher up, where the disease might not | follow.
 Left alone, Hastings shrugged his | shoulders and said a naughty word. Then he cabled to London, explaining matters. and adding that be would hold | on, that the plague would have to run its course. after which he hoped to get the mill going again. But they might prepare for its stoppage at least during three weeks more.
 After which there was nothing to do He could not go out to the adjacent | mines for fear of carrying the infection | with him. In town James of the Banco | de Inglaterra and Hardy of the cable company had died during the time of his own struggle with the Cia Unida employees. So he was the only white man left.
 l In the town there remained only one small unclean meson operated by an in- different Chinaman. Here Hastings had his meals, coming down town for them through the deserted, silent streets, where a few starving dogs lay in the sunshine. gazing wistfully at the white man as he passed and bowling miserably for food. There were a few ragged look ing burros and some meager pigs that ran wild in the middle of the streets, and old Pepe's green parrot fiuttered about in the little space in front of his jacal. calling: "Pepel Pepitol Chooo- late para el loroi'' But there was no Pope to hear.
 One hot, heavy day, Hastings walked down to the little meson for his dinner. He did not feel we'll, and his head was dizzy and burning. He knew very we'll that the tifo always started out that way, and 50 that morning he had sent off 8 check for 8 full months pay and a statement of his life insurance policies to his wife. Then feeling somewhat bet ter, he decided that he would stop in at the botica as he came from lunch to get something from M. Fabian, the old French apothecary. But the old man was not there, and the place was desert ed. Inquiring of the Chinaman, that worthy stated that M. Fabian had "deaded" and there was no one in tho
 shop; that the senor possibly might get some drugs in the padre's house; but, no, that was impossible, for the padre died this morning. At which Hastings shrugged his shoulders again and said, "No importa. It did not matter. Unable to eat the hot, unwholesa1a food, and with his head throbbing un. mercifully, he made his way back to- ward the Presa and the mine. Down the Calle Fernando a long row of peo-
 pie were coming When he got nearer, he made out that they were the peona wrapped in carbolized sheets, carrying out the dead. They shouted at him, be. cause it is deadly to approach tifo | corpse, and he turned into a side street which was quiet and deserted, with tho "hot weather" grass and foliage almost choking it. As he went along it grew
 more familiar to his benumbed senses,
 until finally he got to 8 house-a small, flower thatched casita that he happened to remember very we'll indeed It was deserted now, and few birds twittered about in the "Aztec flower" bushes and lemon trees. No other sound could be
 heard. It looked cool in the yard and tiny patio, with its fountain long ago gone dry, and Hastings stumbled through the shrub choked entrance and sat down dizzily in the shady patio. His head was rapidly growing worse
 burning, dizzy, with queer. blinding l paina shootinp ahout His avas were