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.