"I told you that her infant was only a fortnight old when her husband was taken ill, and only a month when it died. Its mother had never recovered her strength, and distress having destroyed her appetite, and watching deprived her of sleep, she was as thin and weak as possible, and but ill able to bear the consequences of the sudden death of the child. This, added to a cold which she took, made her very feverish, and the absence of the physician from town obliged her to confine herself to such simple remedies as we could prescribe, to avert further evil and restore her strength. But the benefit which she derived from them was but temporary. A week from the day upon which her baby died, while passing the afternoon with us, she was taken very ill, and it was with great difficulty that her brother and myself carried her to her own house, only a few rods distant. I lost no time in administering the prescriptions of the physician, and for a few days she seemed to mend; but I soon felt convinced that her disease was the worst form of typhus fever, and was sure that she had not strength to get through it. The doctor confirmed my suspicions, but told me that such was the dread of it among the country people, that, if it were known, I should be left to myself, for no one would come near the house. I had not then required any assistance, for I was very well, and, knowing her situation to be a critical one, did not like to trust her to any one beside. By some means, however, the story was sounded abroad and spread like wildfire, and the suspicion of (what was in fact the truth) the two brothers having died of the same disorder added to the evil.