MISCELLANIES. 



635 



fiienils, who left her to his bene- 

 volent care. 



The expense and the danger of 

 bui'jina; the dead has become so 

 gieat, and the boards to make tlie 

 coffins so very scarce, that the 

 body is brought out of the house 

 by friends to the door, and the 

 first man they can pievail on, car- 

 ries it over his shouhler, or in his 

 arms to the grave, endeavouring 

 to keep pace with the long range 

 of coffins that go to the imrying- 

 ground at noon, to take the ad- 

 Aantage of tlie great mass. To- 

 day the dead amounted to two 

 hwndred and ninety. 



July 1, 1785. 



The cries of the people for the 

 ■loss of their friends are still as 

 frecpient as ever ; not a quarter 

 of an hour passing without the 

 lamentations of some new afflicted 

 mourner. No more masses are 

 mid in town at present for the 

 dead ; but the coffins are collected 

 together and pass through the 

 town -gate exactly at noon, when 

 the great mass is performed over 

 all at once, at a mosque out of 

 the town, in the way to tlie bury- 

 ing ground, 'i'lie horrors of the 

 melancholy i;roccssion increase 

 daily. A Moor of consequence 

 passed to-day, who has not missed 

 this nu'laucholy walk for the last 

 fifteen days, in accompanying re- 

 gularly some relic of his family : 

 lie is himself considered in the 

 List stage of the plague, yet sup- 

 ported by his blacks he limped 

 before his wife and eldest son, 

 himself the h:st of his race. 



Women, whose persons Isave 

 hitherto been veiled, are wj'.nder- 

 ing about com;>lete images of de- 

 spair, with their hair loose and 

 fiicir baracans open, crying and 



wringing their hands and follow- 

 ing tlieir families. Though a 

 great deal of their grief here by 

 custom is expressed by action, 

 yet it is dreadful when it pro- 

 ceeds £0 tndy from the heart as 

 it does now, while all those we 

 see are friends of the dejiartcd. 

 No strangers are called in to add 

 force to the funeral cries : the 

 father who bears his son to- day, 

 carried his daughter yesterday, 

 and his wife the day before : the 

 rest of his family are at home 

 languishing with the ])lague, 

 while his own motlier, spared 

 for the cruel satisfaction of fol- 

 lowing her offspring, still conti- 

 nues with lier son her wretched 

 daily walk. 



July 20, 1785. 



In the beginning of this month, 

 owing to the increased i avages of 

 the plague, the events coiuiected 

 W'ith it assumed a more horrid 

 character, and instead of shining 

 coffins, Imans and friends, to 

 make up the sad procession, five 

 or six corpses wc^-e bcimd to- 

 gether, all of theiu fastened on 

 one animal, and hurried away to 

 the grave ! ^^oUogees (sohliers) 

 were appointed to go through the 

 town, and clear it of objects who 

 had died in the streets and were 

 lying about. A female in the 

 agonies of death they would have 

 seized upon, while the spaik of 

 life was still lingering, had not 

 the frighted viciini with gi-eat 

 exertioji extended a feeble arm, 

 and resisted the disturbers (;f ht'r 

 last moments, imploring the pa- 

 tience of the collogees till ihey 

 came their next round. 



Sept. 10, 17bn. 



Since our long quarantine, 

 (having 'occn close prisoners for 



thirteen 



