melled to the
apprehension of fear like a wide church-yard.

Pisando la tierra dura
de continuo el hombre esta
y cada passo que da
es sobre su sepultura.[1]

Yet notwithstanding these disadvantages winter was breathing time; and we
exerted ourselves to make the best of it. Plague might not revive with the
summer; but if it did, it should find us prepared. It is a part of man's
nature to adapt itself through habit even to pain and sorrow. Pestilence
had become a part of our future, our existence; it was to be guarded
against, like the flooding of rivers, the encroachments of ocean, or the
inclemency of the sky. After long suffering and bitter experience, some
panacea might be discovered; as it was, all that received infection died--
all however were not infected; and it became our part to fix deep the
foundations, and raise high the barrier between contagion and the sane; to
introduce such order as would conduce to the well-being of the survivors,
and as would preserve hope and some portion of happiness to those who were
spectators of the still renewed tragedy. Adrian had introduced systematic
modes of proceeding in the metropolis, which, while they were unable to
stop the progress of death, yet prevented other evils, vice and folly, from
rendering the awful fate of the hour still more tremendous. I wished to
imitate his example, but men are used to

--move all together, if they move at all,[2]

and I could find no means of leading the inhabitants of scattered
towns and villages, who forgot my words as soon as they heard them
not, and veered with every baffling wind, that might arise from an
apparent change of circumstance.

I adopted another plan. Those writers who have imagined a reign of peace
and happiness on earth, have generally described a rural country, where
each small township was directed by the elders and wise men. This was the
key of my design. Each village, however small, usually contains a leader,
one among themselves whom they venerate, whose advice they seek in
difficulty, and whose good opinion they chiefly value. I was immediately
drawn to make this observation by occurrences that presented themselves to
my personal experience.

In the village of Little Marlow an old woman ruled the community. She had
lived for some years in an alms-house, and on fine Sundays her threshold
was constantly beset by a crowd, seeking her advice and listening to her
admonitions. She had been a soldier's wif