His neck, and
shoulder, and right arm were burnt to a cinder. There he lay in the
rain, like the carcase of a brute beast thrown upon a dung heap. As we
continued our walk along this filthy lane, half-naked women and children
would come out of their cabins, apparently in the last stage of the
fever, to beg for food, "for the honour of God." As they stood upon the
wet ground, one could almost see it smoke beneath their bare feet,
burning with the fever. We entered the grave-yard, in the midst of which
was a small watch-house. This miserable shed had served as a grave where
the dying could bury themselves. It was seven feet long, and six in
breadth. It was already walled round on the outside with an embankment
of graves, half way to the eaves. The aperture of this horrible den of
death would scarcely admit of the entrance of a common sized person. And
into this noisome sepulchre living men, women, and children went down to
die; to pillow upon the rotten straw, the grave clothes vacated by
preceding victims and festering with their fever. Here they lay as
closely to each other as if crowded side by side on the bottom of one
grave. Six persons had been found in this fetid sepulchre at one time,
and with one only able to crawl to the door to ask for water. Removing a
board from the entrance of this black hole of pestilence, we found it
crammed with wan victims of famine, ready and willing to perish. A
quiet listless despair broods over the population, and cradles men for
the grave.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 21.--Dr. D---- called at two o'clock, and we proceeded
together to visit a lane of hovels on the opposite side of the village.
The wretchedness of this little mud city of the dead and dying was of a
deeper stamp than the one I saw yesterday. Here human beings and their
clayey habitations seemed to be melting down together into the earth. I
can find no language nor illustration sufficiently impressive to portray
the spectacle to an American reader. A cold drizzling rain was deepening
the pools of black filth, into which it fell like ink drops from the
clouds. Few of the young or old have not read of the scene exhibited on
the field of battle after the action, when visited by the surgeon. The
cries of the wounded and dying for help, have been described by many
graphic pens. The agonising entreaty for "Water! water! help, help!" has
been conveyed to our minds with painful distinctness. I can liken the
scene we witnessed in the low l