Hurried footsteps were now heard on the winding stairs, which were between the fire-place and the window. “He’s gone! sir,—he’s gone!” was exclaimed, with a trembling, hysterical voice. Both the Messrs. Langworthy and myself were obliged to summon all our resolution. The wife and children around us,—one ill in its weeping mother’s arms, frightened, not knowing why—the others staring at us, aware that something was being done which appeared to them to be fearful. The sister, the friend—all with their eyes intently rivetted upon us, as if life and death depended upon our exertions! This was natural. How many have watched the countenance of the physician when a much-loved life was pending! A piece of bread was given to one of the children, to pacify it,—a part, perhaps, of the last loaf earned by its poor father’s labour! Rapidly as some such thoughts rushed upon the mind, we did not remit our work, and every thing was ready. We were quickly by the side of the sufferer. From all appearances, the accounts were too well founded. No pulse,—Is he quite gone? The eye moved,—he tried to raise himself—looked at us—and, recognizing me, gave me his hand, but could not speak. He knew what was said, and held out his arm. The vein was opened—no blood flowed—it was empty. He uttered a low moan, looked at his arm, and shook his head. His wife, with breathless anxiety, appeared at the door: we persuaded her to retire. The warm fluid was placed on the window-seat near the bed. It was again tried by the thermometer. Eight quarts were ready, and the process of injecting the vein was commenced. The greater portion entered. The breathing of the patient became laborious, and the pulse returned. Violent sickness ensued. Some weak gruel, with a teaspoonful of brandy mixed in it, quieted the sickness. The poor man began to speak. In a low whisper, thanked God—thanked us—and said he felt as if he should recover. At eleven o’clock, Mr. Langworthy returned home with me, as both of us required rest.
August 12. [54] Gully relapsed, and was as nearly in a dying state as before. Saline fluid was again resorted to. I prepared above a gallon; but, upon this occasion, about three quarts only were injected. Mr. Langworthy having expressed a wish that he could obtain a pint of blood for the purpose of injecting it, Sarah Gully, the sister, offered to be blooded; but Mr. L. did not consider her sufficiently healthy. Elizabeth Veale, a sister of Gully’s wife, then came forward, and, having made a similar offer, some of her blood (about half-a-pint) was transferred into the patient’s vein, by a well-executed process, conducted by both the Messrs. Langworthy. The patient recovered his recollection. Sickness did not come on as it had done after saline fluid only was injected. A short interval elapsed, during which he appeared to labour considerably under the action of recovering his breath. He then spoke; and, in the course of a short time, took gruel. Weak wine and water, warm jelly, &c. were also given to him in very small quantities. His appearance bore a more favourable aspect; though his weakness was excessive. Gradually, he regained a little strength towards the evening.
Jane Paddon and Edward Parsons were buried.
My friend, the Rev. Joseph Rosdew, who was on a visit to his brother at Beechwood, kindly preached for me in the morning and afternoon; and the Rev. E. B. St. John read the prayers. This friendly assistance enabled me to visit the sick during the greater part of the day. The congregations were very small; owing to the absence of some of the principal families, the sickness of many, or the fear of assembling which prevailed among others.
August 13. [56] Visited Mrs. Toope, at Underwood, and her son Stephen, both very weak. Mary Brown, aged fifty-six, an assistant at the Hospital, died. Jane Moon, of Colebrook, aged twenty-eight, recovered. She was taken ill on the 8th. William Gully, better.
August 14. Several people applied for medicines. After they had been attended to, I rode to the villages at the eastern end of the parish. Some poor people, who were invalids, particularly requested to see me. They were fearful that their sickness was a prelude to the cholera; but they had no symptoms of that disease. Debility was the chief subject of their complaint. Where this was the case, strengthening things were supplied to the poor, out of the subscription fund.
Susan Taylor’s little girl, aged one year, died of cholera. She was taken ill on the 11th. Her mother, also, very unwell, with symptoms of the same disease. Richard Parsons, aged one year and a half, died at the Hospital. Mary Brown, buried.
August 15. Richard Parsons, buried. Elizabeth Hill, aged ten, died at Underwood. Mr. H. attended her in the morning as soon as he was sent for. The progress of this case was fearfully rapid. The poor child did not suffer much from pain; she appeared to sink entirely from exhaustion. No remedy for restoring warmth and circulation had the least effect.
After visiting sick people at Underwood and at the Hospital, I went in the evening to see Susan Taylor. She was in the collapsed stage of cholera. The Messrs. Langworthy were present. It was proposed that the saline injection should be resorted to, as her pulse had ceased to beat, and she appeared to be rapidly sinking. I assisted in preparing the warm fluid. Eight quarts were ready, and seven were injected into the vein. She revived—the pulse returned—and she seemed to be relieved. We were occupied a great part of the night with this case.
August 16. Between nine and ten, a.m., more poor people than usual applied for medicines, and strengthening things; such as arrow-root, tapioca, carageen moss, &c.