titude in
return. She only pines and pines, she only frets within herself, she
only grieves and is anxious about the fate of her children, her selfish,
heartless children: grief and anguish, the nastiness and the wickedness
of man slowly undermine her strength and suddenly the Earth sickens.

Oh! how man falls down and perishes when the earth is sick!--like the
parasitical aphis-grub from the jaundiced leaves!

New sorts of death for which there is no name appear in the midst of the
terrified peoples, and a breath of air carries off the bravest and the
strongest. In vain they shut themselves up within stone walls, anoint
their bodies with salutary balms, and hold their very breath. Death
invisible stalks through the fast-closed doors and seeks out them that
fear him. No vitiated air, no contagion is necessary; men have but to
hear the name of this strange death and they tremble and die.

This is no mere mortal malady, the Earth, the Earth herself is sick.

* * * * *

And how comical too this terror is!

I remember those times. I was only a child then, I fancy, and the
general terror affected me but little; nay, the novelty of the situation
rather diverted me. We were not allowed to go to school, we had a
vacation for an indefinite period at which I was much delighted I must
confess. Our towns were separated from each other by military cordons,
and all strangers passing to and fro were rigorously examined. My good
father, whose gentle, serious face is one of my most pleasant memories,
buckled on his silver-hilted sword and went off himself to mount guard
somewhere. I had greater confidence in that sword than in the whole
English navy. My blessed, thoughtful, mother hung round each of our
necks little bags with large bits of camphor in them, in the beneficial
effects of which we believed absolutely, and strictly forbade us to eat
melons and peaches. And we were good dutiful children and strictly
obeyed her commands. And yet in that very year, just as if Nature had
resolved to be satirical at our expense, our gardens and orchards
overflowed with an abundance of magnificent fruit. And there we allowed
them all to rot. We had a doctor in those days, a fine old fellow, who,
when the danger was at its height, went fearlessly from house to house.
He had white hair, rosy cheeks, and a slim, erect figure, and was always
cracking jokes with us. He used to say: "No funk, no risk of Death!" and
w