I only ask
you to come into my house, and receive all the kindness that it is in
our power to bestow. Pluck up courage, and I will answer for your
recovery, provided you submit to directions, and do as we would have
you. Rise, and come along with me. We will find you a physician and a
nurse, and all we ask in return is good spirits and compliance." "Do you not know," he replied, "what my disease is? Why should you risk
your safety for the sake of one whom your kindness cannot benefit, and
who has nothing to give in return?" There was something in the style of this remark, that heightened my
prepossession in his favour, and made me pursue my purpose with more
zeal. "Let us try what we can do for you," I answered. "If we save your
life, we shall have done you some service, and, as for recompense, we
will look to that." It was with considerable difficulty that he was persuaded to accept our
invitation. He was conducted to a chamber, and, the criticalness of his
case requiring unusual attention, I spent the night at his bedside. My wife was encumbered with the care both of her infant and her family. The charming babe was in perfect health, but her mother's constitution
was frail and delicate. We simplified the household duties as much as
possible, but still these duties were considerably burdensome to one not
used to the performance, and luxuriously educated. The addition of a
sick man was likely to be productive of much fatigue. My engagements
would not allow me to be always at home, and the state of my patient,
and the remedies necessary to be prescribed, were attended with many
noxious and disgustful circumstances. My fortune would not allow me to
hire assistance. My wife, with a feeble frame and a mind shrinking, on
ordinary occasions, from such offices, with fastidious scrupulousness,
was to be his only or principal nurse. My neighbours were fervent in their well-meant zeal, and loud in their
remonstrances on the imprudence and rashness of my conduct. They called
me presumptuous and cruel in exposing my wife and child, as well as
myself, to such imminent hazard, for the sake of one, too, who most
probably was worthless, and whose disease had doubtless been, by
negligence or mistreatment, rendered incurable. I did not turn a deaf ear to these censurers. I was aware of all the
inconveniences and perils to which I thus spontaneously exposed myself. No one knew better the value of that woman whom I called mine, or set a
higher price upon her life, her health, and her ease. The virulence and
activity of this contagion, the dangerous condition of my patient, and
the dubiousness of his character, were not forgotten by me; but still my
conduct in this affair received my own entire approbation. All
objections on the score of my friends were removed by her own
willingness and even solicitude to undertake the province. I had more
confidence than others in the vincibility of this disease, and in the
success of those measures which we had used for our defence against it. But, whatever were the evils to accrue to us, we were sure of one thing:
namely, that the consciousness of having neglected this unfortunate
person would be a source of more unhappiness than could possibly redound
from the attendance and care that he would claim. The more we saw of him, indeed, the more did we congratulate ourselves
on our proceeding. His torments were acute and tedious; but, in the
midst even of delirium, his heart seemed to overflow with gratitude, and
to be actuated by no wish but to alleviate our toil and our danger. He
made prodigious exertions to perform necessary offices for himself. He
suppressed his feelings and struggled to maintain a cheerful tone and
countenance, that he might prevent that anxiety which the sight of his
sufferings produced in us. He was perpetually furnishing reasons why his
nurse should leave him alone, and betrayed dissatisfaction whenever she
entered his apartment. In a few days, there were reasons to conclude him out of danger; and, in
a fortnight, nothing but exercise and nourishment were wanting to
complete his restoration. Meanwhile nothing was obtained from him but
general information, that his place of abode was Chester county, and
that some momentous engagement induced him to hazard his safety by
coming to the city in the height of the epidemic. He was far from being talkative. His silence seemed to be the joint
result of modesty and unpleasing remembrances. His features were
characterized by pathetic seriousness, and his deportment by a gravity
very unusual at his age. According to his own representation, he was no
more than eighteen years old, but the depth of his remarks indicated a
much greater advance. His name was Arthur Mervyn. He described himself
as having passed his life at the plough-tail and the threshing-floor; as
being destitute of all scholastic instruction; and as being long since
bereft of the affectionate regards of parents and kinsmen. When questioned as to the course of life which he meant to pursue upon
his recovery, he professed himself without any precise object. He was
willing to be guided by the advice of others, and by the lights which
experience should furnish. The country was open to him, and he supposed
that there was no part of it in which food could not be purchased by his
labour. He was unqualified, by his education, for any liberal
profession. His poverty was likewise an insuperable impediment. He could
afford to spend no time in the acquisition of a trade. He must labour,
not for future emolument, but for immediate subsistence. The only
pursuit which his present circumstances would allow him to adopt was
that which, he was inclined to believe, was likewise the most eligible. Without doubt his experience was slender, and it seemed absurd to
pronounce concerning that of which he had no direct knowledge; but so it
was, he could not outroot from his mind the persuasion that to plough,
to sow, and to reap, were employments most befitting a reasonable
creature, and from which the truest pleasure and the least pollution
would flow. He contemplated no other scheme than to return, as soon as
his health should permit, into the country, seek employment where it was
to be had, and acquit himself in his engagements with fidelity and
diligence. I pointed out to him various ways in which the city might furnish
employment to one with his qualifications. He had said that he was
somewhat accustomed to the pen. There were stations in which the
possession of a legible hand was all that was requisite. He might add to
this a knowledge of accounts, and thereby procure himself a post in some
mercantile or public office. To this he objected, that experience had shown him unfit for the life of
a penman. This had been his chief occupation for a little while, and he
found it wholly incompatible with his health. He must not sacrifice the
end for the means. Starving was a disease preferable to consumption.