sets in, humor this at once with moderate supplies of what is craved.  Air the room twice or three times each day, taking great care to cover up the patient completely, head and all, while the doors and windows are open.  Keep the room dark, and at an even temperature.  Pat the face, arms, &c., with warm barley water, and then with a feather oil the whole surface with sweet oil.  This prevents all itching and pitting, or marks.”

[Illustration:  Poor, noble Anges was so wearied out, that she got asleep while she walked with the baby, and stepping too near the stairway, she fell all the way down.]

“Truly a plain and simple remedy,” remarked the doctor, as he put away his book, “I shall not fail to try it also, if I should ever come across any cases of variola.”

“And you may depend on it, Doctor,” said Agnes, “that it will never fail when properly and intelligently carried out.”

As he turned to leave, the physician said: 

“Miss Arnold, please stay here until I send you a note or a messenger, which I will do within an hour or an hour and a half.”

A STRANGE INCIDENT.

In less than the specified time a man came back from the doctor to inform Miss Arnold that her services were needed in a house about two squares away from there, and that he would show her the place.  Her little trunk was already packed, her shawl and hat donned, when the messenger arrived.  But she found it very difficult to get away from the Burtons.  These poor, grateful people could not bear to part with her whom they almost worshipped as their preserver.  Children and mother pleaded almost with anguish for her to stay with them.

“I would like to remain, Mrs. Burton,” replied Agnes, “but there are hundreds being stricken down every hour around us, who have no one to wait upon them, and who may perish before help can reach them.  You and these darlings are now comparatively safe, while others just taken are in deadly peril.”

Her kind remonstrance had its effect, and the Burtons now consented to let her go.

All kissed her most fondly, bade her good-by, and called down the choicest blessings of Heaven upon her head.

“God bless you, and keep you safe from the horrible fever!” were the words still ringing in her ears, as the heroic and devoted girl followed the doctor’s man out into the street.

It was not raining now, but the murky, mist-laden atmosphere was rendered like a damp, choking, heavy pall of gloom by the dense volumes of pitch and tar-smoke with which it seemed to be perfectly soaked, as a sponge is with water.  It caused Agnes to cough violently and continuously until she arrived at her new destination, which was a private dwelling-house, apparently the abode of some one belonging to the middle class of society.

“This is the place, Miss Arnold,” said the man, “a young lady was taken early this morning while she was visiting in the house, and a few hours ago a Sister of Mercy, who was sent in to nurse her, went down sick.  And they’re both in bed together.”