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I could have supposed the people hidden in the houses, but the
doors were unfastened; and when at last I timidly entered, I found dead
ashes cold upon the hearth, and had to tread on tiptoe, as if walking
down the aisle of a country church, to avoid rousing irreverent echoes
from the naked floors.
On the outskirts of the town was the city graveyard. But there was no
record of plague there, nor did it in any wise differ much from other
Protestant American cemeteries. Some of the mounds were not long sodded;
some of the stones were newly set, their dates recent, and their black
inscriptions glossy in the hardly dried lettering-ink. Beyond the
graveyard, out in the fields, I saw, in one spot hard by where the
fruited boughs of a young orchard had been torn down, the still
smoldering embers of a barbecue fire that had been constructed of rails
from the fencing around it. It was the latest sign of life there. Fields
upon fields of heavy-headed grain lay rotting ungathered upon the
ground.


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