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 the cabin occupied by Mr. Hunt's family, where we beheld a truly distressing scene. In an Indian grass hammock, lay Mr. Hunt, in a desperate and hopeless stage of the yellow fever; his skin and eyes of a deep yellow, and he in a state of apparent stupor, but still sensible. His housekeeper, looking almost as ill, and groaning piteously, on a bed near him. One of his men seated on a chair, in a {138} feeble state of convalescence; and another standing by almost recovered, but still looking wretchedly. On the floor were travelling trunks, cases, books, furniture, and house utensils, promiscuously jumbled together, but all clean, as was the cabin itself.

I could not help contrasting in my mind Mr. Hunt's present situation, at so great a distance from his connexions, from cultivated society, and from medical aid, with what it was, when he represented his native state of New-Hampshire in congress, or during his travels in Europe. Such are some of the hardships and inconveniences attending the first settlers in a new country.[105]

After approving what doctor Merrit had prescribed, and recommending a continuance of his regimen and advice, which consisted of alterative catharticks followed by tonicks, we took our leave, impressed with the opinion that Mr. Hunt had but a few hours longer of existence, which also seemed to be his own opinion, as when I addressed a few cheering words to him, he only answered by shaking his head and closing his eyes. I supposed the rest of the family