As he spoke, he rapped with his cane at the door, which, after a little
delay, was opened by a young man in a carpenter's dress, with a hammer
in his hand. On seeing who it was, this person exhibited great
confusion, and would have retired; but the doctor, pushing him aside,
asked for his master.

"You cannot see him just now, sir," replied the other, evidently
considerably embarrassed. "He is just come home greatly fatigued, and is
about to retire to rest."

"No matter," returned the doctor, entering a room, in which three or
four other men were at work, hastily finishing coffins; "I _must_ see
him."

No further opposition being offered, Hodges, followed by the apprentice,
marched towards an inner room. Just as he reached the door, a burst of
loud laughter, evidently proceeding from a numerous party, arose from
within, and a harsh voice was heard chanting the following strains:

SONG OF THE PLAGUE.
To others the Plague a foe may be,
To me 'tis a friend--not an enemy;
My coffins and coffers alike it fills,
And the richer I grow the more it kills.
_Drink the Plague! Drink the Plague!_

For months, for years, may it spend its rage
On lusty manhood and trembling age;
Though half mankind of the scourge should die,