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Arthur Mervyn - Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793 by Charles Brockden Brown
page 158 of 522 (30%)
some were without the means of paying for victuals or lodging for the
coming night; others, who were not thus destitute, yet knew not whither
to apply for entertainment, every house being already overstocked with
inhabitants, or barring its inhospitable doors at their approach.

Families of weeping mothers and dismayed children, attended with a few
pieces of indispensable furniture, were carried in vehicles of every
form. The parent or husband had perished; and the price of some movable,
or the pittance handed forth by public charity, had been expended to
purchase the means of retiring from this theatre of disasters, though
uncertain and hopeless of accommodation in the neighbouring districts.

Between these and the fugitives whom curiosity had led to the road,
dialogues frequently took place, to which I was suffered to listen. From
every mouth the tale of sorrow was repeated with new aggravations.
Pictures of their own distress, or of that of their neighbours, were
exhibited in all the hues which imagination can annex to pestilence and
poverty.

My preconceptions of the evil now appeared to have fallen short of the
truth. The dangers into which I was rushing seemed more numerous and
imminent than I had previously imagined. I wavered not in my purpose. A
panic crept to my heart, which more vehement exertions were necessary to
subdue or control; but I harboured not a momentary doubt that the course
which I had taken was prescribed by duty. There was no difficulty or
reluctance in proceeding. All for which my efforts were demanded was to
walk in this path without tumult or alarm.

Various circumstances had hindered me from setting out upon this journey
as early as was proper. My frequent pauses to listen to the narratives
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