he heard of one dying, or dead, for whose
interment there was no relative left to provide,
he would hasten to a neighbouring garden or
field, open a grave, and then, tying a cord
round the yet warm corpse, throw the other
end over his shoulder, and drag it to the hole
he had made.

The boundary line was generally well
observed, but a few instances in which it was
broken are on record. One person who crossed
it from without, was a young woman from
Corbor, two miles distant, who had married
from Eyam just before the breaking out of the
plague, leaving a mother there. Moved by
anxiety, the daughter, unknown to her
husband, went to visit her mother, and found the
poor woman attacked by the disorder. Greatly
terrified, she returned home, and on the
following night was taken ill. Her husband and
neighbours, learning where she had been, were
nearly frantic with terror. On the next day she
grew worse, and before night every symptom
of the pest was manifest, and she died on this
second day of her illness. Strange to say,
no one was infected by her. Another who
crossed the line from without, was a man living
at Hubnall, near Chatsworth. His employment
was carrying wood from the Chatsworth
woods to the neighbouring villages. Against
advice and entreaty, he insisted upon going,
as usual, through Eyam. The day was wet
and boisterous; he could get no one to help him
unload his cart; he caught a severe cold; and
shortly after returning was attacked with
fever. So great was the alarm in Bubnall, that
a man was set to watch his house, and the
neighbours declared they would shoot him if he
attempted to leave it. The Duke of Devonshire
interfered to remove their alarm; he sent his
doctor to make due inquiry, but the doctor
would not go near the man. He took his station
on one side the river Derwent, and spoke
across the river to his patient on the other
bank. The man had simply caught a cold, and
was by this time better. It is evident, from
several records, that strict watch was kept on
some of the roads leading from Eyam. Thus,
in the constables' account at Sheffield is an
entry of charges "for those who kept the
people of Eyam from Hullwood Springs" (ten
miles from Eyam) "the time the plague was
there." On the road between Tideswell and
Eyam, a watch was set to prevent any person
from Eyam entering the town on any pretext
whatever. A poor woman, living in a part
of Eyam called Orchard Bank, impelled by
some pressing need, made her way to Tideswell
one market day. She was duly stopped
by the watch, and thus questioned: "Whence
comest thou?" Fearing to say from Eyam,
she replied. "From Orchard Bank." "Where
is that?" asked the man. "Why, verily,"
answered she, being a wary woman, "in the land
of the living." She was suffered by the watch
to pass, and hastened to the market. There,
some person soon recognised her, and, raising
the cry. "The plague! the plague! a woman
from Eyam! the plague! the plague! a woman
from Eyam!" the words resounded from all
sides, and the poor frightened creature fled: a
crowd gathering behind her, who. with shouts,
stones, and sods, hunted her as they would have
hunted a mad dog, for a full mile out of Tideswell.
It is also told that, fuel being scarce at
Eyam, some men attempted to get coal from
some coal-pits beyond the line; but, imprudently
telling whence they came, were driven
off.

Eyam is divided east and west by a small
stream, which crosses its street underground.
The eastern side was the part visited so
fearfully;  the dwellers on the western side were
but few, and those shut themselves up very
closely, avoiding all intercourse with the other
bank. It was towards the latter end of August,
that a man living in this healthy portion heard
by chance, late in the evening, that a dear
sister of his, who lived in the eastern part, was
taken with plague. Unknown to his family, he
rose very early next day, determined to visit
her. In great anxiety, he traversed the silent
street, and reached her cottage. The door
opened at a touch; the place was empty. His
sister had died the preceding night. Marshall
Howe had buried her in the adjoining garden,
and rifled the house long before break of day.
Full of grief, the man returned home, but
not alone. The plague went with him, and he,
and all his family, were, in a few days, laid in
their graves.

The Reverend Thomas Stanley, one of the
two ministering clergymen, had been for a short
time rector of Eyam, but from some scruple of
conscience had left its ministry, and resigned
the living in 1662; but he continued to reside
in Eyam until his death in 1670, serving his
people still, and greatly beloved by them.
His memory is still green in Eyam, where
he is spoken of as the "great, good man."
The house in which he lived was known as
long as it stood, by the name of "Stanley's
House." Mompesson had been inducted to
Eyam only one year previous to its visitation;
and the power he acquired over the wills and
minds of his people would be inexplicable did
we not remember that the loved and long-
known Stanley was there to second every
suggestion.

Mompesson was not a strong man, but he
retained health during the whole of this trying
time, though he was unremitting in visiting
from house to house. Mrs. Mompesson is said
to have been exceedingly beautiful and amiable,
but of very delicate health, with consumption
in her family. In the spring of the year her
lungs had appeared affected, and Mompesson
walked each morning, with her on his arm. in
the fields contiguous to the rectory, in the
hope that she would regain strength by this
gentle exercise. On the morning of the 22nd
of August they had walked together as usual.
and she had been conversing with him on the
accustomed theme of their absent children,
when she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, the air,
how sweet it smells!" It is said that those
words fell with leaden weight on Mompesson's