It was a fair and beautiful city, set in a valley of enchanting loveliness. It numbered many thousands of inhabitants, a thrifty, happy, contented people. Sickness was almost unknown within its healthful precincts, and death a rarity. Of physicians there were few, and that few did little business. Fear of sickness prevailed not, for there was little to arouse fear. A panic of sickness had never been known. Epidemics of sickness had never been heard of. So healthful was the mental atmosphere that physical sickness had little sway. And so, for many happy years, the people came and went, living away the days in such employments and pastimes as are peculiar to mortals in their best estate.
Suddenly there came a change. Sickness in varied forms appeared. The erstwhile serenity vanished. The people became panic-stricken. The physicians already there were kept busy day and night; others were called from neighboring places, and many new ones located there because of the opportunities for employment. Hospitals, before unknown, now sprang up on all sides, where the sick and dying were placed in scores. The good Christian people of the city organized all forms of societies for the relief of the sick and suffering. The hearts of human love and sympathy went out in tenderness to the afflicted. Many heroic acts, bringing out the better qualities of the human heart, were performed. The physicians wrought nobly and heroically, many of them almost wearing themselves out in their zealous efforts to relieve and cure their unfortunate patients. In some instances their noble efforts met with reward in the recovery of their patients. In, alas, too many, they were utterly fruitless, the patients dying despite their skill and zeal. Their noble efforts were well seconded by the good men and women of the city who themselves escaped the dread maladies. The good clergymen were not less busy than the physicians in visiting the sick and dying and preaching funeral sermons, in the which they discoursed beautifully, if sadly, of the mysteries of divine providence, and the wondrous works of God. They were wont to say that God sent sickness to remind the people of their wickedness, to chastise them for it, and to purify and chasten, that they might be better and happier when it was over. In the funeral sermons they spoke feelingly and eloquently of the love and goodness of God in taking the poor suffering ones home to Himself. When they were not engaged in preaching funeral sermons they were as heroic, in their sphere, as were the physicians and other good people, in their efforts to prevent their neighbors from dying and going home to their Heavenly Father. Mayhap they thought those neighbors required yet more chastening and purification before going home. Nevertheless, they aided and encouraged their brethren of medicine in their brave efforts to cure the sickness and make their patients well, regardless of the divine purpose to chastise and purify. But notwithstanding all the untiring effort, zeal, sympathy, and medical aid, thousands were annually dying of the unconquerable maladies.
It was often feared that the population would ere long become extinct; but, strange to say, it scarcely diminished at all. The number of births held well-nigh to its former ratio, in seeming disregard of the many deaths, and generally distracted condition. Drug stores, of which there were formerly scarcely any, now flashed forth their brilliant colors on myriad street corners, their proprietors having, for the most part, come in from other places to meet the necessities, or take advantage of the business opportunities, arising from the unfortunate situation. So, too, of undertakers, and the many tradesmen who minister to the necessities of sick and death-stricken communities. Then there were an army of nurses imported, and many thousands of others called to the varied services growing out of the dire conditions; so that the population held well to its former number; but what a different population! Formerly the people were frugal, industrious, and well to do; none very rich, and none poor. Each sat under his own vine and fig-tree, and none had cause to envy the other, or seek to overreach or do his neighbor harm or injustice. Indeed, the Golden Rule was as nearly the measure of conduct in this city as seemed possible to the then understanding of its inhabitants. Each earnestly sought to do unto his neighbor as he would have his neighbor do unto him. Hence their happy, contented, almost ideal condition.
