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Mount Everest 1st Edition Ann Heinrichs Digital Instant
Download
Author(s): Ann Heinrichs
ISBN(s): 9780761439332, 0761439331
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 18.03 MB
Year: 2009
Language: english
 Nature’s Wonders

HEINRICHS
MOUNT EVEREST is the highest mountain in the world.
It stands 5.5 miles high in the Himalaya Mountains. In Mount
Everest, explore the majesty of its steep walls, sheer cliffs, deep
snow, and icy slabs. Discover the wildlife that inhabits its peaks
and valleys, the people who make it their home, and the efforts
being made to protect one of Earth’s grandest natural wonders. MOUNT EVEREST

MOUNT EVEREST
Titles inthis series
Mount Eve re s t T h e G re at L a ke s
T he Ama zon R a i n F ore s t T h e N il e
T he Eve rg l a d e s T h e S a h a ra
T he Ga lap a g os I s l a n d s Y e l l o ws t o n e
N a ti o n a l P a rk
T he Gr a nd C a n yon
T he Grea t Ba rri e r R e e f
ANN HEINRICHS
 Nature’s Wonders

MOUNT EVEREST
Ann Heinrichs
 Marshall Cavendish Benchmark
99 White Plains Road
Tarrytown, NY 10591
www.marshallcavendish.us

Expert Reader: Tom Holzel, Mount Everest historian, former member of the American Alpine Club, Fellow 2005
at the Explorers Club, and published author of mountaineering articles

Copyright © 2010 by Marshall Cavendish Corporation

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
All Internet addresses were correct and accurate at the time of printing.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Heinrichs, Ann.
Mount Everest / by Ann Heinrichs.
p. cm. — (Nature’s wonders)
Summary: “Provides comprehensive information on the geography, history, wildlife, peoples, and environ-
mental issues of Mount Everest”—Provided by the publisher.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-7614-4649-1
1. Everest, Mount (China and Nepal)—Juvenile literature. I. Title.
DS495.8.E9H45 2009
954.96—dc22
2008030050

Editor: Christine Florie

Publisher: Michelle Bisson
Art Director: Anahid Hamparian
Series Designer: Kay Petronio

Photo research by Connie Gardner

Cover photo by Ferdinando Tacconi, Hillary and Tensing
reach the summit of Mount Everest/The Bridgeman Art Library

The photographs in this book are used by permission and through the courtesy of:
Alamy: Galen Rowell/Mountain Light, 4; Peter Giovannini, 23; Arco Images, 36; David Woodfall, 79; Peter Arnold:
Lynn and Donna Rogers, 33; Art Life Images: age footstock, 42; TMC Images, 63; Getty Images: Doug Allen, 8; Alex
Cao, 14; Jake Norton, 16; Roger Mear, 19; Bobby Model, 22; Hulton Archive, 42; Stringer, 48; Paula Bronstein,
73; Barry Bishop, 74; Travel Ink, 85; Alan Kearney, 88; Mindn Pictures: Colin Monteath, 8, 31(B); Grant Dixon,
29(B); SuperStock: William Hamilton, 34; age footstock, 89; AP Photo: STR, 49, 81; The Granger Collection: 53;
Danita Delimont: 10; Jon Arnold, 30(T); John Warburton Lee, 68–69; Photo Researchers: Andrew Clarke, 77;
Corbis: David Keaton, 17; Craig Lovell, 26; Galen Rowell, 28, 37; Tiziana and Gianni Baldizzone, 29(T); John van
Hasselt, 45, 64; Robert HoLmes, 56; Rob Howard, 58, 60; Bridgeman Art Library: Ferdinando Tacconi, Hillary
and Tensing hack their way a step at a time along a ridge, 38; Royal Geographical Society, London, Sherwill W.,
Indian survey porters carrying equipment needed for task of mapping India, 40; Ferdinando Tacconi, Hillary
and Tensing reach the summit of Mount Everest, 52; The Image Works, 47.

Maps (p. 6 and p. 15) by Mapping Specialists Limited

Printed in Malaysia
135642
 One Th e Top of t h e W or l d 5

Two A G e og ra p h ic a l W on d e r 11

Three Wi ld l if e o n Moun t E ve r e st 27

Four T he Q u es t t o C on que r 39

Five P eop le of C h om ol un gma 59

Six A M ou n ta i n a t R isk 75

G los sa r y 87

F a st F a c ts 88

F in d O u t Mor e 90

In d ex 92
The Top of the World

This glistening peak, often shrouded in clouds, inspires an awe-

struck reverence. Tibetan people call it Chomolungma, meaning
Goddess Mother of the World. In the Nepali language, it is
Sagarmatha, or Goddess of the Sky. Westerners call it Mount
Everest. Regardless of its name, this jumble of rock, ice, and snow
is the highest mountain on Earth. Its summit is literally the top of
the world.
Mount Everest is a peak in Asia’s great Himalaya Mountain
range. In the ancient Sanskrit language of India, Himalaya means
“the abode of snow.” This snow-covered mountain system sepa-
rates southern Asia from the Tibetan Plateau to the north. Nine of
the world’s ten highest peaks rise in the Himalayas. Towering over
them all is the jagged, icy summit of Mount Everest. It straddles the
border between Nepal and Tibet, more formally known as the Tibet
Autonomous Region of China.

A mountaineer climbs the icy Rongbuk glacier

on Mount Everest’s north face.

T h e T o p o f t h e W o rl d 5
 National capital
Village
C H I N A Mountain
Place of interest
Manaslu 0 50 miles
26,781 feet (8,163 m) 0 50 kilometers
TIB ET
H Mount Everest
Qomolangma Rongbuk World's Highest Mountain
I Nature Reserve Glacier 29,035 feet (8,850 m)
Cho Oyu
M 26,864 feet (8,188 m) Kangxung Glacier
Kharta, Lundrubling, Tashidzong, Rongphu, Tingri,
A Khumbu Glacier
Tsojan, Zemukh (general area)
Makalu
Khumjung, Tengboche, Pangboche, Dingboche,Pheriche, Thame (general area)
27,824 feet (8,481 m)
L Lhotse
Sagarmatha Namche 27,890 feet (8,501 m) Kangchenjunga
Kathmandu
National Park A Bazar 28,169 feet (8,586 m)
Y
A
N E P A L S

Mou n t E ver est

I N D I A

6
GEOPOLITICAL MAP OF MOUNT EVEREST
 The World’s TenHighest Peaks
MOUNTAIN LOCATION HEIGHT
Mount Everest Nepal/Tibet 29,035 feet (8,850 m)
K2 Pakistan/China 28,250 feet (8,611 m)
Kanchenjunga Nepal/India 28,169 feet (8,586 m)
Lhotse Nepal/Tibet 27,940 feet (8,516 m)
Makalu Nepal/Tibet 27,762 feet (8,462 m)
Cho Oyu Nepal/Tibet 26,906 feet (8,201 m)
Dhaulagiri Nepal 26,795 feet (8,167 m)
Manaslu Nepal 26,781 feet (8,163 m)
Nanga Parbat Pakistan 26,660 feet (8,126 m)
Annapurna Nepal 26,545 feet (8,091 m)
Note: All are in the Himalayas except K2, which is in the Karakoram range.

The Cl imbing Frenzy

For thousands of years Mount Everest remained just one of many
peaks among the high Himalayas. Only in 1852 did geographers
realize it was the world’s highest mountain. Not content to simply
gaze at this natural wonder, mountaineers were driven to climb it.
Reaching the summit became their goal. That goal was reached in
1953 when New Zealand beekeeper Edmund Hillary and Nepalese
Sherpa Tenzing Norgay stood on the top of the world.

T h e T o p o f t h e W o rl d 7
 Today, climbing Mount Everest remains the ultimate challenge
for mountaineers. Thousands of people have joined the scramble
to reach the top. Unfortunately, good sportsmanship has given way
to careless climbing, self-centered ambition, and foolish decision
making. More than 180 people have died in the quest for the summit.
Yet, for those who succeed and live to relish their victory, it is their
crowning achievement.

Many adventurous mountaineers pitch their tents in the deep snow of Mount Everest.

8 Mou n t E ver est

A Unique Environment
Mount Everest’s landscape features rug-
ged terrain, dramatic glaciers, and deep
valleys. Many rare animal species make
their homes there. So do thousands of
Tibetan peoples such as the Sherpas,
with their unique culture. Nepal estab-
lished Sagarmatha National Park to
protect this exceptional area. In addi-
tion, the United Nations Educational,
Scientific and Cultural Organization
Mount Everest’s environment varies from
(UNESCO) listed the park as a World
lofty peaks to rugged slopes to green
Heritage site. This proclaims the Everest valleys. Here, yaks graze on a grassy
hillside east of Mount Everest.
region as a site of worldwide importance.
Environmentally speaking, all is not well at the top of the world.
Decades of adventurers, drawn to the awesome peak, have left a
shameful legacy. They have stripped firewood from the mountain-
sides and scattered trash on the slopes. The culture of the Sherpa
people has been affected, too. Many have switched their livelihoods
from farming and herding to mountaineering services. Fortunately,
local people have organized programs to reclaim their natural
resources. Environmentalist groups around the world are targeting
the region, too. They hope to preserve Mount Everest’s natural and
cultural wonders for generations to come.

T h e T o p o f t h e W o rl d 9
A Geographical Wonder

Yawning ravines, sheer rock walls, deep powdery snow, and tumbling
blocks of ice—these are some of Mount Everest’s features. High on
the mountain, climbers face howling snowstorms, gale-force winds,
thundering avalanches, and air so thin a person can hardly breathe.
For many, the rough terrain and the dangers only add to the allure of
the world’s highest peak.

Measuring th e Mountain
Just how high is Mount Everest? Teams of geographers have tried
to settle this question for more than 150 years. Most have measured
the mountain from a distance, using sophisticated surveying instru-
ments. In 1954 surveyors from India measured the peak at 29,028
feet (8,848 meters) above sea level. This figure was an average of data
taken from a dozen stations, each located miles from the peak. Like
other measurements, though, it could easily have been different.
Everest’s rocky mountaintop is covered with ice and snow, which
melts and builds up as the weather changes.

The topographical features of Mount Everest

are some of the most dramatic in the world.
A Ge o g ra p h ic a l W o n d e r 11
 The National Geographic Society sponsored a surveying expedi-
tion in 1999. This international team installed a global positioning
system (GPS) unit in the highest point of rock beneath the ice and
snow. Using other satellite-based data, they arrived at a figure of
29,035 feet (8,850 m). This is now widely recognized as the height
of Mount Everest. Nepal and China, however, officially accept the
earlier figure. Either way, the mountain is almost 5.5 miles (8.8 kilo-
meters) high.

A Giant among Giants

Mount Everest rises amid a cluster of high Himalayan peaks. Makalu
to the southeast and Cho Oyu to the northwest are the world’s fifth
and sixth highest mountains. Farther east is Kanchenjunga, the third
highest. Just south of Everest is Lhotse, the world’s fourth highest
peak. Its base is actually connected to Mount Everest. To the south-
west, Nuptse towers high above the landscape. It is considered part
of the surrounding mountains rather than an independent peak.
Changtse rises to the north of Everest, in Tibet. It is the world’s
forty-fifth highest mountain.
Mill ions of Years of Uplift
Mount Everest’s ascent to the top of the world took millions of
years. It began with two tectonic plates, or giant masses of land.
One was the Eurasian Plate, where Europe and Asia are now. The
other was an island continent called the Indian Plate. It carried
what is now the Indian subcontinent—India, Nepal, Pakistan,
Bhutan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and the Maldives. The Indian Plate
drifted northward until, about 50 million years ago, it crashed into
the Eurasian Plate. Seawater rushing between the two plates cre-
ated the ancient Tethys Sea.
As the Indian Plate continued to push northward, it slipped
beneath the Eurasian Plate. This forced the edge of the Eurasian
Plate to buckle and rise upward. Over millions of years this meet-
ing of plates pushed up the Himalaya Mountains. In the process, the
Tethys Sea closed up. Its crumpled seabed was thrust up high among
the rising peaks. This left a yellowish strip of limestone through the
mountains full of fossilized sea creatures. On Everest and nearby
peaks, this diagonal strip occurs at about 25,000 to 27,500 feet
(7,620 to 8,400 m). Geologists and climbers call it the Yellow Band.
The Tibetan Plateau, just north of the Himalayas, also rose up.
Today, this vast plain has an average height of about 14,800 feet
(4,500 m). That is higher than most of the world’s mountains.
Even now, the Indian Plate continues to push against Eurasia. As
a result, the world’s highest mountain is rising higher all the time.
It grows a few millimeters every year. Mount Everest is gradually

A Ge o g ra p h ic a l W o n d e r 13
 The Tibetan Plateau is the highest and largest plateau on Earth.

shifting northeastward, too, moving about 2.4 inches (6 centime-

ters) a year.

The Shape of Everest

The top of Mount Everest is shaped like a pyramid with three sides,
or faces. The border between Nepal and Tibet passes right through
the summit. The North Face and the East Face, or Kangshung Face,
are in Tibet. Only the Southwest Face is in Nepal.
Where Mount Everest’s faces meet, they form ridges on the south-
east, northeast, and west sides of the peak. Few climbers take a route
directly up one of the faces. Instead, they climb up to one of the
ridges, where they can get a better foothold.

14 Mou n t E ver est

 Mt. Everest
British, 1953
Polish, 1980
British, 1975
Soviet, 1982
U.S., 1963
Yugoslavian, 1979
Southwest
Face
North
Face

Ma
in

Ro
u
te

cier
k Gla
u CHINA
ongb
R N E PA L

Khumbu
Icefall
1953
Base Camp
Present-day
Base Camp

A Ge o g ra p h ic a l W o n d e r
15
MOUNT EVEREST
 Climbers make their way up the South Summit of Everest. It is 28,704 feet high.

The southeast ridge, or southern route, from Nepal, is the most

frequently climbed route. Along this ridge, not far from the sum-
mit, is a dome of ice and snow called the South Summit. Above
that, the ridge narrows to what climbers call a knife-edge ridge. If
they lose their footing here, they could plummet thousands of feet
to their death. Next comes the Hillary Step, named for Edmund
Hillary, who first reached the summit in 1953. This is a sheer rock
face, 40 feet (12 m) high.

16 Mou n t E ver est

 The northeast ridge, or northern route, in Tibet, is the second
most popular route. As climbers approach the summit, they must
scale three “steps,” or steep rock faces. From here, they climb the
steep snowfields of the summit pyramid.
Finally, at the top, is the coveted summit itself. This platform of
hard-packed snow and ice—with a spectacular view from the top of
the world—is said to be about the size of a picnic table.

The height of Mount Everest’s summit is 29,035 feet. Here, climbers take in the view
from the top of the world.

A Ge o g ra p h ic a l W o n d e r 17
Gl ac iers
Massive glaciers, or rivers of ice,
cling to the slopes of the Himalayas.
The glaciers flow like rivers, though
much more slowly. Only Antarctica
and Greenland store more freshwa-
ter than the Himalayan glaciers. They
are the source of Asia’s largest rivers,
providing water to 1.3 billion people
in India, Nepal, China, and Bhutan.
Rongbuk Glacier is the major glacier
on Mount Everest’s north side. Like
many rivers, it is fed by so-called trib-
utary glaciers—West Rongbuk Glacier
and East Rongbuk Glacier. The central
Rongbuk Glacier flows northward into
the Rongbuk Valley. Among the tiny
settlements in the Rongbuk Valley
is Rongbuk Monastery. It is a center
for Tibetan Buddhists in the region.
Nearby is the Base Camp where climb-
ers start their ascent of Mount Everest
from the north side.
To reach Mount Everest’s north
side Base Camp, climbers must
trek across Rongbuk Glacier.

18 Mou n t E ver est

 Rongbuk Glacier’s meltwater feeds the Rongbuk River. This river
once provided abundant irrigation water for local farmers’ barley
crops, but the flow is much lighter today. Scientists believe this is
because Rongbuk Glacier is retreating, or becoming smaller, due to
global warming.

Glossaryof
Mount Everest’s Features
col (Welsh for “saddle”) a mountain pass; a low ridge between two
peaks
couloir a steep-sided gorge or gully in a mountainside
crevasse a large crack in a glacier, with vertical walls of ice
cwm (pronounced KOOM; Welsh for “valley”) a broad, flat, bowl-
shaped valley of ice at the head of a glacier
icefall a jumble of huge ice blocks that have tumbled down at the
advancing edge of a glacier; dangerous because the ice blocks
can be unstable and fall
ridge the line where two mountain faces meet
serac a tall peak of ice on a glacier, often forming where crevasses
intersect; dangerous because it can suddenly collapse on climbers
snow bridge snow that covers the opening of a crevasse; dangerous because a
climber may fall through the snow into the crevasse
 Kangshung Glacier, on the east side of Everest, feeds the Kama
River. Both the Kama and the Rongbuk rivers eventually join the
Arun River, which flows through a mountain pass into Nepal.
Khumbu Glacier is the major glacier on the Nepal side of Mount
Everest. It skids down the mountainside at the rate of about 4 feet
(1.2 m) a day. Meltwater from the Khumbu Glacier flows into
Nepal’s Dudh Kosi River. The Dudh Kosi River valley is the main
route for travelers on Mount Everest’s south side. Along the way,
they pass many villages of Nepal’s Sherpa people. North of the
village of Pheriche is the base of Khumbu Glacier. High on the
glacier is the Base Camp where climbers begin their ascent on
this side of Everest.

Crevasses, Cw ms, and Cols

As Khumbu Glacier heaves along, gaping cracks called crevasses
open up, and enormous, house-sized slabs of ice break off and
tumble down. This chaotic area, like a frozen river plunging over a
cliff, is called the Khumbu Icefall. For Everest climbers, it is a major
danger on their ascent.
Above the Khumbu Icefall is the Western Cwm. This is a broad,
bowl-shaped valley scooped out by Khumbu Glacier. It looks like
a round stadium surrounded by the peaks of Lhotse, Nuptse, and
Everest. Deep crevasses crisscross the Western Cwm, some of them
as wide as 80 feet (24 m). Snowfall forms snow bridges across the
crevasses. Often just thin crusts of snow, these bridges can create

A Ge o g ra p h ic a l W o n d e r 21
 Mount Everest’s climbers tackle Khumbu Icefall’s ice towers and crevasses. It is the
most dangerous part of the climb.

22 Mo u n t E ver est
the illusion of solid ground, becoming a dangerous hazard for
climbers. Oddly, the Western Cwm can be scorchingly hot because
sunlight reflects on climbers from all sides. If the skies are clear and
the wind is still, temperatures can reach 100 degrees Fahrenheit (38
degrees Celsius) or more. Climbers must wear dark sunglasses to
protect their eyes, and sunburn is a serious concern.
Amid the jagged landscape of the Everest region are high moun-
tain passes called cols. They are shaped like saddles, providing level
routes between high peaks. On the Tibet side of Mount Everest, the
North Col, at 23,000 feet (7,000 m), links Everest and Changtse. On
the Nepal side, the South Col, at 26,000 feet (7,925 m), stretches

Ladders are used to cross a crevasse in the Western Cwm.

A Ge o g ra p h ic a l W o n d e r 23
between Mount Everest and Lhotse. Lying at a much higher eleva-
tion than the North Col, the South Col marks the beginning of what is
called the Death Zone. The air here is so thin, or low in oxygen, that
humans cannot survive for long. Climbers usually breathe with oxy-
gen tanks from this point on.

Snowy , I cy , Windy, and Cold

Climate conditions on Mount Everest can be severe. Violent winds,
blinding snowstorms, and frigid temperatures can be life threat-
ening, sometimes sweeping in without warning. Mount Everest’s
height creates an extra wind hazard. Its peak is in the lower reaches
of the jet stream, a high-speed air current in the earth’s atmosphere.
Winds can whip across the summit at speeds of more than 100 miles
(160 km) an hour.
Seasons on Mount Everest are not evenly spaced throughout the
year. They revolve around the monsoon, a season of heavy snow-
storms. Monsoon season, or summer, lasts from June roughly
through September. This is when Mount Everest receives the heavi-
est precipitation. On the lower foothills, the monsoon begins with
rain in late May or June. Soon clouds shroud the mountain, and
treacherous storms dump tons of snow on the slopes. Some snow
becomes hard and frozen, while some forms a layer of deep powder.
July is Mount Everest’s “warmest” month, but the temperature on
the summit never rises above freezing. The average July temperature
there is –2° Fahrenheit (–19 °C).

24 Mo u n t E ver est
 Autumn is usually called the postmonsoon season. It may begin
as early as September if the monsoon is over by then. Temperatures
begin to drop and, by mid-October, winter winds begin to rise.
The snow is deep now from the monsoon snowfall. In spite of these
conditions, many climbers approach Mount Everest in the autumn.
Snow skiers even take to the slopes, too, to take advantage of the
heavy snow cover.
By November, winter has set in. Winter storms from December
through March bring even more snow. Winds reach an all-time
high, lashing the summit at more than 170 miles (274 km) an hour.
Temperatures at this time become bitterly cold. Mount Everest’s
coldest month is January, when the summit averages –33° Fahrenheit
(–36 °C). With the wind, though, temperatures feel much colder.
Spring, in April and May, is usually called the premonsoon
season. This is when temperatures begin to warm up, making the
winter snows melt quickly. Rivers swell with the glaciers’ meltwa-
ter, and wildflowers bloom across the high mountain meadows.
On Everest, though, the spring thaw presents the danger of ava-
lanches and collapsing ice. Nevertheless, most people attempt to
climb the mountain in April or May, before the monsoon begins
again. The jet stream shifts northward at this time, making it less
windy around the mountaintop. Still, unpredictable winds and
the low level of oxygen near the summit make climbing dangerous
any time of the year.

A Ge o g ra p h ic a l W o n d e r 25
Wildlifeon
Mount Everest

Glaciers and snowfields do not seem like a good habitat for wild-
life. Not all of Mount Everest is cold and icy, though. Wildlife on
the mountainsides depends on the altitude. High on the mountain,
frigid conditions make it hard for both plants and animals to survive.
However, a rich variety of wildlife thrives at lower elevations. Shaggy
mountain goats, brilliantly colored birds, frisky monkeys, and rare
snow leopards inhabit the rocky, forested slopes. Based on the cli-
mate at different altitudes, Mount Everest has several vegetation
zones. Animals need plants for food and shelter, as they vary with
the altitude as well.

Vegetation Z ones
The lower slopes of Mount Everest are forested, with cone-bearing
trees such as junipers, silver firs, hemlocks, and blue pines. Mixed
in with them are oak trees and bamboo. Flowering evergreen shrubs
such as rhododendrons flourish here, too. Brilliant red and pink
rhododendron blossoms burst out in the spring. The forested zone

Yaks thrive on the Tibetan Plateau. W il d l if e o n M o u n t E v e re s t 27

 extends up to the tree line—the highest
point where full-sized trees can grow.
On Everest’s south face, this point is at
about 13,100 feet (4,000 m) above sea
level. Tree lines vary by region, depend-
ing on location, slope, and local climate
conditions.
Above the tree line is the alpine shrub
and meadows zone. It extends up to about
15,500 feet (4,700 m). Plants there are
small and hardy enough to survive the
harsh wind and cold. They include shrubs
and dwarf plants, as well as high-altitude
grasses and flowers.
Once the first monsoon rains begin,
the high meadows are green with grasses
and blooming with brightly colored wild-
flowers. Local herders use this area as a
summer grazing ground for their yaks.
Dense thickets of dwarf juniper, dwarf
rhododendrons, and other shrubby
plants grow in this zone, too. They pro-
vide cover for many wild animals. Dwarf
junipers, also called shrub junipers, are
commonly harvested for firewood.

Rhododendrons bloom in the Valley of

28 M ou n t E ver est Flowers, east of Mount Everest.
 The next level is the upper alpine
zone. This is the highest level where
plants can flourish. Only species
such as lichens and mosses that
can withstand extreme cold sur-
vive here. Arenaria species, called
alpine cushion plants, also live in
this zone. They grow in a tight,
ground-hugging mound that looks
like a cushion. They, too, are often A herd of yaks graze on a high, open meadow.
gathered for fuel.
The Arctic zone begins at
about 18,000 feet (5,500 m)
on Mount Everest’s south-
ern slope and 19,000 feet
(5,800 m) on the northern
slope. This permanent snow
line is covered with snow-
fields, glaciers, and ice year
round. Researchers have
found a few plant species at
this level. However, beyond
20,000 feet (6,100 m), no
plants can survive.

Alpine cushion plants grow in the

upper alpine zone. W il d l if e o n M o u n t E v e re s t 29
 The Yak:
An All-Purpose Animal
Yaks can thrive at more high altitudes than any other large mammal in the world.
They have been known to climb as high as 20,000 feet (6,100 m) to graze. Their
large lungs can absorb oxygen in thin air, and their thick, shaggy coats keep
them warm. In Tibetan, the male is called a yak, and the female is called a dri.
Yaks transport equipment and supplies for Mount Everest climbing expeditions.
Their broad hooves make them sure-footed climbers. Carrying loads of up to 220
pounds (100 kilograms), they trudge through deep snow and up the icy mountain
passes. For farmers, the yak is a source of meat, milk, and wool. Its milk is made
into butter and cheese, and its hair is woven to make clothes, blankets, ropes, and
tents. Yak droppings are also burned as fuel. Yaks are known for being cranky
and hard to control. They are sometimes crossbred with cattle to produce the dzo
(female, dzomo), a much more manageable animal.
Mam mals
Mount Everest’s animals are uniquely adapted to their environment.
For example, their lungs can process air containing lower levels of
oxygen. Mammals here have thick coats to protect them from the
wind and cold. Some hibernate, or go into a deep sleep, during
the winter when food is scarce.
Wildlife on the Nepal side of Mount Everest is protected within
Sagarmatha National Park. Many rare, threatened, and endangered
species live there. One is the shaggy, brown Himalayan tahr. This
wild goat can be seen scrambling up and down steep, rocky slopes.
Its hooves have a rubbery core that allows them to grip smooth sur-
faces. Tahrs graze in the high meadows in the summer and migrate

Himalayan tahrs are most active early in the day, spending the afternoon hours
resting among rocks and vegetation.

W il d l if e o n M o u n t E v e re s t 31
 Sagarmatha National Park
Nepal has designated the southern slope of Mount Everest, all the
way up to its peak, as Sagarmatha National Park. It lies within
Nepal’s Solu-Khumbu district, with a visitors’ center near the village
of Namche Bazar. The lower reaches of the park enclose forests and
grazing land. Many rare animals are protected there, including musk
deer, wild yaks, snow leopards, Himalayan black bears, and red
pandas. Armed guards are stationed at several points in the park to
ward off hunters.

to lower levels in the winter. Two similar creatures are the serow and
its smaller relative the goral. Both are goatlike animals that graze on
the high, rocky slopes.
Another rare species is the musk deer. It is hunted for its musk,
a substance contained in the male’s scent gland below the abdo-
men. The musk is used in perfumes, and it is falsely believed to be
a strength-giving drug. That belief makes musk one of the most
expensive substances in the world, selling for as much as $20,000
per pound (per 0.45 kg). Hunters can remove the musk from live
deer, but most just kill the animal.

32 M ou n t E ver est
 Snow leopards are endangered worldwide because they are hunted
for their luxurious fur skins. By the 1960s they had disappeared from
the Everest region. Thanks to aggressive protection efforts, snow
leopards have made a comeback, though they are still rare. They prey
on large animals such as tahrs and deer.
Himalayan black bears roam among Everest’s forested lower
slopes. They feed on grasses, wild fruits and berries, and sometimes
small animals. These bears are mainly nocturnal, grazing at night
and sleeping in rock crevices or thick undergrowth during the day.
In the autumn, they eat extra food to fatten up for winter, when they

Though it thrives in extreme environments, the snow leopard’s survival is in jeopardy

due to poachers and loss of habitat.

W il d l if e o n M o u n t E v e re s t 33
hibernate. Like other large animals in the region, their numbers
have been reduced because of hunting.
Red pandas, also known as lesser pandas, are another rare
species in the Everest region. They look nothing like their larger
cousins, the familiar black-and-white pandas. Instead, they are
small and reddish brown, with a long, bushy tail with stripes around
it. They live on the lower mountain slopes, where they mostly feed
on the leaves and tender shoots of malingo, a type of bamboo. Red
pandas are threatened both by hunting and by the disappearance of
their forest habitat.

Red pandas grow to about the size of a house cat, though their tails add an
additional 18 inches to their length.

34 M ou n t E ver est
 Common langurs are long-tailed monkeys that range from silvery
gray to golden brown. They eat leaves and fruits, traveling in groups
in the trees or on the ground. Other mammals roaming the moun-
tainsides are mountain foxes, golden jackals, weasels, martens,
civets, moles, shrews, and Himalayan mouse hares, or pikas.

The Yeti—Fact or Fiction?

For centuries, Sherpa and Tibetan villagers have told tales of the
yeti—a huge, hairy creature of the Mount Everest region that walks
upright like a human. Englishmen named it the abominable snow-
man. A similar creature, bigfoot, is said to roam the forests of North
America. Many people claim to have seen evidence of the yeti on
the high mountain slopes. In 1974 a Sherpa girl who was grazing
her yaks reported a yeti attack. Villagers later found several yaks
with their necks broken. Even famous mountaineers have reported
seeing dark, humanlike figures in the distance. Others have spotted
large, humanlike footprints in the snow. Still, no clear proof of the
yeti’s existence has been discovered, and the mystery remains.
 Bir ds
More than one hundred bird species live among the forests, shrubs,
and high meadows of Mount Everest. One of the most beautiful spe-
cies is the Impeyan pheasant, Nepal’s national bird. Nepalis call
it the danphe, and it is also known as the Himalayan monal. Adult
males glisten with brilliant colors ranging from metallic green and
blue to coppery red, with a feathered crest on their head. Females
have dull coloring, with brownish black plumage. Impeyan pheas-
ants are large birds, reaching a length of
about 28 inches (71 cm).
Blood pheasants are another com-
mon species. They are named for the
reddish feathers on the male’s breast,
throat, and forehead. Blood pheasants
spend most of their time on the ground
and do not fly much. On the other hand,
choughs (pronounced chuffs) are known
for their acrobatic flight. They glide and
loop through the air, landing expertly
on rocky cliffs, where they build their
nests. Red-billed choughs and yellow-
billed choughs are common birds in the
Everest region. Members of the crow
The male Impeyan pheasant is known for family, they have glossy black feathers.
its multi-colored plumage.

36 Mo u n t E ver est
 Snow pigeons travel in huge flocks, circling through the sky before
landing in a meadow. Tibetan snowcocks blend in well with the
snowy, rocky landscape. Their feathers are mottled white, gray, and
brown. Their loud cackle gives them away, though. Snowcocks are
very tame around humans and may even eat out of their hands.
Large birds of prey soar over the mountainsides hunting for small
animals to eat. They include golden eagles, Himalayan griffons, and
lammergeiers, also called bearded vultures. Brahminy ducks, crested
grebes, pintails, and other waterbirds live in the Gokyo Lake region.
This wetland is also a haven for birds passing through the Himalayas
on their migrations. Because local people consider Gokyo Lake a
holy lake, they are careful to protect its wildlife from harm.

The Himalayan griffon is a vulture seldom seen below 4,000 feet.

W il d l if e o n M o u n t E v e re s t 37
The Quest to Conquer

For thousands of years, the world’s highest mountain remained

a little-known peak among the high Himalayas. Its summit could
hardly be distinguished from surrounding peaks. That began to
change in the 1800s when India was under Great Britain’s control.
British merchants, governors, scientists, and explorers took notice
of this intriguing mountain. They set out to map it, to measure it, and
eventually, to climb it.

To Map and Measure

How did Great Britain get involved with Mount Everest, a peak
thousands of miles from Britain? It began in 1600 when a group of
British merchants formed the British East India Company. Its aim
was to carry on trade with India and other Asian lands. The trading
company became the virtual ruler of India, and eventually, India
became a British colony. In 1767 the British East India Company
organized the Survey of India. This venture would survey, measure,
and map the territories under the company’s control.

The desire to climb and conquer Mount

Everest has been a goal of many
mountaineers since the late 1800s. T h e Qu e s t t o C o n q u e r 39
 An even bigger surveying project began in the early 1800s—the
Great Trigonometric Survey. Its mission was to map British terri-
tory in India and to measure the highest Himalayan peaks. Surveyors
used a system called triangulation to calculate locations. Using mas-
sive telescopic instruments called theodolites and 100-foot (30-m)
steel chains, they established distances and heights by measuring
angles and sides of triangles. This resulted in a grid of triangles cov-
ering most of the country.
Beginning in southern India, the surveyors gradually moved
northward. In 1834 they reached the border of Nepal in the foothills

Surveyors map and measure British territory in India on the orders of the British East
India Company.

40 M ou n t E ver est
of the Himalayas. Nepal was closed to foreigners at the time, so they
surveyed east and west along the border. From there, they took mea-
surements of dozens of Himalayan peaks, naming them with Roman
numerals. Everest was just called Peak XV.
Finally, after years of measuring and remeasuring, surveyors
realized that Peak XV might be the highest of all the peaks. All that
remained was to calculate its height. This job fell to an Indian math-
ematician named Radhanath Sikdar. In 1852, working with dozens
of measurements taken from many locations, Sikdar calculated that
Peak XV was 29,000 feet (8,839 m) high. This was much taller than
any other peak in the world. Even with the instruments and methods
of the mid-1800s, Sikdar came remarkably close to the figure we
know today.
Sikdar’s superiors felt a round number might
look suspicious, so they announced the peak’s
height as 29,002 feet (8,840 m). Because Peak
XV was not considered a suitable name for
such a special peak, British officials renamed
it Mount Everest. This was to honor Sir George
Everest, who had been the British survey-
or-general of India for many years. Everest
himself opposed the name, saying that local
people could neither spell nor pronounce it in
their native language. Nevertheless, Britain’s Mount Everest is named after
George Everest, who served as
Royal Geographical Society adopted the name. surveyor general of India.

T h e Qu e s t t o C o n q u e r 41
 In the British spirit of sports competition, the next challenge was
to climb the mountain.

W hat It Takes to Climb

Even today, Mount Everest is hard to reach and hard to climb.
Mountaineers once had to travel long distances on foot with all
their gear on pack animals just to get near the mountain. Over the
years, some roads and airstrips have been built in the region. Still,
modern climbers have only footpaths, then no paths, once the
mountain is reached.
Typically, climbers ascend Mount
Everest in teams of two to a dozen or more.
The full climbing support crew is much
larger, though. Ever since the earliest
climbs, Nepal’s Sherpa people have served
as porters, and more recently as guides.
Hardy, high-altitude mountaineers, they
easily scramble up the mountainsides with
heavy loads on their backs. They carry
tents, food, a stove, oxygen tanks, medical
supplies, and climbing equipment.
Once on the mountain, climbers face
many physical risks. These hazards
are serious, and some can be deadly.
A Sherpa carries a heavy load across First, there are the obvious dangers of
the slopes of the Himalayan Mountains.

42 Mo u n t E ver est
 Medical Risks
of Mountaineering
Besides the physical risks of climbing Mount Everest, there are many medical haz-
ards. Acute mountain sickness (AMS) is one of the most life-threatening conditions
on Everest climbs. It sets in when the body has not adjusted to a decrease in oxy-
gen levels. The first symptom of AMS is usually a headache. Then comes an array
of symptoms—weakness, dizziness, loss of appetite, nausea, vomiting, shortness
of breath, chest pains, and mental confusion. People with AMS symptoms must be
given oxygen and descend to a lower altitude or they will die.
Exposure to cold leads to frostbite, cutting off blood circulation to the fingers,
toes, or nose. These body parts may have to be amputated. Cold can also cause
hypothermia, a lowering of the body temperature until the person basically
freezes to death. Bright sunlight reflecting off the snow and ice can cause snow
blindness. This painful condition can lead to temporary or even permanent blind-
ness. Humidity, or air moisture, can be very low at high altitudes. This irritates the
lungs, causing what is called the Khumbu cough. A person can cough so hard that
he or she breaks a rib.
Climbers can prevent most of these conditions by planning wisely, climbing
sensibly, and bringing proper protective gear. Some climbers are tempted to hide
injuries or illnesses in their desire for the summit. This endangers not only their
own lives but their teammates’ lives as well. Expert mountaineers know it is more
heroic to preserve human life than to reach a climbing goal, but this sentiment is
not always shared by ambitious amateurs.
plummeting down the mountainside, dropping into crevasses,
getting buried in avalanches, and being crushed by falling rocks or
ice. One of the most serious hazards, though, is lack of oxygen.
The higher a person climbs, the less oxygen there is in the air. At
16,400 feet (5,000 m), the air contains only about half the oxygen
available at sea level. On the summit, the oxygen content is down to
one-third. Climbers have to ascend slowly so their bodies can accli-
matize, or get used to the ever-thinning air. For every 1,000 feet
(300 m) of climbing, they need to rest at least a day. Another rule of
thumb is “climb high, sleep low.” That is, they climb up during the
day and climb down to a lower elevation to sleep.
When climbers reach about 25,600 feet (7,800 m), they enter the
so-called Death Zone. From here on up, the body can acclimate no
further, and most climbers must use supplemental oxygen. Once in
the Death Zone, people have a small window of opportunity for reach-
ing the summit. They must climb up and get back down quickly before
the oxygen shortage endangers their lives.
Climbers have staked out about eighteen different routes to
Mount Everest’s summit. They ascend the peak’s ridges and even
the sheer faces. Most of these trails are incredibly dangerous,
though. There are really two main climbing routes—the northeast
ridge from Tibet and the southeast ridge from Nepal. Early moun-
taineers approached Everest from Tibet.

44 Mo u n t E ver est
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
morning, I was obliged to send for him to return. He was astonished
at the serious character of the attack and the progress it had made.
The usual remedies were at hand. He immediately gave me twenty
grains of calomel; and, in an hour afterwards, an ounce of castor oil,
with two drachms of tincture of rhubarb.
August 11. [50] By the mercy of God and the timely recourse to
medicine, the disease was repelled. At noon I attended the funeral of
Ellen Higgins. It was a sickening office. Owing to the heat of the
weather, the lid of the coffin had started. Went to the poor afflicted
people at Underwood. Parsons’s boy, aged eight, who had held Mr.
Richard Langworthy’s horse at six a.m., was dying, at noon! Visited
the hospital, and returned home through Underwood. Charles Taylor
and Mary Parsons, buried. After a few hours’ rest, at half-past eight
in the evening, I was summoned in haste to visit William Gully—much
worse than yesterday—great consternation among the inmates of the
house.
So great had been the mortality, in defiance of the treatment which
he had hitherto pursued, that Mr. Langworthy at length determined in
this case to try a remedy which had been adopted by many eminent
practitioners; viz.,—the injecting some principal vein with saline fluid.
He accordingly arranged his instruments on a little table near the
window. The poor wife was crying near the fire-place. The
occupation assigned to me, of preparing hot water, adjusting pans,
basins, &c. to be in readiness for injecting the vein, was immediately
commenced. Susan Gully, the patient’s sister, and his wife’s two
sisters were standing by, watching Mr. L.’s proceedings with peculiar
interest, but they preserved a strict silence. A low and lengthened
moan arrested our attention; and then a frightfully convulsive shriek
issued from above. I had nearly prepared the saline fluid [52] for
injection; and was requested to be ready as quickly as possible. Mr.
L. was afraid to trust any one else, lest a mistake should occur.
Hurried footsteps were now heard on the winding stairs, which were
between the fire-place and the window. “He’s gone! sir,—he’s gone!”
was exclaimed, with a trembling, hysterical voice. Both the Messrs.
Langworthy and myself were obliged to summon all our resolution.
The wife and children around us,—one ill in its weeping mother’s
arms, frightened, not knowing why—the others staring at us, aware
that something was being done which appeared to them to be
fearful. The sister, the friend—all with their eyes intently rivetted
upon us, as if life and death depended upon our exertions! This was
natural. How many have watched the countenance of the physician
when a much-loved life was pending! A piece of bread was given to
one of the children, to pacify it,—a part, perhaps, of the last loaf
earned by its poor father’s labour! Rapidly as some such thoughts
rushed upon the mind, we did not remit our work, and every thing
was ready. We were quickly by the side of the sufferer. From all
appearances, the accounts were too well founded. No pulse,—Is he
quite gone? The eye moved,—he tried to raise himself—looked at us
—and, recognizing me, gave me his hand, but could not speak. He
knew what was said, and held out his arm. The vein was opened—
no blood flowed—it was empty. He uttered a low moan, looked at his
arm, and shook his head. His wife, with breathless anxiety, appeared
at the door: we persuaded her to retire. The warm fluid was placed
on the window-seat near the bed. It was again tried by the
thermometer. Eight quarts were ready, and the process of injecting
the vein was commenced. The greater portion entered. The
breathing of the patient became laborious, and the pulse returned.
Violent sickness ensued. Some weak gruel, with a teaspoonful of
brandy mixed in it, quieted the sickness. The poor man began to
speak. In a low whisper, thanked God—thanked us—and said he felt
as if he should recover. At eleven o’clock, Mr. Langworthy returned
home with me, as both of us required rest.
August 12. [54] Gully relapsed, and was as nearly in a dying state as
before. Saline fluid was again resorted to. I prepared above a
gallon; but, upon this occasion, about three quarts only were
injected. Mr. Langworthy having expressed a wish that he could
obtain a pint of blood for the purpose of injecting it, Sarah Gully, the
sister, offered to be blooded; but Mr. L. did not consider her
sufficiently healthy. Elizabeth Veale, a sister of Gully’s wife, then
came forward, and, having made a similar offer, some of her blood
(about half-a-pint) was transferred into the patient’s vein, by a well-
executed process, conducted by both the Messrs. Langworthy. The
patient recovered his recollection. Sickness did not come on as it had
done after saline fluid only was injected. A short interval elapsed,
during which he appeared to labour considerably under the action of
recovering his breath. He then spoke; and, in the course of a short
time, took gruel. Weak wine and water, warm jelly, &c. were also
given to him in very small quantities. His appearance bore a more
favourable aspect; though his weakness was excessive. Gradually, he
regained a little strength towards the evening.
Jane Paddon and Edward Parsons were buried.
My friend, the Rev. Joseph Rosdew, who was on a visit to his brother
at Beechwood, kindly preached for me in the morning and afternoon;
and the Rev. E. B. St. John read the prayers. This friendly assistance
enabled me to visit the sick during the greater part of the day. The
congregations were very small; owing to the absence of some of the
principal families, the sickness of many, or the fear of assembling
which prevailed among others.
August 13. [56] Visited Mrs. Toope, at Underwood, and her son
Stephen, both very weak. Mary Brown, aged fifty-six, an assistant at
the Hospital, died. Jane Moon, of Colebrook, aged twenty-eight,
recovered. She was taken ill on the 8th. William Gully, better.
August 14. Several people applied for medicines. After they had
been attended to, I rode to the villages at the eastern end of the
parish. Some poor people, who were invalids, particularly requested
to see me. They were fearful that their sickness was a prelude to the
cholera; but they had no symptoms of that disease. Debility was the
chief subject of their complaint. Where this was the case,
strengthening things were supplied to the poor, out of the
subscription fund.
Susan Taylor’s little girl, aged one year, died of cholera. She was
taken ill on the 11th. Her mother, also, very unwell, with symptoms
of the same disease. Richard Parsons, aged one year and a half, died
at the Hospital. Mary Brown, buried.
August 15. Richard Parsons, buried. Elizabeth Hill, aged ten, died at
Underwood. Mr. H. attended her in the morning as soon as he was
sent for. The progress of this case was fearfully rapid. The poor
child did not suffer much from pain; she appeared to sink entirely
from exhaustion. No remedy for restoring warmth and circulation
had the least effect.
After visiting sick people at Underwood and at the Hospital, I went in
the evening to see Susan Taylor. She was in the collapsed stage of
cholera. The Messrs. Langworthy were present. It was proposed
that the saline injection should be resorted to, as her pulse had
ceased to beat, and she appeared to be rapidly sinking. I assisted in
preparing the warm fluid. Eight quarts were ready, and seven were
injected into the vein. She revived—the pulse returned—and she
seemed to be relieved. We were occupied a great part of the night
with this case.
August 16. Between nine and ten, a.m., more poor people than
usual applied for medicines, and strengthening things; such as arrow-
root, tapioca, carageen moss, &c.
The Board of Health met at my house. One principal object of the
meeting was to consider the state of the poor as to diet, both of
those who were slightly indisposed, as well as of those recovering
from cholera. It was resolved to call the especial attention of the
parish officers to this important subject, and to remind them of the
fact, that, from the commencement of the disease in the parish to
the present time, all extra expenses caused by its ravages had been
met by the subscription fund, which was now nearly exhausted. The
necessity of increasing the relief of the poor, especially by some
allowance for extra diet under the present distressing emergency,
was strongly urged upon them, in a written address; under the
conviction that, even where the disease did not exist, an addition to
their ordinary support was highly essential.
As soon as the Board of Health adjourned, I set off for the Hospital,
and on my way there I called to enquire for Susan Taylor. Just as I
arrived, Mary Taylor, the sister, met me at the door, and was sobbing
so bitterly, she could scarcely tell me the cause of her distress. At
last she said, Susan was worse than ever—she could not live ten
minutes. Oh! sir, where is Mr. Langworthy? Well knowing that it was
a case in which every moment was of the utmost importance, I
hastened to the Hospital, where we had appointed to meet. He had
not arrived. Having heard that he was at Underwood, I rode there;
and, fortunately, I came up to him as he was in the act of mounting
his horse at Gully’s cottage. In as few words as possible, I told him
my errand. Poor Susan’s life was an object of peculiar anxiety to us.
She had lost her husband and her only child within a few days; and
she had been particularly active and serviceable as a nurse, in some
of the most appalling cases. A very few minutes elapsed before we
were at the house at Plympton. Our horses were sent to Mr. L.’s, as
we knew that, if the patient did not die, we might be detained some
time. Mary Taylor was so unwell, with strong symptoms of the same
disease, Mr. L. gave her medicine, and advised her to remain below.
We ascended the stairs, and at the first moment of entering the
room, we thought it was all over. We found Susan quite cold—as
cold as death—insensible—discoloured,—having no indication of
pulse. We had no person to help us—we had no time to procure
assistance. I knew my office in preparing for a repetition of the
expedient of injection. This Mr. L. at once decided to be the only
chance. Whilst he adjusted his instruments, the syringe, &c., I went
below to prepare the fluid. I had about six quarts ready, and rejoined
Mr. L. He was sitting on the bed, and prepared to open the vein of
the patient’s right arm. I held the wrist, to keep it steady; and
having endeavoured to ascertain whether there was any pulse, the
cold blue hand dropped when I let it go. Mr. L. shook his head, and
thought any attempt to restore animation would be useless.
Notwithstanding this, as we could not tell what might be the effect
under the hand of God, even in this most desperate case, I was
ready with the warm mixture. The syringe was applied to the flaccid
vein, which resembled a slight sinew. No blood flowed. To all
appearance it contained nothing but a dark, glutinous, substance,
about the colour and consistency of treacle; not more than a drop of
which could be extracted, after pressing the vein in the usual manner
to produce a flow of blood. Every heave of her labouring chest,
seemed to be the last—weaker—weaker—at less frequent intervals.
Never surely was life nearer extinct. The eyes were set upwards with
a fixed and inanimate expression. We were now ready. I had a
thermometer in the basin, and two jugs, one with the fluid hot, and
the other cooler, so as to keep up the temperature as exactly as
possible 110 degrees. The greatest nicety is also indispensible in
using the syringe, which should be an instrument of the best make,
lest a single globule of air should be injected with the fluid. I have
been informed that, if, owing to unforeseen circumstances this
occurs, the consequences would be instantly fatal. Mr. L. commenced
the operation, and the fluid did not return, but went upward through
the vein. Mr. L. whispered, “that is well.” A breathless silence ensued
—one quart was injected—a slight indication of movement followed;
—another quart—and another—a trembling movement of the eyelid
was visible—gradually the ashy hue of death began to recede from
the forehead—then from the cheek—the dawn of returning life
appeared; soon afterwards, the eye changed from its fixed character
of unconsciousness to that of recognition. I ventured to ask,
whether, if blood could be procured, there might not be a better
chance of saving the patient’s life. Mr. L. replied that no one could be
found who would enter the room, much more to spare a pint of
blood. Without further loss of time, I went to a neighbour next door,
who had been very attentive to Susan, and who did not shew
indications of fear. She was in the prime of life, in strong health, and
had no family. I told her in as few words as possible the precarious
state of Susan, and that the only apparent chance of saving her life,
was to obtain a pint of blood, to be transferred into her vein. “Will
you consent to spare that quantity? If you have the least fear about
it, do not hesitate to say so.” She instantly replied, “You may take a
quart if it is required.” She went with me into Susan’s room. Two
basins were instantly in readiness, one floating in the other, in hot
water, to prevent the blood from congealing. Mary Chapman’s vein
was opened. The purple stream gushed, and well performed its
benevolent design. This had scarcely been transfused to the amount
of half-a-pint, when the throbbing index of life returned; and what a
thrill did it give us when I was able to pronounce that “the pulse
beats distinctly.” But, at this instant, it was evident by the
appearance of the eye, that the utmost caution was necessary,—to
avoid another extreme—apoplexy—to watch the eye as well as the
pulse,—scarcely a pint could be borne—the process was instantly
stayed—and the noble spirited woman was advised to return as
quickly as possible to her own apartment. Her conduct throughout
was heroic and cool to admiration. [65] Now on each side of the bed,
Mr. L. and I took our station. The poor sufferer seemed as one
awaking from a deep sleep. She knew us both, and spoke.
Mary Taylor, in the room below, very sick and faint, and with other
symptoms of incipient cholera, which appeared to be increased by
her fear about her sister. Every thing was said and done which could
be thought of, to calm her spirits, and to dispel the peculiarly restless
anxiety under which she had laboured some hours. She said she
knew she should have the disease, and it would be the death of her.
Susan had become very drowsy. Soon afterwards, a violent trembling
came on, this was followed by a profuse perspiration. In about an
hour, she became more tranquil; still requiring the greatest attention
—life hanging by a mere thread. This lasted three hours. Mr. L. then
considered it safe, at her request, to allow her to sleep. Her sleep
was as tranquil as that of an infant, with the exception of a start at
intervals. A nurse having been obtained, she was left under her care,
with strict orders from Mr. L. how to proceed.
We went to the Hospital, and found the poor people much the same
as yesterday, excepting Sarah Parsons, aged three years, whose case
was hopeless. At seven, p.m., Elizabeth Hill and James Parsons were
buried. Sarah Parsons died during my absence. This was the child
already referred to, as having been “put aside” for dead; but after
active treatment, she had revived, and appeared to be progressing
towards perfect recovery. At the end of a fortnight, a fever attacked
her, which harassed her to such a degree, that she required the
constant attendance of one person. Her mother, slowly mending,
exhibited a state of apathy, almost amounting to stupor, and no
wonder; in addition to the effects of her own severe attack, her mind
had received a paralyzing shock, from the death of her husband and,
now, four children!
After prayers in the sick-ward, I again visited Susan Taylor. She was
going on favourably, but too weak to bear any thing to be said to her.
August 17. A young person at Merafield, one mile from Underwood,
labouring under a rather severe attack of cholera, somewhat better
than yesterday. She spoke of her illness with great calmness; and
the blessed effects of full trust in God’s mercy, through the merits
and intercession of the Saviour, were beautifully displayed in her
whole deportment. Into the hands of God she implicitly and
prayerfully cast herself. She appears so free from that restless
anxiety which frequently attends cases that prove fatal, great hopes
are entertained of her recovery.
August 18. Mrs. Jenny Cocker, of Underwood, was seized this
morning, at five o’clock. Dr. Cookworthy, of Plymouth, and Mr. Hook,
the family surgeon, were present. The former had been sent for
after the most alarming symptoms had come on; and when he
arrived, she was cold, discoloured, and sinking under extreme
prostration of strength. Her husband was absent, upon the farm,
during the early part of the day, and was struck with horror and
alarm when, on his return, he found her in such a state of danger.
She was quite sensible, and prayed continually that she might be
supported “in that hour when flesh and heart faileth.” Whilst the
medical gentlemen were consulting together in the adjoining room,
we all addressed ourselves to the Throne of Grace; and most
devoutly and heartily did the poor sufferer bear her part in that
solemn duty, as well as her relations who were assembled in the
room. Fear and dismay were strongly depicted upon their
countenances. Mrs. Cocker, sen. was in a state of extreme agitation,
shewed symptoms of being ill, and fainted. After the medical
gentlemen returned into the room, active stimulants and friction were
resorted to, with the hope of restoring warmth in their patient. She
became weaker, the pulse had ceased, and so had her power of
speaking; and at two, p.m., her mortal career was closed. During the
last three or four hours, she indicated no appearance of suffering;
and perfect consciousness was maintained to the last. After this
scene of affliction, I remained with the family some time, all of us
having retired to an adjoining room. The relations gradually became
more tranquil, and when we separated, one sorrowing individual,
raising her eyes to heaven, though streaming with tears, exclaimed,
“It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good.”
Attended the funeral of Mr. Josias Cork, and went to the Hospital.
Blake’s child, aged one year, died there to-day.
August 19. [70a] My kind friend, the Rev. Joseph Rosdew, preached for
me twice, as I was too unwell to undertake two full services. In the
evening, Mrs. Jenny Cocker and Elizabeth Blake were buried. Several
fresh cases of cholera reported. Received a letter from the secretary
of the Central Board. The Plympton St. Mary Board of Health
regularly appointed. [70b]
August 20. Amongst others, I visited Betty Heard, at Underwood, a
poor industrious woman, aged seventy-two. She was quite alone—no
one had been near her—creeping about the cottage in great pain:
she could hardly stand, but refused to go to bed. She had taken
some precautions to check the premonitory attack. She stood near
her spinning-wheel, and when she perceived I was looking at it, she
shook her head, and said, “Ah! sir, that is of no use to me now.
When I can use it, I get but a very small matter to live upon! and
now”—She could not finish the sentence; but sat down and cried like
a child. How gladly did I avail myself of the subscription fund to
relieve this helpless creature. In a short time, a proper nurse was
with her. Page’s children better; the cramp had subsided.
A messenger came to me, requesting my immediate attendance at
old Mrs. Cocker’s. She was in a room below, harassed with incessant
sickness, &c., and in great pain. Her agitation of mind at the time of
her daughter’s death on Saturday, caused a shock from which she
had by no means recovered. Mr. Richard Langworthy [72] had seen
her, and administered a dose of calomel; but the progress of the
disorder was astonishingly rapid. She fainted: her son Elias was with
her, and we supported her as well as we could. When she revived,
her countenance assumed the common character of the collapsed
stage of the disease. With much difficulty, we carried the poor
sufferer up stairs; two women were sent for, and they assisted in
putting her in bed. Having become a little easier, she requested me
to pray with her. From that moment, when not in extreme pain, she
was incessantly occupied in that sacred duty. On the first indication
of sickness, she said she had the cholera, and she knew “she should
not get over it.”
Being confident that this was a desperate case, from its exhibiting
those fatal symptoms which often terminate in death within twelve
hours, I went for Mr. L., who had, unfortunately, been detained at
Shaugh, five miles off, and did not return for two hours. On his
arrival, he said he quite approved of all the measures which had been
adopted; and he considered it an extreme case. The rooms were
fumigated, and chloride of lime was sprinkled all about the house.
The poor creature suffered much from cramp and spasms. It was,
indeed, distressing to see her. Every limb seemed to be contracted—
her teeth grinding, and her blue shrivelled fingers clenched so tight, it
was very difficult to open her hand; and her long grey locks, matted
with perspiration, adhered to her cold damp cheek. Mr. L. proposed,
as a last resource to allay such misery, that a vein should be
injected. I prepared about six quarts of the fluid. The vein was
opened, one or two dark drops trickled out, like treacle; after this,
the vein appeared to be empty. The process of injection was
immediately commenced, and the suffering almost instantly
subsided. We knew her age was against her; but feeling that though
life might not be saved by it, yet that this experiment would be
valuable, inasmuch as we had remarked that all suffering from cramp
ceased when recourse was had to it; it was, therefore, adopted. The
pulse returned; but it fluttered and intermitted. She said she knew
her time was very short. Her younger son was hanging over her, the
tears flowing down his cheeks. Throughout this sad scene, his
anxious and tender care for a dying mother was incessant. She said,
“Let us pray—it is my only comfort.” We all knelt round the bed.
Clasping her hands, she prayed aloud. Nothing could be more
devout; and there was something so indescribably affecting in the
plaintive tone of her voice and the aspirations she uttered at
intervals, that a common feeling of sympathy vibrated through the
hearts of those who witnessed the touching scene. She expressed
herself cheered and refreshed by such an employment; then with her
cold hand she grasped mine, and begged me not to leave her. She
became rapidly weaker, the pulse again intermitted and sunk,
sickness returned, but not the cramp. Although she had for a long
time refused to take any nourishment, in twenty minutes after the
injection of the fluid, she vomited a great quantity of what appeared
to be water, with a dark sediment, like decomposed blood, which
sunk immediately. From this time, nothing would stop the incessant
sickness. Every animal function seemed to be exhausted; yet her
senses were perfectly unimpaired to the last. I did not quit her—it
was her dying request. “Thank you—thank you for remaining,” she,
faltering, said to me. I observed to her that although we must part,
there was one above, who has promised to his faithful disciples, “I
will never leave thee nor forsake thee.” “Oh! yes—yes,” she said, in a
low whisper,—“it is true: I feel the comfort of it. ‘Lord, now lettest
thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy
salvation.’ I am so—so weary,—when will this be over.” She then
sunk into silence: for some time it was difficult to say whether life
was extinct or not; at last she sighed, and her spirit departed in
peace.
This affecting scene lasted six hours after the violent symptoms of
the disease commenced. Returned home and endeavoured to
answer some kind notes from enquiring friends. I could not write,
owing to the excited state of my feelings; but, thankful to a merciful
Providence for preservation, I retired early, hoping to be refreshed by
rest.
I was awakened from a sound sleep by a loud knocking at my door.
It was half past twelve at night, when my servant informed me that a
person had arrived from Plympton, entreating me to go instantly to
Mary Taylor, a parishioner of Plympton St. Mary, who was in the last
stage of cholera, and was particularly anxious to see me before she
died. I was a little refreshed by sleep; but still so unwell, my servant
intimated that it might be in time, if I went in the morning. The
morning might be too late! The idea of her having expressed an
earnest desire to see me—in her dying moments too—something,
perhaps, required or to communicate, which might tend to relieve her
mind, and soothe the pillow of death. I could not have rested, if I
had delayed to go. Before one o’clock, I was at the house. Mary
Taylor had given up her own comfortable room to Susan, from the
kindest and most considerate feeling; and, that she might be kept as
quiet as possible, had removed to the dwelling of her parents, which
was, indeed, a miserable place for a sick person. Below sat her
father, by a small remnant of a fire, his face between his hands, his
elbows resting on his knees, not caring to speak. He told me
Elizabeth Job was with Mary, and that Mr. L. had been there in the
evening, but not since—that he was very unwell when he went away.
I heard the poor creature moaning—went up to her. The chamber
where she lay was on the landing-place, without a door or partition—
no ceiling—open to the roof. A common bedstead, without hangings
or curtains, an old-fashioned oak chest, and a broken chair,
composed the whole of the furniture. In a corner of the same room,
covered with various old clothes, lay her husband, who was also ill. A
rushlight, flickering in a current of air from the roof, only added to the
wretchedness of the scene. The moment I approached the bedside,
poor Mary held out her hand to me, and burst into an agony of
tears. “I am going, sir,—I know I shall die. I wished so much to see
you once more. I feared it would be too much for you to come; but I
do not expect to see the morning. I do not wish to live; but my poor
dear little helpless infant—what will become of her when she has lost
her mother!” After some conversation, she became more tranquil,
and appeared greatly comforted by the presence of a Christian
minister. Spoke much of the awfulness of being on the brink of
eternity—prayed frequently that God would forgive her sins, and
receive her to himself, through the merits of a crucified Saviour.
“Yes,” she said, “he died for me.” Stayed by this anchor, she became
resigned and calm.
Before I went upstairs, I ordered the fire to be made up, and plenty
of hot water to be in readiness. The poor old people very slow, and
nothing in the house which such a case of emergency required. The
cramp was gaining ground, and spasms had returned. Mr. L.’s
residence not being far off, I hastened there, thinking it possible that
he might be up; but could make no one hear, therefore I went away
without disturbing him. I knocked up the people at a shop, and got
some mustard and vinegar. When I returned, the medicines which
were left, with directions, by Mr. L. were given. I had brought the
cholera lotion, or stimulating liniment, with me, which was tried; but
the poor sufferer was icy cold. Hot water in a stone bottle was
applied to the feet. The pain at the pit of the stomach was very
acute. I tried to get hot salt or sand; but nothing of the sort could be
obtained, it being past two, a.m. Having noticed that, in the fire-
place below, there were some loose bricks, I heated one of them,
and wrapped it in a piece of old drugget. This simple remedy
afforded her much relief, as soon as it was applied. She had been
extremely patient, and said she felt better; but from the cold
perspiration, and her discoloured appearance, I feared she would not
recover. At three, a.m., I became so unwell, I desired that Mr. L.
should be called, at all events. As he had been up the whole of the
two preceding nights, and was very unwell, I had hitherto deferred
calling him as long as I could; but I was obliged to return home.
August 21. Being anxious to know the fate of Mary Taylor, I went at
eight o’clock to enquire for her. I learnt that Mr. L. came to her
almost immediately after I left her, and injected saline fluid into a
vein. She rallied for a time; but now, at nine, the alarming symptoms
had returned. I went to Mr. L. and reported the apparently hopeless
state of the patient. He returned to the house with me, and
proposed a repetition of the experiment. She said it was all in vain.
Her pulse had entirely ceased to beat. She enquired for Susan,—
then spoke of her child with the tenderest feeling. She “hoped God
would forgive her anxiety about the dear little soul. She would rather
it had been taken before her, or with her, that both might be buried
together; but God’s will be done. May we meet in a happier world.”
We had all joined with her in prayer, at her own request; she then
consented to the operation. After a small quantity of the saline fluid
had been injected, her husband’s sister offered to be blooded, as
soon as the transfusion of blood was proposed. The transfusion was
commenced, but no more than a teacupful could be borne, as a most
startling effect was produced; the eyes having in an instant become
red and staring to a frightful extent. Mr. L. saw this, and stopped the
process instantaneously. Her breathing was quick and laborious. The
pulse merely fluttered, and then stopped. It evidently was the will of
God that human means should not avail. She was dying! I left the
room with a sorrowing heart, sincerely lamenting her death. Before
the attack of cholera, she had been in a delicate state of health;
therefore Mr. L. feared that her constitution was not sufficiently
strong to bear the shock. Every thing tended to depress our spirits.
Such touching scenes, in such rapid succession—so great an
accumulation of misery, nearly overwhelmed us. The appalling reality
is almost incredible! But we have worked together, heart and hand;
and we must trust that the same merciful Providence which has
hitherto protected us, will, through the aid of the Spirit, grant us
renewed strength for the conflict.
I called to see Susan Taylor; she was better, but requiring the
greatest care. Attended the funeral of Mrs. Cocker. Richard Hurl,
aged one year and half, died at Underwood. Elizabeth Hicks, of
Underwood, seriously ill—collapse had rapidly come on,—Mr. Osmond
in attendance. Very active treatment had been pursued. Towards
the evening, she was much relieved, but extremely weak. Richard
Smaldridge taken ill. Mr. Hook attending him.
August 22. [83] A vestry meeting was held, also a meeting of the
Board of Health. On this day, the first order was made for assistance
from the parish, to be paid to the chairman of the Board of Health.
Hurl’s child buried. Elizabeth Hicks recovering.
August 23. George Tarr, aged forty-four, received at the Hospital: a
bad case.
August 24. George Tarr died. Ann Higgins, aged one year, died.
August 25. I visited several people who laboured under great
debility. Not so many fresh cases during these three days.
August 26. At eight o’clock, a message was brought to me from Mr.
Crewes’s family, at Plympton, [85a] requesting me, if I possibly could,
to go to them immediately, as their servant was alarmingly ill. Soon
after I arrived, Mr. Deeble Boger [85b] and the Messrs. Langworthy
came. It was one of those cases which exhibit great severity of
character—discolouration of the skin—incessant sickness and
restlessness—coldness of the flesh, tongue, and breath. There was
very little hope of her recovery. Perhaps this attack had been
brought on and aggravated by her own imprudence, in taking with
her dinner, yesterday, a quantity of vinegar, which had been left in a
plate with some cucumber. Debility and exhaustion rapidly
increased. She became calm after awhile, and was perfectly
sensible. I left her and went to Church. The Rev. J. Rosdew again
kindly assisted me both parts of the day. But one feeling pervaded
the whole congregation—the ministers and the people—the deepest
solemnity! The plague is abroad. Who is to stand between the living
and the dead? The fervent prayer of faith availeth much. “Lord, hear
our prayer, and let our cry come unto thee!” How many appeared to
pray in earnest on this day! doubtless not here only, but through the
nation. May the supplication of a suffering people be received at the
Throne of Grace.
Mr. Crewes’s servant died in the afternoon, and Maria E. Taylor, aged
six months, of Underwood, died on this day.
August 27. Whilst at breakfast, I was entreated to go as soon as
possible to Wm. Arthurs, at Underwood, as he was extremely ill, and
he was thought to be dying. After attending to a number of
applications for medicine, I went immediately to the sick man. His
wife, in tears, was standing at the door, watching my arrival. Her
mother, Mary Martin, and another woman, with dismay in their
countenances, were near her. One of the children ill with cholera, in
a cradle, two other little creatures, unconscious of what was passing,
were playing about the room. I first endeavoured to quiet the minds
of the women, impressing upon them, that there was not so much
danger to be apprehended from the disease itself, as from giving way
to such excessive alarm. That all excitement and agitation of the
mind, tended to increase, if not to cause, an attack of the malady. I
found the poor man very ill. Upon enquiry, it appeared that he had
been “very bad all the night, and they thought he could not have held
out till the morning.” But, “why did you neglect to send for medical
advice at first?” “O, sir, we hoped it would pass.” I told them they
must send immediately for Mr. L. or for some other medical
gentleman; but they said it would be of no use, as Arthurs refused to
take any medicines; indeed, he had said the same to me: but, after
much persuasion, he consented to take what I gave him. At this
time, he was in a state of partial collapse—writhing with pain—large
drops standing on his icy cold forehead—his tongue cold—harassed
with incessant and violent sickness. The wife standing by, concealing
her face with her apron, not being able to look at him when the
paroxysms came on. At a glance, the appearance of every thing
indicated the cleanliness of the family. A white cloth was on a little
table near the window—a second bed in the room—a little store of
potatoes in a basket, in a corner near the stairs. The women were
prompt and ready in preparing the stimulants—mustard and hot
vinegar, and hot water, in stone bottles, for the feet. All linen was
removed from the bed. The child below was, at this time, screaming
so violently, that we were obliged to use for her similar remedies.
Rhubarb and ginger had been given to the child. I gave a saline
draught, which appeared to check the sickness. The poor man
required constant attendance, sickness and cramp being most
distressing. I had sent for medical assistance, but at that moment it
could not be obtained. What was to be done? The poor man was in
agony, and the sickness violent, without an intermission of ten
minutes. In this extremity, I gave him the same medicine which I
had taken myself. In half-an-hour, the man was again extremely
harassed, and the sickness was not abated. He complained of
insatiable thirst. I then prepared a saline mixture, composed of the
same ingredients which had in some instances been adopted by Mr.
L.; viz., carbonate of soda, one drachm, common salt, one drachm,
oxymuriate (chlorate) of potash, six grains, and a teaspoonful of
salvolatile, to a quart of cold water, of which he drank freely. After
this, the vomiting subsided for a time, but pain and nausea remained;
friction with stimulants were continued, and hot salt applied to the
stomach. Being somewhat relieved, he was desirous that I would
pray with him. The poor women knelt round the bed,—tears
streaming down, though they held their hands before their faces, to
conceal their grief and apprehension. At this time, the appearance of
the man’s eyes began more decidedly to assume the character which
we had remarked in the worst cases of cholera. Our prayer was
shortened: but a sigh only, in faith, fails not to reach the Throne of
Grace. I sent again, with the hope of obtaining medical aid, but
without success. I began to tremble at the responsibility I had taken
upon myself; but I could not leave the patient at such a crisis, and to
have remained inactive might have been fatal. His pulse, when I first
saw him, was scarcely perceptible, it now began to improve; sickness
again came on, but not so violent as before. He drank freely of the
saline mixture. At two o’clock, I left him for half-an-hour, to attend
the funeral of Maria Taylor’s infant. Soon after my return (about
three o’clock), Arthurs became easier and more tranquil; the pulse
had improved, general warmth succeeded, and at four o’clock,
profuse perspiration: more clothing was put on the bed, to keep that
up. He wished for some tea and biscuit, and took a small quantity.
In half-an-hour afterwards, the pulse became extremely full and
quick. At five, p.m., I went to Mr. Langworthy’s, and found him just
returned. I informed him of Arthurs’s case, and we went there
together; but before we arrived, a medical gentleman had called,
bled him sparingly, and had gone away. Mr. L. ordered him medicine,
and gave directions how to proceed. The poor man then expressed
himself as being weary, and soon sunk into a calm sleep. The child
was much better towards the evening.
I went across the way to John Andrews’s; their daughter, Mary Ann,
aged six, who was taken ill in the morning, having died at four p.m.
The other child who was ill on the 6th, recovered. Peggy Andrews,
the mother, though deeply afflicted, shewed much Christian
resignation. At her urgent request, I went upstairs to see the child as
she lay a corpse. She had been carried off so rapidly, they could
scarcely believe she was dead. Chloride of lime was used
abundantly, and the poor people promised that the rooms should be
whitewashed on the following day. Their cottage is kept particularly
neat. Having remained some time in conversation with them, I went
to Richard Dunn’s. Their little girl, aged two years, sinking from
exhaustion in a low fever, like typhus, which immediately followed an
attack of cholera. Every possible attention was paid her, but nothing
would make her rally. She lay perfectly quiet, her clear blue eye fixed
on me, being a stranger; and just at that moment a parting ray of the
evening sun beamed through the casement upon her face, her light
silken locks shone upon her spotless brow, giving to her appearance
an unearthly effect, which I shall never forget. Very soon she was
cold and lifeless; but a smile rested on her countenance, so serene
and lovely, that the transition from life to death was not perceptible.
I could not be surprised at the distress of the parents. Difficult it was
at such a moment to acknowledge the reality, that their loss was the
child’s gain. Under what a variety of circumstances does this fatal
malady strike its victims! Equally varying, therefore, the occasions
for Christian consolation. May this be profitable to minister and
people. Wrote to the Central Board of Health. Two new cases.
August 28. Mary Ann Andrews, buried. No death on this day: one
new case only reported—Betty Wills, of Underwood. The patients
generally extremely weak. Seven cases remaining.
August 29. Attended Board of Health. Received a letter from the
Central Board, requesting a daily report to be transmitted as long as
the disease exists at Plympton St. Mary, as well as a return of all
cases and deaths from the commencement of the disease.
Upon referring to the several medical practitioners, it was found to be
impossible to obtain any thing like a regular return; because our
Board of Health had not been legally constituted until the 22nd
instant; and no authority for such a requirement having previously
existed, no regular notes of cases and deaths had been kept.
Besides this, in consequence of the scarcity of medical practitioners,
those who were employed in cholera cases, were engaged with their
patients from morning till night, and had little or no time for making
regular memoranda.
Visited Arthurs;—better as to the original disease, but very severely
salivated. Elizabeth Hicks and Mary Martin, recovering. Buried
Dunn’s child. Visited Susan Taylor;—gradually recovering, but
labouring under great weakness. We had some serious conversation
upon the afflicting circumstances which had occurred, and the mercy
of God in her own particular case;—her preservation up to the
present time, after all she had gone through herself, and after what
she had witnessed in others, having herself, not only passed much
time as a nurse in the midst of the worst cases of the disease, but
having also assisted in the last fearful office for three of its victims.
She entered fully into all this in a right frame of mind. Whilst alluding
to the state in which she lay under the influence of the collapsed
stage, she said she knew what was passing, though she appeared
unconscious of every thing; that the sensation produced by injecting
the saline fluid into the vein, was that of having taken an unusual
quantity of liquid or broth, the stomach seemed to be very full; and
when the blood was transfused, she felt it in the jugular vein, on both
sides, causing an oppressive fulness, as if it would burst; but it
subsided as soon as the process was stopped. As an instance of
consciousness being retained in the last stage of cholera,—while the
blood was being transfused, though she could neither move nor
speak, she heard me suggest that a handkerchief might be lightly
thrown across her eyes, lest she should be shocked if she revived and
saw what was being done; and Mr. L.’s reply, that it was of no
consequence, as she was too far gone.
August 30. One new case, Mary Martin, Underwood. Five cases
remaining. Several people suffering from weakness and debility; all
who required it, had nourishing things sent to them. By Mr. L.’s
advice, I returned home sooner than usual, as I had been very unwell
during the last few days.
August 31. Susan Taylor [96] was sufficiently recovered to return to
Underwood. No new cases reported to-day. What a mercy! The
fearful disease has nearly subsided in this parish, though as yet
prevalent in the adjoining parish of Plympton Maurice.
From this time, no death by cholera occurred in the parish; but
through the month of September, those who had been attacked by
the disease, laboured under great debility. Some new cases were
reported; but of a milder character, with the exception of two, which
were taken to the Hospital. One was that of an aged woman, who,
on the 10th of September, was discovered lying on the floor, at her
house at Colebrook, in a state of collapse. A medical gentleman had
seen her as he passed by, and called to inform me of the
circumstance, at the same time recommending what medicine should
be given to her. I found her, as described, lying on the stone floor,
with all the symptoms of confirmed cholera, and in great agony.
After much persuasion, she took the medicine, and consented to be
removed to the Hospital, only upon the condition that I would take
charge of her goods, and keep the key of her room. Unhappily, she
was one of those whose thoughts are entirely engrossed by the
objects of time; therefore her mental agitation and alarm were
proportionately increased: and at such a moment, when life was
ebbing on the brink of eternity, there was no desire for religious
exercise, although at the eleventh hour; and all before her was worse
than blank—not a shadow of comfort!
After she arrived at the Hospital, her suffering was very
considerable. Mr. L. pursued the same treatment which had been
previously adopted, with the addition of active friction, and hot salt in
bags applied to the stomach. Warmth was restored in about four
hours, and she became gradually better. In three days afterwards,
she walked home, recovered.
About this time, a man was found, in a wretched state, cold and
collapsed, in an open shed near Ridgeway. He was conveyed to the
Hospital immediately. Drinking and dissipation had most probably
tended to increase his sufferings, for they were excessive. His habits
were well known, and there was every reason to suppose he was in a
state of intoxication when seized with the disease. A strong emetic
of mustard and salt was first given to him, and active remedies were
afterwards resorted to. Some hours elapsed before warmth could be
restored, and it was thought the attack would terminate fatally; but
God was merciful to him, and he so far recovered as to be able to
leave the Hospital in two days. How far he was impressed with the
awfulness of his situation, or of thankfulness for his escape from
impending danger, rested with his own conscience. He gave no
satisfactory proof of any salutary impression having been made upon
his mind. He was enveloped in utter darkness, and religious duties
were evidently irksome to him.
With the exception of these two cases, nothing occurred beyond the
usual routine of visiting convalescent patients, or those taken with
slight attacks, from the end of August to the 3rd of October. During
that period, the attendance at meetings of the Board of Health, and
constant communication with the Central Board, as well as ordinary
parish duties, were attended to. On the 3rd of October, it was
reported, and with devout thankfulness acknowledged, that the
disease was mercifully withdrawn from the parish—the plague was
stayed—and the Board of Health was adjourned. Thus terminated
the progress of the fearful visitation in this parish. Thirty deaths,
chiefly from the village of Underwood, had occurred between the
13th of July and the 27th of August. In the adjacent town of
Plympton, where the population by the census of 1831 was 804,
there were twenty-two deaths between the 12th of August and the
21st of September.
 CONCLUSION.

Here it may be useful to make a brief allusion to some of the

circumstances connected with the progress of the disease in this rural
district. The first patient who died of the cholera at Underwood,
arrived there two days before she was taken ill, from Plymouth,
where the disease was making fearful havoc. After her death, nearly
a fortnight elapsed, when two other deaths occurred, of persons who
were dwelling near the centre of the village. Then the disease visited
the extreme western end, taking its course eastward, and at that end
finished its career. The time of its duration was between two and
three months: its fatal effects were limited to about five weeks.
Nearly a month after the disease had visited Plympton St. Mary, it
proceeded to Plympton St. Maurice, commencing on the 12th of
August, in the middle of the town; then, as it had done at
Underwood, it went to the western extremity, afterwards taking its
course eastward, and, on the 20th of September, ceased at one of
the last houses in that direction. Although in both parishes its fatal
effects were limited to five weeks, it lingered in the neighbourhood
some weeks afterwards.
It may be supposed that, because the malady, during the later period
of its existence at Underwood, did not prove fatal, it was understood
better than at first, and that the medical treatment was on that
account more successful. But if so, it would not have been so fatal
afterwards at Plympton; as it was in the hands of the same medical
practitioner.
It may be worthy of remark, that towards the end of August, the
weather became cooler, and the vapour which rises in the valley
below Underwood, concentrated in a white frost, though in a slight
degree, in the month of September; to which the gradual
disappearance of the disease was in some measure attributed.
By the entries in the Register of Burials, it appears that the deaths
were,—males, 14, females, 16; total, 30. One male only died
between the ages of 10 and 39. One female only died between the
ages of 10 and 45. Two males died upwards of 50 years of age; viz.,
53 and 72. Five females died upwards of 50 years of age; viz., 56,
67, 75, 76, and 77.
Burials in Plympton St. Mary:—

1831 males, 26 females, 18 total 44

1832 „ 31 „ 31 „ 62
1833 „ 14 „ 18 „ 32

From the 1st of June to the 1st of September:—

1831 males, 4 females, 3 total, 7

1832 „ 20 „ 19 „ 39
1833 „4 „5 „9

The fact that nine out of twelve inmates of the cottage [103] inhabited
by Parsons’s family were swept off, under circumstances of a
peculiarly aggravated and appalling character, may be attributed to
the unfortunate inattention to sanitary precautions, which has already
been mentioned.
 The village of Underwood

In consequence of the Board of Health not having been regularly

constituted until above a month after the commencement of the
disease in the parish, no returns from medical practitioners were
received before the 22nd of August; and even after that period, so
constantly were those gentlemen occupied, and worn out with
fatigue, the returns were very imperfectly supplied. Therefore, a
statistical account of cases, dates of seizure and recovery, cannot
here be attempted. It must, therefore, suffice to state, that between
200 and 300 in this parish were more or less affected with the
disease; and in Underwood alone, about 200. The proportion of
deaths, in cases which had advanced into the second or cold stage
before medical assistance had been obtained, was about one out of
three. In the foregoing Extracts, only a portion of the cases of
confirmed cholera are mentioned; omitting those which are termed
incipient.
It cannot be too strongly impressed upon the attention of every one,
that if the atmosphere surrounding houses is corrupted by the
effluvia of stagnant water in pools and ditches, unwholesome sewers,
choked drains, or any accumulation of filth—if badly ventilated rooms
are crowded with an excess of occupants—if the diet is low and
unwholesome, and the habits of the people are dirty, particularly if
they are addicted to drunkenness and dissipation,—diseases of
various kinds are engendered as a natural consequence; therefore,
under such circumstances, what can be expected during a visitation
of an extraordinary epidemic like that of cholera, but its baneful
effects, and those of a most aggravated and appalling character.
It is essential that due attention be paid to the very first indication of
indisposition during the prevalence of the epidemic. Vegetables and
fruit should be avoided. Strong affections of the mind, arising from
anxiety, alarm, or excess of grief, are extremely injurious; therefore
the mind should be kept calm, and if any symptoms, however trivial,
should occur, medical advice should be obtained as speedily as
possible.
If, through neglect, or any other particular cause, the second stage
has come on, with violent sickness, cramp, cold extremities,
weakness, and sinking of the pulse, &c. the disease is extremely
dangerous. I have not heard of any specific having yet been
discovered, which can be recommended with assurance of success.
But even from this stage, and under the most disheartening
circumstances, several patients have recovered.
It is hoped, that a plain statement of some of the remedies which
were resorted to in this parish, may have a place here, without a risk
of being objectionable; especially as it is unaccompanied by any
attempt to encroach upon the prerogative of those whose
professional education and experience entitle them to be the sole
arbiters and directors of such subjects.
Many instances occurred, when medical aid could not be immediately
obtained; and some, when there was every probability of
considerable loss of time. Under such circumstances, to prevent, if
possible, the early stage of the disease assuming a more serious
character, much benefit was derived from the following recipes,
supplied by Mr. Langworthy; due regard being observed to
circumstances as they arose at the time, as well as to the proportions
usually allowed for difference of age, sex, and constitution:—

Powdered rhubarb 8 grains.

Powdered ginger 6 grains.
Carbonate of soda 20 grains.
Calomel, occasionally added 3 or 4 grains.

It appeared to us, that in most cases which came under our

observation, where the use of heating or spirituous liquors had been
resorted to, for the purpose of allaying pain in the bowels, it did more
harm than good.
In cases which were attended with aggravated symptoms, five, ten,
fifteen, or twenty grains of calomel, with nearly an equal quantity of
powdered ginger, were given by Mr. L., according to circumstances,
and in an hour or two afterwards, from half an ounce to an ounce of
castor oil, with one, two, or three drachms of tincture of rhubarb.
When much irritation has been going on, soda water, in a state of
effervescence, or a teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, and the same
quantity of salvolatile, have tended to allay sickness, &c.
In more advanced stages of the disease, the following mixture, drank
cold, has given relief:—

Carbonate of soda 1 drachm.

Common salt 1 drachm.
Oxymuriate (chlorate) of potash 3 or 4 grains.
To be mixed in a quart of water, and drank when the patient
complained of thirst.
When internal cramp has caused great suffering, dry heat, by the
application of a bag of hot salt, to the pit of the stomach, has been
beneficial in relieving the pain; and, in the cold stage of the disease,
the use of friction with stimulating liniment, and mustard and vinegar
poultices applied to the extremities, have been attended with good
effects. In extreme cases, on the verge of death, recourse was had
to injecting some principal vein with saline fluid. This invariably
stopped the sufferings of the patient; but in the application of the
experiment by Mr. L., it did not succeed in saving the life, unless a
small quantity of blood was afterwards transfused into the vein. This
was done only in the three cases here, of Wm. Gully, Susan Taylor,
and Mary Taylor. The two former recovered, and are living at the
present time. The latter was in a weak state of health before the
attack of cholera, to which the failure of the experiment was
attributed. The two former relapsed after the injection of the saline
fluid alone, and were rapidly sinking; but upon a repetition of the
process of injection, with the addition afterwards of blood, they
recovered.
It was remarked, that if calomel effected any degree of salivation, the
patient recovered.
In the event of a recurrence of such a fearful pestilence, from which,
may it please God in mercy to protect us, it may be worth
consideration, that Boards of Health become legally constituted as
soon as possible; that they may be empowered to provide for cases
of emergency, and engage medical assistance, in proportion to the
requirements of the district, with a remuneration to the medical
gentlemen commensurate with their arduous duties. Also to provide
an adequate attendance of efficient nurses. In the case of our Board
of Health, there was no legal authority for making orders for
assistance, until the 22nd of August, nearly six weeks after the
disease had commenced in the parish. One medical gentleman only,
with the aid of his relation, had to attend nearly all the poor people
who were ill, in addition to his own private patients; and the other
medical practitioners were fully occupied. The consequence was,
that, in some instances, much valuable time was lost. The difficulty
of procuring nurses at the time, has already been adverted to.
Under these circumstances, the consequences would have been still
more lamentable, if a subscription had not been raised to meet the
emergency; as extra expenses, to a large amount, which had been
incurred by a series of such fearful sickness and distress, during a
period of six weeks, were met by that resource.
In justice to those parishioners who had the means, it should be
mentioned here, that, in addition to their benevolent and liberal
subscriptions, all aided in relieving the necessities of their poorer
brethren, and mitigated much of their distress, by providing, from
their own houses, many things which could not be obtained in the
poor man’s home. Some of the principal families were absent at the
time; but they took a lively interest in the progress of events, and
repeatedly gave directions that the poor sufferers should be supplied
with whatever they required, from their houses.
In concluding this plain record of some fearful occurrences among his
parishioners during the visitation with which God, for wise purposes,
afflicted them, the writer, in adverting to the many acts of Christian
beneficence, cannot refrain from expressing his grateful
remembrance of the affectionate kindness which he himself
experienced, from the highest to the lowest of his parishioners, to
which was added, an unexpected but gratifying testimonial of regard
from the parishioners in general, and another from the village of
Underwood in particular.
In these Extracts from a Diary relating to one particular subject,
many minor details have been omitted, as superfluous; and the
mention of some circumstances of a painful nature, as to the state of
mind or conduct of particular individuals, has been avoided, from
consideration for the feelings of others. If, however, it should be
asked, what effects this awful warning produced upon those who
witnessed its solemn call, it must be confessed, in general terms,
that, with the exception of a few individuals, no permanent change of
character was perceptible. There were then, as unhappily there are
now, persons upon whom no passing events, however striking, make
any salutary impression—who make light of the most solemn calls to
repentance and amendment—run through life utterly heedless of the
one thing needful; and when they “pass through the valley of the
shadow of death,” they have no staff to rest upon for comfort and
support. The state of such people calls for the deepest
commiseration. Much do they require the Christian’s prayer, that they
may be converted and live. Well will it be for all of us, if, in viewing
the judgments of God in the world, we acknowledge them as such;
and in the endeavour to theorize upon second causes, we do not
overlook the Great First Cause. The hand of God must be
acknowledged, when, by either of His sore judgments, whether of
pestilence, famine, or the sword, He afflicts a people for their
iniquity. His divine blessing must be sought, with the earnest prayer
of a contrite heart through faith in the Saviour; for without His
blessing, without His Almighty aid, all our endeavours to escape the
rod of His displeasure will assuredly fail.
Whether as a nation or as individuals, let us not be regardless of the
warnings and mercies which we have from time to time experienced
at the hand of God. Let us remember the word of the Lord
addressed to his rebellious people of old, “Son of man, when the land
sinneth against me by trespassing grievously, then will I stretch out
mine hand upon it, and will break the staff of the bread thereof, and
will send famine upon it, and will cut off man and beast,” &c. And
again, “If ye will not be reformed by me by these things, but will walk
contrary unto me; then will I also walk contrary unto you, and will
punish you yet seven times for your sins. And when ye are gathered
together within your cities, I will send the pestilence among you.”
During a succession of many generations, the judgments of the Lord,
either of pestilence, famine, or the sword, have visited our land at
different periods. On these occasions, days for public humiliation
have been resorted to, with confession of sin, and vows of