Journal of the Plague Year

continued, by a Gentleman

As it hath ever been the Way of the Lord to mix Bleſsings with Griefs, and to ſhower down among His noble Gifts a ſalutary Meaſure of improving Inconvenience, ſo this Week of patriotick Milk and Honey hath been duly ſalted with the aſtringent and deſsicated Moral Condiment, that is Sorrow. I am informed that divers Members and ſundry Servants of the Bloater and Blueſtocking Libertarians' Clubbe for Cloſe Phyſical Contact and Daredevil Facial Manipulation are down with the Peſtilence, whereof three at leaſt have expired in unſpeakable Agonies of reſpiratory Diſcombobulation. The Myſteries of the Divine Will are truly not to be fathomed, though I cannot but count it a well-merited Mercy towards my Self, that none of the Deceaſed was in a Poſition to aid my Advancement.

The continuing Cordiality between Heaven and Her Majeſty's Government may alſo be obſerved in the appreciably lower Mortality among the deſerving Claſses, and the juſt and awful Deſcent of mighty Doom upon thoſe many Apothecaries, Phyſicians and Nurſes who fail to make due Diſtincton between hard-working Cuſtomers and thoſe more ſuitable for entruſtment unto the Divine Mercy. It is ſurely no more than mere Juſtice that ſo many medical Perſonnel have periſhed, ſince their Inſiſtence on armouring themſelves with protective Aprons beſpeaks a moſt deplorable want of Faith in our United Kingdom's celeſtial Ally.

Meanwhile, as my own Contribution to maintaining the Country's new exalted Levels of Calmneſs and ſocial Coheſion I have ordered all the Servants to ſtand at the front Door in full Livery each Evening and applaud their Betters, while meditating upon the ſupreme houeſehold Virtues of Conſcientiouſneſs and Thrift.