Milly and Alfred
THE CRISP sunny days of early autumn saw the final disappearance of the great scourge in Lexington and Fayette County. But mute witnesses on every hand bore evidence of the havoc it had wrought. Empty barrels, boxes, and wastepaper littered the back yards, alleys, and sidewalks, and grass was growing in the streets. Show windows of business houses, unwashed for months, were streaked with dust and grime. The doors of some stores were closed, with tattered, weather-stained pieces of crape on the knobs; appraisers were busy inside preparing stocks of merchandise for the auctioneer.1
The plague had laid a heavy hand upon the once parklike countryside. Beautiful estates were now surrounded by stagnation and decay. Farming implements stood rusting in the fields, weeds choked the yellow corn rows, uncut wheat lay tangled and twisted on the ground, and broad, blackened leaves of tobacco drooped, rotting on the stalks.
The will of Robert S. Todd had left the bulk of his estate to his wife Elizabeth, his slaves to her for life and then to her sons and daughters, with the remainder of his property to be