“Hitherto I had suffered little, believing all to be the answer to my prayers; but I had not seriously thought of parting with him.  I was now truly alarmed, and determined to know, as far as appearances went, the worst.  Accordingly I stopped Dr. Bowie on the gallery:  ’Tell me, doctor,’ said I, ’what have I to expect?  It is cruel to flatter me:  if you give me some warning, and prepare me, I may perhaps be able to support it; but if you suffer it to come upon me all at once, I shall certainly sink under the shock.’  He was silent for some time, and then replied, ‘I am really at a loss how to answer you.’  I said, ‘I will answer for you, there is no hope.’  He said, ’God forbid—­he is in great danger; but still there is hope; and if you value his life, be calm.’  I was composed.  Strange composure; I neither cried nor complained; tears were denied a passage; I was fixed and dumb like a statue.  Can I, or any one else, describe my situation, or what I felt at that moment?  It was urged of what consequence it was that I should be composed, that I might be able to do my duty to him, as no one could supply my place to his satisfaction, and perhaps even now he might be in want of me.  I returned to my post, which was, except when doing some necessary office about him, generally on my knees by his bedside, partly that I might not lose the least whisper that came from his lips, and partly because it is my favorite posture for prayer, from which I could not cease, no, not for one minute.

“There were different medicines prescribed for that night, some in case that others proved too strong for his stomach, others in case of the increase of the hiccup.  I found my head confused and my memory incapable of retaining the variety of directions given.  I therefore accepted of the offer of a friend of his to sit up with us that night, whom I begged to pay particular attention to the directions, and to watch the proper times the medicines were to be given.  This he did with great care, and my dear doctor was very pliable in taking them as they were offered.  As for me I was so deeply engaged with the concerns of his soul, I was unfit for any thing else.

“After Dr. Bowie let me know the danger he was in, I sent a letter to Mr. Gilbert, begging he would not delay his visit till morning, as perhaps by that time he might not be able to speak to him.  Accordingly he came; he asked him how he did; he answered, ‘Very ill;’ he asked him the situation of his mind; he answered, ’Entirely resigned to the divine will;’ he asked him what hopes he had; he said, ‘his hope was in the mercy of God, through Christ;’ Mr. Gilbert said, ‘You have no dependence on any thing besides?’ he said, ’No, no, I have nothing else to depend upon.’  Then the doctor desired him to pray, but at the same time to be short, as he had but short intervals from the hiccup.  After prayer, Mr. Gilbert told me it seemed difficult for him to speak, and he did not think it would be prudent to say more; that he would call again in the morning.