MONDAY, August 24, he sent for Dr. Jacob Myers, who gave him a course of medical treatment.  The doctor came again the next day, and gave him another course of treatment.  He says:  “I took another emetic of lobelia to-day, and perspired freely.”  If lobelia is the poisonous drug that some seem to think it is, we can hardly account for the improvement which Brother Kline reports to have experienced in his feelings, following every administration of it.  For on the next day,

WEDNESDAY, August 26, he says:  “I feel some better to-day; so much so that I write my will.”

THURSDAY, August 27.  His own words:  “Start again, and pass through Canton, Massillon, Brookfield, Greeneville, Dover, and on to Brother Jacob Kurtz’s, where we stay all night.”  We have to wonder how a man laboring under a well-defined attack of typhoid fever could keep on going for twelve consecutive days before the final breakdown came.  It makes one think of Paul, who could even be stoned until he was thought to be dead, and next day be found preaching again.  But the crisis with Brother Kline came at last.  The entry in the Diary for

FRIDAY, August 28, says:  “To-day Brother Hoover and Brother Miller, at my request, leave me; Brother Wampler and Sister Katy remain with me.  What a precious thing love is!  My dear Brethren have not only staid with me day and night, but they have constantly watched for opportunities to minister to my comfort or necessities.  The Lord reward them abundantly in this life and the next:  and bless them at the meetings which I now feel I cannot attend.  Dr. Overholtz comes at my request and gives me medicine.”

SATURDAY, August 29.  Suffer extremely, but not quite so much as last night.  I now feel as if I were just on a balance between life and death:  almost gone.

SUNDAY, August 30.  Dr. Overholtz comes again and gives me another course of medicines.  I am slightly relieved, but still suffer very much.  The Doctor reports fever not as high as yesterday.

MONDAY, August 31.  Rest to-day, but am very weak.

TUESDAY, September 1.  Doctor does not come to-day.

For some days past the Diary has been kept in a strange hand.  Some kind but intelligent friend has made the daily records in perfect imitation of Brother Kline’s unaffected style and manner.

SATURDAY, September 5.  The Doctor is here, but does not give me medicine.  I write a letter home.

This letter created overwhelming distress in the mind of Anna, Brother Kline’s wife.  She had heard about his illness prior to this time; but when she read this letter her mind seemed to give way, and when Brother Kline got back home he found her very ill, both in body and mind.  They told him at home that when she read the letter all hope of ever seeing him again vanished, and the shock was more than her sensitive nature could bear.  It is very sad to relate, but true, that she never again seemed fairly to realize his being in her presence.  His kindness to her was shown in unremitting attentions, to the day of his death; and I am persuaded that few men could be found to bear such a dire calamity with so much patience and resignation.