“That same night we were roused from sleep by the sudden illness of one of the children. There was an unpleasant, chilling dampness in the air, as it came to us through the openings in the sloats above the windows, which affected your brother very sensibly; and he soon began to shiver so violently that he was obliged to return to his couch, where he remained under a warm covering until morning. In the morning he awoke with a severe cold, accompanied by some degree of fever; but as it did not seem very serious, and our three children were all suffering from a similar cause, we failed to give it any especial attention. From that time he was never well, though in writing to you before, I think I dated the commencement of his illness from the month of November, when he laid aside his studies. I know that he regarded this attack as trifling; and yet one evening he spent a long time in advising me with regard to my future course, if I should be deprived of his guidance, saying that it is always wise to be prepared for exigencies of this nature. After the month of November, he failed gradually, occasionally rallying in such a manner as to deceive us all, but at each relapse sinking lower than at the previous one, though still full of hope and courage, and yielding ground only inch by inch, as compelled by the triumphant progress of disease. During some hours of every day he suffered intense pain; but his naturally buoyant spirits and uncomplaining disposition led him to speak so lightly of it, that I used sometimes to fear that the doctor, though a very skilful man, would be fatally deceived.
“As his health declined, his mental exercises at first seemed deepened; and he gave still larger portions of his time to prayer, conversing with the utmost freedom on his daily progress, and the extent of his self-conquest. Just before our trip to Mergui, which took place in January, he looked up from his pillow one day with sudden animation, and said to me earnestly, ‘I have gained the victory at last. I love every one of Christ’s redeemed, as I believe He would have me love them—in the same manner, though not probably to the same degree, as we shall love one another in heaven; and gladly would I prefer the meanest of His creatures, who bears His name, before myself.’ This he said in allusion to the text, ‘In honor preferring one another,’ on which he had frequently dwelt with great emphasis. After further similar conversation, he concluded: ‘And now here I lie at peace with all the world, and what is better still, at peace with my own conscience. I know that I am a miserable sinner in the sight of God, with no hope but in the blessed Saviour’s merits; but I can not think of any particular fault, any peculiarly besetting sin, which it is now my duty to correct. Can you tell me of any?’
“And truly, from this time no other word would so well express his state of feeling as that one of his own choosing—_peace_. He had no particular exercises afterward, but remained calm and serene, speaking of himself daily as a great sinner, who had been overwhelmed with benefits, and declaring that he had never in all his life before had such delightful views of the unfathomable love and infinite condescension of the Saviour as were now daily opening before him. ‘O, the love of Christ! the love of Christ!’ he would suddenly exclaim, while his eye kindled, and the tears chased each other down his cheeks; ‘we can not understand it now—but what a beautiful study for eternity!’
“After our return from Mergui, the doctor advised a still further trial of the effects of sea air and sea bathing; and we accordingly proceeded to Amherst, where we remained nearly a month. This to me was the darkest period of his illness—no medical adviser, no friend, at hand, and he daily growing weaker and weaker. He began to totter in walking, clinging to the furniture and walls, when he thought he was unobserved (for he was not willing to acknowledge the extent of his debility), and his wan face was of a ghastly paleness. His sufferings, too, were sometimes fearfully intense, so that, in spite of his habitual self-control, his groans would fill the house. At other times a kind of lethargy seemed to steal over him, and he would sleep almost incessantly for twenty-four hours, seeming annoyed if he were aroused or disturbed. Yet there were portions of the time when he was comparatively comfortable, and conversed intelligently; but his mind seemed to revert to former scenes, and he tried to amuse me with stories of his boyhood, his college days, his imprisonment in France, and his early missionary life. He had a great deal also to say on his favorite theme, ‘the love of Christ’; but his strength was too much impaired for any continuous mental effort. Even a short prayer, made audibly, exhausted him to such a degree that he was obliged to discontinue the practice.