I never could have believed, till I experienced it, that one could become so indifferent as to whether he lived or died, I saw many days, after my return from Florida, when it was a matter of perfect indifference to me; previous anxiety to get home, and the resolution to leave all the rest to the Lord, had no doubt much to do with it. I observed this, however: that as hope revived, a desire to live would arise in proportion. When there was little or no prospect, there was little or no concern. When I was at my worst, I decided, taking my past and present condition into consideration, the medicine I was taking, the attention received, etc., that if I did not take a turn for the better by a certain day, then in three days the case would be entirely hopeless. In the afternoon of that day the change came. That evening I took some nourishment--the first for fourteen days. After I sufficiently recovered to be able to do anything, I was anxious to get my business arranged, with a view to death. I never expected to be able to write another editorial, and I was concerned about making some arrangement by which to get rid of the _Guide_ and its responsibility. I was not pleased with its business management, and did not want to leave it as the property of my family, not knowing what trouble it might give nor what expense it might involve them in. And without a change in management, I knew it could never be of any profit. I wrote for Bro. Srygley to come, and I sold him my remaining half-interest. My purpose was to resign, and thus have no further connection with it. But he would not buy unless I would agree to let my name remain, with a promise to resume the responsibility of chief editor if I should ever get able; and the firm would consent to the sale only upon these conditions. So I had to sell upon those conditions, or not sell at all. The latter part of September the company urged me to begin to write again, if it were at all possible, even if it were only a few paragraphs each week. They said the impression everywhere entertained that I would not recover, was injuring the paper very much. The people were losing interest in it. They insisted that I should counteract that feeling as much as possible. Under this pressure, though confined to my bed and suffering every hour, I began writing, the first of October, and never after missed a week. That winter I stayed at home, and was not out of my room for eight months. The last of August I started to Midway, to see Dr. Lucy. I got as far as Louisville, and could get no further. We dispatched for the Doctor, and he came down. After resting a few days I got home, the last of August, and I was not out of the door again till the last of April. During that winter I did a large amount of writing, besides my weekly work on the _Guide_.