I will here mention one little incident with which convalescents, many of them, will sympathize. As his fever began to break, my brother tried to think of something he could relish, and his memory went back to college associations and college scenes, and to one college _dish_. At one time while attending college, he and three of his fellow students took it into their heads to try the novelty of bachelor boarding, each taking his turn in the cooking department. One particular dish, which at that time was relished very exquisitely, now haunted my brother's recollection--if he had a dish precisely like that he felt certain he could eat. His sister at that time, was his only nurse and night watcher, for the people of the house were so displeased with me for discharging the doctor that they were but little disposed to assist, and I was as little disposed to trouble them, although in every other respect they were hospitable and kind, and in fact for years had been quite partial to our family. But the dish; it must be precisely after the pattern, and could I do it? Certainly; for "what has been done can be done," and I am not afraid to try. The ingredients, as he named them, were all at my command, and, after listening anxiously to his description, I went to work and a dish was produced, but alas! it was not THE dish--"it did not _taste_ like the bachelor dish." Try, try again, was my motto, and after listening attentively to a more critical description, I went at it again, and although that effort was a pronounced improvement on the first, it was not quite up to the original, but the third time trying proved a success--not so much from improvement in the skill of the cook as improvement in the appetite of the patient. The following is copied from his journal: In Adam-ondi-Ahman, while gradually recovering from the effects of a malignant fever which had detained me a fortnight in Far West, under the constant and skilful nursing of my sister Eliza, for some time I was unable to either do, or read much. One day, to while away the slowly passing hours, I took my gun with the intention of indulging in a little amusement in hunting turkeys, with which that section of the country abounded. From boyhood I had been particularly, and I may say strangely attached to a gun. Hunting, in the forests of Ohio, was a pastime that to me possessed the most fascinating attractions. It never occurred to my mind that it was wrong--that indulging in "what was sport to me was death to them;" that in shooting turkeys, squirrels, etc., I was taking life that I could not give; therefore I indulged in the murderous sport without the least compunction of conscience.