"On Wednesday, at one o'clock, the seventeenth day of November, 1773, my dear doctor was seized with a violent fever. I sent for his assistant, Dr. Bowie: he not being at home, Dr. Muir came, who prescribed an emetic in the evening, and his fever having greatly abated, it was accordingly given. In the morning Dr. Bowie thought him so well I did not ask for any other assistance. At ten o'clock his fever greatly increased, though not so violent as it had been the day before. He was advised to lose a little blood, which he did; and towards evening it again abated. "I found he was not quite satisfied with what had been done for him; at the same time he would do nothing for himself. Thursday evening I begged Dr. Bowie to call in Dr. Warner's assistance, notwithstanding he assured me there was not one dangerous symptom. Friday morning they both attended, and both pronounced him in a fair way of recovery. "About three o'clock Dr. Eird came, who seemed surprised the thing had not been done which Dr. Graham himself had been dissatisfied for the want of the day before. Soon after the medicine was sent; but O, my dear doctor said it was then too late. In the evening they all again attended, and insisted there was no danger. Saturday morning he seemed very easy, and the physicians said he was in a fine way. The fever was gone; the decoction of bark prescribed; and they said he would be able to-morrow to take it in substance. I was not now the least apprehensive of danger, and was very earnest in prayer that the Lord would sanctify his affliction, and not suffer it to go off without leaving a sensible effect on his mind. Nay, I even said in my heart, 'the rod is too soon removed, it will do him no good.' Oh, that fools will still persist to prescribe to infinite wisdom and goodness. I was soon severely punished.