One day Mrs. Prosper, (my kind nurse's name) wishing to go to Delhouse, asked me to go with her. Wrapping myself up warmly, we started. On arriving at Delhouse, I went to the public house and remained while she was doing her business. On our return I got a little chilly. This with the fatigue of the ride (which proved too much for me) quite overcame me, and obliged me to take to bed again. I called for the doctor. A boy was sent for him, but returned, saying, that the doctor was also confined to his bed. I almost gave up in despair. There I was with a second and more severe attack of pleurisy, without medical aid. Mrs. Prosper aided by her sister (who with me were the only members of the family) did all in their power to assist me. The pain I experienced was almost beyond endurance. I found the roots of my finger nails were purple, the blood having settled there. The veins on my arms and hands were full almost to bursting. I called Mrs. Prosper, who, when she saw me, said to her sister, "he will[216] not live long." This I understood, although spoken in French, and it came to my ears like thunder. Thus to die, away from my childhood's home, with none save the friends of an hour to soothe me, in my last moments. Then, as in every other time of danger, did I regret the step I had taken in leaving home, and resolved, that should my life be again spared, I would hasten to the home from which I had been absent nearly nine years, (to which I had pledged myself I would never return) and forget the petty occurrence that forced me from those to whom I was bound by the nearest and dearest ties. I called for a small knife which was in my vest pocket, resolved to make a desperate effort to save myself from the death which seemed so near. After being raised up in bed, I bled myself in the left arm, and then taking the knife in my left hand opened a vein in my right arm. Such was the pressure of blood that it flew all over the room. The women seeing what I had done, left the house screeching at the top of their voices. I lay literally weltering in my own blood. The blood left my finger nails, the pains ceased, and I was perfectly easy, still conscious that my end was near. To fully describe my situation, my pen is inadequate, and I must leave the reader to imagine for himself my situation, forsaken as I was by every person from whom assistance could be had, and bleeding profusely, with no means to check it.