Up to the time I was thirty-five years of age, I had very little to complain of the way of health and I used my strength to the best of my ability in trying to help fill our "barns" so that some day I, too, might say, "Soul, thou hast goods laid up for many years, take thine ease eat drink, and be merry." I tried at the same time to be a good mother, a good neighbor, and do my duty as far as I knew but I had no God I could love or understand. I joined the Baptist church when a girl, and although I thought Jesus life and teachings wonderful and beautiful. I could not see how his being offered as a sacrifice, could atone for our sins, and as I thought the Bible taught all this. I could not believe in it,
In the summer of 1898, I experienced what seemed a season of terrible suffering which, with the mistakes of a licensed M.D. whom we called, nearly closed my earthly career, but being o[ a hopeful disposition, contrary to the expectations o| friends and other physicians we had called. I rallied, and finally took up my work again, though never seemingly fully recovered, until four years later my troubles assumed an acute form, and another season of suffering left me a confirmed invalid. Then began a fruitless search for health among' the M. D. s I had treatments of all sorts, and at last came the fashionable sentence. "Nothing but an operation can sue you. So another terrible experience was mine.
After a time, when nature had somewhat soothed the agony billowing, I began to think of things about me. I asked the surgeon to tell my condition, and only those who have had like experience can understand my feelings when told it was too late; that the disease had made such headway that removal was impossible, ending by saving, in his suave professional tones, which did not deceive me. "You will probably have quite a number of comfortable years." And this was the outcome of all I had hoped and endured: my senses reeled and my heart went out in a great, though silent, cry to God for mercy.
