A little over two years ago my lingering illness culminated in hemorrhages of the lungs. For about eight years I had endured all the agonies of a dyspeptic besides suffering from a number of other ailments. One year I went to Detroit about every two weeks to have my eyes treated by an oculist of high repute. I was given three pairs of glasses to be used in turn, and sometimes two pairs at one time. I continued to wear them for eight years, but could never read more than about ten minutes at night, even with well-fitted lenses. About this, time, I started on the road hoping that my health would improve by the change, but I was disappointed, for I got no relief. I went on in this way for six years, carrying a heavier load each year, yet generally hopeful of finding a remedy some day. It is needless to say that during this time I tried many physicians and remedies. I have gone long distances and paid high fees to consult noted specialists, but all with the same sad result: I grew worse. I was brought up in a Methodist home by consistent, God-fearing parents. I was converted shortly before starting on the road as a traveling salesman, and became a member of the same church. I prayed for health and wondered why it pleased God to send affliction upon me, for I was taught that He was a loving Father, all-powerful and just, and it did seem strange how such a Father could cause His children to spend their whole life and substance in search of health, while He was able to save. It is in seasons such as these that one thinks deeply upon this question. What was not vanity seemed only froth. No one could answer, "What is truth?"
When the hemorrhages came on I was out on the road. I came into the city and consulted one of our best physicians. It was on Saturday afternoon and he spent about three hours diagnosing my case, and he said everything pointed unmistakably to the lungs. This was in August,1900. I went out on the road again and followed his instructions, but the trouble continued, and at the end of nine weeks' time, I was compelled to leave the road and go to my bed. I consulted two more of our best doctors and they told me practically the same as the first, and advised me to hurry West as soon as I was able, before the cold, rough weather began.
I cannot forget the kindness of one of these doctors. Some of the members of his family had been victims of this disease, and he did all he could to make me comfortable. In a couple of weeks' time I got on the train and went to my father's home and was forced to go to bed again. I could not hang up my coat without causing a hemorrhage. Finally my brother came to London and got my affairs in shape for my going West.
