For some time I have been thinking that I ought to send my mite for publication. We all have many things for which to be thankful, but are oftentimes loath to express our thanks for fear they may not be worded as they should be.
For the past few years many things have arisen which seemed at times discouraging, but I never voiced my trouble to any one, working it out for myself, as I have done for a long time. Last winter I was taken with what some of my friends considered a terrible cough, and with a thought of kindness on their part I was informed of this fact, but it did not alarm me in the least, for I knew that health is man's heritage, because he is God's image and likeness. For the first time in a great many years my throat became so painful that I could scarcely swallow, but I tried to realize the nothingness of error, and quietly demonstrated over it. Then, upon attempting to arise from a stooping posture, something seemed to cause me great pain in the lower part of my back. I could scarcely rise, it was so painful.
One day, while in this condition, I was reaching for a stick of wood, when my chair turned and I fell heavily on the edge of the box, striking my chest, nose, and side. My eldest daughter ran to me, asking if she should send for any one. I replied that I could do my own work, recognizing that God was my healer; but in a few days the spots on each side became so sore I could scarcely lie in bed. These troubled me for some time, yet I never missed a church service or a lecture.
