In your last letter to sister1 you mentioned your intention of making an abridged edition of the Memoirs of our dear father, & intimated a wish that we might give you any interesting particulars that we recollected which you had omitted— This morning I met with a leaf of a diary written shortly after the accident which had so nearly occasioned his death in 1827. I will copy it & you can make such use of it as you may judge proper2

“On Monday 26th. of March dear father, in the act of drawing out a stick of wood from his wood box, to put on his fire recd. a scratch & bruise from an upper piece falling on the back of his hand, which took off some skin, & soon caused much discoloration— he put on court plaister, & came in the parlor to tea as usual & said but little about his hand— The next morning his hand was very painful & excessively swelled— The plaister was removed with difficulty & a poultice applied — but the pain & swelling increased. The Dr. was sent for, & he added lead-water to the poultice— but without good effect. Chills & loss of appetite & fever followed. On Wednesday he was much worse, Dr. N. K. was sent for, yeast, poultice, & wine & quinine & porter were ordered— mortification was apprehended. An express was dispatched for Peter & fearful anxiety & distress were suffered by all family— On friday Peter & Mary arrived, in the afternoon Dr. Watts Mr. Munro & Peggy. The hand was dreadfully swelled, of a dark purple color & extremely painful. It was evident to all the Physicians that mortification had commenced & was extending, & that our dear father was in imminent danger— Dr. Watts thought that even should the gangrene be checked the severe pain & necessary discharge from the ulcers would destroy his strength & life— On sunday Mr. Nichols3 called & by request made a prayer with the family he prayed for our dear father’s recovery, but so much was it like praying for the restoration of a dying person, that it really shocked me & I regretted that he had not been previously informed of dear fathers real situation— We all wished that father might know it himself & had several times told him that the inflamation was dangerous & unless soon reduced must prove fatal. He always expressed his willingness that the will of God should be done & said that God knew what was best. Brother William told him that mortification had taken placed, & that now little or ^no^ hopes was indulged that he could recover— Again he expressed entire resignation, altho not before aware of immediate danger— Said that William did right to speak candidly— & that the Doctors should have done the same. Maria & I staid with father while the family went to dinner— His countenance expressed a cheerful acquiescence, humble submission & in short a heart & mind at peace & full of hope— He looked like a saint & spoke like one— Said that while he had his reason it would be well to call the children in— We told him they should be called as soon as they had dined— he said it was well— & then looking around to see if any person besides ourselves were present, told us we must look to Jesus for faith & hope & trust— that we could do nothing without him, must depend upon him entirely for all, for every thing. I asked father to give me the bible kept in common use, he said yes, freely, willingly, observed that it had been well used— After the family had assembled in his room, I asked him to repeat to them what he had said to us— He replied they would find it all in that, alluding to the bible he had just given me— He spoke to each of the chil[dr]en put out his hand to them & bid good bye to same— But appeared much exhausted & had very frequent acute pain in his diseased hand. The next day the hand was evidently better & some hope was entertained, but that was chastened by the apprehension that his strength would fail before it could be healed—[”]

The dressing continued agonizing for nearly a fortnight. On the 8th. of May is noted. [“]This day dear father has been confined to his bed six weeks— His patience has been wonderful & with few interruptions, & they have always been quickly succeeded by an appearance of regret & humility.[”]

[“]He wished to omit nothing that might benefit his health, yet shewed that he did not fear death— He is dreadfully emaciated— He once observed that this life would be of no value, were it not for that which was to follow— Speaking of the Lords prayer, he said that it was astonishing goodness that permitted us to pray unto God— That that prayer was not generally well understood—[”]

[“] On the 29th. of June— Dear father was enabled with assistance to walk to the piazza & sit there for two hours— for the first time.[”]

With regard to his last illness I had noted that the night previous to his death I observed that I was very sorry to see him suffer so much, he raised his hand & replied never mind with great composure & mildness— He often appeared to be engaged in prayer— After making a vain attempt to gargle his throat, he shook his head as if aware that all would soon be over— I afterwards thought he looked at each one of us with a smile on his countenance— & at no time was there an anxious painful glance from his eye. He was once enabled to say to sister Maria “The Lord is good” and again in a broken manner, the Lord is better than we deserve— But he often endeavoured to speak when he could not & then he expressed a sweet submission— His expression of countenance when not in great distress from difficulty of breathing was what we would imagine most like a saint ripened for glory— And sister wished much that Mr. Morse who was at the house, could take a sketch of him—4