Saturday, August 29. Suffer extremely, but not quite so much as last night. I now feel as if I were just on a balance between life and death: almost gone.
Sunday, August 30. Dr. Overholtz comes again and gives me another course of medicines. I am slightly relieved, but still suffer very much. The Doctor reports fever not as high as yesterday.
Monday, August 31. Rest to-day, but am very weak.
Tuesday, September 1. Doctor does not come to-day.
For some days past the Diary has been kept in a strange hand. Some kind but intelligent friend has made the daily records in perfect imitation of Brother Kline's unaffected style and manner.
Saturday, September 5. The Doctor is here, but does not give me medicine. I write a letter home.
This letter created overwhelming distress in the mind of Anna, Brother Kline's wife. She had heard about his illness prior to this time; but when she read this letter her mind seemed to give way, and when Brother Kline got back home he found her very ill, both in body and mind. They told him at home that when she read the letter all hope of ever seeing him again vanished, and the shock was more than her sensitive nature could bear. It is very sad to relate, but true, that she never again seemed fairly to realize his being in her presence. His kindness to her was shown in unremitting attentions, to the day of his death; and I am persuaded that few men could be found to bear such a dire calamity with so much patience and resignation.
There were no entries made in the Diary from September 1, to the fifth. He must have been very sick indeed, during the three days that are omitted.
Saturday, September 6. He says: Brother Samuel Buck gives me a course of medicine; it works well. Fever entirely broken. Have some appetite. Begin to mend.
Monday, 7. To-day I have rest. Eat some toast bread.