His sickness increased with each day. Occasionally the fever would go down sufficiently to allow him to get something to eat. Then it would be worse than before. In his dire need he wanted to pray, but he was so weak that he could only stammer, "Dear God, help me, or I shall die!"
One night he had a strange dream. He thought he saw his good old father standing before him calling to him. He spread out his arms and cried aloud, "Here I am, here I am!" He tried to get up, but he was so weak that he fell back fainting.
He lay there a long time, but finally came to. He felt a burning thirst, but no one reached him a drop of water. He prepared to die. He folded his hands and prayed to God that he would be merciful to him. He prayed forgiveness from his parents. Once more he raised his head and gazed wildly around, then he sank back and knew no more.
When he again awoke he felt better. His hot fever had gone. He attempted to walk. He had just enough strength to crawl to the table and fetch a shell of water. When he tried to walk he had to sit down at every two or three steps.
From this he recovered gradually, growing better and better, and he thanked God inwardly for his recovery. His sickness had continued from June 18 to July 3.