her: the sunshine succeeded the storm, and the peace that Jesus
gives--was poured into her wounded heart. Referring to her afflictions
in 1858 and the two following years she writes:--

"Those were days and nights of anguish, but I now look back to them
with feelings of regret, for my feet had only touched the dark waters
and my lips had only tasted the cup from which I was to drink the very
dregs. Early in the spring of 1858 I was seized with fever and acute
inflammation of the stomach, which brought me to the verge of the
grave. I could feel the warm tears of beloved ones upon my cheeks, as
they bent tenderly over me; I could see the dark vale just ahead
(though there was a light amid the darkness), but my sufferings were
not to be so soon terminated. Gradually my disease assumed a chronic
form, and physicians said there was no hope. The little nourishment I
could take distressed me so, terribly that the very thought of eating
made me shudder, and my stomach became so sore that I could not be
moved from one side of the bed to the other without uttering a cry of
pain. Winter, spring, summer and autumn in turn visited the earth, and
with each I thought, aye, longed to depart; but the great Refiner had
his own purpose to accomplish,--there was a little fine gold but the
dross rendered it useless. The ordeal through which I am passing is
indeed a terrible one, but I know where peace and consolation are to
be found, and there are times when I can say in sincerity, 'Thy will
be done.'"

Thursday, Jan. 1,1863, she wrote:--

"Bright, beautiful day. Many people on the ice. Edwin [her brother]
there. Over our dwelling is a shadow; it falls upon our spirits and we
are sad. Will it never be removed? God grant we may be patient and