When that wave strikes me I shall be washed axeay nnd drowned So cried a sailor, clinging to a half-sunken wreck, as he saw' a tremendous sea rolling towards him. Yet he lived to tell the tale safe on shore.
Before this time next week I shall be dead!"
So said a woman in a time of great fear. Yet she also lived—and still lives—to explain her situation.
Here is her story, told in her own words and in her own way, She says:—'*One day in September, 1887, I stood at the top of a flight of eleven steps, about to go down. Suddenly I was taken with a giddy sensation, Everything seemed to swim around. 1ne,, and Tfell. Lrollod to the bottom of the steps and was picked up insensible, with broken arm, The doctor recommended rest and quietness. Ina few days I was better, but Aull felt the shock to my vervousyaten., bad an uncomfortable heling a over "Then many symptoms 4] which Icannot describe. I couldn't eat; my appetite was gone There was a foul taste in my mouth; pains in the sides, back, and chest; coated tongue and a sense of weakness and distress in the stomach. I felt low and melancholy, and had anxieties and fears I could not trace to any particular cause. The doctor who attended me for some mouths said it was nervous debility, brought about by the shock.
"'T go worse instead of better, and went to the London Hospital, Whitechapel Road, where I was an out-patient for several months but L kept getting worse. They said I wax suffering with shook, liver congestion, and debility. Iwas then sent to the Krighton Convalescent Home, where they treated me for fourteen days, and did little or no good. Ina short time I'began to Wespair, and my husband and others who came to see me thought I was doomed. Thus I went on from month to month expecting each week would be my last. Again and again I whispered solemnly to myself, Before this time next week I shall be dead
Pave a good husband and a good home. My taining to this world; but, thank God took no further interest in anything
husband carried me from my bed every day, and placed me in the chair sofa, and tried to cheer me up and persuade me I would get better. But since I have really got well, he tells me he never in his heart believed his own words.
"bly sister, too, came frequently to see me, and did all-she could to ease my sufferings; but, being unable to resist what her own eyes showed her, she often said, You will never get better, Caroline.'
'Bat who. likes' to, read" accounts, of the troubles and sorrows of others? so much do each and all of us have of our own to bear.
crave your attention only for a few words more,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.