One day, as I was lifting on a heavy stick of timber, I hurt my back. I felt so bad that I soon went home.

I kept getting worse until I was laid on a sick bed. My back pained me so I could get but little rest, night or day. I got a little better, and was called upon to preach Alva Presnall's funeral sermon. Although very weak, I could not refuse. The church was damp, and I took cold, and had a relapse. As I got a little better again, I was sent to visit Stella Moon, a young sister in the last stages of heart disease. She was in great distress, and wanted I should visit and pray with her. She lived three miles down the railroad track. The section boss said he would take me there on the hand car in a few minutes. So, feeble as I was I went.

We had only got nicely started on our way when it began to rain, and I took more cold, after which I was worse than before. My back pained me so intensely that if anyone approached the bed, Mrs. Hill said I would turn white to my ears, for fear someone would touch me or jar me in some way. The only way I could get relief was to wring clothes out of hot water, and put them on my back. In this way my flesh was scalded, but the pain was so great I realized it not. I determined, if ever I got able, to go to the Sanitarium, Battle Creek, Mich. I got some better; and in May I was carried to the train, and started for what I thought was the only earthly hope.

I fell in with some people on the train going from Dakota to Michigan. We soon became acquainted, told one another something of our past history, and so helped to while away the weary hours. At a station in Wisconsin, a German family boarded the train. They could speak no English, and when we reached Chicago, they were asked for their baggage checks by a man with a great number of checks on his arm. He could speak no German and they no English, and were having quite a hard time of it. I tried to explain to them in German what was wanted, and it did them a world of good to find someone who could speak a little German.

While waiting in the depot at Chicago, a lady learned that I was on the way to the Sanitarium, and she said to me, ''They will feed you on bran bread there.''

''How do you know that?'' I asked.