This however was but a light part of the trial. As soon as my eldest son
got news of the wreck, he hastened to the spot, to save what portions of
our property he could. The weather was hot by day, and cold by night.
Both the season and the place were unhealthy, and by his great anxiety,
and excessive labors, and continual exposure, he brought on a violent
fever. The first information we received about the matter was that he
was dying. When the dreadful tidings reached us we were more than a
thousand miles away. I started at once for Ohio, and made what haste I
could to reach my son; but go what way I would, I must be four or five
long days on the road, and four or five long nights. I took my way down
the river. For four long days and four long dreary nights I travelled,
in doubt all the time whether my child was dead or alive. And all that
time I was unable to offer up a prayer, either for my son, myself, or
the anxious and sorrowing ones I had left behind. Nor could I apply to
myself a single consolatory promise of Scripture. My mad antichristian
philosophy had robbed me of all. God and His Providence, Christ and His
sympathy, heaven and its blessedness, were all gone, and nothing was
left but the hard blank horrors of inexorable fate.
Pages:
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551