Autobiography 1882 Leaves from My Journal
On the , my uncle, Adna Hart, died,
aged forty-three years. I had visited him in his sickness, and
preached the gospel to him, and he was believing. I had also
been associated with him from my youth up.
On his death-bed he sent me a request that I would preach
his funeral sermon.
I was having the chills and fever daily at the time, attended
with a very severe cough, so much so, that my father thought
that I would never leave his home alive. But when they
brought me the request of my dying uncle, and the day came
for his burial, I told my father to get his horse and buggy
ready, for I was going to attend the funeral.
He thought I was very reckless in regard to my own life, as
I had suffered with the chills and fever some fifteen days, and
to attempt to speak in my weak state, and to begin at the same
hour that my chill was to come on, seemed to him foolhardy.
My parents were quite alarmed, yet according to my request
my father got up his team, and I rode with him and my step-
mother five miles, through a cold, chilly wind, and I
