My husband was borne down with care, and suffering from severe colds which had settled on his lungs. He sunk beneath his trials. He was so weak he could not get to the printing office without staggering. Our faith was tried to the uttermost. We had willingly endured privation, toil and suffering, yet but few seemed to appreciate our efforts, when it was even for their good we had suffered. We were too much troubled to sleep or rest. The hours in which we should have been refreshed with sleep, were often spent in answering long communications occasioned by the leaven of envy which commenced to work in Vermont; and many hours while others were sleeping we spent in agonizing tears, and mourning before the Lord. At length my husband said, “Ellen, it is no use, these things are crushing me, and will carry me to the grave. I cannot go any farther. I have written a note for the paper stating that I shall publish no more.” As he stepped out of the door to carry it to the printing office, I fainted. He came back and prayed for me, and his prayer was answered, and I was relieved. (2SG 147.1) MC VC