TESTIMONY OF A FARMER

My occupation is that of a farmer. My age is fifty-one years. For five years I had been a great sufferer from what the physicians—and I had consulted the best in Waldo and Penobscot Counties, this state—said was a leaking heart. For three years my case was pronounced a hopeless one. My regular physician told me that there was no power on earth that could even help me. I could do no work of any kind, had become very much emaciated, and when the town officers of South Newburg, Maine, on account of my health, exempted me from paying a poll-tax, I began to think I had to die. I made all arrangements for my funeral, engaging the minister and pall-bearers, and did not think I would live a month.

Wednesday morning, May 12, 1897, I went with my father to Bangor, as I supposed for the last time, to draw from the bank what money I had there and to arrange my earthly affairs. While in Bangor, I stepped into an eating-house to lunch and rest. I was very nearly prostrated. With both arms on the table and using both hands, I could barely raise my cup to my mouth. My extremely nervous condition attracted the attention of the proprietor, who proved to be a gentleman I had known fifteen years before, but whom I had not seen in all those years. In our conversation I told him of my condition, and he remarked that if I would go with him he would take me to a man that he thought could cure me.

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Article
"SATISFIED"
September 15, 1898
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit