Moved at last. All I remember of the moving, was sitting in the waggon, holding the cat. When we got here, the fever had me, and I could not do a thing. Philip made a bed on the floor, and I laid down. My bed was not fixed yet. When evening came, I was better but scarcely able to walk. Philip had worked all day—besides moving, had hauled two loads of wood, and Sunday, was not able to be up. J. R. who has been working on his claim, and sleeping there, came over, but he is poor help.
We had callers too and the house all in confusion.
Monday I managed to bake, and Philip fixed things around the house, but at 11 had to lie down with chill, and in the p. m. I had to do the same. I had taken quinine but not enough. My fever was over by sun down, but his kept up all night. Yesterday a. m. it left for a short time, then came back, and he was delerious. When I cooled his head with wet towls, the teers would fall. I was in trouble.
When J. R. came for supper, I had him go and see Mr. Ross, who came back with him. He said it was an attack of bilious fever, and left medacine. This a. m. Mr. Rose [Ross] came again. Brother is better. I am so thankful—thankful—
This is my day for ague, but I have taken such big doses of quinine, it may not come back, but the quinine its self makes me half sick. Philip does not complain, he is so patient. I must lie down part of the time, but hope we will soon be well. I think it would have been better for us, had we moved from the river sooner.
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