Cedar Keys 
from the village drunk. This was the cause of 
the watchman’s refusal. Feeling that I must 
get to bed, I made out to reach it on hands and 
knees, tumbled in after a desperate struggle, and 
immediately became oblivious to everything. 
I awoke at a strange hour on a strange day 
to hear Mr. Hodgson ask a watcher beside 
me whether I had yet spoken, and when he 
replied that I had not, he said: “Well, you must 
keep on pouring in quinine. That’s all we can 
do.” How long I lay unconscious I never 
found out, but it must have been many days. 
Some time or other I was moved on a horse 
from the mill quarters to Mr. Hodgson’s house, 
where I was nursed about three months with 
unfailing kindness, and to the skill and care of 
Mr. and Mrs. Hodgson I doubtless owe my life. 
Through quinine and calomel — in sorry abun- 
dance —with other milder medicines, my ma- 
larial fever became typhoid. I had night 
sweats, and my legs became like posts of the 
temper and consistency of clay on account of 
dropsy. So on until January, a weary time. 
[ 129 ] 
