In September 1848 he became very ill.He coughed all day and all night.He began to talk of death，and asked us to pray with him.While we stood together，praying，he began to cough again.He fell to the ground.Emily and I put our arms round him，but he couldn't get up.There was blood on his mouth，and on Emily's dress.When he stopped coughing，it was because he had stopped breathing.My only son was dead.We buried him in the church beside his mother and little sisters.It was a cold，rainy afternoon.There were dead wet leaves in the graveyard，and the wind blew rain into our faces.I came back into the house soon afterwards，but Emily walked for an hour or two in the rain with her dog，Keeper.When she came back into the house，her dress was wet through.Several days later Emily became ill.Her face was hot，she couldn't eat，she kept moving round the house.It was difficult for her to breathe，and it took her a long time to climb the stairs.
