Tues., May 25th. I visited a girl of fifteen, who lay dying of an incurable illness. She had been in that condition many months, as her parents, some of the best people of the town, informed me. I started at the sight of a breathing corpse. Never was real corpse half so ghastly.
Her groans and screams alone distinguished her from one. They had no intermission: yet was she perfectly sensible, as appeared by her feebly lifting up her eyes, when I bade her trust in God, and read the prayers for the energumens. We were all in tears. She made signs for me to come again.