Very likely what I did write told Father much more than I suspected, and
he always stood ready with any advice he could give, especially about
matters of health. Those were the years when he had many troubles:
insomnia, neuralgia, and especially a trouble he called malaria,
but which was largely autotoxemia. One doctor seared his arm with a
white-hot iron in an effort to do away with the pain of the neuralgia
and years afterward Father would laugh about it--"just like African
medicine man, driving out the devils in my arm with a white-hot
iron--the trouble was not there, it was the poison in my system from
faulty elimination." When at last he did discover the source of his
troubles how happy he was!