"Juliet and my mother and myself used to have chills, though my father, Spencer and Anne seemed to be immune, Mother and Juliet both had two congestive chills. In one of these Juliet came as near dying as any one I ever saw to live. They had hot bricks packed around her. There were no hot water bags in those days, certainly not at Pampatike, and Mammy Celia and myself rubbed her with mustard, while my father was administering quinine and trying to stimulate her in every way he could.
"Sometime during the night I was sent out to help a negro catch a horse and go ten miles across the river after the doctor. It was summer and everything was turned out. We walked over to the quarters, some half a mile away, and nabbed an unsuspecting mule, upon which I got, and with the assistance of the negro tried to drive some houses to the barn, knowing that the mule wouldnt go off the place. Of course the horses went everywhere except to the stable, and it was impossible to get the mule to head them off whenever they took a wrong direction. We did, finally, get a horse however and sent the negro off after the doctor, who arrived about midday the next day when Juliet had gotten out of the chill. That I think was the most wretched night I ever spent, unless it was perhaps sometime during the two weeks at Annefield when I was nursing Juliet in typhoid fever before my mother and father came up and took charge. It was some time before Dr. Robt. Page of Berryville could determine whether it was typhoid or not, but he did. There never was a more attentive or better doctor, and I am sure he saved her life. I slept in the room with her on a pallet and looked after her. There were only my grandmother and grandfather, two old people, in the house. I remember distinctly trying to untangle her hair, which had finally to be cut off. I was always especially devoted to Juliet. We think and feel alike, too, I am sure, about most things."
Thomas N. Carter letters (brother)
Robert Edward Lee
1843–1914 (m. 1894)
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