Yesterday, for half an hour, the King could get no breath: he keeps them continually rolling him about" in his Bath-chair, "over the room, and cries 'LUFT, LUFT (Air, air)!' "OCTOBER 2d.

The King is not going to die just yet; but will scarcely see Christmas.

He gets on his clothes; argues with the Doctors, is impatient; won't have people speak of his illness;--is quite black in the face; drinks nothing but MOLL [which we suppose to be small bitter beer], takes physic, writes in bed.
"OCTOBER 5th.

The Nigger tells me things are better.

The King begins to bring up phlegm; drinks a great deal of oatmeal water [HAFERGRUTZWASSER, comfortable to the sick]; says to the Nigger: 'Pray diligently, all of you; perhaps I shall not die!'" October 5th: this is the day the Crown-Prince arrives at Baireuth; to be called away by express four days after.