After having attended our district schoo. for a few months, the teacher came to me and said, "Do you know you are going to win the prize in your spelling class?" This was a surprise to me, for one of my sisters, who was in the same class, was a much better speller than I. The prize was to be either a Bible or an album, and when the teacher asked me which I preferred, I exclaimed, "THE BIBLE!" On the last day of the term she placed in my hand a Bible with a gilt edge and a clasp. This book was valued above anything that I had ever before owned. my spare moments were devoted to it. The first four books of the New Testament were read and re-read, and many verses, including all of the fourteenth chapter of St. John, were committed to memory.

All

My probationary membership in the church was drawing to a close, at the end of which time I expected to be baptized and taken into full connection in the church. I had lived in hopes that peace would come to my soul then, but in this I was mistaken. The membership vows and water baptism brought no change of heart. Now that I had been accepted as a member, I supposed that everyone thought I was a Christian, but too well I knew better. I knew that Jesus had denounced hypocrites, and that He and John the Baptist

called them a "generation of vipers;" something kept saying, "Hypocrite, hypocrite." There were rattlesnakes and vipers in that part of Kentucky, which were a dread, and the thought of being compared to them horrified me.

constant

The Methodist preacher visited our home occasionally, but never spoke to me about my soul. My eldest brother was taken down with typhoid fever, and for weeks his life hung in the balances. He was not saved, and the thought of his being lost in the hell that the Bible tells us about, nearly distracted

me.

There were days while he was sick, that I had scarcely any appetite for food. He, like myself, was a member of the church, but even though he had been converted I was satisfied he was then a backslider. I watched him very closely and wondered why the other members of the family cerned about his soul. I ran all the way to the sister, without being sent, to tell her that he was worse. She did not manifest the sorrow that I expected her to, and I went back home crying.

were not more conOn a Sunday morning home of my eldest

He

Arriving at my brother's bedside again, I found an old German neighbor there. turned away, shook his head and groaned. understood what that meant. Our pastor had

I

not called, and I wondered why mother did not send for him.

The next morning there was still no change for the better, but somehow I felt that something was going to be done in his behalf. Looking down the road I recognized our preacher coming on horseback. Soon he was

at my brother's bedside, reading and praying. As he read the third verse of the 103d Psalm, "Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases," every muscle in my brother's face quivered, and his countenance changed, which left a lasting impression upon me. I believe that God reclaimed him at that moment. Mother's tears were flowing, and the preacher looked pleased. I could not restrain my emotion and foolishly left the room to weep. I should have stayed by the bedside and had my cry out, and others perhaps would have gotten under conviction. Ι did not realize then that I was quenching the Spirit. After this scene, until my brother was restored to health, all concern left me as to whether he lived or died. I knew that if it were God's will to call him away, that his sins were forgiven. My greatest concern now was about my own soul, and I would willingly have chosen sickness, if through physical suffering the desired change could have been brought about in my heart. There was no one to

whom I could go for help or advice, and no one seemed to be concerned about my salvation. The world and its pleasures had no attraction for me while in this condition. Much of the time I was silent, and was often accused of being sullen, by people who did not understand that it was real conviction.

Two years more of trial and heart-anguish passed. On a Sunday afternoon, with my brother and sister, I attended quarterly meeting in Northcutt chapel, seven miles away. The presiding elder, for whom the chapel was named, preached the sermon. He took his

text from Prov. 18:24: "There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." I felt that every word he spoke was intended for me. Near the close of his sermon he told of one who had neglected salvation and died without hope. Kind friends had ministered to his wants and done all that loving hearts and hands could do to comfort him in his dying hours, but while breathing his last, instead of angels coming to bear him away on their white pinions, demons were present to escort him to the black chambers of despair. As he de

scribed the horrors of the dying man, an unseen power took hold of me; I sat motionless, wishing an altar call might be made, and that some one would help me to go forward, but to my disappointment, no invitation was given.