N writing the following the desire is to encourage some heart or to comfort some on the way, or, perchance, one who is seeking to find the way; for I am a living testimony that "God is no respecter of persons."

For more years than I like to remember, I was an alien to His ways. Many things conspired to keep me in this channel, yet at times my soul would have an unutterable longing to draw nearer to him, and I would wrestle for hours, calling on him to lead me out of the "broad way" into the way of life eternal, every effort I made seeming to bring me up to a solid wall without egress. Then I would turn back and try to be contented, but I could not. Something seemed to be driving me to find the way out, making me unhappy.

A lady friend, of whom I was quite fond, lay dying. Going to see her one day, and looking into her face, I realized this fact for the first time, and with this knowledge came the crushing weight that her soul was lost; for she was very worldly. Her mind weakened by disease, she could not grasp the situation, if I were to tell her. She looked up in my face and smiled, so pleased to see me, putting both arms around my neck, her last embrace.

O, the horror of it all! I broke out in an agony of sobs. I could only think, She is lost! lost! And the horrible burning hell I had been taught to believe in, loomed up before my mind's vision, in its most awful intensity. She could not understand my great grief and said, "I did not

know you loved me so. I will be well when you come home again, and I am going to be real good."

I was going to leave that night for Florida, and this was my good-bye to her. The doctor had said up to this time, "She will get well." No, I should never see her again in this world. Should I in the next?

I could not tell her she was dying, but going home, I went to my room, locked my door, and poured out to God one of the most fervent petitions of my life. That time is brought so vividly to my mind that I can scarcely write of it. Getting pen and paper, I wrote her, on my knees. that I knew I should not see her again, that she was dying, that I had pled with God to save her soul, that she also should plead that, as Jesus pardoned the sinner on the cross, he might have mercy on her. This I wrote and much more. In fact I was praying and writing till the carriage came to take me to the train.

I left this letter to be taken to her in the morning. The third day after I received a telegram at Jacksonville that she was dead. My letter was taken to her the day after I wrote it. She was sleeping. The nurse said she would read it to her as soon as she awoke, but her mind was gone and it was never read to her. The nurse begged to retain the letter which was granted. For what purpose she desired it, I know not.

I have written this incident as it had much to do in helping me to decide to live a Christian life. But what struggles! Who may know but God?

As I look back now, it seems to me with every effort I made a mighty blow was given to my shackles till link by link they were broken, and at last I was made free indeed.

I had now a great desire to know more of God's word. What did he really say in it, and how did it affect me? I had only read here and there as I chanced to open the book, but I determined to commence at Genesis, and read it all, that I might know just what he had said. This I faithfully did, but I could not understand; so many things seemed different from the way I had been taught. It had a charm I could not resist, or, rather, a drawing power that made me a faithful student. I was enabled to devote much time to my investigations, as I was boarding at a hotel, to be near my daughter who attended a convent school at that place.

My people being Methodists, I followed in the same wake, going regularly to a church of that denomination. Soon afterwards they started revival services, and there I heard again and again what a wretched lost sinner anyone not baptized and a member of some church was. As this was the kind of preaching I had heard from a child up, one heaven and one hell, and it was gospel to me, I fully coincided with all the preacher said. He ought to know; for was he not "a teacher in Israel?"

Many went forward to the "mourners' bench." This I could not do. When others would stand up to be prayed for, I would arise, and I believe the prayers of the honest ones availed much. What a burden seemed to be upon me! I thought of John Bunyan when he first started out on his journey to Beulah Land. I think I walked over part of that same road, and I am sure I know how he felt when the burden rolled from his back.

I would read my Bible for comfort way into the night. I hungered for its promises. I prayed for God to free me from my sins. I determined to unite with the church, but I did not want to give up all worldly things. I wanted to compromise, and I knew that was not right. So I continued to sorrow, read, and pray, and cling to

the world till I was most wretched and sick. This went on into weeks. I wanted to be accepted of God as his child, but to tell him I would never voluntarily sin any more, and then if I wanted to do anything that was not just in accord with his word, I could not do it. I told the Lord I would try to be real good, but I did not want to promise that. O, what a battle! Have any of my readers had a like experience? Only they who have can appreciate the position.

The revival meetings were over and I united with that organization, as did also my daughter and niece, being baptized or sprinkled. This had the effect of easing my mind considerably; for I thought if any of us were to die now, we would not go to hell. But I was not happy; the burden was still there. I read in the word, "If any are sick among you send for the elders," etc. I was told this was not done, but it would be right to do so. I thought so too. There were so many things I did not understand, and there was not anyone else who seemed to either.

I

Winter had passed, and I was looking forward to the time for my usual trip into the country. It seemed so long in coming this year, but that did not take my mind from the more vital subject, however, and I had become really quite sick over the matter. It seemed more than I could bear. read, "Whatsoever ye ask in prayer in faith believing, ye shall receive.” Now there was a promise. I believed that word implicitly. I would ask God right then to make me well, to take away the pain from my head, and all that oppressive feeling. It was in the daytime, and, kneeling down by my chair, I told God what I read in his word, that I believed he would do just what he said, and that I was so sick and miserable and wanted him to make me well.

Then my mind turned to what made me sick, the worry over my sins. Well, if I wanted to forsake all evil, why not settle it right then, or go back to the world and get all I could out of it the rest of my life? Why dally like this? "I'll do it," I said; "I'll settle it now.

If God will

forgive me for all I have ever done wrong, I will never voluntarily sin again." Instantly I felt a hand light as thistle down on my forehead, soft, cool, and soothing. Then as if stripped from head to foot, all pain and oppressiveness vanished, and something ethereal permeated my being. Rising to my feet, as if lifted up, my hands clasped, holy joy and ecstasy filling me, my spiritual sense received these words, "Thy sins are forgiven thee; go thy way, and sin no more." My lips uttered the words, "Thank God! Thank God!"

O the joy unutterable, for what seemed three or four minutes! Then instantly as it came, it went away, but what peace remained, what lightness of spirit! How happy, how well I was!

I walked over to my bedside and, kneeling there. I thanked my God for such a token of his loving kindness. It did not seem hard now to promise him obedience. The world was behind; God, before. Happy? Yes, I believe I could have walked to my death with a smile. From that time I have never had a desire to return to the world.

Now this knowledge coming to me that what the Bible contained, was really God's word, and that his prom. ises therein were true, fortified me against what otherwise would have been temptations too strong for me to resist, and I am confident that had I not received this aid from my heavenly Father, I could not have passed through what I afterwards did, unharmed.

About two years after this. I came across a book called The Bible Examiner which contained much food for my hungry soul, throwing greater light on the written word. The author had at one time been a Methodist preacher, who at last seeing how at variance their doctrine was with the Scriptures, had withdrawn from them, writing his views and having them printed in pamphlets, which were bound, and named as written above.

I feasted on this food, though not agreeing with him on some points. Yet it broke the link that bound me to that fallible church; for if its doctrine

was not true, what good could it do me?

I now attended the Baptist Church, as, if baptism was necessary now (which I doubted), immersion must be the correct mode, as it was in the likeness of burial.

I was at this time living in a western city, with heart and soul in Christian work, but was still a seeker after truth. I was very fond of attending the theater. A good play by a good artist was enjoyable, as also was a minstrel show. I could laugh over their ludicrous sayings, and comical actions, and I could see nothing wrong in it either or unbecoming a Christian.

Just at this time the great emotional actress, Sarah Bernhardt, was billed for two nights, Tuesday and Wednesday of the coming week, and I looked forward with much pleasure to this treat of seeing so talented a woman, whose fame was world wide. On Friday evening a good Baptist friend of mine called, and I was telling her of the pleasure I anticipated in seeing "Sarah." "O," said she, "It has always seemed so strange to me, your going to theaters. How can you reconcile it with your duty as a Christian. Do you think it just right?" "Certainly I do," said I, "I can see nothing wrong, nothing sinful in it. It is only recreation for the mind, and while I so see it, I shall continue to go. I will tell you, if I thought it was not pleasing to God, I would not go, but I cannot think so, and until he lets me know it is not right, I shall not keep away."

On Saturday I thought over this conversation, and I felt perfectly satisfied that it was all right to go. Sunday morning I opened my Bible. to read a chapter as usual before going to church, and I read, "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." The preacher took these same words for his text and spoke of the duties devolving on one coming out of the world to follow their Lord. On my way home I remarked to my husband the coincidence, and, while meditating upon it, and upon what the preacher had said, I repeated the