ence. For years my religious experience was most unsatisfactory. I
was under frequent convictions, and knew that the Spirit was striving
with me persistently, but I hardened my heart and would not yield
completely to God. As I look back at those years of restlessness and
rebellion, I recall with gratitude the forbearance and long-suffering
of a now sainted mother. How she carried her proud, stubborn boy on her
heart, and how she held onto God's skirt and tugged away until He
answered.

THE STRIVING OF THE SPIRIT.

During the winter of 1891-1892 I became almost wretched on account of
conviction. The Holy Ghost fairly dogged my steps and whispered in my
ear at every turn. There were many things which He used to convict me
of--my unfaithfulness and aridity of soul and life. My junior year at
Oak Grove Seminary is distinctly remembered as a time of continuous
conviction and unrest. Now and then I would find peace and comfort for
a time, but they remained only for a time. I kept up secret devotions
very carefully. I never missed my daily prayers, but my life was
inconsistent and God-dishonoring. The lives of real Christians rebuked
me, and the mockery of my empty profession haunted me like a spectre.

RECLAMATION.

In the summer of 1892 I began to seek God earnestly, and was not long
in finding pardon and reclamation. No sooner was I at peace with God
than I began to hunger for holiness. O, how my heart longed for full
salvation! I saw much about me that was an indication that there was an
experience enjoyed by some of which I was not possessed. My mother's
calm, victorious life, and her constant unwavering Christian faith,
convicted me. I was proud and selfish, and hypersensitive and
ambitious. She was restful, contented, loving, meek. How frequently I
gave way to some temptation, and how mortified I was to be so
humiliated by the Adversary.

HUNGER FOR HOLINESS.

Many of the members of my father's church at Portsmouth had an
experience of freedom and liberty which I craved. In July my father, my
mother, and I spent a couple of days at Douglas camp-meeting. I
remember so well every incident of the trip--my deep unrest as we
entered the grounds, my aversion to certain "boisterous persons" who
said "Bless the Lord" so frequently, my disrelish for food, my dislike
of taking a front seat in the audience. Two old sisters sat facing the
preacher one evening. Their faces were full of joy, and they seemed to
overflow with j