have become thoughtful and diligent; others
who have lived in riot and sin, wasting the energies of body and mind,
have learnt to live at peace with all men, and walk in the fear of God
and hope of heaven. Having become new creatures, they have shown it in
every line of their conduct. "Old things have passed away, and behold,
all things have become new."

It was never more strikingly illustrated than in the case of Abraham
Lockwood. For a length of time after he had begun to attend
Sunday-school, there was a manifest difference in Abe's manner. Not
that he was really living a better life, for he was just as sinful as
before, only he was _not now thoughtless_; he might go to the ale-house
with his associates, but he went home to think about it after; he might
swear and laugh like the rest of them when they were together, but he
was no sooner alone than he felt the stings of a remorseful conscience;
he was gradually getting into that state when a man dreads to be alone
with himself; there was always something speaking to him from within,
and the voice was getting stronger and stronger every week, till
sometimes it fairly startled him, and made him afraid; often he would
try to run away from it, but it was of no use; the moment he stopped,
panting from the exertion, it was there again; many a time he tried to
deaden the voice in the deafening noise of the mill, but the more he
endeavoured to destroy it, by some mysterious contradiction, the more
intently he found himself listening for it; it spoilt all the pleasures
of sin by its presence; it was with him night and day; it followed him
in his sleep, and was waiting for him when he awoke; it made him
miserable. Poor Abe was _under conviction of sin_; he was tasting the
wormwood of a guilty conscience, than which nothing is more dreadful,
and nothing is more hopeful, because it is the bitter that oft worketh
itself sweet; it was so with Abe. While he was in this state of mind,
the Rev. David Stoner came to preach in the Wesleyan Chapel at
Almondbury. His fame drew many to hear him, and among the rest Abraham
Lockwood. He went partly out of curiosity, and partly in the hope of
getting relief to his mind; however, he only came away worse than
before; he was miserable, and it now began to show itself to his
companions. "Pain will out," like murder. "What's the matter, Abe?"
they would say to him. "Oh, nothing particular," he would reply. And
then among themselves t