onceived the idea that after all, this sprinkling might
possess some merit, at least provisionally; and I therefore insisted on
being permitted to join the Methodist Church and be sprinkled for the
time being, as a sort of emergency measure, until I should grow up to
that age--and size--where I might join the Baptist Church and be
baptized right. But this pleasure was denied me.

During the next two years I learned much; for I was a close student,
altho only a child. My mind also underwent a considerable change.
That constant and tormenting fear and dread of hell gradually weakened.
In fact I was consciously growing more and more indifferent toward it.
Yet I was not altogether uninterested. I had learned much more about
the meaning of "conversion" as I saw it manifested in many, and
sometimes violent, forms of demonstration. As I saw these I fancied
that this was the kind of conversion I would like to have. I wanted to
"get happy and shout" as some of the others did.

The time came for the annual protracted meeting at the church of my
parents. At this meeting I found myself the object of considerable
solicitude. I was now old enough to be converted, join the church and
be baptized. They were all anxious that I be "saved." Of course I had
to repent of my sins,--and also of Adam's. I was not so self-conscious
of innocence now as I was a few years before. I really felt that I had
something to repent of.

The preacher, and a good honest, sincere man he was, pictured the
flames of hell and the torments of the damned with such power that I
almost felt the warmth of its fires and smelled its fumes of sulphur.

I set out in earnest to repent of my own sins as well as Adam's.
Repenting was very easy. I cried until the tears refused to flow
longer. Believing was easy, for I believed it all. Being baptized was
easy. But I had not yet been "converted." There was no miraculous
transformation in me. I had not yet "got happy and shouted." I waited
for it. My tears dried up. I still went to the "mourners' bench," but
nothing came of it. I could not even cry. One day the preacher,
noting my condition, had a talk with me. I told him my feelings, and
he said I was converted. But I told him that no such change had come
over me as the others told about, and that seemed manifest in their
emotions and actions. Then he told me that as I was young and had
never been a great sinner I could not expect that wonderful
"