pains of hell gat hold on me." In this my extremity I felt a willingness to give up every thing my gay companions, my worldly honours, my sinful pleasures; and, seeing the justice of God in my condemnation, had no other plea to make save that grounded in the atonement of the precious Saviour. I pleaded for mercy, and cried, "Lord, save, or I perish! But if I perish, I perish at thy feet. To thee I give up all-soul, body, and spirit." The God of love was pleased for Christ's sake to accept the offering, and soon my soul was filled with peace. Just at this instant one who had been deeply interested in my case, asked me if I did not wish to rise and sing? I answered in the affirmative; when she said, "Bless the Lord, Lucy is converted ;" and, in accordance with my request, began to sing,

"How happy every child of grace,

Who knows his sins forgiven," &c.

Several joined the harmonious song; some shouted for joy; and others expressed their grateful emotions by the silent eloquence of tears. What a memorable hour! O, to be raised from such a depth of sin and misery into the favour and image of God, and into the fellowship of his saints! The transition was indeed indescribable; the joy unspeakable. It now appeared to me that I had ten friends, where before I had only one; and the very persons I had so much despised appeared the most amiable and lovely. Every object around

me wore a different aspect. Even the lighted candles, and the fires burning from their lofty stages, seemed to reflect the glory of Him who dwelt in the bush. When I looked upward and saw the forest trees waving in the gentle breezes of the evening, and the stars glistering in the blue vault of the skies, they seemed to take part with me in adoring the great Creator. We now retired to our tents, and my father, having heard of the change, questioned me as to my feelings. I barely told him that I felt very differently from what I ever did before; but I said but little, choosing rather to "ponder these things in my heart." The next morning I arose much refreshed in body, and found

"My kind Preserver still was near."

It was one of the finest mornings I had ever beheld. All nature appeared cheerful; my burden of sin was removed; and the very birds of the grove appeared to add to my felicity, while, in their softest strains, they hymned the praises of my redeeming God.

These feelings were, however, like the morning cloud and early dew, of short duration. Soon after, I was passing across the ground when I heard one say, "There goes a young convert; she experienced religion last night." It was immediately suggested, How does he know that? he knows nothing respecting it, and should have said nothing. I then began to compare my feelings with what they once were, and concluded the remark might be true. It

was again suggested, If you have obtained religion, why do you not clap your hands, shout, and express yourself as strongly as such and such late converts? Now these you cannot do, and yet you think you have religion. In this you are deceiving yourself and others. My perplexity was great; when several females were collecting for prayer meeting, and desired me to join them. They offered up many prayers, giving thanks for what had been done since the meeting commenced, and especially what had been done for my soul. My heart melted into the tenderest emotions of gratitude in view of God's loving kindness; though I was soon again assaulted with temptations similar to those just described. In the midst of these the signal was given for preaching, and we immediately joined the congregation. Here my mind sunk. Not knowing the wiles of the enemy, nor being able to discern between "darkness" and "heaviness through manifold temptations," -a distinction which Mr. Wesley in one of his sermons clearly points out,-I gave up my hope in Christ, but not my desire for salvation; for I was fully determined never to rest satisfied without a knowledge of sins forgiven. My Christian friends, observing my distress, endeavoured to comfort me by assuring me that what I felt was only the effect of temptation, and that if I continued to pray I should soon find deliverance. But it was much easier to believe the tempter than the testimony of Christian experience, and therefore I refused to be

comforted. Thus I went mourning, being in greater distress than I had ever been before, till evening; when I again approached the altar, desiring the prayers of the righteous. I had not been there long before Mr. B., a man full of faith and the Holy Ghost, came to me and said, "Child, what do you want?" I replied, "Religion." He said, "Did you not experience religion last night?" I told him I then thought so, but was now afraid I was deceived. “No," said he, "you were not. You are now labouring under strong temptations: only believe, and you will again rejoice in the smiles of God." We had conversed only a few minutes before the cloud broke, the tempter fled, and I was again filled with all peace and joy in believing. Since then, now somewhat more than fifteen years, I have never doubted the genuineness of the work.

The next day several of our acquaintance and friends came to the meeting, though not as many as we expected; for some of our Presbyterian neighbours had taken pains in our absence to prejudice their minds against the Methodists, and particularly against camp meetings. The consequence was, they lost their convictions; though these zealous partizans appeared much less concerned for them now than they did when they were earnestly seeking salvation among the Methodists! Many of those who came were under the necessity of returning the same day, but manifested much regret at leaving the place without experiencing

justifying grace. During the remaining part of the meeting the work of God progressed powerfully; so that it was judged that not less than fifty souls were born of the Spirit; while many returned home earnestly inquiring, "What must I do to be saved?"

CHAPTER III.

BECOMES A MEMBER OF THE

METHODIST EPISCOPAL

CHURCH-HER UNSHRINKING FIDELITY.

THE next sabbath after the close of the camp meeting I attended worship at the Sauquoit church, where the sacrament of the Lord's supper was administered, in which I felt it both a duty and a privilege to participate. The ordinance was rendered a great blessing to me, and my faith and hope were so strengthened and increased, that I could most sincerely say, "Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new." At the five o'clock prayer meeting, held at my father's, I was sorely tempted not to kneel in prayer, being surrounded with my former gay companions; but I resisted the temptation, and found that the cross and the blessing are inseparably connected. God was with us.

Not long after this I was accosted by deacon

with, "Well, Lucy, would you love God were he to send you to hell?" I told him I did not think he would send me there, if I lived