Melted by the singing, broken and contrite, alone I went and knelt at the altar-rail. I can remember just how glad and gentle his voice sounded; and how soothing it was as the evangelist placed his hand upon my bowed head and prayed for the young sister who had tried in vain to turn away the Holy Spirit. One other girl, moved by my example, came sobbing to the altar, too--one who always followed my lead. In justice to myself I must say that there was no pose this time. I did not want to be singled out in this way, for I abhorred betrayal of emotion in public; to be the centre of a scene like this was painful to me. Nevertheless, there was a great peace in my heart as I arose and returned to our pew. When zealous young converts join the Methodist Church and “renounce the Devil and all his works,” they give little heed to such renunciation, only to learn later, as their religious fervour subsides, and their social needs assert themselves, that the Discipline regards card-playing and dancing as the works of his Satanic Majesty. I remember when my sister was inveigled by some unconverted boys and girls into playing cards, how I laboured with her with but poor results. She refrained for a time, but soon again succumbed to the pastime. It makes me smile to recall how long it took me to regard those wicked-looking cards as an innocent amusement. Not caring for them, however, they were never a temptation to me, and I found myself distinctly bored when by the occasional playing of Hearts I declared my independence. I never could learn Whist or Euchre. But dancing, because more pleasurable, seemed more wicked; and, little by little, I yielded to the seductions of the violin and the quadrille when, at an evening party, dancing would form the wind-up. But I never learned to dance well. Too self-conscious, the few times that I indulged in it in those days I suffered so from remorse that it was a questionable pleasure.