The next prayer-meeting was attended, and as they knelt during the season of prayer I felt an impression to kneel with them. But the cross was very great and I did not yield. I thought if I did so it would be reported to my parents, and they would probably forbid my coming to these little meetings, which I so highly prized. But this was unprofitable reasoning, increasing the burden instead of bringing the relief sought. I wept on my way home, and in my evening supplication renewed my promise to be more faithful, let others do or say what they would, if the like impression was ever again experienced. With permission I attended the next prayer-meeting at my uncle's, and, as if to test my faithfulness, two young women of my intimate associates came in, and sat one on each side of me. At the first season of prayer, as I did not have that impression, I felt quite at ease, and thankful to my Father in heaven for excusing me. But the next united supplication, I felt that I must unite with them in kneeling, and while one tried to pull me up by the arm, with saying "I'd be a little dunce if I was in thy place," the other sister pinched the other arm, "Now, Laura Smith, be a little Methodist, will thee? I'd be ashamed if I was thee; every body will make fun of thee." But I kept my position and made no reply, but secretly prayed for strength in my great weakness. But my fears were fully realized. It was at once reported that Laura Smith would be a Methodist if allowed by her parents. And for a long time no permission was given to attend those little prayer-meetings, my parents assigning this reason: "This Methodist excitement is unprofitable, especially for children. They have an overheated zeal, that is not according to knowledge, and we do not think it best for thee to attend; we want our children at a suitable age to be actuated by settled principle, not mere excitement." This reasoning by my dear father strongly tempted me to give up my resolutions altogether. Until I was eighteen I felt no liberty whatever in unburdening my troubled heart to my dear parents. They were unacquainted with the longings of my poor soul. Like the lone sparrow upon the house-top, I mourned many weeks, sought the solitary place for reading my Bible, and prayer; often watered my pillow with tears, and longed for the day, and during the day longed for the night, in which I might pour out my sorrows to my Heavenly Father out of sight of human eye. I was conscious that my sadness was troubling my dear parents. Oh! how I prayed for light to dispel this darkness and doubt--sometimes ready to conclude that, as it was my duty to obey my parents, the Lord would excuse me in waiting until I was of age. Yet in reading the many precious promises of the Lord Jesus, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;" "Seek, and ye shall find," I found fresh courage. But why do I not find this rest for this weary heart? Why do I not find