But at this time a change came over me. While moving slowly forward in pursuit of something to kill, my mind was arrested with the reflection on the nature of my pursuit--that of amusing myself by giving pain and death to harmless, innocent creatures that perhaps had as much right to life and enjoyment as myself. I realized that such indulgence was without any justification, and feeling condemned, I laid my gun on my shoulder, returned home, and from that time to this have felt no inclination for that murderous amusement. In fact, years had elapsed since the days of boyhood sport, and in the interval I had neither time nor opportunity for reckless indulgence. Education, the leading star of my youth, had so entirely engrossed my ambition that, until the Gospel of the Lord Jesus took possession of my mind, it was the genii before which everything else had to bow; then, almost simultaneously, missionary labors succeeded book studies, and no room was left for sportive scenes. A spirit of mobocracy, which had previously manifested itself, was continually on the increase all around us, and very naturally suggested to our minds the thought of preparation for defense. The house we lived in, with the plantation on which it stood, father purchased on his arrival, and paid for in full. It was a "double log house," with an alley about three feet wide between the two. In this alley our faithful watchdog was stationed, and we knew that no intruder could possibly reach either door before the dog would give an alarm, which, so far, was very satisfactory. But, to our deep regret, the mobocrats, finding the dog out of sight of the house, shot him down. He had, by his affectionate faithfulness, so won our love and confidence that he almost seemed one of the family--we sincerely mourned his loss, and I assisted my brothers in giving him a formal burial.