There is no getting further on the pathway to the higher life until one has first realized his own situation. So long as he pities himself and occupies his mind with finding excuses for his own shortcomings, there is little hope for him. When he sees himself a sinner, the heavenward gates suddenly swing open. The picture of Jean Valjean seated on a stone, weeping bitter tears over his sins, is nothing but a powerful sermon on the old-time doctrine which taught the necessity of conviction as a step on the road to conversion. Jean Valjean stood convicted in the court of God. That made him a candidate for divine mercy. The mercy was not withheld. It is so with us all. There is too little real conviction of sin in these days. We need the mirror held before us. Jean Valjean had shared in the experience of Isaiah many centuries before. When an invisible hand swept aside the curtains that hid the divine glory from human gaze, Isaiah saw the Lord sitting in his glory in the temple. Its effect was normal. It forced upon the man a sense of the distressing contrast between himself and what he saw. Consequently, he cried out that he was undone because of his uncleanness. Before the scene was over, he received the dross-destroying touch which made him fit to be a servant of his Lord. The redemption of Isaiah, too, began with a sense of his own sinfulness. The years pass, and Jean Valjean reappears upon the surface of social life. He has begun life anew in the town of M. sur M. under another name. He is now Father Madeleine, the head of a large manufacturing establishment, the mayor of his city, and known among his people as a gentle-hearted and saintly character. He is in his room at night, pacing back and forth. His step is nervous, his face is feverish, his breast is heaving. There is every indication that he is fighting a great battle. Hugo calls this scene, “The Tempest in a Skull.” An old man has been taken in the streets. Under suspicion of being the long-lost criminal, Jean Valjean, he is under arrest and about to be committed to the galleys. The question which confronts the prosperous and honored mayor of M. sur M. is evident. For him, the conflict is between the choice of wealth, ease, and honor and that of confession, disgrace, and the prison. He must decide whether he himself will answer to the charge society has against him, or whether he will avail himself of the opportunity to let an innocent man suffer in his place. As the hours pass, the question is settled as an honorable man must necessarily settle it. The tempest subsides. He seeks the courtroom, makes himself known, and sees the old man set at liberty. He has accomplished the next great step in his redemption by conquering himself.