To help him in his incipient dislike of Methodism he has a very curious conversation with a great "professor" of that persuasion. This was an old woman whom he was in the habit of visiting whenever he made his rounds where she lived. On his entrance, they both knelt down and prayed alternately for some time, each, out loud and extempore, for the edification of the other. When this rubric was carried out, they talked at full length and breadth on the unconverted and the elect, with sundries other kindred subjects, and this he used to style "comfortable conversation." Sometimes the tone of conversation would vary, and once it ran upon the line of self-accusation. The old lady very humbly accused herself of a great many faults in general, and signified to Mr. Spencer that she would be very much obliged to any one who would point out her particular faults, and help her in correcting them. Emboldened by this, he ventured, after a long preamble, to suggest that there was one thing he would like to see corrected in her, as it seemed to be the only speck on the lustre of her godliness. "What is that?" asked she, rather curiously and impatiently. "Well, it is that you are rather fond of contradicting people." "No, I am not," was the reply. "You have just contradicted me now." "No, I haven't." "Well, you have repeated the same fault." "I've done no such thing," was the petulant rejoinder. Of course, he saw it was useless to proceed further, and his visits became fewer for some time. This {113} anecdote he used to relate with peculiar tact and a most graphic imitation of the old lady's manner. Before giving his own account of the rise and fall of his High Church notions, it may be well to mention another incident that occurred about this time, towards the end of 1823. He determines to give up shooting and dancing. He told an anecdote about how the first of these sports fell into disfavour with him. There was a shooting party in Althorp on a certain day, and George was in the very thick of it. So anxious was he to distinguish himself in bringing down game, that he would run to take position for a shot with his double-barrel gun loaded, and a cartridge stuck in either corner of his mouth, ready for action, so as not to lose a minute in charging. He did great execution that day, and bagged probably more braces than any other. In the evening one of the company showed great anxiety to get possession of something, and eventually succeeded; whereupon, one present said, with a waggish look at George, "You've made a parson's shot at it." This struck him very forcibly, and suggested the resolution, which he finally came to and kept, of giving up shooting. There is no particular anecdote about his abstinence from dancing, we only know that at this time he refuses to go to a ball, makes his pastoral visits instead, and declares that he feels far more comfortable after this than when he has been "pleasuring."