Somebody met me about four o'clock in the evening, and asked: "Where are you going?" I said: "I am going around here to get a drink." He said: "How are you going to drink when your partners have quit drinking?" I asked him where they could be found; that I wanted to take a look at them. He told me that I could find them at the Mission. I concluded I would come up to the Mission, and did so, pretty full; and, honestly, I would not have known either of these men on the street. I never saw such a transformation as in them. After the services were over they came up and shook hands with me, and treated me as kindly as they used to do when we were drinking together. And I made up my mind if Christ could save them, I wanted some of it for myself. I came to the Mission, and stood up for prayers all the time, but came half drunk for four or five nights, but still with the determination to have salvation if it was to be found; but the more I came the darker the way grew. I think (on the 29th of December) Mrs. Clark came and talked to me, and Mr. Atmore came and talked to me, I was sober--comparatively so. I told them that I had given up all hope; that I had sinned away my day of grace, and there was no hope for me. They cheered me, and I promised them I would pray that night. I went out of the Mission and got blind, staving drunk; was hardly able to get up stairs to my bed at eleven o'clock, at night. I did it out of despair. The doctors had told me before that unless I quit drinking whisky I would go dead. I was tired of life, but afraid to commit suicide. I concluded that the sooner I died, the better. I got up at three o'clock in the morning to come down stairs and get a drink. The barkeeper was absent from his bar, and I concluded that I would wash myself before I took a drink. I said to myself while I was washing: "You promised yourself you would not drink, and the very first night you get drunk, and get up in the morning to take another drink, and if you take it you will be drunk before night." I concluded I would stop. I took a seat by the stove, and very soon the barkeeper came back. He looked at me and said: "Are you broke this morning, or too stingy to drink, or what is the matter?" He added: "Come on. If you are too stingy to take a drink yourself, take one with me." I was just dying for a drink. I was shaking--suffering physically and mentally. I got up two or three times to go to that bar to take a drink, but I argued to myself: "If you can not keep from taking a drink, you had better go up stairs and kill yourself." After awhile the boys commenced dropping in, and, as was the custom, said: "Come on, Peck, and take a drink." I told them, "No; I have quit."