The remarks and experience of the Methodists, at their prayer meetings, were greatly blessed to my comfort. Gradually the light broke; the day-star shone. Peace, like a river, filled my breast; joy, as from an unfailing fountain, bubbled up within me; love animated my affections; by day and by night I sang the praises of God, and the society of Christ’s dear people seemed precious indeed to my soul. I thought this sweet frame would last forever. I determined it should, so far as my efforts were necessary for its continuance. Alas! I knew not my own heart: a dreary wilderness state was before me, and I, like many an unwary soul before me, heedlessly stumbled into its gloomy shadows. By a sudden change in the condition of my employer, I was led to seek employment in Ashford. Here, in the shop of Mr. Giles Stebbins, I was surrounded by many light-minded, trifling young men. Falling into the same snare for which I had reproved a professor before I was converted, my peace and calm were lost, every evidence darkened, and the wretchedness of a backslider in heart filled my soul. This apostacy lasted several months, when, through the love and long-suffering of a gracious God, I was once more restored to a state of salvation. Since that time, though I have not gained all that is desirable, and that is offered in an abundant gospel, yet I have been trying to stem the torrent of iniquity, which runs through the earth, and striving to make my way to the port of Glory. The next fall I walked eighteen miles to a camp-meeting in Thompson, Conn., the first I had ever attended. Though the scene was novel, I soon took a deep interest in the services; especially when informed that a sailor was going to preach one evening. This sailor was no other than the well-known Rev. E. T. Taylor.[28] His text was in Philippians iv. 19: “But my God shall supply all your needs;” which he handled in his usual happy and eccentric, powerful manner. I had never before seen a religious sailor; to hear one preach, therefore, in such forcible and effective style, was to me a source of unutterable delight. Nor were the listening masses before the stand, who hung with intense eagerness on his lips, less pleased than myself. They broke out into loud expressions of praise to God for his wonderful mercies. “This,” said the speaker, “is but a drop from a bucket! What will it be when we drink from the mighty ocean itself?” At this meeting I saw sinners yielding to Christ with tears of sacred penitence, for the first time in my life. Never in all my life had a spectacle more sublimely beautiful met my eye. I do not believe the world affords a more grateful sight than that of a sinner weeping and repenting before his Creator.