Soon after the time of my deep depression it was announced that a series of revival meetings was to be held in the community. An uneducated old minister, rather feeble in body, was to conduct the meetings. As there were but few Christians to help him, it looked like a great undertaking. This question rose in my mind, "Would it be wrong for me to take an active part in persuading others to become Christians while I myself am in doubt of God's existence?" I had not then heard of people doing Church work to gain social standing. And if I had, it could not have been a motive because socially I already belonged to the "four hundred." Some men were reported to have joined the Church to beat a neighbor in a horse trade or an ox trade--and this I knew to be very wicked. But as I had neither horses nor oxen to trade there were but two motives that compelled me to go forward. The first motive was the hope that in this way I might find God. The second was that I might help someone else to be religious,--since other people appeared to have more faith. I decided that the proposed course was justifiable because if God did not exist it could make but little difference, and if He did it was very important that people should be brought to Him. Consequently, I selected a young man of my own age. He was on his way to the schoolhouse with a band of hilarious young people when I called him aside. We were very late in reaching the services because out in the dark I labored long and hard with my friend and used every art of persuasion that I could command before I brought him to a decision. Finally, however, he promised to go to the "mourner's bench" if I would go with him. Then we entered the schoolhouse, and each one kept his promise. My friend became so desperately wrought up at the altar that his parents, who were not Christians, did not know what to do with him when the services were over. They therefore asked me to take him home with me for the night. My friend continued to weep all the way home, and frequently requested that we stop to pray. That journey of a mile and a quarter across the fields I shall never forget. But before we went to sleep, suddenly clasping my hand, he exclaimed, "Oh, I am converted." Knowing how he felt I was very glad for him, but at the same time my heart cried within me, "I do wonder if there is anything in it! It is wonderful to him now, I know, but how will he feel to-morrow, or next week, or in six months?" However, I next persuaded his parents to go forward, and the minister asked me to pray for them at the altar--which I did. They, too, were converted, but no blessing came to me. During the two weeks, I led eleven people to the altar, and was asked by the minister each night to offer prayer for the seekers. On the last night of the series, near the close, the minister said: