By this unfortunate accident I lost everything except the clothes I had on, and was obliged to commence anew.  I accordingly obtained the command of the new sloop Sarah Henry, of seventy tons burden, and continued to sail her for several years, on shares.  While in her I made a voyage to Savannah; and while under sail from that city for Charleston, I was taken with the yellow fever.  I lay for a week quite unconscious of anything that was going on about me and came as near dying as a man could do and escape.  The religious instructions of my mother had from time to time recurred to my mind, and had occasioned me some anxiety.  I was now greatly alarmed at the idea of dying in my sins, from which I seemed to have escaped so narrowly.  My mind was possessed with this fear; and, to relieve myself from it, I determined, if it were a possible thing, to get religion at any rate.  The idea of religion in which I had been educated was that of a sudden, miraculous change, in which a man felt himself relieved from the burden of his sins, united to God, and made a new creature.  For this experience I diligently sought, and tried every way to get it.  I set up family prayers in my house, went to meetings, and conversed with experienced members of the church; but, for nine months or more, all to no purpose.  At length I got into an awful state, beginning to think that I had been so desperate a sinner that there was no forgiveness for me.  While I was in this miserable condition, I heard of a camp-meeting about to be held on Cape May, and I immediately resolved to attend it, and to leave no stone unturned to accomplish the object which I had so much at heart.  I went accordingly, and yielded myself entirely up to the dictation of those who had the control of the meeting.  I did in everything as I was told; went into the altar, prayed, and let them pray over me.  This went on for several days without any result.  One evening, as I approached the altar, and was looking into it, I met a captain of my acquaintance, and asked him what he thought of these proceedings; and, as he seemed to approve them, I invited him to go into the altar with me.  We both went in accordingly, and knelt down.  Pretty soon my friend got up and walked away, saying he had got religion.  I did not find it so easily.  I remained at the altar, praying, till after the meeting broke up, and even till one o’clock,—­a few acquaintances and others remaining with me, and praying round me, and over me, and for me;—­till, at last, thinking that I had done everything I could, I told them pray no more, as evidently there was no forgiveness for me.  So I withdrew to a distance, and sat down upon an old tree, lamenting my hard case very seriously.  I was sure I had committed the unpardonable sin.  A friend, who sat down beside me, and of whom I inquired what he supposed the unpardonable sin was, endeavored comfort me by suggesting that, whatever it might be, it would take more sense and learning than ever I had to commit it.  But I would