not enter into his merriment.  All the next day, which was Sunday, I passed in a most miserable state.  I went into the woods alone.  I did not think myself worthy or fit to associate with those who had religion, while I was anxious to avoid the company of those who made light of it.  Sometimes I would sit down, sometimes I would stand up, sometimes I would walk about.  Frequently I prayed, but found no comfort in it.

About sun-set I met a friend, who said to me, “Well, our camp-meeting is about ended.”  What a misery those few words struck to my heart!  “About ended!” I said to myself; “about ended, and I not converted!” A little later, as I was passing along the camp-ground, I saw a woman before me kneeling and praying.  An acquaintance of mine, who was approaching her in an opposite direction, called out to me, “Daniel, help me pray for this woman!” I had made up my mind to make one more effort, and I knelt down and commenced praying; but quite as much for myself as for her.  Others gathered about us and joined in, and the interest and excitement became so great, that, after a vain effort to call us off, the regular services of the evening were dispensed with, and the ground was left to us.  Things went on in this way till about nine o’clock, when, as suddenly as if I had been struck a heavy blow, I felt a remarkable change come over me.  All my fears and terrors seemed to be instantaneously removed, and my whole soul to be filled with joy and peace.  This was the sort of change which I had been taught to look for as the consequence of getting that religion for which I had been struggling so hard.  I instantly rose up, and told those about me that I was a converted man; and from that moment I was able to sing and shout and pray with the best of them.  In the midst of my exultation who should come up but my old master in the shoe-making trade, of whom I have already given some account.  He had heard that I was on the camp-ground in pursuit of religion, and had come to find me out.  “Daniel,” he said, addressing me by my Christian name, “what are you doing here?  Don’t make a fool of yourself.”  To which I answered, that I had got to be just such a fool as I had long wanted to be; and I took him by the arm, and endeavored to prevail upon him to kneel down and allow us to pray over him, assuring him that I knew his convictions to be much better than his conduct; that he must get religion, and now was the time.  But he drew back, and escaped from me, with promises to do better, which, however, he did not keep.

As for myself, considering, and, as I thought, feeling that I was a converted man, I now enjoyed for some time an extraordinary satisfaction, a sort of offset to the months of agony and misery which I had previously endured.  But, though regarding myself as now truly converted, I delayed some time before uniting myself with any particular church.  I did not know which to join.  This division into so many hostile sects seemed to me unaccountable.  I thought that all good Christians should love each other, and be as one family.  Yet it seemed necessary to unite myself with some body of Christians; and, as I had been educated a Methodist, I concluded to join them.