of his brother
which he then and there adopted; not because he made any new resolution
in his soul, but merely because the words spoken by his brother were
like the light push of a finger against a leaning wall already about to
tumble by its own weight. These words but showed him that the place
wherein he supposed religion dwelt in him had long been empty, and that
the sentences he uttered, the crosses and bows which he made during his
prayer, were actions with no inner sense. Having once seized their
absurdity, he could no longer keep them up." Ma Confession, p. 8.

I subjoin an additional document which has come into my possession, and
which represents in a vivid way what is probably a very frequent sort
of conversion, if the opposite of 'falling in love,' falling out of
love, may be so termed. Falling in love also conforms frequently to
this type, a latent process of unconscious preparation often preceding
a sudden awakening to the fact that the mischief is irretrievably done.
The free and easy tone in this narrative gives it a sincerity that
speaks for itself.

"For two years of this time I went through a very bad experience, which
almost drove me mad. I had fallen violently in love with a girl who,
young as she was, had a spirit of coquetry like a cat. As I look back
on her now, I hate her, and wonder how I could ever have fallen so low
as to be worked upon to such an extent by her attractions.
Nevertheless, I fell into a regular fever, could think of nothing else;
whenever I was alone, I pictured her attractions, and spent most of the
time when I should have been working, in recalling our previous
interviews, and imagining future conversations. She was very pretty,
good humored, and jolly to the last degree, and intensely pleased with
my admiration. Would give me no decided answer yes or no and the queer
thing about it was that whilst pursuing her for her hand, I secretly
knew all along that she was unfit to be a wife for me, and that she
never would say yes. Although for a year we took our meals at the same
boarding-house, so that I saw her continually and familiarly, our
closer relations had to be largely on the sly, and this fact, together
with my jealousy of another one of her male admirers and my own
conscience despising me for my uncontrollable weakness, made me so
nervous and sleepless that I really thought I should become insane. I
understand well those young men murdering their sweethearts,