last I gave it up and said it was no use to try. Still,
whenever any of my acquaintances died, I felt scared like; and I kept
away as far as I could from churches and preachers and such like,
because I could not bear to think about God and judgment to come. Well,
about five weeks ago my little Minnie set on me one Sabbath morning to
carry her to church, and to please the little creature--for she is as
pert a darling as you could see anywhere--I told my wife to get her
ready, and we would go. She seemed as if she would cry, and kept talking
to herself all the way. When we got into the church the singing almost
upset me, for I had not been to a church since I was a little fellow,
just before father and mother died. But it seemed as if it was the same
tune, and as if the tune brought them all back, and as if I saw them
again and all the family, and heard mother sing as she used to, and I
forgot church and everything, and thought I was a little fellow playing
about on the floor just as I used to do when I was a happy child. When
they stopped I was so sorry, and wished I could just be as innocent and
as happy as I was then. Well, it seemed like the preacher had been
reading my thoughts, for he gave out for his text, '_Verily, verily, I
say unto you, unless a man be born again he can not see the kingdom of
God._' He began to preach how Jesus can give us new hearts, and save us
from our sins; that his blood cleanses from all sin; that he is able to
save to the uttermost all that come unto God through him. The tears
came into my eyes, and I could hardly keep my mouth shut till I got out.
When I got home I knelt down, and cried to Jesus to save me from my
sins; and my wife prayed too, and we cried for mercy. The Lord heard us,
and I felt light and happy, and I went to church again, and sung with
the rest. And the best of it is, the Lord delivered me from the drink;
as I told a man who asked where I was going to-day, and I told him I was
going to prayer-meeting, for I had got religion now. He said there were
a great many religions, and most of them wrong, and a great many people
said all religion was only a notion, and preaching only nonsense. I says
to him, 'Look here, stranger, do you see that tavern there?' 'Yes,' says
he. 'Well,' says I, 'do you see me?' 'I do, of course,' says he. 'Well,'
says I, 'every little fellow in these parts knows that so long as Tom
Smith had a quarter in his pocket he could never pass that tavern
wit