But the springtime of my sixth year perhaps tended to disillusion me, I was evidently becoming detached from the family where I had lived for five and a half years; their purposes had been served, and my interests were not being considered. Naturally, under such circumstances, one finds that "blood is thicker than water"; thus it was that my thoughts turned to a Cousin, a year older than I, who was living but twenty miles away, but with whom there had been no communication since arrival in Canada. I decided that Sunday afternoon would be a desirable time to practice a little self improvement by writing an occasional letter, and accordingly I wrote to him.

The answer that I received very much surprised me and was not at all to my liking. "Glad to hear from you. Things have gone well with me, Master trusts me with everything in the store. I have the combination of the safe. I sleep all alone over the store. Have to be up pretty early in the morning to get the first batch of bread ready for early delivery. Best of all I have been converted and have been a member of the church for a year. I keep my Bible lying on the window sill in the bakery, by the kneading trough, so that while I am waiting for the dough to rise I can have a good read in the best of books. I wonder if you are a Christian?" Perhaps it is a pity that I cannot now express the emphasis that my feelings put into my words, when I read that letter. I assured myself that I had not written to him to have him write about religion. I decided I would not continue the correspondence.

Another month went by, when I said to myself one Saturday:- "You're a coward -- afraid of a little religion. Write again -- you do not need to notice the religious part of his letter". So on Sunday afternoon I prepared a second communication. When the answer to this arrived it must have brought the "Sword of the Spirit" -- it certainly pierced as a sword. "Dear Cousin -- Since I last wrote to you we have been very busy in the shop. But I have been also keenly interested in Church matters. We held our Quarterly Meeting for Love Feast and Sacrament on the first Sunday in August. The church was crowded -- people came in from the outside country appointments for miles. It was a great service -- the testimonies were so clear and definite. There was not time for every one to speak, but I gave my testimony. We never before had so many partake of the Sacrament of our Lord's Supper. I am very happy. Do you enjoy such happiness?" That was a humble testimony from an apprentice tradesman, not written in as good English as I have now given it. As I record it, it brings tears to my eyes; at the time of receiving it, it made me mad (that is our Canadian word for expressing a very strong degree of anger), and I resolved that I would write him no more. I may say that I kept my resolve until I was able to harmonise with his sentiments.

Our Lord Jesus Christ Who dealt with Saul of Tarsus, knows how to deal with many a modern sinner. Those words:- "I am very happy. Do you enjoy such happiness?" kept rankling in my mind, day after day as I pursued my solitary way on the farm. At that time I had dropped off all prayers, morning and night, joining in the morning prayers of the family only as a matter of form. My Bible brought with me from England was used only in church on Sunday. I no longer sat with the family in the church pew, but adopted a back seat. Evidently I had drifted. It was apparent to me that there was a wide gulf between my condition and that of my deeply religious cousin. For days on the farm I went about feeling annoyed.

Then a new thing happened. This little church on the hill had been built for country people in country fashion, and had stood for many years seeming content with its ordinary, once-a-week service. In the established order of things a new minister had arrived in June. In September he had become well enough acquainted with his parish to map out for himself some aggressive work. And ordinarily he was almost the last man to attempt anything extra. There was no man in our neighbourhood so tall and heavy. Like the young people in the days of Elisha, we had nicknamed him, not quite so badly it is true, nor did we try to drive him away from us; but when the tall heavy form of Pastor Dingman was seen slowly plodding up the hill, the young people mutually said:- "Here comes the bear". I admit it was not very reverential. I have known myself to run away, slipping out of a back door when he had called at our house on his way to church, and had evidently planned a walk and too close a talk; it is remarkable how many people dislike the very things that are most for their good. When the good man visited the homes of his parishioners, he was credited with being over-tired, because he always laid himself out on the couch. Now, what God can use in the accomplishment of His purposes is strange indeed, and the wonder can only be seen after the deed is done.

On the first Sunday in September this apparently clumsy, and not over-energetic man startled his congregation by asking all and sundry if it was not desirable to attempt a "revival meeting". Two spokesmen who always led the opinion of the church, thought that a week better be allowed to consider matters. At the next service the minister again introduced the question, and the answer this time was that the farmers were very busy -- for one thing especially, the dry season had dried up the wells, and many of the farmers were obliged to go to the creek, two and three miles to draw water for their stock; this made them very late in finishing up their work. It was decided to wait another week. This time the meeting was called for Monday evening, and at this gathering it was found that the threshing machine was in the neighbourhood, and now all of the farmers were busy helping each other and would be so for some time; it would be advisable to put the matter over for say, three weeks, when there would be a new moon to light up the dark evenings.

I retired from that meeting having little confidence in the sincerity or eagerness of the men who decided matters. I had heard of revival meetings, but had never attended one, but all that I had heard about them prejudiced me against them, and I so far prized the freedom of my will that I regarded such meetings with fear lest I should be "captured" against my will; I was therefore pleased with the adjournments of the proposed effort, and I thought that nothing would come of it. But when the matter was laid over for three weeks it seemed more serious and gradually became a very personal matter. It was now the ploughing season, and as from day to day I held the plough, my thoughts I am sure must have been directed by the Holy Spirit, Who evidently, as I now see it, made use of that letter from the shop. I began with a review. Every morning as I got nicely to work with the plough the words would jump up in mind. Gradually they made themselves very troublesome; they were persistent, and they demanded a candid answer. At last I had to give an answer to the Unseen Questioner, and it was "I do not". And then came the question "If not, why not?" And this led to a personal examination, at first a fearful treading over the ground of my life, but gradually becoming more thorough and sincere, until a record of wilfulness and sins of omission stood out before me as if on tables of stone, and I was self-convicted before the record. I settled then into self-condemnation.

This sense of condemnation lasted for some days. Then came the question:- "Is there no remedy?" And in answer, my thought flew to the possibility of the revival meeting. I said to myself "I wish they would have one".

On the Monday night following the three weeks adjournment, I went as the rest of the people were doing, to church, and as I approached the church yard one of the young people laughingly said "They are going to make a good Christian of you". To which I responded:- "I hope they may -- if anybody can".

I listened with much interest that evening, and when at last the minister asked the question as he had asked it before, I almost wished I were permitted to give the answer. To my deep disappointment the spokesmen of the congregation said:- "We almost seem to be worse off than ever -- some are still busy with Fall ploughing, and others of us are drawing their wheat to market; some are going twelve miles with the load". It was decided to postpone the meetings for another week.

I went out of that meeting house not wishing to speak with anyone. I felt nothing so much as disgust. I was now convinced that the men whom I knew so well did not wish the minister to attempt the good that he wanted to do. To myself I said:-- "They will be no farther on than they have been in other weeks. It is simply a matter of finding an excuse".

As I engaged in the field work next day, the review of self once more threw itself upon my attention. "They do not want these meetings" I concluded. "They will discourage the minister; and there will be no revival. Then I shall not be a Christian".

That conclusion of the self-inflicted debate startled me. A horror of darkness for a few moments fell upon me; then there dawned a ray of hope. "Is there no other way? Can you not become a Christian even if there is no revival meeting?" so a Voice seemed to ask. And I was all alone in the field.

That week became one of intense misery. I wished to speak to no one. I could look no one in the face lest my state of mind might be revealed. My attendance at the house therefore during each day was limited to the briefest possible time in connection with meals. Day after day I grew more heavy in soul, and the hopelessness of the future loomed up before me as a thick black cloud, impassable and impenetrable. Saturday at noon arrived, and I had become desperate. It seemed that hell might open any moment and receive me.

The noon hour bell on the house rang out its call. Something impelled me with a hope as I drove my horses barnwards. I said:-- "They say there is a power in prayer, and I am going to try it". I hastened the horses to their places, and I went into another barn.

There, falling upon my knees I broke into prayer, brief but wholehearted:-- "O God have compassion upon me and forgive my sins". I needed no interpreter to unfold to me the answer which came as immediately as had been the plea. I felt the load of condemnation roll off. I arose to my feet and began to sing a hymn I had never attempted to sing out of church;-- "O happy day that fixed my choice On Thee, my Saviour and my God".

As I came out of the barn, I looked up into the sky where all seemed brightness, and I exclaimed:- "O God Thou art my Father". I was very happy. Such a complete and sudden change had taken place, and without the intervention of any human agent that I could but believe that God had done it.

Would it last? Who raised that question? I listened to it, and said:- "Better say nothing about it in the house. See if it keeps up." It has kept up for many a long day since.

On Sunday, as I sat in church, I felt that I had a secret. I sang more really and joyfully than ever before. I listened to the preaching with an interest such as I had never before had. The Bible talked to me personally. I was sure I had found something. would it stay?

The minister announced the meeting for the next evening. When the hour arrived such a congregation had assembled as I had not seen there in all the years; and into the pew where I had always sat alone since leaving the family pew, there gathered four of the young fellows of the neighbourhood, chaps of a similar age to my own, with whom I freely associated on occasion of going to and returning from church. Why they should have chosen my pew this particular night I could not tell, nor why they should have filed in after me and thereby penned me in as a sort of prisoner. The minister proceeded with the service. What he preached about I never remembered. I had made up my mind to one thing -- that if I could do anything to encourage him to go on with the revival meeting I would do it.

Apparently he took it for granted that he had the consent of all, for he did not ask consideration of the question, but proceeded with the service, and at the close of his sermon invited any who were serious minded to come to the front of the church, and kneeling at the altar railing, there were those who would pray with them. This was my opportunity. I was so afraid that no one would go, and the minister would become discouraged, and so would make no further attempt, that I was moved to respond to his invitation. Then it was that I discovered the obstacle of the boys in my pew. It seemed that they all stood back to block my way out, and I had to give them a push forward and quietly request them to let me pass. I was the only one that knelt at that railing that night. But the meeting went on for three weeks and only one of all the young people of the community failed to take the opportunity given, and enter upon an active Christian life -- just one stray sheep, too wilful to enter the fold of the Good Shepherd, who however did so some few years afterwards when he saw that all others had remained steadfast and true.

That evening after all had returned home, and I was in my bedroom I overheard a conversation between the farmer and his wife to this effect:- "How did the meeting go tonight?". "0h, there was nothing much -- a rather surprising congregation -- one went forward in answer to the minister's invitation (our boy), but I guess it was a put-up affair among the young fellows, and nothing will come of it". In my bedroom I said "Praise God, we'll see".

On my third evening in the meeting, at the front of the church the railing was full of people, and the minister requested that some one would lead in prayer. There was a lengthy pause, and then I ventured -- a venture which has never been repented. I did not know that I was making history. It was some time afterwards that the Rev Dingman asked me if I had ever before been a Christian. I can quite understand now that he must have regarded the new-born as a sort of a prodigy, so many nowadays are still-born. Perhaps I might have been more discreet if I had considered the opinions and possible conclusions of others; and it is possible that some may have been held back by reason of my forwardness, but I do not regret my promptness of response to invitation. To me the minister was the servant and mouthpiece of God, and I was so grateful to God for His manifestation within me that I was ever ready to hear and answer Him without any consideration of the thoughts or opinions of my neighbours. I acted for God and unto Him. Christ was my Lord and Master.