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I carried the letter to the post-office myself, and waited till I
saw it started on its long journey. I stood watching the carrier
till he turned the corner; then went back to my work.
To that work there had been added a fresh spur just when I was at
last free from all trammels. The other strongest of human emotions
had been stirred within me. In a Methodist revival--it was in
the old Eighteenth Street Church--I had fallen under the spell of
the preacher's fiery eloquence. Brother Simmons was of the old
circuit-riders' stock, albeit their day was long past in our staid
community. He had all their power, for the spirit burned within
him; and he brought me to the altar quickly, though in my own case
conversion refused to work the prescribed amount of agony. Perhaps
it was because I had heard Mr. Beecher question the correctness of
the prescription. When a man travelling in the road found out, he
said, that he had gone wrong, he did not usually roll in the dust
and agonize over his mistake; he just turned around and went the
other way.


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