That  winter  we  had  revival  services  id  the  old
Methodist  dmrch  at  Evanston.  Doctor  (afterward
Bishop)  Foster  was  jMesadent  ci  the  oniversity,  and
his  wt  nmmts,  with  those  of  Doctcxs  Dempster,
Bannister,  and  others,  deeply  stined  my  heart.  I
had  oanvalesced  slowly  and  spent  several  weds  at
Forest  Home,  so  these  meetings  seemed  to  be  my
first  pohfic  opportonity  of  dedaiing  my  new  alle-
gtaiMy-  The  very  earliest  invitation  to  go  forward,
kneel  at  the  ahar,  and  be  prayed  for  was  heeded  bv
me.  Waiting  far  no  one,  ooonseiing  with  no  or^  r.  I
went  alone  akmg  the  aisle  with  my  heart  beating  so
ImmI  that  I  thooglit  I  ooold  see  as  well  as  hear  it  beat
as  I  moiled  forward.  One  of  the  most  timid,  shrink-
n^  and  seiiMtifc^  of  natnres,  what  it  meant  to  me  to
go  forward  thus,  with  my  student  friends  gazing
^lOB  me,  can  never  be  fxdd.  I  had  been  known  as
"skeptical,''  and  prayers  (of  which  I  then  spoke
fi^ftly)  had  been  asked  for  me  in  the  church  the
year  before.  For  foorteen  nights  in  soooessicm  I
thas  knelt  at  the  altar,  expecting  some  otter  trans-


RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT  47

formation  —  some  portion  of  heaven  to  be  placed
in  my  inmost  heart,  as  I  have  seen  the  box  of  valu-
ables placed  in  the  corner-stone  of  a  building  and
firmly  set,  plastered  over,  and  fixed  in  its  place  for-
ever. This  is  what  I  had  determined  must  be  done,
and  was  loath  to  give  it  up.  I  prayed  and  agonized,
but  what  I  sought  did  not  occur.
