I was in the broad road leading to destruction, like many other children in the parish; and the Lord saw me, and had mercy upon me." "Yes, my child, you were always a good girl, and minded your book." "No, mother, no; not always.

I cared nothing about goodness, nor my Bible, till the minister came and sent for us, as you know, on Saturday afternoons.

Don't you remember, mother, that at first you did not like me to go, and said you would have no such _godly_, _pious_ doings about _your_ house; and that I had better play about the streets and fields, than be laughed at and be made game of for pretending to be so good?
Ah, mother, you did not know what I went for, and what God designed for me and my poor sinful soul! But, thank God, I did go, and there learned the way of salvation.

Mother, I wish you had learned too." As I listened to this affecting conversation, it appeared to me, from the tone and manner of the mother's voice, that she was more under the influence of temporary grief, on account of her child's extreme illness, than sincere sorrow from any real sense of her sins.

I however hoped the best, and rejoiced to hear such weighty and important exhortation dropping from her daughter's lips.