When I reached
the chapel where I had to assist the chaplain I was exhausted
with rage, pain, fear, and religious mania. I thought it probable
I had offended the Holy Ghost. When, next Sunday, I went to try
my hand at Sunday-school teaching I wore a pair of boots so old
that the little boys laughed. I was always talking of my
conversion and the spirit of our Saviour. I do not know what the
clergymen I met thought of me. I thought I should like to be a
minister myself, and questioned a Church of England parson as to
the amount of study necessary. He received my question rather
coldly, I thought, which discouraged me. As my dread gradually
diminished, though I still felt strange, I made excuses for not
conducting services, although I continued to read my Bible and
prayer-book, and really believed I had been 'born again.'
"Surely now, I thought, that I had Christ's aid, I shall be able
to break off my habit of self-abuse that had been the curse of my
youth. What was my horror and dismay to find that, when the mood
came on me next, I went down the same as ever. And after all my
suffering and dread and fear of fits! What could I do? Was I mad,
or what? I was really frightened at my helplessness in the matter
and decided on a course of conduct that ultimately brought me
past this danger to better health and comparative happiness.
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