the boat, which made me an invalid for years. I was not a truthful child,
neither was I honest. My mother was very strict with me in many ways
and I would often tell her lies to avoid restraint or punishment. If there
was anything I wanted about the house, especially something to eat, I
would steal it, if I could. The colored servants would often ask me to
steal things for them. My nurse Betsy, would say: "Carry get me
a cup of sugar, butter, thread or needles," and many other things.
This would make me sly and dishonest. I used to go and see my aunts and
stay for months. I would open their boxes and bureau drawers and steal
ribbons and laces and make doll clothes out of them. I would steal perfumery
and would run out of the room to prevent them from smelling it.
I am telling this for a purpose. Many little children may be doing what
I did, not thinking of what a serious thing it is, and I write this to show
them how I was cured of dishonesty: I got a little book at Sunday school
and it told the way people became thieves, by beginning to take little things
naming them, and some of these were the very things I had been taking.
I was greatly shocked to see myself a thief; it had never occurred to
me that I was as bad as that. I thought one had to steal something of
great value to be a thief. My repentance was sincere, and I was made honest
by this blessed book, so much so that even after I became grown,
if any article was left in my house I would give it away, unless I could
find the owner. I was perfectly delighted when I was entirely free. I asked
for everything I wanted, even a pin. After that, I could show my doll
clothes, and it was not necessary for me to be sly or tell stories any more.
It was about this time I was converted. There was a protracted meeting
at a place called Hickman's Mill, Jackson County, Missouri. The
minister was gray haired and belonged to the Christian or Disciples
church, the one my father belonged to. I was at this time ten years
old and went with my father to church on Lord's Day morning. At
the close of the sermon, and during the invitation, my father stepped