time in my life that I had never slept in a bed, but on a pallet of
straw. My bed covering was composed of old gunny sacks sewed together;
and automatically, when I took my clothes off, I made a pillow of
them. Many a night I had been kept awake by the gnawing pangs of
hunger; but this night I was kept awake for a different reason. It was
an indescribable ecstasy, a new-born joy. As I lay there with my head
about a foot from the thatched roof, I hummed over and over again the
two lines of the hymn, sometimes breaking the continuity in giving way
to tears.

The second revelation came to me the following morning. I realized the
condition of my body. I was in rags and dirty. I shook my mother out
of her slumber and begged her to help me sew up the rents in my
clothes. I had no shoes, but I carefully washed my feet, combed my
tousled, unkempt hair, and took great pains in the washing of my face.
All of this was a mystery to my mother. She wanted to know what had
happened to me, and a very unusual thing ended the preparations for
the day. My mother said I looked "purty," and kissed me as I went out
of the door.

As I walked up the street that morning, I shared my joy with the first
living thing I met--the saloon-keeper's old dog, Rover. I shook his
paw and said, "Morrow, Rover." Everything looked beautiful. The world
was full of joy. I was perfectly sure that the birds were sharing it,
for they sang that morning as I had never heard them sing before. I
resolved to let at least one person into the secret. I was sure that
my sister would understand me. She used to visit me every noon hour,
on the pretence of bringing my dinner. We had a secret compact that,
whether there was any dinner to bring or not, she should come with a
bowl wrapped in a piece of cloth, as was the custom with other men's