months afterwards, was a reformed character. Indeed, the pendulum of
my conscience swung too far the other way, and I grew exaggeratedly
remorseful and unhealthily moral.

There was published in those days, for the edification of young
people, a singularly pessimistic periodical, entitled The Children's
Band of Hope Review. It was a magazine much in favour among grown-up
people, and a bound copy of Vol. IX. had lately been won by my sister
as a prize for punctuality (I fancy she must have exhausted all the
virtue she ever possessed, in that direction, upon the winning of
that prize. At all events, I have noticed no ostentatious display of
the quality in her later life.) I had formerly expressed contempt
for this book, but now, in my regenerate state, I took a morbid
pleasure in poring over its denunciations of sin and sinners. There
was one picture in it that appeared peculiarly applicable to myself.
It represented a gaudily costumed young man, standing on the topmost
of three steep steps, smoking a large cigar. Behind him was a very
small church, and below, a bright and not altogether uninviting
looking hell. The picture was headed "The Three Steps to Ruin," and
the three stairs were labelled respectively "Smoking," "Drinking,"
"Gambling." I had already travelled two-thirds of the road! Was I
going all the way, or should I be able to retrace those steps? I
used to lie awake at night and think about it till I grew half crazy.
Alas! since then I have completed the descent, so where my future
will be spent I do not care to think.

Another picture in the book that troubled me was the frontispiece.
This was a highly-coloured print, illustrating the broad and narrow
ways. The narrow way led upward past a Sunday-school and a lion to a
city in the clouds. This city was referred to in the accompanying