God and sacred things. In this attempt to drive away serious inquiries she
succeeded, and became as thoughtless as before her conversion. Again was
the Bible laid aside, and the sickly novel and the wild romance substituted
in its place. The closet was neglected, and she loved not to retire and
commune with God. The flame of piety in her soul went out, and her
heart was dark and sad; she fearfully realized the truth of the divine
declaration, "The way of the transgressor is hard." In her diary she tells
of sleepless nights and anxious days; of the Savior wounded by her whom he
died to save; of the Spirit grieved, and almost quenched, yet lingering
around her, now reproving, now commanding, now pleading; at one time
holding up the terrors of a broken law, and then whispering in tones as
sweet and gentle as Calvary; of conscience holding up a mirror in which
she might discern the likeness of herself and contemplate her real moral
character. Thoughts of God and holiness, of Christ and Calvary, made her
gloomy and unhappy; and she entered the winding path of sin, that the
celestial light might not burst upon her. Like other sinners, she sought
happiness by forgetting what she was doing, and by an entire withdrawal
from all scenes which could awaken in her soul emotions of contrition and
repentance.

On the 28th of June, 1809, Miss Atwood listened to a discourse, which was
the instrument, in the hands of God, of again prostrating her at the foot
of the cross. Her carnal security gave way; her sins, her broken vows and
pledges, rose up before her in startling numbers; her guilt hung over her
like a dark mantle; she felt the awful pangs of remorse, and was induced to
return to that kind and compassionate Savior who had at first forgiven all
her faults. Peace was restored; the smile of God returned; and the bleeding
heart, torn and wounded by sin, had rest.

While in her fifteenth year, the subject of this sketch was called upon to