"Yes," I replied, "in churches as well as in cottages, halls and chapels too."
"I am sure Mr. —— in London preaches a full Gospel, but I have never heard of a revival there; indeed, I feel convinced they would not allow it."
"Is he converted?" I asked.
She smiled at the question, and said, "I suppose he is."
"I mean, does he preach about the forgiveness of sins? and, more than this, does he expect people to have forgiveness?"
She said she could not understand my Cornish way of talking—"They do not speak like that in London."
"Your sins are pardoned," I said, by way of explanation, in order to get her to comprehend my meaning from her own experience. "Your sins are pardoned." She got very confused. "You know," I continued, "that it is a happy day when Jesus takes our sins away." This only made matters worse. She became greatly embarrassed. While we spoke of London and Gospel preaching she was free enough; but the moment I made a personal application of the subject, she was altogether bewildered.
At last, with a kind of forced effort, she said, "I have been a child of
God for eleven years."
"Thank God!" I said, much relieved; "that is what I mean. You have been converted and pardoned for eleven years. It is all right, then. I did not intend to perplex you, and am sorry I did not convey ray meaning in a better manner."
But I could not smooth down her ruffled feathers so easily, and was glad when the five minutes' bell began ringing to summon us to church. We got ready, and went. It happened to be a children's service, and our subject that afternoon was Joseph's reconciliation with his brethren. Three questions, among others, were asked and dwelt upon.