I was raised by as good a Christian mother as a boy ever had. I was taught to believe the Bible fully, and did believe it, in my limited understanding of it, until I found myself drifting about the world and coming in contact with many representatives of different religious sects. I heard them saying "Lo, here," and "Lo, there," until I found myself upon the sea of scepticism. I pined under uncertainty, and began a study to ascertain, if possible, the cause of disagreement and at the same time try to find which was true. I watched and listened to the Salvation Army workers, and exclaimed, "What enthusiasm!" I listened to lectures and read books by Ingersoll and said, "What wonderful talent!" I read sermons by Cardinal Gibbons,—in fact, everything by everybody I could hear of, and gradually became more bewildered, and drifted farther from faith in any of them.
Finally, while traveling in Pennsylvania, I became afflicted by a malady pronounced seldom curable, and placed myself under treatment of one of the best physicians in Williamsport, Pa. I scarcely got relief until another "claim" manifested itself, and still another, until I could barely reach home, had almost entirely lost my voice, and was completely worn out and broken down.
My physician told me I could make up my mind to take his medicine for at least eighteen months, if he got me out of it at all, but I came to the point where I fully expected to continue growing worse, until I should finally die, and in this state of mind and body I passed six weeks, and my case seemed to become more complicated every week.
