to me that I was reading of myself; I, too, had my visitations, dark as ever his were.  O, how I sympathized with Saul, the tall dark man!  I had read his life before, but it had made no impression on me; it had never occurred to me that I was like him, but I now sympathized with Saul, for my own dark hour was but recently passed, and, perhaps, would soon return again; the dark hour came frequently on Saul.

Time wore away; I finished the book of Saul, and, closing the volume, returned it to its place.  I then returned to my seat on the stone, and thought of what I had read, and what I had lately undergone.  All at once I thought I felt well-known sensations—­a cramping of the breast, and a tingling of the soles of the feet—­they were what I had felt on the preceding day; they were the forerunners of the fear.  I sat motionless on my stone; the sensations passed away, and the fear came not.  Darkness was now coming again over the earth; the dingle was again in deep shade.  I roused the fire with the breath of the bellows, and sat looking at the cheerful glow; it was cheering and comforting.  My little horse came now and lay down on the ground beside the forge; I was not quite deserted.  I again ate some of the coarse food, and drank plentifully of the water which I had fetched in the morning.  I then put fresh fuel on the fire, and sat for a long time looking on the blaze; I then went into my tent.

I awoke, on my own calculation, about midnight—­it was pitch dark, and there was much fear upon me.

CHAPTER IV.—­A CLASSICAL ENCOUNTER—­LONG MELFORD TO THE RESCUE.

Two mornings after the period to which I have brought the reader in the preceding chapter, I sat by my fire at the bottom of the dingle.  I had just breakfasted, and had finished the last morsel of food which I had brought with me to that solitude.

“What shall I now do?” said I to myself:  “shall I continue here, or decamp?  This is a sad lonely spot—­perhaps I had better quit it; but whither should I go? the wide world is before me, but what can I do therein?  I have been in the world already without much success.  No, I had better remain here; the place is lonely, it is true, but here I am free and independent, and can do what I please; but I can’t remain here without food.  Well, I will find my way to the nearest town, lay in a fresh supply of provision, and come back, turning my back upon the world, which has turned its back upon me.  I don’t see why I should not write a little sometimes; I have pens and an ink-horn, and for a writing-desk I can place the Bible on my knee.  I shouldn’t wonder if I could write a capital satire on the world on the back of that Bible; but first of all I must think of supplying myself with food.”