and now I could no longer repress cries—­the horror was too great to be borne.  What should I do? run to the nearest town or village, and request the assistance of my fellow-men?  No! that I was ashamed to do; notwithstanding the horror was upon me, I was ashamed to do that.  I knew they would consider me a maniac, if I went screaming amongst them; and I did not wish to be considered a maniac.  Moreover, I knew that I was not a maniac, for I possessed all my reasoning powers, only the horror was upon me—­the screaming horror!  But how were indifferent people to distinguish between madness and the screaming horror?  So I thought and reasoned; and at last I determined not to go amongst my fellow-men, whatever the result might be.  I went to the mouth of the dingle, and there, placing myself on my knees, I again said the Lord’s Prayer; but it was of no use—­praying seemed to have no effect over the horror; the unutterable fear appeared rather to increase than diminish, and I again uttered wild cries, so loud that I was apprehensive they would be heard by some chance passenger on the neighbouring road; I therefore went deeper into the dingle.  I sat down with my back against a thorn bush; the thorns entered my flesh, and when I felt them, I pressed harder against the bush; I thought the pain of the flesh might in some degree counteract the mental agony; presently I felt them no longer—­the power of the mental horror was so great that it was impossible, with that upon me, to feel any pain from the thorns.  I continued in this posture a long time, undergoing what I cannot describe, and would not attempt if I were able.  Several times I was on the point of starting up and rushing anywhere; but I restrained myself, for I knew I could not escape from myself, so why should I not remain in the dingle?  So I thought and said to myself, for my reasoning powers were still uninjured.  At last it appeared to me that the horror was not so strong, not quite so strong, upon me.  Was it possible that it was relaxing its grasp, releasing its prey?  Oh what a mercy! but it could not be; and yet—­I looked up to heaven, and clasped my hands, and said, ‘Our Father.’  I said no more—­I was too agitated; and now I was almost sure that the horror had done its worst.

{picture:I knelt down under the hedge and said, ‘Our Father’; but that was of no use:  page472.jpg}

After a little time I arose, and staggered down yet farther into the dingle.  I again found my little horse on the same spot as before.  I put my hand to his mouth—­he licked my hand.  I flung myself down by him, and put my arms round his neck; the creature whinnied, and appeared to sympathise with me.  What a comfort to have any one, even a dumb brute, to sympathise with me at such a moment!  I clung to my little horse, as if for safety and protection.  I laid my head on his neck, and felt almost calm.  Presently the fear returned, but not so wild as before; it subsided, came again, again subsided; then drowsiness came over me, and at last I fell asleep, my head supported on the neck of the little horse.  I awoke; it was dark, dark night—­not a star was to be seen—­but I felt no fear, the horror had left me.  I arose from the side of the little horse, and went into my tent, lay down, and again went to sleep.