I awoke in the morning weak and sore, and shuddering at the remembrance of what I had gone through on the preceding day; the sun was shining brightly, but it had not yet risen high enough to show its head above the trees which fenced the eastern side of the dingle, on which account the dingle was wet and dank from the dews of the night.  I kindled my fire, and, after sitting by it for some time to warm my frame, I took some of the coarse food which I have already mentioned; notwithstanding my late struggle, and the coarseness of the fare, I ate with appetite.  My provisions had by this time been very much diminished, and I saw that it would be speedily necessary, in the event of my continuing to reside in the dingle, to lay in a fresh store.  After my meal, I went to the pit and filled a can with water, which I brought to the dingle, and then again sat down on my stone.  I considered what I should next do:  it was necessary to do something, or my life in this solitude would be insupportable.  What should I do? rouse up my forge and fashion a horse-shoe?  But I wanted nerve and heart for such an employment; moreover, I had no motive for fatiguing myself in this manner; my own horse was shod, no other was at hand, and it is hard to work for the sake of working.  What should I do? read?  Yes, but I had no other book than the Bible which the Welsh Methodist had given me.  Well, why not read the Bible?  I was once fond of reading the Bible; ay, but those days were long gone by.  However, I did not see what else I could well do on the present occasion—­so I determined to read the Bible—­it was in Welsh; at any rate it might amuse me.  So I took the Bible out of the sack, in which it was lying in the cart, and began to read at the place where I chanced to open it.  I opened it at that part where the history of Saul commences.  At first I read with indifference, but after some time my attention was riveted, and no wonder, I had come to the visitations of Saul—­those dark moments of his, when he did and said such unaccountable things; it almost appeared to me that I was reading of myself; I, too, had my visitations, dark as ever his were.  Oh, how I sympathised 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 sympathised 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