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
wa