o set any value
upon the pony, but for that reason, perhaps, I turned it to some account;
I mounted it and rode it about, which I don't think I should have done
had I looked upon it as a secure possession. Had I looked upon my title
as secure, I should have prized it so much, that I should scarcely have
mounted it for fear of injuring the animal; but now, caring not a straw
for it, I rode it most unmercifully, and soon became a capital rider.
This was very selfish in me, and I tell the fact with shame. I was
punished, however, as I deserved; the pony had a spirit of its own, and,
moreover, it had belonged to gypsies; once, as I was riding it furiously
over the lawn, applying both whip and spur, it suddenly lifted up its
heels, and flung me at least five yards over its head. I received some
desperate contusions, and was taken up for dead; it was many months
before I perfectly recovered.

'But it is time for me to come to the touching part of my story. There
was one thing that I loved better than the choicest gift which could be
bestowed upon me, better than life itself--my mother;--at length she
became unwell, and the thought that I might possibly lose her now rushed
into my mind for the first time; it was terrible, and caused me
unspeakable misery, I may say horror. My mother became worse, and I was
not allowed to enter her apartment, lest by my frantic exclamations of
grief I might aggravate her disorder. I rested neither day nor night,
but roamed about the house like one distracted. Suddenly I found myself
doing that which even at the time struck me as being highly singular; I
found myself touching particular objects that were near me, and to which
my fingers seemed to be attracted by an irresistible impulse. It was now
the table or the chair that I was compelled to touch; now the bell-rope;
now the handle of the door; now I would touch the wall, and the next
moment, stooping down, I would place the point of my finger upon the
floor: and so I continued to do day after day; frequently I would
struggle to resist the impulse, but invariably in vain. I have even
rushed away from the object, but I was sure to return, the impulse was
too strong to be resisted: I quickly hurried back, compelled by the
feeling within me to touch the object. Now I need not tell you that what
impelled me to these actions was the desire to prevent my mother's death;
whenever I touched any particular object, it was with the view of
baff