eep, 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.

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,