turn I hurried away northward in a sort of anguish
of terror. I have said I was an uncommon person. I am. I am sensitive,
too. My mind is much above the average, but unless I am warm and well
fed it does not act well, and I make mistakes. At that time I was
half frozen, in need of food, and absurdly scared. Then that old fool
squirming on the floor got on to my nerves. I went on and on, and at
last into Second street, until I came to Christ Church, of all places
for me. I heard the sound of the organ in the afternoon service. I felt
I must go in and get warm. Here was another silly notion: I was afraid
of hotels, but not of the church. I reasoned vaguely that it was a dark
day, and darker in the church, and so I went in at the Church Alley
entrance and sat near the north door. No one noticed me. I sat still in
a high-backed pew, well hid, and wondering what was the matter with me.
It was curious that a doctor, and a man of my intelligence, should have
been long in guessing a thing so simple.

For two months I had been drinking hard, and for two days had quit,
being a man capable of great self-control, and also being short of
money. Just before the benediction I saw a man near by who seemed to
stare at me. In deadly fear I got up and quickly slipped through a
door into the tower room. I said to myself, "He will follow me or wait
outside." I stood a moment with my head all of a whirl, and then in
a shiver of fear ran up the stairs to the tower until I got into the
bell-ringer's room. I was safe. I sat down on a stool, twitching and
tremulous. There were the old books on bell-ringing, and the miniature
chime of small bells for instruction. The wind had easy entrance, and it
swung the eight ropes about in a way I did not like. I remember saying,
"Oh, don't do that." At last I had a mad desire to ring one of the
bells. As a loop of rope swung toward me it seemed to hold a face, and
this face cried out, "Come and hang yourself; then the bell will ring."

If I slept I do not know. I may have done so. Certainly I must have
stayed there many hours. I was dull and confused, and yet on my guard,
for when far into the night I heard noises below, I ran up the steeper
steps which ascend to the steeple, where are the bells. Half-way up I
sat down on the stair. The place was cold and the darkness deep. Then I
heard the eight ringers down below. One said: "Never knowed a Christmas
like this since Zeb Sanderaft died. Come, boys!" I knew