associate, who from that day forth contrived to wind himself into all my affairs, both spiritual and temporal, to this day on which I am writing the account of it. It was on the 25th day of March 1704, when I had just entered the eighteenth year of my age. Whether it behoves me to bless God for the events of that day, or to deplore them, has been hid from my discernment, though I have inquired into it with fear and trembling; and I have now lost all hopes of ever discovering the true import of these events until that day when my accounts are to make up and reckon for in another world.
When I came home, I went straight into the parlour, where my mother was sitting by herself. She started to her feet, and uttered a smothered scream.
"What ails you, Robert?" cried she. "My dear son, what is the matter with you?"
"Do you see any thing the matter with me?" said I. "It appears that the ailment is with yourself, and either in your crazed head or your dim eyes, for there is nothing the matter with me."
"Ah, Robert, you are ill!" cried she; "you are very ill, my dear boy; you are quite changed; your very voice and manner are changed. Ah,
