Aceldama

T was a windy night, that memorable seventh night of December, when this philosophy was born in me. How the grave old Professor wondered at my ravings ! I had called at his house, for he was a valued friend of mine, and I felt strange thoughts and emotions shake within me. Ah ! how I raved ! I called to him to trample me, he would not. We passed together into the stormy night. I was on horseback, how I galloped round him in my phrenzy, till he became the prey of a real physical fear ! How I shrieked out I know not what strange words ! And the poor good old man tried all he could to calm me ; he thought I was mad ! The fool ! I was in the death struggle with self : God and Satan fought for my soul those three long hours. God conquered—now I have only one doubt left—which of the twain was God ? Howbeit, I aspire ! I