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Table of contents
PREFACE
TOUCH-1
TOUCH-2
TOUCH-3 (begin)
TOUCH-3 (end)
TOUCH-4 (begin)
TOUCH-4 (end)
SMELL-1
SMELL-2
SMELL-3.1
SMELL-3.2
SMELL-3.3
SMELL-3.4
SMELL-3.5
SMELL-4 (begin)
SMELL-4 (end)
SMELL-5
HEARING-1
HEARING-2
HEARING-3
VISION-1.1
VISION-1.2
VISION-1.3
VISION-2.1
VISION-2.2
VISION-2.3
VISION-2.4
VISION-3
VISION-4
VISION-5
APPENDIX A
APPENDIX B HISTORY-1
APPENDIX B HISTORY-2.1
APPENDIX B HISTORY-2.2
APPENDIX B HISTORY-2.3
APPENDIX B HISTORY-3.1
APPENDIX B HISTORY-3.2
INDEX OF AUTHORS

but still went to church, hoping the grace of God would descend 

on me. I had no other resources. I had no pleasure in life, and 

was so shattered and in such misery of dread that I welcomed the 

only refuge that seemed open to me. At last, one Sunday, I had 

what I thought was a call; I shed a few tears, and although 

tingling all down my spine I went up in the cathedral and joined 

those who were going to be confirmed. I attended special meetings 

and shocked the good bishop very much by telling him I had never 

been baptized. I had to be baptized first and went one day to the 

cathedral and he baptized me. When the critical awful moment came 

the bishop, whose faith even then surprised me somehow, held my 

hand in his cold palm, and gave it a pressure, eyeing me, 

expectantly, inquisitively, to see any change for the better. 

But, it so happened, that morning I was in a horrible temper and 

black mood, hard and dry-eyed, and no change came. Still, I tried 

to believe there was a change. 

 

"I was confirmed with others, had a prayer-book given me with 

prayers for nearly every hour in the day, and was always kneeling 

and praying. I procured a long, white surplice, and assisted at 

suburban services, even conducting small ones myself, reading the 

sermons out of books. But my mood of rage increased, and one 

Sunday I had to walk a long way in a new pair of boots. I shall 

never forget that hot Sunday afternoon. My feet commenced to ache 

and a murderous humor seized me. I swore and blasphemed one 

moment and prayed to God to forgive me the next. When I reached 

the chapel where I had to assist the chaplain I was exhausted 

with rage, pain, fear, and religious mania. I thought it probable 

I had offended the Holy Ghost. When, next Sunday, I went to try 

my hand at Sunday-school teaching I wore a pair of boots so old 

that the little boys laughed. I was always talking of my 

conversion and the spirit of our Saviour. I do not know what the 

clergymen I met thought of me. I thought I should like to be a 

minister myself, and questioned a Church of England parson as to 

the amount of study necessary. He received my question rather 

coldly, I thought, which discouraged me. As my dread gradually 

diminished, though I still felt strange, I made excuses for not 

conducting services, although I continued to read my Bible and 

prayer-book, and really believed I had been 'born again.' 

 

"Surely now, I thought, that I had Christ's aid, I shall be able 

to break off my habit of self-abuse that had been the curse of my 

youth. What was my horror and dismay to find that, when the mood 

came on me next, I went down the same as ever. And after all my 

suffering and dread and fear of fits! What could I do? Was I mad, 

or what? I was really frightened at my helplessness in the matter 


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