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My Father gazed from the pulpit and the stream of exhortation withered on his lips。 No one in the body of the audience stirred； no one but himself had clearly seen what had happened。 Vague rows of 'saints' with gaping countenances stared up at him； while he shouted； 'Will nobody stop them？ as we whisked out through the doorway。 Forth into the moist night we went； and up the lampless village； where； a few minutes later； the swiftest of the congregation； with my Father at their head； found us sitting on the doorstep of the butcher's shop。 My captor was now quite quiet； and made no objection to my quitting her；'without a single kiss or a goodbye'； as the poet says。
Although I had scarcely felt frightened at the time； doubtless my nerves were shaken by this escapade； and it may have had something to do with the recurrence of the distressing visions from which I had suffered as a very little child。 These came back； with a force and expansion due to my increased maturity。 I had hardly laid my head down on the pillow； than； as it seemed to me； I was taking part in a mad gallop through space。 Some force； which had tight hold of me； so that I felt myself an atom in its grasp； was hurrying me on over an endless slender bridge； under which on either side a loud torrent rushed at a vertiginous depth below。 At first our helpless flight；for I was bound hand and foot like Mazeppa；proceeded in a straight line； but presently it began to curve； and we raced and roared along； in what gradually became a monstrous vortex； reverberant with noises； loud with light； while； as we proceeded； enormous concentric circles engulfed us； and wheeled above and about us。 It seemed as if we；I； that is； and the undefined force which carried me； were pushing feverishly on towards a goal which our whole concentrated energies were bent on reaching； but which a frenzied despair in my heart told me we never could reach； yet the attainment of which alone could save us from destruction。 Far away； in the pulsation of the great luminous whorls； I could just see that goal； a ruby…coloured point waxing and waning； and it bore； or to be exact it consisted of the letters of the word CARMINE。
This agitating vision recurred night after night； and filled me with inexpressible distress。 The details of it altered very little； and I knew what I had to expect when I crept into bed。 I knew that for a few minutes I should be battling with the chill of the linen sheets； and trying to keep awake； but that then； without a pause； I should slip into that terrible realm of storm and stress in which I was bound hand and foot； and sent galloping through infinity。 Often have I wakened； with unutterable joy； to find my Father and Miss Marks； whom my screams had disturbed； standing one on each side of my bed。 They could release me from my nightmare； which seldom assailed me twice a night but how to preserve me from its original attack passed their understanding。 My Father； in his tenderness； thought to exorcize the demon by prayer。 He would appear in the bedroom； just as I was first slipping into bed； and he would kneel at my side。 The light from a candle on the mantel…shelf streamed down upon his dark head of hair while his face was buried in the coverlid； from which a loud voice came up； a little muffled； begging that I might be preserved against all the evil spirits that walk in darkness and that the deep might not swallow me up。
This little ceremony gave a distraction to my thoughts； and may have been useful in that way。 But it led to an unfortunate circumstance。 My Father began to enjoy these orisons at my bedside； and to prolong them。 Perhaps they lasted a little too long； but I contrived to keep awake through them； sometimes by a great effort。 On one unhappy night； however； I gave even worse offense than slumber would have given。 My Father was praying aloud； in the attitude I have described； and I was half sitting； half lying in bed； with the clothes sloping from my chin。 Suddenly a rather large insect dark and flat； with more legs than a self…respecting insect ought to need appeared at the bottom of the counterpane； and slowly advanced。 I think it was nothing worse than a beetle。 It walked successfully past my Father's sleek black ball of a head； and climbed straight up at me； nearer； nearer； until it seemed all a twinkle of horns and joints。 I bore it in silent fascination until it almost tickled my chin； and then I screamed 'Papa！ Papa！' My Father rose in great dudgeon； removed the insect （what were insects to him！） and then gave me a tremendous lecture。
The sense of desperation which this incident produced I shall not easily forget。 Life seemed really to be very harassing when to visions within and beetles without there was joined the consciousness of having grievously offended God by an act of disrespect。 It is difficult for me to justify to myself the violent jobation which my Father gave me in consequence of my scream； except by attributing to him something of the human weakness of vanity。 I cannot help thinking that he liked to hear himself speak to God in the presence of an admiring listener。 He prayed with fervour and animation； in pure Johnsonian English； and I hope I am not undutiful if I add my impression that he was not displeased with the sound of his own devotions。 My cry for help had needlessly； as he thought； broken in upon this holy and seemly performance。 'You； the child of a naturalist；' he remarked in awesome tones； 'you to pretend to feel terror at the advance of an insect？' It could but be a pretext； he declared； for avoiding the testimony of faith in prayer。 'If your heart were fixed； if it panted after the Lord； it would take more than the movements of a beetle to make you disturb oral supplication at His footstool。 Beware！ for God is a jealous God and He consumes them in wrath who make a noise like a dog。'
My Father took at all times a singular pleasure in repeating that 'our God is a jealous God'。 He liked the word； which I suppose he used in an antiquated sense。 He was accustomed to tell the 'saints' at the Room；in a very genial manner； and smiling at them as he said it；'I am jealous over you； my beloved brothers and sisters； with a godly jealousy。' I know that this was interpreted by some of the saints；for I heard Mary Grace say so to Miss Marksas meaning that my Father was resentful because some of them attended the service at the Wesleyan chapel on Thursday evenings。 But my Father was utterly incapable of such littleness as this； and when he talked of 'jealousy' he meant a lofty solicitude； a careful watchfulness。 He meant that their spiritual honour was a matter of anxiety to him。 No doubt when he used to tell me to remember that our God is a jealous God； he meant that my sins and shortcomings were not matters of indifference to the Divine Being。 But I think； looking back； that it was very extraordinary for a man； so instructed and so intelligent as he； to dwell so much on the possible anger of the Lord； rather than on his pity and love。 The theory of extreme Puritanism can surely offer no quainter example of its fallacy than this idea that the omnipotent Jehovahcould be seriously offended； and could stoop to revenge； because a little； nervou