Jan. 17th, 1887, Ansel Bourne, an evangelist, left his home in Rhode Island, and, after transacting some business in Providence, one item of which was to draw some money to pay for a farm for which he had bargained, he went to Boston, then to New York, then to Philadelphia, and, finally, to Norristown, Penn., fifteen or twenty miles from Philadelphia, where he opened a small store for the sale of stationery, confectionery, and five-cent articles. In this business he was known as A. J. Brown. He lived in a room partitioned off from the back of the store, eating, sleeping, and doing his own cooking there. He rented the store from a Mr. Earl, who also, with his family, lived in the building. Mr. Brown went back and forth to Philadelphia for goods to keep up his stock, and seems to have conducted his business as if accustomed to it. Sunday, March 13th, he went to church, and at night went to bed as usual. On Monday, March 14th, about 5 o'clock in the morning, he awoke and found himself in what appeared to him an altogether new and strange place; he thought he must have broken into the place, and was much troubled, fearing arrest. Finally, after waiting two hours in great uneasiness of mind, he got up and found the door locked on the inside. He went out into the hall, and, hearing some one moving about, he rapped at the door. Mr. Earl, his landlord, opened it, and said: "Good-morning, Mr. Brown." "Where am I?" said Mr. Brown. "You are all right," replied Mr. Earl. "I'm all wrong, and my name is not Brown. Where am I?" "You are in Norristown." "Where is Norristown?" "In Pennsylvania, about seventeen miles west of Philadelphia." "What day of the month is it?" inquired Mr. Brown. "The 14th," replied Mr. Earl. "Does time run backward here? When I left home it was the 17th." "Seventeenth of what?" said Mr. Earl. "Seventeenth of January." "Now it is the 14th of March," said Mr. Earl. Mr. Earl thought Mr. Brown was out of his mind, and sent for a physician. To the doctor he said his name was Ansel Bourne; that he remembered seeing the Adams Express wagons on Dorrance Street in Providence on Jan. 17th, and remembered nothing since, until he awoke here this morning, March 14th. "These people," said he, "tell me that I have been here six weeks, and have been living with them all this time; I have no recollection of ever having seen one of them, until this morning." His nephew, Mr. H., was telegraphed to in Providence. "Do you know Ansel Bourne?" Reply: "He is my uncle; wire me where he is, and if well." Mr. H., went on to Norristown, took charge of his uncle and his affairs, sold out his store property, and Mr. A. J. Brown went back and resumed his life in Rhode Island as Ansel Bourne, but the time from Jan. 17th to March 14th was to him a blank.