“1693 gave me one more brief respite from my penance, but it was again abortive, not bringing any kindly _accident_ for my release. I was again revivified at midnight, a most inappropriate time, as you will allow, for one to carry out any important business, such as the release of a man from centuries of purgatory. During my weary imprisonment I heard all the news of the period from the gossip of those who chose to chatter just beneath me; I knew what king reigned, what battles were fought; all the grand events that took place in England, and even all the local scandal; but nothing I heard or saw gave me the slightest interest. I was dumb but could hear; hear and understand all that was said; but not a ray of hope ever came to me in the way of a plot to blow up the church, although I heard many plots to demolish the State. “Now and again an aimless stone struck one or other of the saints around me and fractured him or her, but never a one gave me a kindly blow, although my broad face and tonsured head gave a splendid target at which a school urchin might have been pleased to try his skill; but none ever did. “On the night of my third revival a terrible storm was raging; the lightning was flashing most vividly around the old church, and I longed for a bolt to strike me; but I appeared to bear a charmed existence, even in the flesh, for although I sat with my back to the lightning-conductor which came down from the tower, not a spark of the current touched me, although it toppled over the upper portion of the spire, and hurled it in shivered atoms at my feet; not a stone from the falling mass touched me, though I had designedly placed myself in the way of danger. I sat on a gravestone and pondered what I should do, but could think of nothing in the way of accident that could befriend me. “As I sat thus, two soldiers passed by along the road, and one, on perceiving me, stopped suddenly and clutched his comrade’s arm in terror, pointing his finger tremblingly at me. “They took me for a ghost. “Here was my chance. If they would only fire at me, and kill me, I should be absolved from my penance. “They challenged me, but I answered never a word. “Again they hailed. “‘Who are you? speak, or we will fire.’ “I stood upon tiptoe and faced them, making a weird sound with my lips that they might take me for something unearthly, and, if they had the courage, fire upon me. “One man raised his flintlock and fired deliberately at me, and the bullet actually shore off a lock from my temple, which blew away among the rank wet grass. “He looked surprised as I gave a loud, hollow ‘ha! ha!’ as apparitions and goblins are supposed to do; upon which he turned and fled, leaving his more courageous comrade to face me alone. He was a noble, brave fellow, and I blessed him as he knelt by the churchyard wall, upon the top of which he rested his gun and took deliberate aim at my breast.