I, Jonathan Harker, lawyers clerk, articles to Peter Hawkins, Esquire, of Exeter, England, am writing this journal in the hope that if misfortune overtakes me, it may one day come to the eyes of those who love me.

The road was rough, but still we seemed to fly over it with feverish haste. When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement among the passengers.

The wind was rising, moaning and whistling through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along.