I think it is Edgar Allan Poe who says that while a plain thing may onoccasion be told with a certain amount of elaboration of style, one thatis unusual in its very nature is best related in the simplest termspossible. I shall adopt the second of these methods in telling thisstory of my friend, Derwent Rose. And I will begin straight away withthat afternoon of the spring of last year when, with my own eyes, Ifirst saw, or fancied I saw, the beginning of the change in him.