was the prey of this fear ineffable. Of this fear it was evident that there must be a physical basis in the consti- tution of his brain and body. All the other phenomena had been shown to correspond exactly with a physical condition; it was the reflection in a consciousness from which human limitation had fallen away of things actu- ally taking place in the body. It was a false interpretation perhaps; but it was his interpretation; and it was that which caused suffering so beyond all that poets have ever dreamt of the infernal. I am ashamed to say that my first thought was of the Catholic Church and its masses for the repose of the dead. I went to the Cathedral, revolving as I went all that had ever been said—the superstitions of a hundred savage tribes. At bottom I could find no difference be- tween their barbarous rites and those of Christianity. However that might be, I was baffled. The priests refused to pray for the soul of a heretic. I hurried back to the house, resumed my vigil. There was no change, except a deepening of the fear, an in- tensification of the loneliness, a more utter absorption in the shame. I could but hope that in the ultimate stagna- tion of all vital forces, death would become final, hell merged into annihilation. This started a train of thought which ended in a de- termination to hasten the process. I thought of blowing out the brains, remembered that I had no means of do- ing so. I thought of freezing the body, imagined a story for the nurse, reflected that no cold could excite in his soul aught icier than that illimitable void of black. I thought of telling the doctor that he had wished to bequeath his body to the surgeons, that he had been afraid of being buried alive, anything that might induce him to remove the brain. At that moment I looked into the mirror, I saw that I must not speak. My hair was white, my face drawn, my eyes wild and bloodshot. In utter helplessness and misery I flung myself on the couch in the study, and puffed greedily at cigarettes.