examine my body, which I fancy is lying inanimate in an adjoining room. One of them says in French: Il est mort, il est bien mort. The other also, in French: Le pouls bat-il encore? Voyons. Oui. Alors il n'est pas mort. Non, non, il n'est pas mort.

They carry me away, and another scene offers itself to my eyes. The mother and my ex-servant are gone; they are superseded on the tragic theatre by the sister and brother; the latter leading the little girl by the arm, and the former holding the infant. She is looking for the knife used against me.

She finds

it on the edge of a small well opposite the door. It was to be thrown into the water, but in the precipitation of her flight, my servant has missed her aim. I see (for you have not forgotten, Monsieur le Docteur, that my eyes are wide open) the sister stab the poor infant, and, to stifle his cries, she, with a curse, tears his tongue off and throws him into the well. The little girl is also got rid of because she cries that they have killed Mr. D. and her cousin. I am so well awakened that I relate to the night-nurse particulars after particulars, as they are taking place. My sense of hearing acquires, on this night, such a degree of quickness that I hear every quarter of an hour striking by the town-clock, and every time I say, It is half-past two, it is a quarter to three, &c. . . . . For me there are very audible sounds which are hardly perceptible by others.

A few minutes after, when I think they have all escaped, here comes the dummy's mother to fetch water; she discovers the infant's body, and cries out, Murder! The sister makes her appearance again. The woman accuses her of murder; a struggle ensues, the result of which is that the woman is strangled.

Then I hear a confused noise produced by voices and the sound of heavy steps. It is the police. They have arrested the murderers, and bring them back. I see every one of them. There is the mother, there are the three others, handcuffed, and closely watched by the officers, who are armed with carbines, and have received the order of firing, should the prisoners attempt to escape. Now, too, the body of the woman is discovered, and I hear several voices say: This is really a cursed place: the house of murder.

Again the scene changes. I feel some one in my bed, who speaks to me. He says that he is my good genius; he has come to protect me from the wicked; but I must be truly repentant. I therefore pray for a long time in a low voice, until I fall asleep from exhaustion. My slumber is very short and agitated. I awake before daybreak. Now the scene of the night is continued. I hear criers in the street announce that the family, convicted of murder on the persons of have been sentenced to

death, and are to be executed on the same day. It seems to me that I am under a strange sky. The fog is very thick. I hear nothing but the cries of sinister animals, such as wolves, dogs, and the shrieks of geese, the croaking of frogs, mixed with the monotonous voice of the criers. I again fall into unconsciousness until it is light. I have been very restless, but not so noisy as to prevent the other patients from sleeping. The nurse alone knows what my imagination has seen.

On awaking, my eyes wander from one object to another, and remain fixed on many pieces of wood, used by the doctors in their surgical operations, and which lie topsy-turvy on a press in a corner of the room. I first shrink from the sight, for now the top of the press is occupied by living beings: here are the mother and my servant again; then, on their rear, the sister and the brother. But in what state? My good genius tells me that such is the visitation of God on great criminals. The mother has a cadaverous face; her eyes are sightless and white; her hair has assumed the colour of flax; the rest of her body is concealed from me. The daughter is closer to me; she is dressed as for a fete, but her head is nearly bald; the hair has fallen off in the space of a few hours. There is a large stain of blood impressed on her brow, and a candle (like a sepulchral lamp) is burning beside her. They both stare at me now and then, like people who look but do not see. The two others, sitting exactly behind, present a disgusting aspect. The sister is as pale as a corpse; her hair, too, is white, and very thin on the forehead; the lips emit a kind of sanguinolent foam; the head performs the oscillations of a pendulum; she is an idiot. The brother's appearance is that of a hideous cripple; the head has decreased nearly to nothing, and would scarcely be visible, were it not for two green eyes, obstinately fixed on me, but without any significance. He reminds me of what I have read about cretinism. I forgot to say that there is a fifth actor in this tragic tableau-the young girl, with curling hair, neatly clothed, leaning sometimes on her grandmother, sometimes on her aunt, and repeating at intervals: Grannie, or Auntie, where is Mr. D.? to which question the only answer given is: Hold your tongue; he is away, he is dead, killed dead.

This spectacle keeps my mind in excitement for the whole day. Visitors come in and look with wonder on those strange beings, from whom my eyes cannot be removed. Those visitors say, It is strange-very strange indeed! In order to escape from the frightful sight, I once run off the room. The doctor, who happens to be in the next ward, brings me back, but cannot persuade me that I am mistaken. On another time, I fancy that an iron bar, placed to support a curtain above my feet,

pours on me something whitish, like melted lead, which burns. all my body. The same imaginary tube is sometimes turned against the family, and seems to produce on them the same effect as on myself. Again, I think I hear the voice of a gentleman, the head man of the committee, who visited the wards a few hours ago. He is upbraiding the doctor, in most unbecoming terms, for having given me admittance, while there are so many poor Irish dying out for want of medical cares and of bread. A quarrel and a fight ensue, the result of which is, that the doctor is shot dead. I hear the report of the pistol and the cries of many persons calling for the police, who, after much delay, arrive and capture the murderer. Before the arrival of the police, I once imagine that he is ascending the stairs to kill me; I jump from my bed, and conceal myself under another. I am dragged from under it by a day-nurse; then I run off again, at the risk of killing myself in rolling down the stairs. I am caught at the bottom. They carry me up again to the room, not without an obstinate struggle on my part; for I am afraid of new visions. The strait waistcoat is resorted to. They fasten me so tight that I can no longer move: my breathing is even greatly impeded by a leather strap pressing on my chest. Night has come; I begin to utter cries of distress, because I see the unavoidable figures from the press quit their immobility and join in infernal fits of laughter.

Exhaustion again delivers me from consciousness. I am aroused from my torpor by the endeavours of the attendants to make me swallow some medicine. The idea immediately strikes me that the potion forced into my mouth is poison, and I spit it out. No more rest during the night. My eyes emit sparks of fire which fill the room. My persecutors are still there; no longer on the press, however, except the brother, who has resumed his natural form, and seems ready to spring on me. They are lying in the other beds; there seems to me as if an electric thread were carrying to them my inmost thoughts, which they repeat aloud. On the other hand, I can get, through the same imaginary thread, a knowledge of their designs against me.

My good genius has not left me; he bids me look for strength in a sincere prayer, and pours on my enemies the same white fluid already mentioned. It is directed from my side to the places they occupy, and instantly reduces them to silence. From time to time, also, when I pray without fervour, or when I entertain any doubt about my good genius' power, the shower is turned against me, from the iron bar, and especially directed to my head. This has the effect of fire; it burns my body all over so sorely that I cannot help crying.

The heat is oppressive; the room is full of a reddish smoke, at

intervals chased out, through the door, by a blast of wind. I tell the nurse that, although the door is opened, I am afraid we will soon be blown up, if she does not put out the gas; she answers that there is no occasion for it, as we are in no danger, and I had better sleep, as if sleep were to come at my command. In my restlessness, I fancy that there is the head of a wolf, with glaring eyes, on the bolster; I pray for a long time; the head disappears. I am a little refreshed, but cannot sleep. My mind soon turns to other fantastic thoughts. I am no longer an inmate of the infirmary. I am kept a prisoner by my persecutors in a small house, where they endeavour to smother me by shutting the door and lighting a fire of straw in the middle of the room. The mother and sister are more implacable than the others, and appear to enjoy my torments. Whilst I am a prey to great sufferings, and scarcely able to breathe, I hear from the street a voice which I immediately know to be the voice of my brotherin-law. I wonder that he has come from Paris to Ireland. answers that he has come with my sister for the purpose of settling as a French teacher. I turn then his attention to my present miserable state. I implore his assistance; I entreat him, in the name of my sister and of our former friendship, to deliver me; but he laughs at my supplications, and even joins with my persecutors, whom he also excites to show no mercy and to take no heed of my cries, as there is nobody at hand to hear. I hear him walking up and down the street; he is with my sister; they both say, repeatedly — Il est perdu, il n'est pas perdu. Eh bien! Oui, il est perdu. Tant pis pour lui.

He

At daybreak the visions disappear for a little time. My lips are parched from crying; my feet are now cold. I complain to the nurse. They give me a drink of milk, and place a jar of hot water at my feet. I remain thus quiet, and as if prostrated, until the doctor comes in on his round. He inquires of my state; feels my pulse; asks if I could sleep last night. He is told that I was noisy, speaking about dangers, praying aloud, &c., and that I would take no laudanum. He kindly remonstrates with me, saying that everything is prescribed for my good. (That medical gentleman was well known to me, and he also knew me very well, as I used to give lessons in French to his family.) Unfortunately the subordinates have a rough way of discharging their duty. They, in my helplessness, illtreat me, threaten me now with a stick, now with the red-hot poker, which they approach to my mouth. In these illtreatments and menaces my delirious imagination sees nothing but a continuation of the tortures inflicted on me by my enemies. I look upon the night-nurse, the day-nurse, and especially on the infirmier, as people under the power of Satan, whom my prayers alone can drive away.

Their drugs, too, I consider as being made by an evil hand, and only calculated to soil my soul. I have made up my mind to accept of nothing, except water or milk.

In the course of the day, I come to think that my mother is dead, and that my. eldest sister has arrived, and wants to see me. She stops with my brother-in-law and my other sister; but she cannot obtain any information about the place where I am kept. My persecutors re-appear; I find myself in another house quite unknown to me. Besides the family, there are strange faces, equally hostile. They want me to sign a promise of forty pounds, in return for my release. I consent to their request, but when the signature is given, they wont let me go; they now say that they must have their revenge. I am stretched on a mattress, tightly fastened with ropes and leather straps. I can hardly move my head. Presently my legs are stripped, and the toes of my feet covered over with a thick layer of fat meat. What do they intend to do? From their conversation I at last learn that my toes are to be devoured, along with the meat, by a huge dog of theirs, whom they have taken care to keep in good appetite for the occasion. The dog cannot be got for some time, during which I am a prey to frightful apprehensions. He is brought in by two men, and rushes, from the first, upon my feet, which he dreadfully mutilates. I hear the cracking of the bones under his teeth; I again cry and weep pitifully. There are many people-men and women-around me. They all seem to enjoy the spectacle, and take no notice whatever of my cries and tears. I have lost all remembrance of what followed; I suppose that I fainted. The fit, however, was short; for at night I have the following dream. (Let it be understood that all my dreams are nothing but visions; for they take place when I am wide awake, and when my eyes are open; my properly styled dreams have left no recollections in my mind.)

(To be continued.)

ART. VI.-ON SOME UNRECOGNISED FORMS OF MENTAL DISORDER.

BY FORBES WINSLOW, M.D.

IN the ordinary practice of medicine we occasionally meet with cases of disease which are at variance with our past experience and à priori notions, set at defiance our preconceived views of morbid physical phenomena, resist every attempt to embody them within the nosological chart, and which repudiate all reduction to any of the acknowledged orthodox pathological standards or tests. These affections are anomalous or pseudo in their charac