In some cases doctors have had to excite a strong antagonistic feeling against tendencies of this kind. Thus Zerffi relates that an English physician was once consulted by the mistress of a ladies' school where many girls had become liable to fits of hysterics. He tried several remedies, but in vain. At last, justly regarding the epidemic as arising from the influence of imagination on the weaker girls (one hysterical girl having infected the others), he determined to exert a stronger antagonistic influence on the weak minds of his patients. He therefore remarked casually to the mistress of the school, in the hearing of the girls, that he had now tried all methods but one, which he would try, as a last resource, when next he called--'the application of a red-hot iron to the spine of the patients so as to quiet their nervously-excited systems.' 'Strange to say,' remarks Zerffi--meaning, no doubt, 'it is hardly necessary to say that'--'the red-hot iron was never applied, for the hysterical attacks ceased as if by magic.' In another case mentioned by Zerffi, a revival mania in a large school near Cologne was similarly brought to an abrupt end. The Government sent an inspector. He found that the boys had visions of Christ, the Virgin, and departed saints. He threatened to close the school if these visions continued, and thus to exclude the students from all the prospects which their studies afforded them. 'The effect was as magical as the red-hot iron remedy--the revivals ceased as if by magic.' The following singular cases are related in Zimmermann's _Solitude_:--A nun, in a very large convent in France, began to mew like a cat. At last all the nuns began to mew together every day at a certain time, and continued mewing for several hours together. This daily cat-concert continued, until the nuns were informed that a company of soldiers was placed by the police before the entrance to the convent, and that the soldiers were provided with rods with which they would whip the nuns until they promised not to mew any more,' ... 'In the fifteenth century, a nun in a German convent fell to biting her companions. In the course of a short time all the nuns of this convent began biting each other. The news of this infatuation among the nuns soon spread, and excited the same elsewhere; the biting mania passing from convent to convent through a great part of Germany. It afterwards visited the nunneries of Holland, and even spread as far as Rome.' No suggestion of bodily disease is made in either case. But anyone who considers how utterly unnatural is the manner of life in monastic communities will not need the evidence derived from the spread of such preposterous habits to be assured that in convents the perfectly sane mind in a perfectly healthy body must be the exception rather than the rule.