For this purpose the patient should have been put in deep hypnosis. But unhappily I had to realize that all my procedures in that direction could put the patient in no other state of consciousness than that in which she gave me her confession. Still I was very pleased that this time she abstained from triumphantly remonstrating with the words: “You see, I really do not sleep, I cannot be hypnotized.” In such despair I conceived the idea of making use of the trick of pressing the head, the origin of which I have thoroughly discussed in the preceding contribution concerning Miss Lucy. This was done by requesting the patient to unfailingly inform me of what came before her mind’s eye or passed through her memory at the moment of the pressure. For a long time she was silent, and then admitted that on my pressure she thought of an evening in which a young man had accompanied her home from some social affair. She also thought of the conversation that passed between them, and her feelings on returning home to nurse her father. With this first mention of the young man a new shaft was opened, the content of which I now gradually brought out. We dealt here rather with a secret, for with the exception of a mutual friend, no one knew anything of the relation and the hopes connected with it. It concerned the son of an old friend who was formerly one of their neighbors. The young man having become an orphan attached himself with great devotion to her father; he was guided in his career by his advice, and this veneration for the father was extended to the ladies of the family. Numerous reminiscences of repeated joint readings, exchange of thoughts and utterances on his side marked the gradual growth of her conviction that he loved and understood her and that a marriage with him would not impose the sacrifice that she feared. Unhappily he was but little older than she and as yet was far from being independent. She however firmly resolved to wait for him.