She was a nervous child, given to moody spells and hysterical attacks, and, in 1856, when she was about fourteen years of age, she also began to have more serious attacks of an epileptiform character, from which she would emerge into a new and unusual condition, which was at first taken to be somnambulism. In this condition her general appearance was quite changed, and she talked and acted in a manner altogether different from her usual self. These attacks were at first very brief, lasting only a few minutes, but gradually they increased in duration until they occupied hours, and even days. In her usual state she had no recollection and no knowledge whatever of her second condition, and the whole time spent in that condition was to her a blank; on the other hand, all the different occasions when she had been in this second condition were linked together, constituting a distinct chain of memories and a personality just as consciously distinct and conspicuous as her original self. In her second state she not only had the distinct memories connected with her own secondary personality, but she also knew facts concerning the first or original self, but only as she might have knowledge of any other person. The two personalities were entirely different in character and disposition; the original one was sickly, indolent, and melancholy, while the new one was in good health, and in disposition bright, cheerful, and industrious. She married early in life, and was intelligent and efficient in the care of her family, rearing children and attending to the little business of a shop. At length this secondary self came to occupy nearly the whole time, and considered herself the normal personality, as, indeed, she was, being superior in every way to the original one. She knew very well how unhappy and miserable was the condition of the primary self, and, while she pitied her and did what she could to assist her, she disliked to have her return. She called the condition of the primary self, "that stupid state." The lapses of the original or No. 1 personality became at length so frequent, or rather, so continuous, that she lost the proper knowledge and relation of things about her. She was a stranger in her own home, and on that account became still more morose and melancholy. To relieve as much as possible this distressing state of affairs the second self, or No. 2, when she knew that No. 1 was about to appear, would write her a letter, informing her of the general condition of the household, whom she might expect to meet, and where she would find certain needful articles; she would also offer advice regarding the conduct of affairs, which was always appropriate and useful and far superior to the judgment of the original self in the matters to which it referred. As a second well marked and abundantly authenticated example of this divided or secondary personality, I will refer to a case in our own country and in our own vicinity.