I found myself digging again in the back yard yesterday. As before, I had been "day-dreaming," when an overwhelming desire to go outside and feel the cool moist earth between my fingers and on my face took possession of me. I rushed out into the back yard, and began digging feverishly ... madly, until finally I fell, exhausted. Then my mind cleared and I filled in the hole. About half the ants have died, due no doubt to the strength of my radiations. No matter how low I cut the power, they still cannot live but a short time under the force of my transmissions. They have stopped sending thought impressions entirely, and are using only their "clacking" code signals, which they seem to realize I cannot understand. I feel that they are undertaking some sort of campaign against me. For hours they congregate, closely packed, their antennae stiffly pointed straight up. Their thought currents seem to be flowing into and merging with the bell tone, which grows stronger and more penetrating day by day. In my back yard, there are four large ant hills, and at each hill, curiously, there is no activity except the same mass concentration of the ants. Have they, too, been affected by my radiations and joined forces with the original colony against myself? The bell tone continues to grow stronger. * * * * * _Feb. 11_ Mrs. Winslow, the middle-aged widow, who comes to clean my house and laboratory twice a week, was here this morning. She is short, dumpy, and inclined to be stout. As she went about her work, I noticed particularly the fat firm flesh of her neck, just below the jaw. I felt an uncontrollable desire to sink my teeth deep into that flesh, and enjoy the taste of the warm fresh blood. I had actually risen from my chair to accomplish my desire, when the telephone rang ... and my mind cleared. * * * * * _Feb. 14._ I have decided to stop my experiments with the ants. As they refuse to send any more thought impressions, there is nothing further I can learn from them. Somehow, I feel that they are gaining a hold upon my mind, and that every time I listen in on the receiver, that hold becomes stronger. I firmly believe that I would have attacked poor Mrs. Winslow, had not the ringing of the 'phone so opportunely interrupted me. I have sent word for her to stay away ... as I cannot trust myself. I keep a box of fresh earth on the table in my laboratory. I often run my hands through it, and taste it. It is remarkable how much this soothes my nerves. * * * * * _Feb. 16._ It is too late! For two days, I have kept my apparatus shut off. I have not so much as looked at the ants, but still that confounded bell tone rings in my ears with all the insistence of African tom-toms. Hour by hour ... the tone becomes more penetrating. I cannot sleep, and can eat but little.