Analysis. In attempting to analyze this (so-called) dream, I was amazed to find with how many past longings and emotionally-colored experiences it was associated. I first took up the letters on the sidewalk, and as I repeated them, letting my mind be as blank as possible in order that the associations might be free, I gained an immediate response. "W. H."--"Which House"--came out as in answer to a question. With these words there was a definite visual image of a young country farm youth standing talking to two persons in a buggy. I remembered the incident in all its details. I was the young man and these people were asking the way to a certain place, or at WHICH HOUSE they should stop. As it so happened, I was at that time keeping company with a young lady who lived at the very house concerning which they asked. I will not go into detail any further at this point, for this is a real case and I should be trespassing on personal ground. But any one who yet remembers his boyhood courtship, with all its agonies and fears, its hopes and joys, its disappointments and its pleasures, can see at a glance how important this occasion is in throwing light on the meaning of the dream. Of course "W. H." stood for "Which House." I seemed to get no further in my associations with these letters at this time, and my thoughts spontaneously turned to the name of the street. "Queen Street." Even more readily and completely than in the other case, there came a whole complex of associations. First there was the name and image of Miss Agnes Queen, whom I had known for years. But, strange to say, the image was of this young lady standing and talking to a certain Mr. Harding. I saw them together but once, and it seemed passing strange that this incident should be the one remembered in connection with the name. But the associations were rapidly progressing, and I mentally reviewed parts of three or four years during which I was working and closely associating with this Mr. Harding. Here I began to see some light. This Mr. Harding was in all respects, at least as far as I knew him a man of good morals, but he was much less particular in his social habits than I was. He was engaged to a young lady all the time I was with him, and wrote letters to her constantly; but this fact did not prevent him from paying attentions to other young women, and I was aware that he was more familiar with them than conventionality would warrant. In fact he made no attempt to be secret in the matter, and often poked fun at me for my over sensitivity on the subject. Here was the key to a whole lot of meaning. The first year I was with him, I had no sweetheart or any lady friend on whom to center my affection or to whom I could write. There were a number of young men in our "squad," as it was called, and nearly all of them had correspondents and it was a joke among us that I was "out in the cold world with no one to love."