The ocular spectra are usually far more vivid and detailed. Those which occur in the waking state are by no means always painful, though their strangeness not infrequently alarms the child, and his horror at the dark arises, not from his seeing nothing, but from his seeing too much. Some imaginative children amuse themselves with these phantasms, and then, if encouraged to relate them, will constantly transgress the boundary line between truth and falsehood, and weave their little romance. When they happen on waking they are usually preceded by frightful dreams, but the image which the child sees then is not the mere recollection of the dream, but a new, distinct, though painful impression; generally of some animal to which the child points, as now here, now there. These night terrors from the very circumstantial character of the impressions which attend them, often, as I have already said, occasion needless anxiety as to the importance of the cause on which they depend. Sleep-walking in its smaller degrees of getting out of bed at night, is by no means unusual in childhood; but the greater degrees of somnambulism are certainly rare; and I have always found them dependent on undue mental work; not always, indeed, on the tasks being excessive, but sometimes on the over-anxiety of the child to make progress. I have not yet known a poor person's child a somnambulist. But not only are the perceptions more acute in childhood than in adult life, the sensibilities are more intense. The child's emotions, indeed, are often transitory--generally very transitory; but while they last they produce results far greater than in the grown person. In the case of the latter, recollection of the past, anticipation of the future, or even the duties of the present, control the overwhelming sorrow, or call forth the energies needed to bear it. The child lives in the present, and this present is but the reflection of the world around, its impressions uncontrolled by experience, ungoverned by reason. The broken-heartedness of a child on leaving home is not the expression only of intense affection for its friends or relations, it is the shock of separation from the familiar objects which have surrounded it; and I have not infrequently seen children inconsolable when removed from homes that were most wretched, or from relations who were most unkind. Every now and then, indeed, I have been compelled to send children home from the hospital because no love nor care could reconcile them to the change from home; and they have refused to eat, and spent their nights in weeping. The feeling is an unreasoning one, like the home-sickness of the mountaineer.