It was only with great difficulty he reached the Institute—here he immediately drank two pints of cold water, and washed his head, neck, and arms with fresh water, on which he became somewhat better. The improvement, however, lasted only about five minutes. He sat down on a chair and felt his pulse, which he found to be very small and slow, with very long intervals. He was no longer in a state to take out his watch to ascertain more exactly the frequency of his pulse, for the feeling of anxiety came over him again, and with it he traced the premonitory symptoms of a new and violent attack. He was taken into the adjoining chamber, stripped himself partly of his clothes, and gave over his things, directing what was to be done with them after his death, for he was firmly convinced that his last hour had struck, and continually cried out, “I am dying; I shall soon be undergoing dissection in the dead-room.” The new attack was more violent than the former were, so that the patient retained only an imperfect degree of consciousness, and at the height of the paroxysm, even this disappeared. After the fit, too, consciousness returned but imperfectly: only so much remained in his recollection, that the images which arose within him constantly increased in ghastliness, until they gave way to the unconscious state, and that gradually, with returning consciousness, less formidable figures appeared in their stead. Subsequently he stated that it appeared to him as if he were transported from the level surface to a hill, thence to a steep precipice, thence to a bare rock, and lastly to the ridge of a hill, with an immense abyss before him. From this time, he could no longer control the current of ideas following one another with impetuous haste, and he could not avoid speaking uninterruptedly until a fresh attack came on, which quite deprived him of consciousness for some minutes. The flow of his ideas had now free course; and notwithstanding his loquacity, he could only utter a few words of what he imagined. All his thoughts and deeds from his childhood came into his mind. The senses of sight and hearing were unimpaired, for when he opened his eyes, he knew all who were standing about him, and recognized them by their voices when his eyes were closed. Towards ten o’clock—that is, four hours and a half after the seizure—the storm was somewhat allayed; he obtained control over his imagination, ceased to speak incessantly, and traced where he felt pain. During the night he drank a great deal of lemonade; nevertheless, sleep fled from him, and his imagination was constantly at work. Next morning he dressed, and was conveyed home, but could not set to his daily work, because, notwithstanding the greatest efforts, he could not collect his scattered thoughts, and he also felt bodily weak. He was obliged to take to bed, where he remained till the morning of the third day. During this time, he drank four pints of lemonade, and took soup only twice, as he had no