Again, O. has been a martyr to a leg tic of several months' duration. When he was on his feet, he learned to strike his right heel against his left ankle, wearing his trouser through in no time, and ceasing only with the development of a painful wound over the bone. Once it was healed, however, came the deliberate search for the sensation again, and the pleasurable feeling in its rediscovery. In O.'s case the inhibitory influence of the will on his tics is abundantly manifest. Should he find himself in the company of one from whom he would fain conceal his tics, he is able to repress them completely for an hour or two, and similarly if he is deep in an interesting or serious conversation. Nevertheless, the desire to let himself go obtrudes itself again, and if he can refrain no longer he will invent any pretext for leaving the room, abandoning himself in his moment of solitude to a veritable debauch of absurd gesticulations, a wild muscular carnival, from which he returns comforted, to resume sedately the thread of the interrupted dialogue. O. is fond of cycling, and while at first the attention that the necessary co-ordination of hands and feet demanded proved an effective barrier in the way of his tics, now that he can maintain his equilibrium automatically his head assumes its favourite attitude of posterior displacement. His devotion to a game of billiards, or to such exercises as fencing or rowing, is never interfered with by an unruly tic. He is a great fisher, and when he "has a bite," or is expecting one, he will remain motionless indefinitely; his tics do not hinder him from preparing his bait with the minutest care. But let his interest in his prospective catch fade, let the fish be disinclined to "take," and there will be a renewal of the movements. In his sleep they one and all disappear. The mere assumption of a horizontal position, however, no longer suffices to bridle them, and before dropping off to sleep he passes many a minute in seeking comfort. The rubbing of his head on the pillow, the rustling of the clothes, disturb and exasperate him, and he turns in this direction and that for relief; yet should he hear or feel nothing, he will change about once more in the search for a sensation or a sound. Thus has it come about that to procure slumber he has adopted the extraordinary plan of lying at the very edge of the bed and letting his head hang over. * * * * * The series is not yet at an end.