O. is a great cigarette smoker, and with him the call to smoke is inexorable. It is not so much, however, the effects of the narcotic for which he seeks as the sum of the sensations derived from the act--the rustling of the tobacco in the paper, the crackle of the match, the sight of the cloud of smoke, the fragrance of it, the tickling of nose and throat, the touch of the cigarette in the fingers, or between the lips--in a word, a whole series of stimuli, visual, auditory, olfactory, and tactile, whose habitual repetition gradually introduces into the act of smoking an automatic element that brings it into line with the tics. The suppression of this parasitic function commonly produces a feeling of the utmost discomfort; inability to indulge in it causes the keenest anguish. More agonising than the actual impossibility of smoking is the idea of its being impossible. Hence it is that O. lights cigarette after cigarette, taking a few whiffs at each and throwing them aside scarce touched, or leaving them here, there, and everywhere. The dose is immaterial; it is the rehearsal of the act he finds so soothing. In regard to his taste for liquor a similar description might be given. The intoxicating effect of any beverage had little attraction for him; it was the drinker's gesture and the numerous accompanying sensations that he sought to renew. Any form of drink, therefore, served to gratify his desire; in other words, his behaviour revealed a phase of dipsomania rather than a stage of alcoholism. For that matter, the development of symptoms of alcoholic poisoning proved a blessing in disguise, since they reinforced the inhibitory power of the will, and enabled it to abort a sensori-motor habit that had wellnigh become established. No objective alteration in cutaneous sensibility in any of its forms is discoverable on examination of O., but he bewails a long array of subjective sensations, painful or disagreeable as the case may be. Certain abdominal pains in particular occupy his thoughts: after being in bed about an hour he begins to suffer from pain in the abdomen and across the kidneys, so acute that he is forced to rise and walk about his room, or sit on one chair after another; at length it moderates enough to allow return to bed and permit of sleep. During these crises there is no sign of any local pathological condition, no distention or tenderness or evacuation of the bowel. They usually last for some days at a time and disappear suddenly, as when, after several nights' and days' uninterrupted suffering, his pains vanished as by an enchanter's wand once he set foot on the boat that was to take him to England.