etween January 17th and March 14th. He
was brought home by his relatives, who, by diligent inquiry were able to
make out that Mr. Ansel Bourne, five weeks after leaving Rhode Island,
opened a shop in Norristown, and stocked it with toys and confectionery
which he purchased in Philadelphia. He called himself A. J. Brown, and
lived and did business, and went to meeting, like any ordinary mortal,
giving no one any suspicion that he was any other than A. J. Brown.

On the morning of Monday, March 14th, about five o'clock, he heard, he
says, an explosion like the report of a gun or a pistol, and, waking, he
noticed that there was a ridge in his bed not like the bed he had been
accustomed to sleep in. He noticed the electric light opposite his
windows. He rose and pulled away the curtains and looked out on the
street. He felt very weak, and thought that he had been drugged. His
next sensation was that of fear, knowing that he was in a place where he
had no business to be. He feared arrest as a burglar, or possibly
injury. He says this is the only time in his life he ever feared a
policeman.

The last thing he could remember before waking was seeing the Adams
express wagons at the corner of Dorrance and Broad Streets, in
Providence, on his way from the store of his nephew in Broad Street to
his sister's residence in Westminster Street, on January 17th.

The memory of Ansel Bourne retained absolutely nothing of the doings of
A. J. Brown, whose life he had lived for nearly two months. Professor
William James hypnotised him, and no sooner was he put into the trance
and was told to remember what happened January 17th, 1887, than he
became A. J. Brown again, and gave a clear and connected narrative of
all his doings in the Brown state. He did not remember ever having met
Ansel Bourne. Everything, however, in his past life, he said, was "mixed
up." He only remembered that he was confused, wanted to get somewhere
and have rest. He did not remember how he left Norristown. His mind was
confused, and since then it was a blank. He had no memory whatever of
his name or of his second marriage and the place of his birth. He
remembered, however, the date of his birth, and of his first wife's
death, and his trade. But between January 17th, 1887, and March 14th he
was not himself but another, and that other one Albert J. Brown, who
ceased to exist consciously on March 14th, but who promptly returned
four years afterwards, when Ansel Bourne w