ower end self-control. The following facts
may be noted as possibly symptomatic of neurasthenia; fondness for the
poetry of Whitman and Browning (see Nordau); tendency to dabble in
irregular systems of medical practice; pronounced nervous and emotional
irritability during adolescence; aversion to young women in society;
stubborn clinging to celibacy. In posture, gait and general movements,
the following may be noted: vivacious in conversation; possessed of
great mobility of facial expression; anteroposterior sway marked and
occasionally anterosinistral, and greatly augmented so as to approach
Romberg symptom on closure of eyes, but no ataxic evidences in
locomotion. Taking the external malleolus as the datum, the vertical
and lateral pedal oscillation----"

The editor regrets to say that space forbids any further incorporation
of Doctor Urquhart's very illuminating note at this place. It may
appear at some time as a separate essay or volume.

II

THE RIDDLE OF RAIMENT AND DATES

From his eyne did the glamour of Faerie pass
And the Rymour lay on Eildon grass.
He lay in the heather on Eildon Hill;
He gazed on the dour Scots sky his fill.
His staff beside him was brash with rot;
The weed grew rank in his unthatch'd cot:
"Syne gloaming yestreen, my shepherd kind,
What hath happ'd this cot we ruin'd find?"
"Syne gloaming yestreen, and years twice three,
Hath wind and rain therein made free;
Ye sure will a stranger to Eildon be,
And ye know not the Rymour's in Faerie!"
--_The Trewe Tale of Trewe Thomas_.

As Mr. Amidon sensed the forward movement of the train in which he so
strangely found himself, he had fits of impulse to leap out and take
the next train back. But, back where? He had the assurance of his
colored friend and brother that forward was New York. Backward was the
void conjectural. Slowly the dawn whitened at the window. He raised
the curtain and saw the rocks and fences and snow of a winter's
landscape--saw them with a shock which, lying prone as he was, gave him
the sensation of staggering. It was true, then: the thing he had still
suspected as a nightmare was true. Where were all the weeks of summer
and autumn? And (question of some pertinency!) where was Florian
Amidon?

He groped about for his clothes. They were strange in color and
texture, but, in such judgment as he could form while dressing in his
berth, they fitted. He never could bear t