the issue proved, forced me along paths traveled by thousands, but
comprehended by few.

I had continued to perform my clerical duties until June 15th. On that
day I was compelled to stop, and that at once. I had reached a point
where my will had to capitulate to Unreason--that unscrupulous usurper.
My previous five years as a neurasthenic had led me to believe that I
had experienced all the disagreeable sensations an overworked and
unstrung nervous system could suffer. But on this day several new and
terrifying sensations seized me and rendered me all but helpless. My
condition, however, was not apparent even to those who worked with me
at the same desk. I remember trying to speak and at times finding
myself unable to give utterance to my thoughts. Though I was able to
answer questions, that fact hardly diminished my feeling of
apprehension, for a single failure in an attempt to speak will stagger
any man, no matter what his state of health. I tried to copy certain
records in the day's work, but my hand was too unsteady, and I found it
difficult to read the words and figures presented to my tired vision in
blurred confusion.

That afternoon, conscious that some terrible calamity was impending,
but not knowing what would be its nature, I performed a very curious
act. Certain early literary efforts which had failed of publication in
the college paper, but which I had jealously cherished for several
years, I utterly destroyed. Then, after a hurried arrangement of my
affairs, I took an early afternoon train, and was soon in New Haven.
Home life did not make me better, and, except for three or four short
walks, I did not go out of the house at all until June 23d, when I went
in a most unusual way. To relatives I said little about my state of
health, beyond the general statement that I had never felt worse--a
statement which, when made by a neurasthenic, means much, but proves
little. For five years I had had my ups and downs, and both my
relatives and myself had begun to look upon these as things which would
probably be corrected in and by time.

The day after my home-coming I made up my mind, or that part of it
which was still within my control, that the time had come to quit
business entirely and take a rest of months. I even arranged with a
younger brother to set out at once for some quiet place in the White
Mountains, where I hoped to steady my shattered nerves. At this time I
felt as though in a tremor from head to