This is fundamentally true of her, though not true of the majority of women whom we have discussed. It seems difficult to believe that hard work and worry may bring the same results as idleness and dissatisfaction, but it is true that both deënergize the organism, the body and mind, and so are kindred evils. What's the matter with the poor is their poverty, while the matter with the rich is their wealth.

Mrs. A. De L. is of middle-class people whose parents lived beyond their means and educated their only daughter to do the same. Here is one of the anomalies of life: bitterly aware of their folly, the extravagant and struggling deliberately push their children into the same road. Mrs. De L. learned early that the chief objects of life in general were to keep up appearances and kill time; that as a means to success a woman must get a rich husband and keep beautiful. Being an intelligent girl and pretty she managed to get the rich husband,—and settled down to the rich housewife's neurosis.

Her husband was old-fashioned despite his rather new wealth, and they had two children,—a large modern American family. Though he allowed her to have servants he insisted that she manage their household, which she did with rebellion for a short time, and then rather quickly broke away from it by turning over the household to a housekeeper. This brought about the silent disapproval of her husband, who let her "have her own way", as he said, "because it's the fashion nowadays."

She became a seeker of pleasure and sensation, drifting from one type of amusement to the other in an intricately mixed coöperation and rivalry with members of her set. She followed every fad that infests staid old Boston, from the esoteric to the erotic. She became an accomplished dancer, ran her own car, followed the races, went to art exhibitions, subscribed to courses of lectures of which she would attend the first, dabbled in new religions, became enthusiastic: about social work for a month or two,—and became a professional at bridge. Summers she rested by chasing pleasure and flirting with male habitués of fashionable summer resorts; part of the winter she recuperated at Palm Beach, where she vied for the leadership of her set with her dearest enemy.

Her husband financed all her ventures with a disillusioned shrug of his shoulders. As she entered the thirties she became intensely dissatisfied with herself and her life, tried to get back to active supervision of her home but found herself in the way, though her children were greatly pleased and her husband sceptical. The need of excitement and change persisted; gradually an intense boredom came over her. Her interest in life was dulled and she began a mad search for some sensation that would take away the distressing self-reproach and dissatisfaction. Shortly after this she lost the power to sleep and had a host of symptoms which need not be detailed here.

The medical treatment was first to restore sleep. I may say that this is a first step of great importance, no matter how the sleeplessness originates. For even if an idea or a disturbing emotion is its cause, the sleeplessness may become a habit and needs energetic attention.

With this done, attention was paid to the social situation, the life habits. It was pointed out that all the philosophies of life were based on simple living and work, and that all the wise men from the beginning of the written word to our own times have shown the futility of seeking pleasure. It was shown that to be a sensation seeker was to court boredom and apathy, and that these had deënergized her.

For interest in the world is the great source of energy and the great marshaler of energy. From the child bored by lack of playmates, who brightens up at the sight of a woolly little dog, to the old and vigorous man who makes the mistake of resigning from work, this function of interest can be shown.

She was advised to get a fundamental, nonegoistic purpose, one that would rally both her emotions and her intelligence into service. Finally she was told bluntly that on these steps depended her health and that from now on any breakdown would be merely a confession of failure in reasonableness and purpose.

That she improved greatly and came back to her normal health I know. Whether she continued to remain well and how far she followed the advice given I cannot say. From the earliest time to this, necessity has been the main spur to purpose, and probably the lure of social competition drew the lady back to her old life. Experience, though the best teacher, seems to have the same need of repetition that all teaching does.