foot, striking herself, pinching her eyelids, pulling out her hair, trying to pick her radial artery, throwing herself out of bed, knocking her head against the bed rail, etc. This was done in silence but with what appeared a great determination that occasionally showed itself in her face. She also sometimes scowled and frowned. With the difficulty in feeding her and the constant impulsive excitement in which bruises could not always be avoided (once an extensive cellulitis developed in the arm which had to be lanced), the patient got weak, emaciated and exhausted; much of her hair fell out, although some she pulled out. It should be stated that during this entire impulsive state she could not be taken care of in the Institute ward, but was sent to a special ward in the Manhattan State Hospital, where suicidal patients are under constant watch. These impulsive attempts at self-injury lessened only towards the end of the period. Her laughter, which had been such a prominent trait, disappeared almost entirely during this entire phase. With all this, the general resistiveness, as has been stated, remained towards feeding or any other interference. It was only in the beginning associated with laughter as in the previous stage.

Although there were, as a rule, no spontaneous remarks and no replies, she on one occasion said spontaneously, probably referring to her unsuccessful attempts to kill herself: "I can't do it, I have no will." During the same period she once said: "I don't want to eat, I don't want to get well, I want to do penance and die."

By January, 1915 (i.e., a year after the second phase had commenced), she began to dress herself and eat, and also became clean. But she remained for the most part very inactive, sitting stolidly about all day and still without interest in her environment. The impulsive attempts at killing herself disappeared. Although she remained for months to come still inactive, she gradually began to talk a little, began to play a little on the piano, but said little to any one.

By August, 1915, she still was inactive, shy, standing about, or sitting picking her fingers, occasionally going to the piano, but evidently unable to finish anything. She had to be coaxed to come to the examining room and talked in a low tone. Often she commenced vaguely to speak and then stopped and could not

be made to repeat what she had been saying. Affectively she was remarkably frank, sometimes a little surly, or she showed a slight empty uneasiness. She could, however, be made to laugh heartily at times, or did so spontaneously on very slight provocation.

Some of her utterances were in harmony with her apparent indifference. It was difficult to get her to say how she felt even when thorough inquiries were made. Once she said, when asked about worrying, "I don't worry," or again "I get angry sometimes," or "I used to worry about my health, I don't now," or, when asked what her plans were, she said directly: "I don't care what happens." Again she said "I guess I am disagreeable," or "I guess I am a crank." Another interesting indication of her state was expressed in her repeated statement, "I don't know what I want." But she was oriented in a way, though not sure of her data. She would give most of her answers with a questioning inflection, "This is the Manhattan State Hospital, isn't it?" or she would say, "I don't know exactly where I am, it's Ward's Island, isn't it?" and in the same way she gave the day, date and year correctly. But she did not know the names of the physicians. At that time she could give many data about her family correctly, but was slow, even if correct, in calculation, and, though she got the gist of a test story, she left out some important details.

A retrospective account at that time showed she was uncertain about the Observation Pavilion, that she was not certain how she came to Ward's Island, "On a boat, I believe." It was clear that she did not remember the admission ward, about the Institute ward (in which she had been for the first two and a half months and in which she was again examined); she said it was familiar to her, but she was not certain that she had been in it. About the physician who saw most of her in these first two and a half months, she said that his voice seemed familiar, and she asked him whether he had tube-fed her (she had been tube-fed by him many times), but she again said, "No, you are not the one," and described as the man who had fed her the one who did it on the second ward where she was for a year. But she knew that she had been sent to the second ward, because she constantly tried to injure herself. These injuries she recalled but was unable

to say why she attempted them, "I suppose I didn't know what I was doing." She claimed she heard voices and had "all sorts" of imaginations, but could not be gotten to tell about them. When it was difficult for her to give an answer, she was apt to keep silent and then could be prodded without much success.

In October, 1915, there was further improvement, inasmuch as she began to converse some with other patients, played the piano and seemed able to carry a piece through. She was put in the occupation class and did quite well. At the interview with the physician she was still apt to laugh boisterously at slight provocation. Even now she had great difficulty in describing her condition and at the examination was often still quite vague. Thus, when asked how she felt, she said, "I do know I feel ridiculous—sometimes I feel kind of angry—I don't know—they say I am crazy but I am not, but I am hungry—I don't know whether I am or not, I don't know what I can do well," etc. This is quite characteristic. When asked whether she was worried, she said: "I don't know, am I worried?—yes, a little sometimes, I am to-day—I am so untidy—don't know what is the matter with me." Again: "Sometimes I lose my speech—I can't say what I feel, I don't know what it was." Later, half to herself: "I don't know what is the matter with me—I don't care anyway."

In December, 1915, there was still further improvement, and on the ward and in superficial conversation she made, towards the end of the month, in many ways a natural impression, though the laughter before described was still somewhat in evidence. It usually came not without occasion, but was, as a rule, quite out of proportion to the stimulus. She again said she could not explain why she tried to injure herself, claimed she did not feel it, and even claimed she did not remember doing it in the Institute but only in the second ward.