his former work of story writing, and is now one of the most voluminous producers of the day! His trouble was traced to nervous dyspepsia.

But there is one thing which distinguishes fear as a malady from fear as commonly known, and that is its unreasonableness. There is as a rule no apparent cause to justify such strange and unexpected results. Of course any one confronted on a dark night by a pistol thrust under the nose would be apt to feel more or less frightened-that is, reasonable fear-but to feel just as badly frightened in the absence of all

treating his patients, though he has not accumulated anything in the way of a fortune. It seems there is a reason for this. One day not long ago an old man came to his office with a note from another physician, saying the old gentleman had cataract and would require an operation. My friend the physician turned pale as he told the other to step into the consulting room for examination. When this was concluded the doctor said, "Yes, you have cataract."

"Will you have to operate, doctor," asked the old gentleman.

The doctor instantly became the pic

ture of death, and seemed to be struggling for breath. After a moment he recovered sufficiently to answer, "No, I won't operate, but perhaps some one else will." And he dismissed the puzzled old gentleman without another word. I showed my astonishment, and the oculist turned to me. "You have discovered a secret which I have tried to keep from everybody." Perspiration appeared on his brow as he spoke. "If it wasn't for what you have just witnessed," he continued, "I would have made three times as much out of my practice as I have made. I would be a rich man."

"But," I said, "you, a man who understands the eye so well, and whom I would trust above all others if I needed such service-"

He waved the thought aside. "You don't understand, and I can't explain, but the very thought of operation makes me afraid. I know that I understand my work as well as any, but the moment operation is suggested to me, I feel an inward trembling,-it's because I fear my operation might not prove a success!" I learned later that once he had determined to operate in spite of this fear, but when the time came, his hand trembled so that the knife fell from his hand. He has tried to overcome this unreasonable fear in every way, but with

no success.

This instance baffles analysis, for the condition could be traced to no cause of any kind. It would be easy of explanation if he were a man of deficient education, and conscious of his defects, and feared to operate because of that, but here was a man who was looked on as an authority by his colleagues, a man of brilliant mind and sound learning, and yet he had a fear of attempting what is being done every day by men not nearly so well equipped. He himself was unable to give any explanation, though he had given the matter the most serious attention. But his affliction caused him many a moment of bitter anguish.

A graduate of Princeton, a man who was such an able scholar even as a student that he won a scholarship which enabled him to continue his studies abroad, became the president of a western college while still a young man. He was efficient in every way, and it seemed

that under his guidance the college would make a new record for itself. His versatility in learning and various accomplishments were a constant morsel for conversation among the students and townspeople. Everything promised well for himself and the college. Then came commencement day, and before a large audience in the local opera house, it fell on the president to make a few appropriate remarks from the platform. As the time approached for him to appear it was noticed by those behind the scene that he was pale and restless, and was walking with nervous stride back and forth in a narrow recess just off the stage. His turn to speak arrived. He appeared before his audience as a pitiful figure. He opened his mouth, stammered a few incoherent words, tried again, repeated himself, and then flushing scarlet hurried off the platform. The youngest child in the audience could not have done worse. He had known of this failing when he had accepted the presidency, but had hoped to overcome this inexplicable fear before commencement day he had rehearsed for months the little five-minute speech he had intended. to deliver, and with what pitiable consequences! He was a victim of the malady of fear. The following day he sent in his resignation as president, which was acted on and accepted as early as possible. He felt himself disgraced and soon after purchased a farm in Arkansas, where he prospered in the quiet life of raising apples. But this one factor of fear had forced him to give up a promising career!

A woman who had traveled for years and had covered thousands of miles in this country and abroad, suffered terribly every time she had occasion to board a night train. Whenever it was possible, she made it a point to travel in the day time, when she had no dread whatever. She was a horsewoman, and if anything preferred spirited horses, both for riding and driving. Ordinarily she did not seem to know what fear meant. While on the fastest trains, she never so much as dreamed of wrecks or other calamities, and yet, when on the occasions she traveled at night, she preferred to sit up in the sleeping-car rather than occupy a berth. Of a berth she had the utmost

fear. The mere thought of entering its confines caused her countenance to exhibit signs of deepest anxiety and terror. Argument and reason had not the slightest effect in dispelling this dread. For years she had tried to overcome the feeling in every possible way, and acknowledged that her attitude was foolish and unreasonable, but that inward dread remained. Death itself, she said, could not be worse. In spite of everything, at times she forced herself to do as others did, and attempted to enjoy the comforts of a berth by ignoring fear and seeking quietude and peace of mind. But it was useless. A terrible feeling of oppression would take possession of her, her breathing would become rapid and at times. would almost cease altogether. Dizziness and faintness would seize her, and several times she fainted outright. With trembling hands and whitened. lips, she presented at these times a pitiful picture of despair. In no other way, or at any other time, did she show the least nervousness, timidity, or weakness. Her

friends envied her her health, energy, capability, and physical endurance. Those who were unaware of this particular failing would not believe it when informed. When it was mentioned in her presence, a sickening look would pass over her countenance. It was paradoxical. On careful investigation, it was learned that her mother and grandmother before, of sturdy stock, had been afflicted with this same physical oppression and mental terror when entering a closed carriage,

or any

confined space which was smaller than ordinary. The condition was evidently one of transmitted nervous deficiency, manifesting itself by this strange and unusual expression of fear. The wife of a laborer, a sensible

woman in every way, and never subject to any illness, saw her husband leave for work every morning of her life with feelings of direst foreboding. His work was not in any way dangerous, and yet she confessed that when she saw him leave she never expected to see him return alive. She said it was foolish, and knew it was unreasonable; she had no worries of any kind, and was perfectly happy the livelong day, only each morning, at the moment of his departure, she had that horrible fear. She wanted science to account for her condition, but it never was explained satisfactorily.

There is one thing common to all persons afflicted with this condition of fear, and that is, all mental activity is more

or less suspended or paralyzed at the time of attack. The capacity for mental work, and even the desire, are absent in varying degrees. Rapid thought is impossible, and the victim complains that he cannot work as he did formerly. As the feeling of fear takes possession of him, his ambition and enterprise become almost extinguished. He can do only that which is necessary in his daily life, and that only too often with the greatest difficulty. This fear is frequently a lifelong hindrance, disappearing for periods of time only to return at unexpected moments. According to the occupation or station in life of the individual, his confession will run somewhat as follows: "I am certain that something terrible is going to befall me today, I can tell it by that dreadful inward feeling of anxiety;" or, “I am sure my son has met with some misfortune, I haven't heard from him for two days, and he is always so prompt in writing." Others, engaged in business, will have anxieties of another sort. know my venture will not succeed, my constant state of anxiety tells me so;" or, "I know those goods won't sell, and I'm sure to lose, why else should I have that nervous feeling all the time?" Their anxieties are legion.

"I

The sources of this mysterious condition of fear are almost as various as life itself. In some instances the victim himself is able to give some sort of explanation of its cause, more or less unsatisfactory, but more often the reason is far to seek. Many are troubled with attacks of fear from earliest childhood to advanced old age, and the happiest days of their lives have been somewhat embittered by this distressing feeling. In one form or another it frequently first appears in childhood, and manifests its most troublesome symptoms on first awaking or at the moment of retiring. It affects mostly those of a so-called "nervous" temperament. The attitude of the parent toward the child afflicted may have consequences of the utmost importance. Harsh measures are only too apt to aggravate the condition.

Professor Cramer, of Gottingen, Germany, who is one of the few who have made a scientific study of the subject, says in regard to children afflicted with fear, "If they have written a dictation

in school, fear arises at once: if the work was bad, it was the fault of fear: if it was well done, it was owing only to fear that it was not bad, for if they had had no fear, the work would certainly have been done badly, and so on." He also clearly characterizes the condition in adults when he states that "people who are capable of resistance experience a kind of uneasiness when they hear uncertain or indefinite news, this disagreeable feeling of uneasiness grows into a paralyzing fear which masters the entire imaginative faculty by the fear of what may happen. This means that the most unpleasant possibility of all is expected to occur. If some member of the family is ill, the very worst that could happen is feared, and this fear will not subside until certain recovery excludes further fear. If there is a civil-service or other examination failure is reckoned as a certainty and any hope of success is considered ridiculous, and is therefore suppressed. If it is a question of a duel, the outcome is felt to be entirely unfavorable to the one thus afflicted." He emphasizes indefinite expectation as one of the chief mental causes of fear.

This pitiable condition sometimes approaches the border of the ridiculous in the eyes of those who do not understand the tortures to which its victims are exposed. The writer knows of innumerable instances in which the assumption of new duties were approached with paralyzing doubts and forebodings. Fear of inability to assume new responsibilities, when so doing would assure success, has kept many a person who is a victim of this affliction, in the rank and file, when true merit should have made him a leader and a success in his special field of endeavor. These persons are often failures because they actually fear success, they shrink from the publicity and responsibility that most great successes bring. They dread to give to the world sincere ideas of the first magnitude, because they fear the world may look at them askance, or condemn really worthy ideas as wrong. Many an author. inventor, possible statesman, and even genius has gone through life as a nobody not from lack of ability, but because he was afflicted with a malady which is as truly a disease.

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as many another affliction, and just as is the susceptible of treatment,-it malady of fear!

In order not to confuse abnormal fear with that which may be considered in

21

stinctive and common to a majority of healthy individuals, a few words on so called "mountain dizziness" will suffice as an example to distinguish the two. For instance, some people cannot look from a height, or climb a narrow path, or descend a steep one. Others cannot pass a precipitous slope, or go beneath an overhanging rock. This is due to natural, physical reasons, but if this condition is once present, it always recurs, and it is quite a mistake to suppose that this

point of complete paralysis, with increased action of the heart, followed often by fainting spells.

As already indicated, the causes of abnormal, unreasonable fear-or fear as a disease-are for the most part unknown. However, the condition is very often accompanied with digestive disturbances, and Professor Cramer, who has made a close study of the subject for a number of years, is inclined to believe that many of these cases are a