For six long days, since my work was done, my mind has been a whirlpool, swift, unprogressive and incessant, a torrent of thoughts leading nowhere, spinning round swift and steady-' 'You cannot imagine the craving for rest that I feel-a hunger and thirst. 'Yes.' For a little while the two remained without speaking. 'I did my work,' said the sleepless man with a querulous intonation. How little of a man's day is his own-even at the best! And then come those false friends, those Thug helpers, the alkaloids that stifle natural fatigue and kill rest- black coffee, cocaine-'

A thousand distractions arise from within and without, and then comes drowsiness and sleep. We have to take the air or else our thoughts grow sluggish, stupid, run into gulfs and blind alleys. We have to eat, and then comes the dull digestive complacencies- or irritations. Great God, I've had enough of drugs! I don't know if _you_ feel the heavy inconvenience of the body, its exasperating demand of time from the mind-time- life! Live! We only live in patches. 'I said, I will do this, and to do it, to overcome the inertia of this dull body, I resorted to drugs. I am wifeless- childless-who is it speaks of the childless as the dead twigs on the tree of life? I am wifeless, I childless-I could find no duty to do. 'I am a lone wolf, a solitary man, wandering through a world in which I have no part. He resumed speech like one who talks to himself. The cause of this unrest was overwork- trouble. It has only added muscular fatigue to the mental. I have followed the coast, day after day-from New Quay. 'Exercise?' suggested Isbister diffidently, with a glance from his interlocutor's face of wretchedness to the touring costume he wore.

He gave a gesture of rejection, and for a space both men were silent.

'I've never suffered from sleeplessness myself,' he said in a tone of commonplace gossip, 'but in those cases I have known, people have usually found something-' An idea natural enough under the circumstances, prompted him to keep the conversation going. He stood helplessly in the narrow path, perplexed what to do. 'That makes it difficult,' said Isbister. They are all very well for the run of people. 'It may sound incredible,' said the stranger, turning weary eyes to Isbister's face and emphasizing his words with a languid hand, 'but I have had no sleep - no sleep at all for six nights.' 'No?' was all he said, but his bearing conveyed his helpful impulse. 'Very,' answered the stranger shortly, hesitated a second, and added in a colourless tone, 'I can't sleep.'

When the sleeper awakes