cated Alligator,' which you have. These, on waking, have come into memory without effort."
4. Mr. S, of New York city: "In my senior year at college I had an essay to write that troubled me unusually. After trying to decide upon the subject until quite late, I fell asleep and dreamed not only of the subject, but of the analysis and of all the details. The next morning I wrote out just what I had dreamed, and found it far more satisfactory than anything I had ever done in the same line before."
5. Mrs. H, of New York city: "Yes, many times. A carol (the author is unknown), which has been sung in many of our New York churches, came into my mind, words and music simultaneously, after I had been reading till long past midnight. There was nothing in the book to suggest the carol, and I was walking toward the door for the purpose of retiring, when the words and music came to me as involuntarily and distinctly as if it had been something to which I was an unexpected listener. So with similar productions—I often write as if from dictation—quite unprepared for what is coming," etc.
6. Mrs. , of New York city: "I have written a good deal of verse of various kinds—sometimes this has flashed into my mind as a clear conception, but more frequently slower. In one case, I wrote a long piece, of a rather satiric character, in easy rhythm, as fast as I could set down the words, and it needed little or no revision—usually I am dissatisfied with my first copies."
7. Mrs. , of New York city: "In half sleep, after consciousness is gone, I am frequently startled wide awake by the recollection of some forgotten duty—or by some entirely new idea, usually something that is practical in character, and works well when put into shape. Measured by my normal standard, these ideas are usually above the medium in clearness and precision, completeness and practical value. They are new thoughts, but rather expedients, business suggestions; for instance, the idea of writing a series of articles for 'Scribner's Monthly ' on microscopic studies of vegetable and animal life in its completeness came to me in this way—articles which appeared and have since appeared in book-form, and laid the foundation of most of my work since."
8. Mr. S, of Philadelphia: "While walking alone, busily engaged in trying to settle a business question—so intent as to have my head down, and quite oblivious to anything around me—an original conundrum presented itself to my mind. (I confess to a slight weakness for punning, but rather despise conundrums, and this is the first and only one I ever concocted.) The conundrum was as much an interruption of my course of thought as if another person had come to me—it was, 'Why is so much bread baked? Because it is all (k)needed.'"
The results of the answers in this subdivision may be summed up
