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 in hospital, however, and it had occupied my thoughts long ago as a possible means of relieving pressure even near the base of the brain.

As I thought it all over I felt more and more convinced that Parsons was wrong, and that the injury was in a region where trephining could be successfully performed. I felt almost daring enough to attempt it. I had brought all the necessary instruments with me in my surgical case. The operation could be performed at this very hour, and the boy might be safe in the morning.

So strong was the impulse which came over me to risk everything, that I felt almost inclined to rush off to Stanhope and wring a consent from him. I knew the mother would give hers without the least difficulty. Impelled by an almost incontrollable impulse, I rose from my chair—then again I sat down. Parsons's words, uttered with such conviction and solemnity, returned to me. The operation might be performed truly, and the boy might be dead in the morning. Then my old friend would curse me, and I should feel like a murderer to my dying day.

No, I must not risk the performance of so critical an operation unaided. If Fieldman were here the case would be different.

Before I lay down to rest I looked carefully through my case of instruments. They were all bright and ready for use. I left them on the table, laid my head on the pillow, and found that, when I was not particularly thinking about it, sleep visited me. In a few moments I was wrapped in the deepest repose.

After a time, I don't know when, I began to dream. My dream was distinct, direct, and vivid. Most dreams have a certain confusion about them. This had not any.

I dreamt that a great impelling Power visited me: a Presence unseen but most surely felt. The Power or Presence gave implicit directions, which I implicitly obeyed. Under its guidance, I rose from my bed, dressed myself completely, opened the door of my room and went out. I went into the sick room, where I knew I should find Eliot. The mother was lying on a sofa in the room. She was in a dead sleep, and looked completely worn out. The child was still nothing more than a marble effigy.

"Eliot," I said, in my dream, "I am going to perform the operation of trephining immediately, and I want your assistance."

"You must be mad," replied Eliot.

"No, I am not mad," I answered. "I am perfectly sane. Come into the next room—I must speak to you."

Eliot followed me. Dissatisfaction and incredulity were written very plainly on his face. I made use of words to him which struck me at the time as not in the least like my own. Then I felt that the invisible Power was speaking through me, and I knew that Eliot must yield to the influence which was completely overmastering me.

I saw that his face became animated and even enthusiastic. He seized me by my hand and wrung it.

"Get the mother's leave, and I will help you," he said. "I believe in you, by Jove I do. Get the mother to consent, and I will help you with all my might and main."

In my dream I saw him return to the sick child's nursery. In a moment he returned, accompanied by Mrs. Stanhope.

"I want you to consent to my performing an operation on the child," I said. "I am