ither exist, it is so
brief, that the transition to and from trance-waking out of and into
ordinary waking, _appears_ immediate.

Now to illustrate the phenomena of trance half-waking, by describing
somnambulism.

A curious fate somnambulism has had. When other forms of trance have
been exalted into mystical phenomena and figure in history, somnambulism
has had no superstitious altars raised to her--has had no
fear-worship--has at the highest been promoted to figure in an opera. Of
a quiet and homely nature, she has moved about the house, not like a
visiting demon, but as a maid of all work. To the public, the phenomenon
has presented no more interest than a soap-bubble or the fall of an
apple.

Somnambulism is a form of half-waking trance which usually comes on
during the night, and in ordinary sleep. When it occurs in the daytime,
the attack of trance is still ordinarily preceded by a short period of
common sleep.

The somnambulist then, half waking in trance, is disposed to rise and
move about. Sometimes his object seems a mere excursion, and then it is
remarked that he shows a disposition to ascend heights. So he climbs,
perhaps, to the roof of the house, and makes his way along it with
agility and certainty: sometimes he is observed, where the tiles are
loose, to try if they are secure before he advances. Generally these
feats are performed in safety. But occasionally, a somnambulist has
missed his footing, fallen, and perished. His greatest danger is from
ill-judged attempts to wake and warn him of his perilous situation.
Luckily, it is not easy to wake him. He then returns, goes to bed,
sleeps, and the next morning has no recollection of what he has done. In
other cases, the somnambulist, on rising from his bed, betakes himself
to his customary occupations, either to some handiwork, or to
composition, or what not.

These three points are easily verifiable respecting his condition. He is
in a dream, which he, as it were, acts after his thoughts; occasionally
he remembers on the following day some of the incidents of the night
before, as part of a dream.

But his common sensibility to ordinary impressions is suspended: he does
not feel; his eyes are either shut, or open and fixed; he does not see;
he does not observe light, and works as well with as without it; he has
not taste or smell: the loudest noise makes no impression on him.

In the mean time, to accomplish the feats he performs, the most accurate