one, the sightseeing in London was intensely interesting, and the return trip all that could be desired, in fact, the whole trip was delightful, the more so as I seemed to have no cares.

"The entire trip occupied about six weeks, and I seemed to be greatly benefited thereby.

"When I awoke my first thought was that I had about finished the night, and instinctively reached for the telegraph-key to find out how much 'report' I had lost, supposing, of course, that I was in for trouble. Upon asking New York what he was sending he replied: Ball scores, Chicago-Boston.' I started him on the Boston score, which I had put down in very small figures (as per above) during my sleep.

"How it was done, I will make no attempt to explain, I simply give it up. The figures were there, and furthermore they were correct.

"The actual time consumed by me in taking this imaginary trip could not have exceeded ten seconds. I had absolutely missed nothing in the report. Neither had the circuit been interrupted in any way, which I took pains to verify. The explanation of all this, I leave to those better informed on such matters.

"My friend Mr. Lee, to whom I related this little experience at about the time it occurred, will doubtless remember it, as will also others, were it really worth the trouble to look them up."

'Mr. Lee is a friend of the author.

THE SUBCONSCIOUS

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A good deal is being said just now about the education of the subconscious. In mercantile affairs a man is spoken of as a good organizer, which means that he can call others to work out certain details, confining his attention to the larger concern, and the relation of the whole to the outside world.

So in the psychic realm, in proportion as one is developed intellectually has he relegated to the subconscious the routine work of life. So long as things run smoothly in his mental workshop he pays no attention to it. Should an accident happen in any department, the central office is immediately informed, and the necessary steps taken to meet the emergency.

So the education of the subconscious is simply the formation of correct habits, and, as was said before, the formation of a habit requires acting on the impulse. Failing to act, the next time the impulse is felt, its impulsiveness is lessened, the very failing to act has established a habit of inaction.

Impulsiveness must, it is true, be curbed by moderation, but excessive indecision is worse.

Many a man will fire with enthusiasms over some project, but failing to act, soon cools down to a state of disinterestedness. People who devote an excessive amount of time to fiction and the theatre, often mistake their sympathy for the hero for a real virtue. This sentimentality soothes their consciences in lieu of genuine philanthropy, and their fine impulses are barren of any actual good deeds.

Most of our evidence of the outer world comes thru the eyes and ears, that is, every object pictured on the retina and every sonorous vibration the unfailing afferent nerves transmit to the brain. There are many examples of the fact that “having eyes we see not and having ears we hear not," at least consciously.

A well-authenticated case illustrative of this is as follows: A lady was startled by seeing on the wall, as if thrown by a flash-light, a notice of the death of a friend. The wording was such as would appear in a newspaper notice. Naturally she was very much startled, and the wonder grew when the inquiry revealed that the person had died as stated.

Reference to the morning paper discovered the identical notice. This paper she had read. Moreover, she remembered having read something else which was in the same column, and the presumption is that the notice was also read in what we

commonly call an "absent-minded way." The conscious mind was certainly absent.

Every one has had the experience of reading on, sometimes for pages, and then suddenly discovering that he had been thinking of something entirely foreign to the matter read, of which he was really ignorant. Probably it was registered in the subconscious, but ordinarily the subconscious is a sealed book, until some abnormal experience brings it to the surface.

THE SUBCONSCIOUS

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This ability to ignore noises and sights, and to apply one's self to other problems or acts, marks the strong mind, the power to be in the crowd but not of it. This power of concentration is the power of inhibiting extraneous impressions, and it may go to the extent of absent-mindedness. Every one is familiar with stories of mural painters so engrossed in their work that they have fallen from their scaffolding or been rescued only by some timely interference.

On the other hand, when we realize of what unspeakable value a perfect memory would be, we long for some method of tapping this reservoir.

DECENTRATION

It is a somewhat common experience that one is able to recollect some lost fact by a process of deliberate inattention. By assuming a passive nonconcentration the mind wanders to some of the associated elements of the "moment consciousness" of which the desired item was a part, which is thus reached by direct continuity. This is in striking analogy to retinal perception. In looking for faint stars, one should look a little to one side of where the star is known to be. This brings the retinal image a little to one side of the fovea centralis, and thus aids perception, because such portions are more sensitive to light stimulus. The visual acuity of the fovea, or the power of definition, is immensely superior to peripheral portions. This phenomenon

in both instances might be called decentration of attention.

Sidis suggests closing the eyes and putting one's self into a passive state, as a means of discovering the subconscious. This will again be referred to under auto-suggestion.

GENIUS

It is said there is no accounting for genius. The authorship of Shakespeare's plays has been discussed at great length, and while (to use the words of Sir Roger de Coverley) "a great deal might be said on both sides," the principal argument against the Shakespeare claim is that his education, "knowing little Latin and less Greek," was too meager to make it possible. But in his time the ale-house was the resort of those great lights of the Elizabethan Era. There he might easily have absorbed the stories and learned talk of Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and hanging around the theater would have made him familiar with the plays of the time. Indeed the free use of anything he could lay his hands on, the close following of the Holinshed Chronicles in the English historical plays, has caused him to be called a plagiarist.

But poets have been notoriously erratic and unbalanced. The artistic mood seems to be incompatible with that dignified self-control which we so much admire. The scientific thinker has no patience with it. Darwin was great enough to recognize the