A point has been reached where I feel that I must write a chapter on psychology in relation to present-day affairs. Not that I know anything about it! Heaven forbid! But ever since leaving home I have been hearing about the psychology of this and that until the conviction has grown that an account of this dip into the world will not be complete without a chapter on the latest and most popular of our sciences. And it is not personal psychology that must be dealt with. It is mob-psychology—the most elusive of all subjects—that must be passed under review.

But there is no escape. The thing has been meeting me everywhere. In Toronto a hotel proprietor spoke lightly of the need of understanding the psychology of female help if one is to have good dining-room service. That centered my attention.

In Boston I had luncheon with a man who has made psychology his life-study and is widely known as an authority on the subject. We talked psychology, personal and general, for two blessed hours, and I was so much interested that I almost missed an appointment. I kept the appointment, however, and found that I had arrived "at the psychological" moment.

In New York a movie magnate talked about the psychology of people who patronize grand opera.

At an art auction-room I heard about the peculiar psychology of collectors of art objects, rare books, and et cetera, and of the need of understanding it if one is to deal with them successfully.

Presently I met a dealer in high-class stationery who was almost in despair through need of a phrase that may be used instead of "de luxe"—which is now outworn through too much use, though it was once "an excellent good word before it was ill-sorted." His urgent need was for a word or phrase that would "appeal to the psychology of women." As words are the commodity in which I deal he appealed to me for help. Apparently he had sized up my psychology properly, for I appreciated the compliment and racked my memory for something suitable. Finally I remembered a descriptive phrase that I had noticed in a catalogue while looking at the hangings and furniture of the Kaiser's throne-room, that were offered for sale while I was in New York. It was a melodious phrase that appealed richly to three out of the five senses. When he heard it he thanked me profusely and hurried away to have it patented as a trade name.

While a collector of Japanese prints was showing me his treasures we discussed Oriental psychology.

There is no doubt of it. If I am to make these hasty pages, even in a small way, a "mirror of the Passing World," I must grapple with psychology.

Psychology met me at every turn. Bellboys and Pullman porters who understood the psychology of the travelling public knew that a few ineffective passes with a whiskbroom would make us part with our small change. Restaurant waiters who were masters of psychology knew that showing an interest in the food they served and asking if it was entirely suited to our taste made tips imperative—no matter what our convictions and good resolutions on the subject might be.

There is no doubt of it. "Psychology" is now the master word of the world, and as mankind has at all times groaned under the tyranny of words and phrases the matter must be looked into. We have the historic example of "divine right" which tyrannized over the world for many centuries. But let us deal with those words that have influenced our own lives. First we were made to step lively (itself a modern phrase of much potency) by "the strenuous life." Then by a natural reaction we tried to recuperate with "the simple life" and "the rest cure." After that we had a period when "efficiency" hurried the joy out of life. Then came "propagandas" that were designed to enslave the world to all kinds of far-reaching schemes. Now we are up to the neck in "psychology."

The above instances are recorded merely to show the need of dealing with the question if I am to be right up to the minute. And I know practically nothing about it. Why, oh, why, didn't I read Le Bon more carefully, instead of treating his huge volumes as a new and amusing kind of fiction? Still I can remember a little.

The laws governing mob-psychology have been crystallized in the formula, "affirmation, repetition, authority, contagion." Affirm a thing strongly enough, repeat it often enough, have it thundered forth with authority, and finally a contagion of conviction will sweep the multitude. It might be shown that every leader and master of men from Moses to Lloyd George was a master of mob-psychology—for it is a curious fact that history always lends itself to interpretation by the theory that is popular at any given time. And contemporary life also invariably lends itself to the same treatment. Let us take a humble instance.

The successful promotion of a patent medicine follows exactly the best methods of mob-psychology.

The merits of the nostrum are affirmed strongly in advertisements of all kinds from the daily press to the bill-boards and scenic monstrosities. These affirmations are repeated everywhere and at all times. Then we have authoritative testimonials showing the before and after conditions of men and women eminent in all walks of life. Presently a swift contagion sweeps the crowd and we all begin taking "Pale Pills for Peculiar People" or "Dope Drops for Disgruntled Digestions." And the shrewd promoter of the nostrum acquires a great fortune, goes into society, and, if he lives in a country where titles prevail, buys a title by one of the many devious methods of securing such honors.

Certainly it is clear that humanity is at present prostrate before those who are masters of mob-psychology, either through learning or by instinct.

And yet it is only a few years since the majority of us knew no more about psychology than the Long Island fisherman who was beating his way against the wind to a favorite place for bluefish. A hasty motor launch passed him and he spelled out the name on the bow.

"P-s-y-c-h-e," he spelled. Then he spat into the brine and exclaimed disgustedly:

"Well, if that isn't the doggondest way to spell fish I ever seen!"

If that fisherman is still alive he probably claims to understand the psychology of bluefish and chooses with scientific exactness the right kind of bait to use in dumming for them.

All of which goes to prove that the world is now passing through a psychological phase—though it is infinitely more in need of potatoes than of psychology. "We that have good wits have much to answer for" if we do not correct this folly. But of course we must go about it in a proper psychological way. We must affirm the world-healing quality of potatoes, repeat it on all occasions in season and out, have our campaign endorsed by men of power and authority—and then perhaps everybody will be infected by a longing for potatoes and will see the need of planting and hoeing the potatoes themselves. If they will have psychology let them have a surfeit of it—and then perhaps they will get back to the simple, everyday things of life that alone are of importance.