To test this the following newspaper clipping was read to one member of the class who, in turn, repeated it at once to the next, and so on to the end. As soon as a student had heard and repeated it, he (or she) immediately wrote it down. It will be observed that the story is shorter than the preceding:

"Thomas McCarthy, who has also used the names Burns and Hopkins, was arraigned yesterday on the charge of having conspired to forge and pass stolen money orders. His case was adjourned for a week. He was arrested on Monday night in a saloon. The Assistant District Attorney said yesterday that the score of money orders, which the man was accused of passing at department stores, were some of those stolen by yeggmen a month ago from a Post Office in St. Louis. The orders had been filled in for varying amounts, none of which were more than $100. McCarthy was held in $10,000 bail."

The first paper, perhaps, had better be quoted that the readers may see how it started down the line. "Thomas McCarthy, who formerly gave the name of Burr and Buss, was arrested for forgery. The trial will come in a week. He was arrested last Monday night in a corner saloon. He tried to pass checks formerly used by Leighton in the department stores. Since none of the amounts were over $100 he was let out on $1000 bail before the district attorney."

Beginning with the second attempt at reproduction of the story there were continuous and increasing omissions and additions, with frequent changes in the aliases. The seventh report was so far reduced as to be worth quoting. It is as follows: "There was a man named McCarthy who went by the name of Burney. He forged a check for $100 and was arrested." Number eleven lost the surname and changed the alias to "Sussex," evidently because of the story heard two days before. The story now becomes: "There was a man named Thomas. He went by the name

of Sussex. He forged a check for $100 and escaped." Here the story may be said to have lost all resemblance to that with which number one began. This test, like the preceding one, gave memory an advantage that it does not have in matters of every-day life. We do not usually expect to be called to account for our information. Hence we are less attentive. These students were interested in the experiment. There was rivalry to see who could remember most accurately. They concentrated their attention to the limit of their ability. Yet the results were chiefly remarkable for their omissions and additions. Second-hand reports are undependable, and after they have passed through three or four mouths, in intervals of several days, they are quite certain to have little or no resemblance to the original story.

In conclusion, let us refer again to the questions asked at the beginning of this chapter. First, what are the chances for a truthful narration of that which has been seen or heard? Clearly, the chances of even a reasonably accurate narration are small. We have found observation itself exceedingly defective and unreliable; and when to the inaccuracy of observation there is added the disturbing effect of intervening time, with the deflecting influence of conversation about the events and the excitement of the imagination, the testimony of witnesses becomes extremely undependable. Imagination reconstructs events with many omissions and substitutions, and the final outcome is likely to be so different from the original as to be almost unrecognizable. Expectation of an act may cause it to be seen, and intention to do something translates the thought into deed. Suggestion is always operative suggestion of actions when one is an observer, and suggestion from questions, even of fact, in conversation or when on the witness-stand.

The second question was, Does the feeling of accuracy guarantee substantially correct statements in testi

mony or conversation? The evidence and experiments again enter a denial. Confidence and assurance signify little. A man may think an occurrence so intensely in connection with other events that it assumes a place among them. He then "remembers" that it happened. Bias, of course, is operative both in observation and in memory, and at the end it exerts a powerful influence upon the feeling of accuracy.

Finally, knowledge of the inadequacy of observation and memory, and conviction of the possibility of error by oneself are the best guarantees of truthful reports. The most positive witnesses and narrators of conversation are to be regarded with suspicion because of their very assurance of accuracy.

CHAPTER IX

OUR VARYING SELVES

It could hardly have been Stevenson the romancer who made Doctor Jekyll say: "It was on the moral side, and in my own person, that I learned to recognize the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both." Rather, this was Stevenson the observer of human nature, who in common with all great novelists, possessed much of psychology and a bit of philosophy for the reflective moments of his characters.

Howells has graphically described these varying selves in the same person through the observation of one of his characters in April Hopes. Mrs. Brinkley was speaking of the Pasmer family but with special reference to Alice Pasmer. ""The Pasmers are the dullest and most selfish people in the world,' she exclaimed.

"Oh, I don't think that's her character,' said Miss Cotton, ruffling her feathers defensively.

"Neither do I. She has no fixed character. No girl has. Nobody has. We all have twenty different characters-more characters than gowns-and put them on and take them off just as often for different occasions. I know you think each person is permanently this or that; but my experience is that half the time they're the other thing.'

We all of us think that we know what the "self" is but the moment we try to describe it, difficulties arise and its various, contradictory characteristics become apparent. We readily distinguish between ourselves and other individuals. Our feelings, thoughts, interests, and emotions, generally, are also distinctive. They may be shared, to a

certain extent, by others, but our own radiate a warmth that makes them personal. Here, too, diversity within the "self" becomes evident. Self-appreciation and ambition conflict with humility; material prosperity with social and ethical ideals; self-preservation, or its more modern counterpart, self-advancement, with the rights of others. Perhaps, though, it is in action, the outward expression of our varying and conflicting emotions, that the contradictory character of the "self" is most noticeable. "I was not myself when I did that," is a frequent excuse; and this defense has passed over into law in the distinction between premeditated and unpremeditated homicide. At times the variations pass beyond the normal and an individual exhibits peculiarities so diverse that they have no common bond, not even that of memory connecting the varying selves. It is the intention of the writer to consider only normal variations, except for one case of peculiar interest because it approaches the parting of the ways.

Just because people are prone to think themselves more consistent than they are and because the opinion is rather prevalent that only under pathological conditions do varying personalities dwell side by side in the same individual and reveal themselves successively, just for that reason a survey of alternating selves in the same person seems profitable. All is grist that comes to your mill if you once begin to consider this question-all literature, history, biography, your friends, neighbors, and family. Even the crowned heads of Europe offer a crop for the garnering. Some recompense for the effort may be a quickened understanding of human nature and a keener appreciation of its incongruities and consequent frailties.

A bit of reflection will soon convince us that we are a strange composite of selves. No one can be labelled and tagged for any length of time. No one completely reveals himself at any moment. Proverbs such as "You must eat a peck of salt with a man before you know him" in