Whether this new theory as to bashfulness of the chronic type holds good invariably, it is as yet impossible to say. Certainly, it has been verified in an astonishingly large number of cases. Time and again, applying some one of the delicate methods by which they tunnel into the most obscure recesses of the mind, medical psychologists have dragged into the full light of conscious recollection forgotten memories which the victims of bashfulness themselves recognise as connected with the onset of their abnormal timidity. Often their bashfulness completely disappears, or is markedly abated, as soon as the memories responsible for it are recovered. Or, when an immediate cure is not wrought, one is pretty sure to result after an explanation of the evolution of the trouble and the application of appropriate suggestions to develop self-confidence and will power. To illustrate by citing a few instances from life, let me give first the case of a young New England man, who, as usually happens, did not resort to a physician until his bashfulness had begun to interfere with his earning a livelihood. "I have not the slightest idea what is the matter with me," he told the neurologist whom he consulted, "but the fact is that for a good many years I have felt strangely timid when meeting people. I believe I am naturally of a courageous disposition--certainly I do not suffer from cowardice in the ordinary sense--but I actually blush and tremble if spoken to suddenly or looked at intently. Lately I notice this has been growing worse." "Can you tell me," the physician asked, "just when you first noticed that you were bashful?" "No, I am sorry to say I can't. I only know that it began while I was a boy." Nevertheless, by the aid of a method of psychoanalysis, or psychological mind-tunnelling, it was ascertained that, subconsciously, he did know exactly when his bashfulness began, and also was well aware of its cause. From among the forgotten, or only vaguely remembered, episodes of his boyhood there emerged, with exceptional vividness, a memory-picture of the time when he first went to work. He recalled with painful intensity the figure of his employer, a stern, cold, hard man, with piercing eyes. "Those eyes seemed to be on me everywhere I went. They seemed to be watching for the least mistake I might make. I began to wonder what would happen to me if I did make mistakes. Then I began to feel incompetent and to fear that he would notice my incompetency. I grew nervous, awkward, timid. Whenever he spoke to me, I jumped, I blushed, I trembled. After a time I did the same when anybody spoke to me." "And sometimes you still think of that first employer who frightened you so much?" "I try not to, but I know I do."