Senescence is, in no small degree, a state of mind as well as a state of body, and the study of it as such has been so far strangely neglected but is now in order. Even doctors who have told us most about it have made few intensive investigations of its nature and there are very few gerontologists; while the alienists who have described the senile psyche have done so only in general terms that add but little to what is obvious to common experience and observation. None have sought to ascertain empirically from intelligent old people capable of telling how they think and feel about their stage in life, or to determine how far their attitude toward it was indigenous and how far it was really due to the acceptance of current traditions that have come down to us from a remote past and that no longer fit present conditions. How this old tradition still influences even physicians may best be shown by a few instances that have come under my own observation. A friend of 73 fell sick of pneumonia which soon involved both lungs. The excellent family doctor had him removed to a hospital where expert care could be added to his own. Soon all hope of his recovery was abandoned and for a week friends who called or telephoned were told that nothing more could be done and the end was certain and might be expected any time. “He is 73, you know,” the doctor said. To-day he is well and daily active in the very large concern he created. The father of an intimate friend at the age of 69 fell ill from a complication of disorders the family doctor diagnosed as old age and telegraphed his son to hasten home from a distant city if he would see him alive. Upon his arrival, on the morning of the 70th birthday, he found him half comatose and convinced that this day would be his last; but he was cheered up, diverted, partook of a stimulated eggnog, his first food for two days; and when he awoke just past midnight and realized that he had entered upon another decade, revived, made a slow but surprising recovery, and enjoyed not only a comfortable but a very active life for nine years. He could not, however, quite bring his mind to enter the ninth decennium. Strangely enough, my friend’s mother, whom I had also known all my life, two years later passed through almost the same experience. He was called to her deathbed, reaching her three days after all hope had been abandoned. But she recovered and was nearly as well as before, and lived seven years. A friend of mine retired from a college chair at 74 and was told that he was worn out, had several grave symptoms, and must drop work and go South. “You should be satisfied,” his physician told him, “with four years beyond the allotted three score and ten.” But he had unfinished tasks, believed them to be life-preservers, and now at 82 is still engaged upon them. A vigorous old lady of 87 has thrice been given up by her physician within the decade. Are doctors a little falsetto in their treatment of the aged?