A theory of the origin of æsthetic psychosis which has been pressed by some, as by Herbert Spencer, is that it arises as reflex from spontaneous outflow of energy, or more particularly in connection with play impulse. A horse turned loose in pasture may gambol, running, sniffing, looking around, all which denoting a free outflow of energy through lines of least resistance, the customary channels of activity. But we cannot seriously think that in this sensing and muscular activity there is implied any real æsthetic psychosis, and indeed it seems quite emotionless. The emotion of fear or similar feelings aroused the original activities, but this present galloping, etc., is automatic, and such immediate pleasure as may result from this free activity is scarcely of the æsthetic order. The whole is of a distinctly lower order than the original activity and much below æsthetic quality. If we recall our own state of mind in youthful “letting off steam” and in plays, we do not find æsthetic pleasure. There is, however, a pleasure of relief and also positively a pleasure from such spontaneous outflow; but the outburst of pent-up energy automatically spent along lines of race action is a mere echo, dies out at once, and as degenerate form is not a starting point for origin of any new psychosis. Play as simulation of feeling and action is also removed from æsthetic activity, as in a dog playing at fear and running, or at anger and chasing. He gets a more or less modified fear or anger, but there does not seem to be any tendency to æsthetic psychosis. Mere imitation is more or less exact and skilful, but emotion therein and thereat is plainly not the glow of æsthetic emotion, but is reflex of sense of power and intelligence as qualities. Mimicry as mere outlet of energy as with monkeys is plainly not aesthetic; here is merely an automatic outflow of force into suggested activity. When a savage as mimetic achievement carves the figure of man as handle to a knife, he accomplishes art, but not fine art. He has no more æsthetic feeling than a boy or man whittling out a ship, it being merely an exact and skilful counterfeit of a real thing. Imitation for the sake of imitation or to deceive is a teleologic pleasure distinct from æsthetic. Successful imitation is often said, indeed, to be “beautifully done,” but this means no more than well done. Even a well-baked cake is popularly spoken of as beautifully done.