This was composed in three parts; one for research professors, another for play-makers, or fairfussers, and the third for students; the first being trained psychologists, the last, young men and women remarkable for beauty, fine feeling and intelligence, as they are in our own day. The notion was for the professors to find out facts, for the fairfussers to apply them, and for the students to carry them out: and if it may occur to the reader that the workers in one side paid small heed to the discoveries of the rest, a little consideration will show that this is all to the good; for slavishly to accept the opinions of others can never lead to clarity of thought, and the warden was anxious to maintain in every inmate that active spirit of self-reliance without which no advance can be made in any of the sciences. I saw many of each division, but to write of them all would be to take up inordinate space in these memorials, since the arts are not of large importance to the state or to the public. I shall, therefore, confine myself to describing one or two of each kind, choosing those which throw most light on the methods of those days, and the great progress we can shortly expect. My first visit was to a small, active professor, with a tiny clean-shaven chin, and unusually bright weasel eyes, who, speaking very fast, and with vivid gesture, easily convinced me of the usefulness of his discoveries. He had applied his mind for fifteen years to proving that there was no such thing as thought, for, he said, the conversation he had to listen to, or the acts he was able to observe, could be accounted for without supposing such a thing existed. Speech, he explained, was merely a habit, like that of scratching when something causes our skin to itch; and, moreover, all our deeds were like scratching, which we do thoughtlessly, however much we may flatter ourselves that we prepare great things far ahead. He did not go to the lengths of some of his colleagues, who denied the existence of consciousness: for, so as not to be too positive, he preferred to regard ‘awareness of the emotions’ as a fiction convenient to his purpose, or, to put it differently, as words merely to describe a sequence of events. By his system, when impulses are set up, something occurs, such as eating, and we are ‘satisfied,’ as we say: or we are ‘disappointed,’ as when prevented from a kindly action.