Auto-suggestion, which strictly speaking is not a very-good term, although in general use, means a suggestion originating within the individual, and not coming from without. It may be either a suggestion from our conscious self to our subconscious self—a self-imposed narrowing of the field of consciousness to one idea, by holding a given thought in the mental focus, to the exclusion of all other thoughts, as, for instance, when I concentrate before going to sleep on the one thought that I shall rise the next morning punctually at seven o'clock; or it may be a suggestion arising from the subconsciousness, owing to hereditary ancestral tendencies or acquired experiences, and dictating to the consciousness, such as the fear suggested to most of us when we sleep in a lonely situated empty house.

One of the most potent factors in man's existence is auto-suggestion. Thoughts that are dwelt upon strongly soon recede from consciousness to subconsciousness, from whence, without any effort from our conscious self, they nevertheless influence our actions and determine our progress or retrogression, our success or failure. Of the great good that may come from conscious self-suggestion, the examples of those great men who have, through the self-suggested ideal that moved them, extracted a gigantic life-work from a grudging brain, speak to us with lofty eloquence.

Every man can develop the power of determining, controlling his thoughts, the power of determining what types of thought he shall and what types he shall not entertain. For let us never fail to remember this fact, that every earnest effort along any line makes the end aimed at just a little easier for each succeeding effort. Owing to our wonderful reflex nervous system, whenever we do a certain thing in a certain way it is easier to do the same thing the next time, and the next, and the next, until, finally, it is done with scarcely any effort on our part at all, and it has become our second nature. And thus we get into a habit. Life is, after all, merely a series of habits, and it lies entirely within one's own power to determine just what that series shall be. It is true that everybody is born with certain predispositions, and that these predispositions influence very strongly the early formation of habits of thought. But the fact remains that the character is built up by long-continued habits of thought.

Our dominating thoughts determine our dominating actions. The acts repeated crystallise themselves into the habit. The aggregate of our habits is our character. Whatever, then, you would have your acts, you must look well to the character of the thought you entertain. Whatever act you would not do—habit you would not acquire—you must look well to it that you do not entertain the type of thought that will give birth to this act. Our character is thus dependent on the thoughts we entertain.

By the thoughts we think we create an atmosphere around us, which other people are influenced by. If we continually think thoughts that are good, our life will suggest goodness; if we continually think evil thoughts, our life will suggest evil. If we are sad, it is a sad world; if we are happy, it is a happy world. A great deal depends upon the individual himself for weal or woe; to a large extent we create our own conditions—the heaven or hell we have to live in.

"If the thought-forces sent out by any particular life are those of hatred or jealousy, or malice, or faultfinding, or criticism, or scorn, these same thought-forces are aroused and sent back from others, so that one is affected not only by reason of the unpleasantness of having such thoughts from others, but they also in turn affect one's own mental states, and through these his own bodily conditions, so that, so far as even the welfare of self is concerned, the indulgence in thoughts and emotions of this nature are most expensive, most detrimental, most destructive.

" If, on the other hand, the thought-forces sent out be those of love, of sympathy, of kindness, of cheer and goodwill, these same forces are aroused and sent back, so that their pleasant ennobling, warming and life-giving effects one feels and is influenced by; and so again, so far even as the welfare of self is concerned, there is nothing more desirable, more valuable and life-giving. There comes from others, then, exactly what one sends to and hence calls forth from them." (B. W. Trine.)

All this sounds easy enough, but the question is sure to be asked—If so much depends on our own thoughts and auto-suggestions, why is there not more happiness around us ? The answer is—Because most people have not their thoughts under control. They lack mental discipline and concentration. In order to concentrate we must be masters of our brain, and not allow the brain to master us. The brains of most men are undisciplined and unreliable.

Let anyone try to think of something for an hour without his mind " wandering." He will not succeed for five minutes; his brain will run round and round on all sorts of subjects but the one he intended to concentrate on. Most people think they have not got enough brain, whereas they have not got enough power to keep in order such brains as they have. Instead of having their thoughts and feelings under their control, the thoughts and feelings spring up unawares and control them. Thoughts seem to come when they like, seem to go when they like; worse still, the brain is apt to forget, and at other times a thought comes like a ghost unexpectedly just when you are in the midst of merriment. How many men have learned to discipline their brain? They may have trained their hands or eyes, and even their tongues, but not their brain. As a popular writer has put it: "Fancy a man not being master in his own house!" The brain must be disciplined, and learn the habit of obedience; and it can learn the habit of obedience by the practice of concentration. "Once you can concentrate at will, you are in possession of the power to switch your brain on and off in a particular subject, as you switch electricity on and off in a particular room." The brain will get used to the straight paths of obedience. And—a remarkable phenomenon—it will, by the mere practice of obedience, become less forgetful and more effective.

It is by mental discipline that we prevent just those diseases for which hypnotism and suggestion are the best cure. "What is insanity but a condition in which our thoughts and feelings are no longer under voluntary control? The mental condition of hysteria, the morbid doubts and fears of neurasthenia, abnormal impulses, perverted habits and all the other troubles, for which hypnotism may be applied with success, are largely due to the same lack of control over the powers which constitute mind and character. We are all subject to false suggestions at times, both from within and without, but those who have learned discipline will keep the false thought in bondage, until it loses its force. The maniac, however, nurses it and allows it to distort all his other impressions, so that he gets into a maze from which he cannot extricate himself, and we have to come to his assistance.

Thus by an act of auto-suggestion a person of shy, suspicious and reserved nature, who imagines that people are thinking or speaking ill of him, or going out of their way to do him harm, nurses his habit of moody suspicion until it grows to be a delusion that he is the victim of a conspiracy; he then sees evidence of it in the innocent gestures and words of friends with whom he holds intercourse, of servants who wait upon him, and of persons who pass him in the streets; these he misinterprets entirely, seeing in them secret signs, mysterious threats, criminal accusations. It may be pointed out to him that the words and gestures were perfectly natural and innocent, and that no one but himself can perceive the least offence in them; his belief is not touched by the demonstration, for his senses are enslaved by the dominant idea in his subconscious mind, and work only in its service. At first the patient is conscious of the whisperings of his subconsciousness, and protests and struggles against them. That is the time when we can help him. But if nothing is done, the whisperings gradually become realities to him, and he will act upon them.

Because of the subconscious mind ruling in the insane, the patient when he recovers, that is to say, when his conscious state becomes active again, has often no recollection of the incidents of his illness. On recovery, or even in a temporary lucid interval, all remembrance . of the disordered state has passed away, and that, too, beyond the capacity of recall—nothing but a misty, hazy remembrance of some condition which has been passed through remains, just as one finds it impossible to re-instate the details of a dream, the reality of which was at the time vivid in consciousness.

If—as does happen—a patient who recovers from a condition of insanity is able to remember, i.e., to recall, some of the particulars which he experienced when insane, he must, of course, be said to have some degree of consciousness of it; but it is as impossible for him to recall the true consciousness and the whole series of processes, as it is for the insane person to remember the true consciousness of his sound mental state, and, therefore, he is little able when in the one state to be responsible for what he did in the other. The sane man is no more responsible for what he does when insane than is the insane person for what he does when sane.

Some normal people, especially artists, have such vivid mental representation, can conceive an idea so vividly, that it may become a visual image. Similarly, the hallucinations of the insane arise by their imagination being worked up to a state of vision; but whereas the artist can dismiss the image called up in this way when no longer wanted, the insane are unable to dismiss it, and it often continues to haunt them.

There is always a danger in allowing the subconscious mind to usurp complete control of the mental organisation, or allowing the mind to be controlled by one dominant impression, which subordinates all others. Thus, by continually thinking and talking of sickness and disease, we gradually impress the disease picture upon our brain, the brain transmits it to our body—so if grows from an impression to a real sickness.

Similarly, people bring about their own misery and waste their existence by lamenting and brooding over past misfortunes and past mistakes. The past cannot be altered, and we had better rub a great sponge over it; only the future is plastic, and can be partly predicted and prepared for. To be sure, the past should not be forgotten in the sense that we are unwilling to learn from it; it should be the teacher for the future.

Hopelessness, fear and depression are not merely moods and sensations of no consequence, but are terrible realities, and the more we indulge in them, the more they become impressed upon our surroundings as well as our subconsciousness, and the more permanent the deadly mark upon our life. The old aphorism that happiness is the best of tonics is profoundly true; and the power of hope in curing disease and overcoming misfortune is as well known as the deadly influence of despair.

There are people who magnify the obstacles which rise before them, who are discouraged by the smallest failures, to whom the slightest happenings are catastrophies. They are overcome by a telegram before having learned its contents; they read between the lines of a letter, and ascribe to any occurrence whatever the least probable and the most terrible causes. Others are given to anxious, uneasy observation of their body, producing a crowd of auto-suggestions of symptoms of diseases, of pains and sensations of all sorts, exactly as though a real organic trouble were present. Thus human suggestibility reinforces and even creates our sensations. Conscious effort and a fixed determination are necessary to overcome such wretched and mistaken existence.

The auto-suggestion arising from our inner or subconsciousness accounts for much self-deception. For instance, the wine which we pour out of a dusky bottle bearing the label of a celebrated vineyard always seems better than it really is; a connoisseur among smokers will let his judgment be influenced if he recognises the make of the cigar that he is smoking. Some people feel already sea-sick when the ship is still lying motionless in the harbour. It is also well known that the auto-suggestion of fear in the case of epidemics renders one more liable to contagion. On the other hand, auto-suggestion has apparently rendered other persons immune from disease.

If we see in a place, where we might naturally suppose it possible for a cat to be, a grey mass about the size of that animal, we do not often take the trouble to test this perception, and we affirm the existence of the cat with a conviction which would draw other persons into error.

Question eye-witnesses concerning the details of some event at which they were present, and you will see that they have all seen differently, because they have all looked through the spectacles of their understanding, distorted by preconceived opinions and auto-suggestions. Judges and lawyers know how little credence they often can give to the declaration of even disinterested witnesses. To this category belong also the cases of self-accusation, in which people accuse themselves of a crime which they have not committed, giving the most minute details, and applying to the police-court for punishment. One also recognises in the same kind of people the occurrence of false accusations against other persons.

Great liars must have the capacity of suggestion and auto-suggestion to an extraordinary extent. These persons lie to themselves and to others continually, until they are no longer capable of distinguishing clearly between that which has been experienced and that which has been invented. They cheat and make up things, either half consciously or quite unconsciously. They are instinctive liars, and are incapable of speaking the truth, even if they are put on their oath. The pathological liar confuses the products of his fancy with realities. False memories constantly disturb his reproductive faculty. Since he plunges with his whole attention into the deceptive creations of his fancy, in such a way that they become realities to him, he has an assured appearance, and he presents his humbugs and swindles so ingenuously and naturally, with such an innocent expression or with such unfeigned enthusiasm, that he succeeds again and again in convincing his fellow-men, where a conscious liar, who coolly and clearly measures his words, in constant fear of contradicting himself or being trapped, meets with instinctive mistrust. In the consciousness of the common or normal liar, two trains of thought flow beside each other—the thought of the truth and the thought of the lie—and they trip each other up. In the brain of the pathological liar all is unified, and so he can carry through the most magnificent swindles artistically and with inner conviction. Thus he drags a multitude of credulous souls with him to ruin. The public believe blindly in his alluring portrayals, his poetic effusions, his fairy tales, until at last some chance or the reflection of a thoughtful man brings the end with panic, and usually a sensation in the courts. Then, as though wakening from a dream, the pathological liar collapses, for the moment almost as astonished and dismayed as his victims—only to begin soon again, for he cannot help himself.

Enough has been said to prove that suggestion, both from within and without, is a process constantly at work amongst us. We have observed the laws by which it is governed, and shall now examine the methods of employing it for practical purposes,