The idiosyncrasies of the censor have always been the subject for much speculation humorous and otherwise. But Mr. Wilton A. Barrett, executive secretary of the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures, has undertaken to explain the phenomenon on a purely empirical basis, and, since this is a professional matter for him, he carefully eschews facetiousness. Much investigation has convinced him that motion-picture, censorship is due primarily to "the bewilderment of any people confronted with a new mode of expression"; this simple analysis, however, is merely a starting point for the learned Mr. Wilton. a combination of erudition and suspicion has convinced him that there must be something deeper behind it; so 'possibly there was a more sintster significance--the desire of the privileged class to control amusement and ideas, very similar to the motive behind the effort to stifle the printing press." Delving still deeper Mr. Wilton has discovered that 'books sent out among the masses might prove dangerous the masses might become educated."

Skipping rapidly from social theory to ethics and morals, the executive secretary becomes most profound, "The habit of regarding pictures emotionally must be overcome," he says, "and we must learn to take hold of our task very dispassionately. It is time to stop talking about the morals of the movies,' for morals change and movies change, and the moral viewpoint of yesterday is not the moral viewpoint of today." In addition to all this research one of Mr. Wilton's colleagues has, after long and arduous labors, discovered that the mental age of movie audiences has increased from fourteen to twenty-one.

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Unfortunately, Mr. Wilton's revelations do not explain very much about the rather mysterious manner in which the mind of Boston's newest censor works, for he has announced that heading his list of tabooed plays are "The Vinegar Tree," "Sailor beware," "Strange Interlude," and "The Shanghai Gesture." Mr. Parker of the Transcript has his own explanation for the inclusion of the last two plays in the list; he is of the opinion that the censor is haunted, that theatrical spooks are making a hell of his life and that loudly banning plays which almost everyone has forgotten about is his method of laying the ghost. Mr. Parker, I hardly need add, is not being humorous and is offering his solution of a very, puzzling problem in all seriousness; and Mr. Parker, I think, is right. Ghosts are the only explanation of censorship psychology.