THE PERCEPTION OF REALITY. 311 



loved one is sick or in pain. To do anything is a relief. 

 Accordingly, whatever remedy may be suggested is a sjDark 

 on inflammable soil. The mind makes its spring towards 

 action on that cue, sends for that remedy, and for a day at 

 least believes the danger past. Blame, dread, and hope are 

 thus the great belief-inspiring passions, and cover among 

 them the future, the present, and the past. 



These remarks illustrate the earlier heads of the list on 

 page 292. Whichever represented objects give us sensa- 

 tions, especially interesting ones, or incite our motor im- 

 pulses, or arouse our hate, desire, or fear, are real enough 

 for us. Our requirements in the way of reality terminate in 

 our own acts and emotions, our own pleasures and pains. 

 These are the ultimate fixities from which, as we formerly 

 observed, the whole chain of our beliefs depends, object 

 hanging to object, as the bees, in swarming, hang to each 

 other until, de proche en proche, the supporting branch, the 

 Self, is reached and held. 



BELIEF IN" OBJECTS OP THEORY. 



Now the merely conceived or imagined objects which 

 our mind represents as hanging to the sensations (causing 

 them, etc.), filling the gaps between them, and weaving their 

 interrupted chaos into order are innumerable. Whole sys- 

 tems of them conflict with other systems, and our choice of 



too well. I took it to them. ' Is this the tara-tara, friends, that you wish 

 burned ? ' 



" ' Yes, yes, that is it.' 



" ' Well, take it, and burn it, or keep it.' 



"'M — m. No, no, no. We will not touch it. It is fetish. You must 

 burn it.' 



" ' 1 ! Well, let it be so. I will do anything to please my good friends 

 of Mowa.' 



" We walked to the nearest fire. I breathed a regretful farewell to my 

 genial companion, which, during my many weary hours of night, had 

 assisted to relieve my mind when oppressed by almost intolerable woes, 

 and then gravely consigned the innocent Shakespeare to the flames, heap- 

 ing the brush fuel over it with ceremonious care. 



"' A h-h,' breathed the poor deluded natives sighing their relief. . . . 

 ' There is no trouble now.' . . . And something approaching to a cheer 

 was shouted among them, which terminated the episode of the burning of 

 Shakespeare." 



