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"Penser c'est sentir," said Condillac. "It is evident," said Bishop Berkeley, "to one who takes a survey of the objects of Human Knowledge that they are either ideas actually imprinted on the senses or else such as are perceived by attending to the passions and operations of the Mind, or lastly ideas formed by help of memory and imagination either combining, dividing, or barely representing those originally perceived in the foresaid ways." J. S. Mill tells us, "The points, lines, circles, and squares which one has in his mind are, I apprehend, simply copies of points, lines, circles, and squares which he has known in his experience," and again, "The character of necessity ascribed to the truths of Mathematics and even, with some reservations to be hereafter made, the peculiar certainty attributed to them is an illusion." "In the case of the definitions of Geometry there exist no real things exactly conformable to the definitions." Again Taine, "Les images sont les exactes reproductions de la sensation." Again Diderot, "Pour imaginer il faut colorer un fond et détacher de ce fait des points en leur supposant une couleur differente de celle du fond. Restituez
All the creatures, frogs and toads, those nocturnal singers of the marsh, were silent. Suddenly a frog croaked to my right, and close beside me. I shuddered. It ceased, and I heard nothing more, and resolved to smoke, to soothe my mind. But, although I was a noted colorer of pipes, I could not smoke; at the second draw I was nauseated, and gave up trying. I began to sing.
All the creatures, frogs and toads, those nocturnal singers of the marsh, were silent. Suddenly a frog croaked to my right, and close beside me. I shuddered. It ceased, and I heard nothing more, and resolved to smoke, to soothe my mind. But, although I was a noted colorer of pipes, I could not smoke; at the second draw I was nauseated, and gave up trying. I began to sing.
I wish with all my heart some artist would paint me Lois and her cart! Mr. Kitts, the artist in the city then, used to see it going past his room out by the coal-pits every day, and thought about it seriously. But he had his grand battle-piece on hand then, and after that he went the way of all geniuses, and died down into colorer for a photographer.
This was the bright tide of the picture which his imagination, aided by that gaudy painter and fancy colorer, Hope, had conjured up before his mind's eye, but the reverse side of the picture was at hand, and now he paused to ask himself seriously: "Can this be? Who am I? a poor unknown sailor, fortuneless, friendless, nameless.
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