visual objects in our neighbourhood rouse tactile images: we have a
different feeling in looking at a sofa from what we have in looking at
a block of marble, and the difference consists chiefly in different
stimulation of our tactile imagination. It may be said that the tactile
images are merely present, without any accompanying belief; but I think
this view, though sometimes correct, derives its plausibility as a
general proposition from our thinking of explicit conscious belief only.
Most of our beliefs, like most of our wishes, are "unconscious," in the
sense that we have never told ourselves that we have them. Such beliefs
display themselves when the expectations that they arouse fail in any
way. For example, if someone puts tea (without milk) into a glass, and
you drink it under the impression that it is going to be beer; or if you
walk on what appears to be a tiled floor, and it turns out to be a soft
carpet made to look like tiles. The shock of surprise on an occasion of
this kind makes us aware of the expectations that habitually enter into
our perceptions; and such expectations must be classed as beliefs, in
spite of the fact that we do not normally take note of them or put them
into words. I remember once watching a cock pigeon running over and over
again to the edge of a looking-glass to try to wreak vengeance on the
particularly obnoxious bird whom he expected to find there, judging by
what he saw in the glass. He must have experienced each time the sort of
surprise on finding nothing, which is calculated to lead in time to
the adoption of Berkeley's theory that objects of sense are only in the
mind. His expectation, though not expressed in words, deserved, I think,
to be called a belief.

I come now to the question what constitutes believing, as opposed to the
content believed.

To begin with, there are various different attitudes that may be taken
towards the same content. Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that
you have a visual image of your breakfast-table. You may expect it while
you are dressing in the morning; remember it as you go to your work;
feel doubt as to its correctness when questioned as to your powers of
visualizing; merely entertain the image, without connecting it with
anything external, when you are going to sleep; desire it if you are
hungry, or feel aversion for it if you are ill. Suppose, for the sake of
definiteness, that the content is "an egg for breakfast." Then you have
t