ed since its previous possession. The
appearance of the quality is really the sprouting of a seed whose
original germ was in some sense coeval with the beginning of things.
This mind-seed takes root in some cases and not in others, according to
the soil it finds. And as certain traits develop and others do not,
one man turns out very differently from his neighbor. Such inevitable
distinction implies furthermore that the man shall be sensible of it.
Consciousness is the necessary attribute of mental action. Not only is
it the sole way we have of knowing mind; without it there would be no
mind to know. Not to be conscious of one's self is, mentally speaking,
not to be. This complex entity, this little cosmos of a world, the "I,"
has for its very law of existence self-consciousness, while personality
is the effect it produces upon the consciousness of others.

But we may push our inquiry a step further, and find in imagination
the cause of this strange force. For imagination, or the image-making
faculty, may in a certain sense be said to be the creator of the world
within. The separate senses furnish it with material, but to it alone is
due the building of our castles, on premises of fact or in the air. For
there is no impassable gulf between the two. Coleridge's distinction
that imagination drew possible pictures and fancy impossible ones, is
itself, except as a classification, an impossible distinction to draw;
for it is only the inconceivable that can never be. All else is purely a
matter of relation. We may instance dreams which are usually considered
to rank among the most fanciful creations of the mind. Who has not in
his dreams fallen repeatedly from giddy heights and invariably escaped
unhurt? If he had attempted the feat in his waking moments he would
assuredly have been dashed to pieces at the bottom. And so we say the
thing is impossible. But is it? Only under the relative conditions of
his mass and the earth's. If the world he happens to inhabit were not
its present size, but the size of one of the tinier asteroids, no such
disastrous results would follow a chance misstep. He could there walk
off precipices when too closely pursued by bears--if I remember rightly
the usual childish cause of the same--with perfect impunity. The
bear could do likewise, unfortunately. We should have arrived at our
conclusion even quicker had we decreased the size both of the man and
his world. He would not then have had to tumble a