Let an illustration make this plainer.  I open the first book I take up, and read the first sentence that meets my eye:  ’Newton saw the handiwork of God in the heavens as plainly as Paley in the animal kingdom.’  I immediately look back and try to analyze the subjective state in which I rapidly apprehended this sentence as I read it.  In the first place there was an obvious feeling that the sentence was intelligible and rational and related to the world of realities.  There was also a sense of agreement or harmony between ‘Newton,’ ‘Paley,’ and ‘God.’  There was no apparent image connected with the words ‘heavens,’ or ‘handiwork,’ or ‘God’; they were words merely.  With ‘animal kingdom’ I think there was the faintest consciousness (it may possibly have been an image of the steps) of the Museum of Zoology in the town of Cambridge where I write.  With ‘Paley’ there was an equally faint consciousness of a small dark leather book; and with ‘Newton’ a pretty distinct vision of the right-hand lower corner of curling periwig.  This is all the mind-stuff I can discover in my first consciousness of the meaning of this sentence, and I am afraid that even not all of this would have been present had I come upon the sentence in a genuine reading of the book, and not picked it out for an experiment.  And yet my consciousness was truly cognitive.  The sentence is ‘about realities’ which my psychological critic—­for we must not forget him—­ acknowledges to be such, even as he acknowledges my distinct feeling that they are realities, and my acquiescence in the general rightness of what I read of them, to be true knowledge on my part.

Now what justifies my critic in being as lenient as this?  This singularly inadequate consciousness of mine, made up of symbols that neither resemble nor affect the realities they stand for,—­how can he be sure it is cognizant of the very realities he has himself in mind?

He is sure because in countless like cases he has seen such inadequate and symbolic thoughts, by developing themselves, terminate in percepts that practically modified and presumably resembled his own.  By ‘developing’ themselves is meant obeying their tendencies, following up the suggestions nascently present in them, working in the direction in which they seem to point, clearing up the penumbra, making distinct the halo, unravelling the fringe, which is part of their composition, and in the midst of which their more substantive kernel of subjective content seems consciously to lie.  Thus I may develop my thought in the Paley direction by procuring the brown leather volume and bringing the passages about the animal kingdom before the critic’s eyes.  I may satisfy him that the words mean for me just what they mean for him, by showing him in CONCRETO the very animals and their arrangements, of which the pages treat.  I may get Newton’s works and portraits; or if I follow the line of suggestion of the wig, I may smother my critic in seventeenth-century matters pertaining to Newton’s environment, to show that the word ‘Newton’ has the same Locus and relations in both our minds.  Finally I may, by act and word, persuade him that what I mean by God and the heavens and the analogy of the handiworks, is just what he means also.