mirth and sunshine to the world ;—and in each case some craving is gratified, be it that of anger, combativeness, meditation or benevolence. This special craving seized upon the incident as upon its prey; why just this one? Because, pinched with hunger and thirst, it was lying in ambush. The other morning at eleven o'clock, a man suddenly fell down full length immediately in front of me, as if struck by lightning; all the women around shrieked aloud. I raised him to his feet and waited till he had recovered speech in the meantime not a muscle in my face moved, and no feeling, neither of terror nor of pity, was aroused: but I did the most urgent and reasonable thing, and coolly went my way. Suppose I had been told the previous day that on the following morning, at eleven o'clock, somebody would fall down in front of me in the aforementioned manner, —I should have suffered all sorts of agonies beforehand, not slept all night, and, at the decisive moment, perhaps, followed the man's example, instead of helping him. For in the meantime all possible cravings would have had time to imagine the incident and comment on it. What then are our experiences? Much more that which we transpose into, than that which is contained in them. Or should we say —Nothing in itself is contained therein, experience is a work of fancy?
120
To case the mind of the sceptic.—"I do not in the
