them to suspect more and more strongly that they are all compound.
Alike to the laborer who digs it out and to the carpenter who uses it in his workshop, a piece of chalk appears a thing than which nothing can be simpler; and ninety-nine people out of a hundred would agree with them. Yet a piece of chalk is highly complex. A microscope shows it to consist of myriads of shells of Foraminifera; shows further that it contains more kinds than one; and shows further still that each minute shell, whole or broken, is formed of many chambers, every one of which once contained a living unit. Thus by ordinary inspection, however close, the true nature of chalk can not be known; and to one who has absolute confidence in his eyes the assertion of its true nature appears absurd.
Take again a living body of a seemingly uncomplicated kind—say a potato. Cut it through and observe how structureless its substance. But though unaided vision gives this verdict, aided vision gives a widely different one. Aided vision discovers, in the first place, that the mass is everywhere permeated by vessels of complex formation. Further, that it is made up of innumerable units called cells, each of which has walls composed of several layers. Further still, that each cell contains a number of starch grains. And yet still further, that each of these grains is formed of layer within layer, like the coats of an onion. So that where there seems perfect simplicity there is really complexity within complexity.
From these examples which the objective world furnishes, let us turn to some examples furnished by the subjective world—some of our states of consciousness. Up to modern times any one who, looking out on the snow, was told that the impression of whiteness it gave him was composed of impressions such as those given by the rainbow, would have regarded his informant as a lunatic; as would even now the great mass of mankind. But since Newton's day, it has become well known to a relatively small number that this is literal fact. Not only may white light be resolved by a prism into a number of brilliant colors, but by an appropriate arrangement these colors can be re-combined into white light. Those who habitually suppose that things are what they seem, are wrong here as in multitudinous other cases.
Another example is supplied by the sensation of sound. A solitary note struck on the piano, or a blast from a horn, yields through the ear a feeling which appears homogeneous; and the uninstructed are incredulous if told that it is an intricate combination of noises. In the first place, that which constitutes the more voluminous part of the tone is accompanied by a number of over-tones, producing what is known as its timbre: instead of one
