an invitation to girls to take the oath of the Fraternity. This is, after all, what the secret oath of the "Blue Beetle" was--a summons to fight the battle of the Red or the Black. Why is it that the Black is thought to be so dreadful a colour? Is it not because it is so near to the Red? The Red is so near to the Black that even now we should scarcely call any thing black which was not really red. And this brings us back to the Red, which is so near to the White, as it is only those colours which are near to one another which really stand out as black and white. The Red and the White, therefore, are the Black and White of Nature, or, if you prefer it, of Nature and Happiness. We now know why Shakespeare calls Night "a worm of wrath." We now understand why many ancient myths associate blackness with evil things, darkness with disease. We now know the reason why modern medical men look upon a red and a white patient as two quite different cases, not merely as two differently-coloured cases. When we have the real principles underlying our thought about colours--and this seems to be practically unknown, even to modern psychologists--we shall not look at the various colours of Nature in a mere subjective way, as so many different sorts of paint with which we happen to be impressed, but rather in the light of the principle of Harmony. We shall know that the real basis of all colour is Harmony. And then we shall know why black is not always bad and why it is not necessarily associated with "evil things." So far from black being an ugly colour, it often looks very pretty when there is harmony in the colouring of Nature or in the surroundings of Nature's creatures. The black-bird, for instance, is one of the prettiest birds, as you can see in the picture. But the fact is that the bird and his surroundings have black _and white_ intermingled. If you take two colours and throw them together, you get a new colour not present in either of them taken separately. So if you take a black bird and a white bird and put them together, you get a third colour, which is neither black nor white, but which is more than the sum of the parts. It is a kind of a greyish brown, or pale grey. This is Nature's taste in the matter of colours. We should all agree that there is a good deal of merit in this "harmonious scheme" in Nature. VI.--COLOUR TAUGHT BY THE BRAIN Let us next ask, what kind of a thing is a brain, and what is it for? You see a child jumping up and down at play. Does that child imagine that the jumping is the jumping of itself? No, you may be sure that the child knows that it is not the child jumping, and in fact believes that it is not the child. Does the child believe that the jumping is the jumping of a _stick_ or of a _ball_? No, you may be sure that it knows that it is not a stick or a ball that is being jumped. In fact, you may fairly say that the child knows what a brain is for. And if the child knew what the brain was for, he would also know what his brain was doing when it jumped, jumping as it did. Suppose there was no brain in his body. There is no doubt that he would be jumping up and down quite as well, but that would not be jumping; it would be the jumping of a _stick_ or of a _ball_--that is, jumping the jumping. It is quite certain, then, that the child knows that he has a brain. If he did not, he would say, "I am not the child; the child is jumping up and down; it is not me." He knows that he is not the jumping, but he is not the jumping either; so we may fairly say that he knows that he has got a brain. And yet--and this is very important--he knows that the brain is not doing the jumping. How does he know it? He is aware of the fact that he is having the sensation of jumping, but he knows that it is not _he_ that is jumping. How does he know this? He can see, and he can feel, and he can hear; and thus he knows. The child also knows that he cannot jump _himself_, and that he cannot jump with the jumping. He knows that he is not a thing that jumps, any more than a dog is a thing that barks. It is important to remember that he knows this. If you do not make any distinction between the one who barks and the one who jumps, if you do not make any distinction between the animal that barks and the animal that jumps, then you will put yourself into trouble. You will think that if you jump it is _you_ that jump, that if you see something jump it is _you_ that see it jump, and that you will jump yourself! It is very easy to fall into such confusion when we are dealing with thought or thought-processes. But the important point is this: We have learned in chapter ii. that a human being does not think in thoughts. A child does not think of jumping _himself_. He thinks, or thinks of, the jumping of a human being. And yet he knows that he is not a human being, though he is a human being. We see the distinction clearly enough in cases of insanity. For example, a lunatic may imagine that he is a king, or a general, or something of that sort, when, as a matter of fact, he is an ordinary working man, who is not, and never was, king or general; or, again, a lunatic may consider himself to be a dog, when he is an ordinary human being, who is not, and never was, a dog. So the lunatic does not believe his illusions, though he believes them; and he imagines that he is thinking of things which he is not thinking of. He is not himself the person who thinks of kings or generals. He is simply imagining something which he thinks of. He may even imagine that he is imagining it. So that it is quite clear that he knows that he has a brain and that he is not himself the thinker of the thoughts. When you understand this, you will understand that it is quite legitimate for the child to think that the jumping is the jumping of a _brain_. The brain thinks of the jumping, and yet it is not itself the jumping. If it were, it would jump itself; but it does not. And that is precisely why the child knows that he has a brain and why he knows that he does not jump himself. He is clear on the fact that the jumping is the jumping of a _brain_, and he knows that the brain is _not_ himself, or rather does _not_ himself jump, and is in fact _not_ a jumping thing at all. This kind of argument about the brain is entirely different from the idea of the Cartesian dualism, which said that the mind is different from the body and is _res cogitans_, whereas the body is _res extensa_. That is a mistake. The Cartesian dualism is a bad error; for the fact is that the mind is itself a body, although it is not _res extensa_, but is in a sense dual, or double, in itself. This is illustrated by the child who imagines that he is the jump and is not the jump. The child knows that he is not himself the jumping, because he is the one thinking the jumping. The mind is, as it were, a dual thing, the jumping and the thinking. There are, then, two things to the mind: the one being a bodily thing and the other being a mental thing. You cannot separate mind from matter; nor, as we have now seen, can you separate them into two different things. There is only one single thing--namely, Mind--with which mind and matter and all other objects are concerned, and of which both are in some sort a part. If you ask why we call the brain a thinking thing, that is just because it thinks, or it is capable of thinking. It is because of the thinking capability that the brain is itself called "brain," just as a chair is called "chair" because it is capable of holding people when they are sitting on it. It is because of the mental capacity that the mind is called "mind," just as the mouth is called "mouth" because it can utter words. We have learned in chapter iii. that a real thought is not a "proposition" to which you must assent and to which you must give your assent. It is a feeling in which you have to believe, if you are to believe at all. This is what is meant when you say that