In everyday life, again, our _recognitions may be of all degrees of definiteness_. They are indefinite when the feeling of familiarity comes up alone, without the name or the associated ideas; when, for instance, we pass someone on the street, and say to our companion “I’m sure I know that face!” and so pass on. They are somewhat more definite when the perception is supplemented by a general name. As we glance down the line of strangers in the street-car we may think to ourselves “doctor,—farmer,—commercial traveller—soldier”; the feeling of familiarity then represents our recognition of the class. Lastly, they are definite when one or more of the contributory factors—the name, the organic stir of the feeling, the incoming ideas—carry an unequivocal reference to our past experience, mean some definite incident of our past life. We chance to overhear a name in conversation; and “Why,” we break in, “that’s the man I went up the Gross Glockner with in ‘98!”—the recognition is definite. _There is no real psychological difference_ between the three cases; the difference lies only in the range of meaning which the contextual processes carry. _There is a psychological difference_, however, between all the cases of recognition which we have hitherto mentioned and certain other cases: a difference _between direct and indirect recognition_. The recognition is direct when the perception at once, of itself, calls up the recognitive feeling. It is indirect when the feeling attaches, not directly to the perception, but to some idea or some other perception connected with the given perception. We pass a stranger on the street; but we are suddenly hailed by a familiar voice; the recognition of the voice makes us look hard at the stranger’s face, and we then recognise him as an old college friend. We try to find our host’s face in a group-photograph of schoolboys, and we are wholly puzzled to identify him; the face is pointed out in the picture, and we turn from it to the mature face with which we are familiar; the photograph grows more and more like, the more closely we compare the two; presently we get a sudden conviction of their identity, the recognition of the photograph is complete, and we wonder that we could have failed to pick the right boy at the outset. In both these instances, _recognition hinges on the feeling of familiarity_; but something else happens, something that reminds us of the second connective pattern of p. 161, where an idea is read into a perception, or the perception resolved into an idea. There are times, too, when recognition is halting and partial, when the feeling of familiarity alternates with a feeling of strangeness; in such experiences the play of associative tendencies may be extremely complex.