Euph. How can you therefore conclude that the proper object of your sight exists at a distance? Alc. I confess I do not know. Euph. For your further conviction, do but consider that crimson cloud. Think you that, if you were in the very place where it is, you would perceive anything like what you now see? Alc. By no means. I should perceive only a dark mist. Euph. Is it not plain, therefore, that neither the castle, the planet, nor the cloud, which you see here, are those real ones which you suppose exist at a distance?" 3.3 Now the difficulty to be faced is just this. We may not lightly abandon the castle, the planet, and the crimson cloud, and hope to retain the eye, its retina, and the brain. Such a philosophy is too simple-minded—or at least might be thought so, except for its wide diffusion. Suppose we make a clean sweep. Science then becomes a formula for calculating mental 'phenomena' or 'impressions.' But where is science? In books? But the castle and the planet took their libraries with them. No, science is in the minds of men. But men sleep and forget, and at their best in any one moment of insight entertain but scanty thoughts. Science therefore is nothing but a confident expectation that relevant thoughts will occasionally occur. But by the bye, what has happened to time and space? They must have gone after the other things. No, we must distinguish: space has gone, of course; but time remains as relating the succession of phenomena. Yet this won't do; for this succession is only known by recollection, and recollection is subject to the same criticism as that applied by Berkeley to the castle, the planet, and the cloud. So after all, time does evaporate with space, and in their departure 'you' also have accompanied them; and I am left solitary in the character of a void of experience without significance. 3.4 At this point in the argument we may break off, having formed a short catalogue of the sort of considerations which lead from the Berkeleyan dilemma to a complete scepticism which was not in Berkeley's own thought. There are two types of answer to this sceptical descent. One is Dr Johnson's. He stamped his foot on a paving-stone, and went on his way satisfied with its reality. A scrutiny of modern philosophy will, if I am not mistaken, show that more philosophers should own Dr Johnson as their master than would be willing to acknowledge their indebtedness.