become fully conscious, but which we all instinctively bring into play when we are speaking under the influence of emotion. And later, in the work of a writer like Philo the Jew, who lived and wrote about A.D. 50, we can discern some of the religious activities which had followed the translation of the Septuagint; how the Jew, with his expectation of the Messiah, the Egyptian devotee, with his reverence for Horus—the child of a virgin mother, Isis—who died and rose again as the sun-god Osiris, and the Greek, with his elaborated Platonic doctrine, met together, speaking Greek; how innumerable sects, ascetic and licentious, philosophical and superstitious, wise and foolish, had been springing up and dying down all over the Alexandrian world—all of them, to whatever extravagant lengths they may have carried their philosophies and their dreams, working unconsciously at the long task of altering the meaning, the emotional colour, the evocative power of common Greek words. Concepts such as ‘God’, ‘world’, ‘love’, ‘soul’, ‘life’, ‘death’, ‘spirit’, ‘self’, and a hundred others were first resolved by the chemical action upon them of similar concepts from the minds of other nations and races, and then they began to be built up anew and to take on the form in which they are presented, as he learns to speak, to the modern European child. Greek philosophy had developed in many directions since Plato’s day. We hear of _Cynics_, _Sceptics_, _Epicureans_, _Stoics_, all of which words originated as the names of different schools of philosophy. The last two, whose doctrines were to take such a firm hold on the educated classes of imperial Rome, have given us one or two important words. Apart from their moral teachings, they appear to have directed their philosophical inquiries more especially to the point of contact between thoughts and things or, as we should say, between objective and subjective. ‘Phantasia’, from which we have _fantasy_ and _fancy_, was a popular word with the Stoics, who gave it much of its modern meaning; _notion_ and _comprehension_ are Cicero’s translations of Stoic terms; while _image_ in the sense of ‘mental image’ and _spectre_ are Latin renderings of Epicurean expressions. Epicurus had founded his doctrines on those of Democritus, and these last two words were employed by Cicero and one of his friends in discussing that philosopher’s odd theory of perception. He had held that the surfaces of all objects are continually throwing off ‘images’—a kind of films or husks which float about in space and at last penetrate to the mind through the pores of the body. Both the Stoic ‘phantasia’ and this Democritan word ‘eidōlon’, which Cicero translated by ‘imago’, seem to have contributed a part of their meaning to the later ‘imaginatio’, from which, of course, we have taken our _imagination_.