8. Another cause, which co-operates with the former, is to be found in the extreme complexity and variety of the evidence on which our belief of any proposition depends. Hence it results that our actual belief at any given moment is one of the most fugitive and variable things possible, so that we can scarcely ever get sufficiently clear hold of it to measure it. This is not confined to the times when our minds are in a turmoil of excitement through hope or fear. In our calmest moments we shall find it no easy thing to give a precise answer to the question, How firmly do I hold this or that belief? There may be one or two prominent arguments in its favour, and one or two corresponding objections against it, but this is far from comprising all the causes by which our state of belief is produced. Because such reasons as these are all that can be practically introduced into oral or written controversies, we must not conclude that it is by these only that our conviction is influenced. On the contrary, our conviction generally rests upon a sort of chaotic basis composed of an infinite number of inferences and analogies of every description, and these moreover distorted by our state of feeling at the time, dimmed by the degree of our recollection of them afterwards, and probably received from time to time with varying force according to the way in which they happen to combine in our consciousness at the moment. To borrow a striking illustration from Abraham Tucker, the substructure of our convictions is not so much to be compared to the solid foundations of an ordinary building, as to the piles of the houses of Rotterdam which rest somehow in a deep bed of soft mud. They bear their weight securely enough, but it would not be easy to point out accurately the dependence of the different parts upon one another. Directly we begin to think of the amount of our belief, we have to think of the arguments by which it is produced--in fact, these arguments will intrude themselves without our choice. As each in turn flashes through the mind, it modifies the strength of our conviction; we are like a person listening to the confused hubbub of a crowd, where there is always something arbitrary in the particular sound we choose to listen to. There may be reasons enough to suffice abundantly for our ultimate choice, but on examination we shall find that they are by no means apprehended with the same force at different times. The belief produced by some strong argument may be very decisive at the moment, but it will often begin to diminish when the argument is not actually before the mind. It is like being dazzled by a strong light; the impression still remains, but begins almost immediately to fade away. I think that this is the case, however we try to limit the sources of our conviction.