The difficulty is greatly increased when we consider the relations of emotion to voluntary action. We have seen that reflex acts, similar to, or identical with those in which Professor James believes emotion to consist, may occur independently of emotion, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, at least. Strictly voluntary acts, on the contrary, are always the concomitants of emotion of some sort. In the great majority of the ordinary actions of life, they are the only motor phenomena of which we are aware in this connection. Our whole daily conduct, in our business and pleasure, our incomings and our outgoings, our downsittings and uprisings, is inseparably associated with our likings and dislikings, our hopes and fears. What is the nature of this association? Under the theory we are considering, two relations of voluntary acts to emotion are possible. They may, like the involuntary reactions, constitute the emotion, or unlike them, result from it. Professor James does not express himself on the general question, but some of his illustrations seem to favor the former view. If the man who meets a bear is frightened because he runs, or the one who is insulted, angry because he strikes, the voluntary acts of running and striking must, in part, at least, constitute the emotions of fear and anger in these cases. Let us, then, consider this case first. If I see a shower coming up, and run for a shelter, the emotion is evidently of the same kind, though perhaps less in degree, as in the case of the man who runs from the bear. According to Professor James, I am afraid of getting wet because I run. But supposing that, instead of running, I step into a shop and buy an umbrella. The emotion is still the same. I am afraid of getting wet. Consequently, so far as I can see, the fear, in this case, consists in buying the umbrella. Fear of hunger, in like manner, might consist in laying in a store of provisions; fear of poverty, in shoveling dirt at a dollar a day, and so on indefinitely. Anger, again, may be associated with many other actions than striking. Shylock’s anger at Antonio’s insults induced him to lend him money. Did the anger, or revengefulness, or whatever we may call the passion, consist in the act of lending the money? I hardly think it necessary to multiply instances in illustration of the fact that the same act is often associated with the most contradictory emotions, and acts which are ordinarily indifferent with the most intense feeling; that, in fact, there is no such uniformity in the associations of emotion with voluntary conduct as the hypothesis would seem to require. I incline to think that most people will believe, in the cases cited by Professor James, that the running and the striking are the results, not the causes of the fear and anger.