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not a reaction to, or an imitation of, something else. By a real hero, we mean one who is not partly a coward, or whose actions and motives do not merge away into cowardice. But, if in Continuity, all things do merge, by Realness, I mean the Universal, besides which there is nothing with which to merge.
    That, though the local might be universalized, it is not conceivable that the universal can be localized: but that high approximations there may be, and that these approximate successes may be translated out of Intermediateness into Realness—quite as, in a relative sense, the industrial world recruits itself by translating out of unrealness, or out of the seemingly less real imaginings of inventors, machines which seem, when set up in factories, to have more of Realness than they had when only imagined.
    That all progress, if all progress is toward stability, organization, harmony, consistency, or positiveness, is the attempt to become real.
    So, then, in general metaphysical terms, our expression is that, like a purgatory, all that is commonly called “existence,” which we call Intermediateness, is quasi-existence, neither real nor unreal, but expression of attempt to become real, or to generate for or recruit a real existence.
    Our acceptance is that Science, though usually thought of so specifically, or in its own local terms, usually supposed to be a prying into old bones, bugs, unsavory messes, is an expression of this one spirit animating all Intermediateness: that, if Science could absolutely exclude all data but its own present data, or that which is assimilable with the present quasi-organization, it would be a real system, with positively definite outlines—it would be real.
    Its seeming approximation to consistency, stability, system—positiveness or realness—is sustained by damning the irreconcilable or the unassimilable—
    All would be well;
    All would be heavenly—
    If the damned would only stay damned.

2
    In the autumn of 1883, and for years afterward, occurred brilliant-colored sunsets, such as had never been seen before within the memory of all observers. Also there were blue moons.
    I think that one is likely to smile incredulously at the notion of blue moons. Nevertheless they were as common as were green suns in 1883.
    Science had to account for these unconventionalities. Such publications as Nature and Knowledge were besieged with inquiries.
    I suppose, in Alaska and in the South Sea Islands, all the medicine men were similarly upon trial.
    Something had to be thought of.
    Upon the 28th of August, 1883, the volcano of Krakatoa, of the Straits of Sunda, had blown up.
    Terrific.
    We’re told that the sound was heard 2,000 miles, and that 36,380 persons were killed. Seems just a little unscientific, or impositive, to me: marvel to me we’re not told 2,163 miles and 36,387 persons. The volume of smoke that went up must have been visible to other planets—or, tormented with our crawlings and scurryings, the earth complained to Mars; swore a vast black oath at us.
    In all textbooks that mention this occurrence—no exception so far so I have read—it is said that the extraordinary atmospheric effects of 1883 were first noticed in the last of August or the first of September.
    That makes a difficulty for us.
    It is said that these phenomena were caused by particles of volcanic dust that were cast high in the air by Krakatoa.
    This is the explanation that was agreed upon in 1883—
    But for seven years the atmospheric phenomena continued—
    Except that, in the seven, there was a lapse of several years—and where was the volcanic dust all that time?
    You’d think that such a question as that would make trouble?
    Then you haven’t studied hypnosis. You have never tried to demonstrate to a hypnotic that a table is not a hippopotamus. According to our general acceptance, it would be impossible to demonstrate such a thing. Point out a hundred reasons for saying that a hippopotamus is not a table: