reflection of the soul, and that every thought and emotion leaves
inevitably its mark there, he will concentrate on the face, singling it
out as a phenomenon apart and self-complete. Were he a god and
infallible, he could no doubt learn the whole truth from the face. But
he is bound to fall into errors, and by limiting the field of vision he
minimises the opportunity for correction. The face is, after all, quite
a small part of the individual's physical organism. An Englishman will
look at a woman's face and say she is a beautiful woman or a plain
woman. But a woman may have a plain face, and yet by her form be
entitled to be called beautiful, and (perhaps) _vice versâ_. It is true
that the face is the reflexion of the soul. It is equally true that the
carriage and gestures are the reflection of the soul. Had one eyes, the
tying of a bootlace is the reflection of the soul. One piece of
evidence can be used to correct every other piece of evidence. A refined
face may be refuted by clumsy finger-ends; the eyes may contradict the
voice; the gait may nullify the smile. None of the phenomena which every
individual carelessly and brazenly displays in every motor-bus
terrorising the streets of London is meaningless or negligible.

Again, in observing we are generally guilty of that particularity which
results from sluggishness of the imagination. We may see the phenomenon
at the moment of looking at it, but we particularise in that moment,
making no effort to conceive what the phenomenon is likely to be at
other moments.

For example, a male human creature wakes up in the morning and rises
with reluctance. Being a big man, and existing with his wife and
children in a very confined space, he has to adapt himself to his
environment as he goes through the various functions incident to
preparing for his day's work. He is just like you or me. He wants his