r more of our sense organs. A
perception, then, results from the stimulation of a sense organ.
Perception is the process of perceiving, sensing, objects in the
external world.

Ideas are our _seeming_ to see, hear, smell, taste things when these
things are not present to the senses. This morning I saw, had a
_perception_ of, a robin. To-night in my study, I have an _idea_ of a
robin. This morning the robin was present. Light reflected from it
stimulated my eye. To-night, as I have an idea of the robin, it is not
here; I only seem to see it. The scene which was mine this morning is
now revived, reproduced. We may say, therefore, that ideas are the
conscious representatives of objects which are not present to the
senses. Ideas are revived experiences.

Revived experience is memory. Since it is memory that enables us to live
our lives over again, brings the past up to the present, it is one of
the most wonderful aspects of our natures. The importance of memory is
at once apparent if we try to imagine what life would be without it. If
our life were only perceptual, if it were only the sights and sounds and
smells and tastes of the passing moment, it would have little meaning,
it would be bare and empty. But instead of our perceptions being our
whole life, they are only the starting points of life. Perceptions serve
to arouse groups of memory images or ideas, and the groups of ideas
enrich the passing moment and give meaning to the passing perceptions,
which otherwise would have no meaning.

Suppose I am walking along the street and meet a friend. I see him,
speak to him, and pass on. But after I have passed on, I have ideas. I
think of seeing my friend the day before. I think of what he said and of
what he was doing, of what I said and of what I was doing. Perhaps for
many minutes there come ideas from my past experience. These ideas were
aroused by the perception of my friend. The perception was momentary,
but it started a long train of memory ideas.

I pass on down the street and go by a music store. Within the store, a
victrola is playing _Jesus, Lover of My Soul_. The song starts another
train of memory ideas. I think of the past, of my boyhood days and
Sunday school, my early home and many scenes of my childhood. For
several minutes I am so engrossed with the memory images that I
scarcely notice anything along the street. Again, the momentary
perception, this time of sounds, served to revive a great number of
idea