activity and laziness; fatigue; carelessness; timidity; anger; and
sorrow。 I am most conscious of these moods and traits in persons with
whom I am familiar。
Footsteps are frequently interrupted by certain jars and jerks; so that
I know when one kneels; kicks; shakes something; sits down; or gets up。
Thus I follow to some extent the actions of people about me and the
changes of their postures。 Just now a thick; soft patter of bare; padded
feet and a slight jolt told me that my dog had jumped on the chair to
look out of the window。 I do not; however; allow him to go
uninvestigated; for occasionally I feel the same motion; and find him;
not on the chair; but trespassing on the sofa。
When a carpenter works in the house or in the barn near by; I know by
the slanting; up…and…down; toothed vibration; and the ringing concussion
of blow upon blow; that he is sawing or hammering。 If I am near enough;
a certain vibration; travelling back and forth along a wooden surface;
brings me the information that he is using a plane。
A slight flutter on the rug tells me that a breeze has blown my papers
off the table。 A round thump is a signal that a pencil has rolled on the
floor。 If a book falls; it gives a flat thud。 A wooden rap on the
balustrade announces that dinner is ready。 Many of these vibrations are
obliterated out of doors。 On a lawn or the road; I can feel only
running; stamping; and the rumble of wheels。
By placing my hand on a person"s lips and throat; I gain an idea of many
specific vibrations; and interpret them: a boy"s chuckle; a man"s
〃Whew!〃 of surprise; the 〃Hem!〃 of annoyance or perplexity; the moan of
pain; a scream; a whisper; a rasp; a sob; a choke; and a gasp。 The
utterances of animals; though e……the cat"s
purr; its mew; its angry; jerky; scolding spit; the dog"s bow…wow of
warning or of joyous wele; its yelp of despair; and its contented
snore; the cow"s moo; a monkey"s chatter; the snort of a horse; the
lion"s roar; and the terrible snarl of the tiger。 Perhaps I ought to
add; for the benefit of the critics and doubters who may peruse this
essay; that with my own hands I have felt all these sounds。 From my
childhood to the present day I have availed myself of every opportunity
to visit zoological gardens; menageries; and the circus; and all the
animals; except the tiger; have talked into my hand。 I have touched the
tiger only in a museum; where he is as harmless as a lamb。 I have;
however; heard him talk by putting my hand on the bars of his cage。 I
have touched several lions in the flesh; and felt them roar royally;
like a cataract over rocks。
To continue; I know the _plop_ of liquid in a pitcher。 So if I spill my
milk; I have not the excuse of ignorance。 I am also familiar with the
pop of a cork; the sputter of a flame; the tick…tack of the clock; the
metallic swing of the windmill; the laboured rise and fall of the pump;
the voluminous spurt of the hose; the deceptive tap of the breeze at
door and window; and many other vibrations past puting。
There are tactual vibrations which do not belong to skin…touch。 They
perate the skin; the nerves; the bones; like pain; heat; and cold。
The beat of a drum smites me through from the chest to the
shoulder…blades。 The din of the train; the bridge; and grinding
machinery retains its 〃old…man…of…the…sea〃 grip upon me long after its
cause has been left behind。 If vibration and motion bine in my touch
for any length of time; the earth seems to run away while I stand still。
When I step off the train; the platform whirls round; and I find it
difficult to walk steadily。
Every atom of my body is a vibroscope。 But my sensations are not
infallible。 I reach out; and my fingers meet something furry; which
jumps about; gathers itself together as if to spring; and acts like an
animal。 I pause a moment for caution。 I touch it again more firmly; and
find it is a fur coat fluttering and flapping in the wind。 To me; as to
you; the earth seems motionless; and the sun appears to move; for the
rays of the afternoon withdraw more and more; as they touch my face;
until the air bees cool。 From this I understand how it is that the
shore seems to recede as you sail away from it。 Hence I feel no
incredulity when you say that parallel lines appear to converge; and the
earth and sky to meet。 My few senses long ago revealed to me their
imperfections and deceptivity。
Not only are the senses deceptive; but numerous usages in our language
indicate that people who have five senses find it difficult to keep
their functions distinct。 I understand that we hear views; see tones;
taste music。 I am told that voices have colour。 Tact; which I have
supposed to be a matter of nice perception; turns out to be a matter of
taste。 Judging from the large use of the word; taste appears to be the
most important of all the senses。 Taste governs the great and small
conventions of life。 Certainly the language of the senses is full of
contradictions; and my fellows who have five doors to their house are
not more surely at home in themselves than I。 May I not; then; be
excused if this account of my sensations lacks precision?
THE FINER VIBRATIONS
V
THE FINER VIBRATIONS
I HAVE spoken of the numerous jars and jolts which daily minister to my
faculties。 The loftier and grander vibrations which appeal to my
emotions are varied and abundant。 I listen with awe to the roll of the
thunder and the muffled avalanche of sound when the sea flings itself
upon the shore。 And I love the instrument by which all the diapasons of
the ocean are caught and released in surging floods……the many…voiced
organ。 If music could be seen; I could point where the organ…notes go;
as they rise and fall; climb up and up; rock and sway; now loud and
deep; now high and stormy; anon soft and solemn; with lighter
vibrations interspersed between and running across them。 I should say
that organ…music fills to an ecstasy the act of feeling。
There is tangible delight in other instruments; too。 The violin seems
beautifully alive as it responds to the lightest wish of the master。 The
distinction between its notes is more delicate than between the
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