free； differs from the heavy； sedate tread of the middle…aged； and from
the step of the old man； whose feet drag along the floor； or beat it
with slow； faltering accents。 On a bare floor a girl walks with a rapid；
elastic rhythm the graver step of the
elderly woman。 I have laughed over the creak of new shoes and the
clatter of a stout maid performing a jig in the kitchen。 One day； in the
dining…room of an hotel； a tactual dissonance arrested my attention。 I
sat still and listened with my feet。 I found that two waiters were
walking back and forth； but not with the same gait。 A band was playing；
and I could feel the music…waves along the floor。 One of the waiters
walked in time to the band； graceful and light； while the other
disregarded the music and rushed from table to table to the beat of some
discord in his own mind。 Their steps reminded me of a spirited war…steed
harnessed with a cart…horse。
Often footsteps reveal in some measure the character and the mood of the
walker。 I feel in them firmness and indecision； hurry and deliberation；
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 be