so much on this sense of touch, that it is of the
first importance to us. We must know whether the ground is hard enough
for us to walk on, or whether there is a hole in front of us; and masses
of colour rays striking the retina, which is what vision amounts to,
will not of themselves tell us. But associated with the knowledge
accumulated in our early years, by connecting touch with sight, we do
know when certain combinations of colour rays strike the eye that there
is a road for us to walk on, and that when certain other combinations
occur there is a hole in front of us, or the edge of a precipice.

And likewise with hardness and softness, the child who strikes his head
against the bed-post is forcibly reminded by nature that such things are
to be avoided, and feeling that it is hard and that hardness has a
certain look, it avoids that kind of thing in the future. And when it
strikes its head against the pillow, it learns the nature of softness,
and associating this sensation with the appearance of the pillow, knows
in future that when softness is observed it need not be avoided as
hardness must be.

Sight is therefore not a matter of the eye alone. A whole train of
associations connected with the objective world is set going in the mind
when rays of light strike the retina refracted from objects. And these
associations vary enormously in quantity and value with different
individuals; but the one we are here chiefly concerned with is this
universal one of touch. Everybody "sees" the shape of an object, and
"sees" whether it "looks" hard or soft, &c. Sees, in other words, the
"feel" of it.

If you are asked to think of an object, say a cone, it will not, I
think, be the visual aspect that will occur to most people. They will
think of a circular base from which a continuous side slopes up to a
point situated above its centre, as one would feel it. The fact that in
almost every visual aspect the base line is that of an ellipse, not a
circle, comes as a surprise to people unaccustomed to drawing.

But above these cruder instances, what a wealth of associations crowd in
upon the mind, when a sight that moves one is observed. Put two men
before a scene, one an ordinary person and the other a great poet, and
ask them to describe what they see. Assuming them both to be possessed
of a reasonable power honestly to express themselves, what a difference
would there be in the value of their descriptions. Or take two painters
b