e, and receptive at the
same time. The alternating currents of these moods are so swift that
they seem simultaneous, and the immeasurable swiftness with which they
pass from one to the other is the soul's instinctive method of kindling
itself--the very act of inspiration. Sometimes the subconscious self has
it all its own way with us except for a corner of dim, burning
consciousness keeping guard. Sometimes the conscious has it all its own
way with us and the subconscious self is crowded to the horizon's edge,
like Northern Lights still playing in the distance; but the result is
the same--the dim presence of one of these moods in the other, when
one's power is least effective, and the gradual alternating of the
currents of the moods as power grows more effective. In the higher
states of power, the moods are seen alternating with increasing heat and
swiftness until in the highest state of power of all, they are seen in
their mutual glow and splendour, working as one mood, creating miracles.

The orator and the listener, the writer and the reader, in proportion as
they become alive to one another, come into the same spirit--the spirit
of mutual listening and utterance. At the very best, and in the most
inspired mood, the reader reads as if he were a reader and writer both,
and the writer writes as if he were a writer and reader both.

While it is necessary in the use and development of power, that all
varieties and combinations of these moods should be familiar experiences
with the artist and with the reader of the artist, it remains as the
climax and ideal of all energy and beauty in the human soul that these
moods shall be found alternating very swiftly--to all appearances
together. The artist's command of this alternating current, the
swiftness with which he modulates these moods into one another, is the
measure of his power. The violinist who plays best is the one who sings
the most things together in his playing. He listens to his own bow, to
the heart of his audience, and to the soul of the composer all at once.
His instrument sings a singing that blends them together. The effect of
their being together is called art. The effect of their being together
is produced by the fact that they are together, that they are born and
living and dying together in the man himself while the strings are
singing to us. They are the spirit within the strings. His letting
himself go to them, his gathering himself out of them, his powe