feel "hot" and those that feel "cold;" and in this manner we arrive at the notion of differences of temperature. And it is through the medium of our tactile sense, without any aid from vision, that we first gain the idea of solid form, or the three dimensions of space.
Again, by the extension of our tactile experiences, we acquire the notion of liquids, as forms of matter yielding readily to pressure, but possessing a sensible weight which may equal that of solids; and of air, whose resisting power is much slighter, and whose weight is so small that it can only be made sensible by artificial means. Thus, then, we arrive at the notions of resistance and of weight as properties common to all forms of matter; and, now that we have got rid of that idea of light and heat, electricity and magnetism, as "imponderable fluids," which used to vex our souls in our scientific childhood, and of which the popular term "electric fluid" is a "survival," we accept these properties as affording the practical distinction between the "material" and the "immaterial."
Turning, now, to that other great portal of sensation, the sight, through which we receive most of the messages sent to us from the universe around, we recognize the same truth. Thus it is agreed, alike by physicists and physiologists, that color does not exist as such in the object itself; which has merely the power of reflecting or transmitting a certain number of millions of undulations in a second; and these only produce that affection of our consciousness, which we call color, when they fall upon the retina of the living percipient. And if there be that defect, either in the retina or in the apparatus behind it, which we call "color-blindness" or Daltonism, some particular hues cannot be distinguished, or there may even be no power of distinguishing any color whatever. If we were all like Dalton, we should see no difference, except in form, between ripe cherries hanging on a tree and the green leaves around them; if we were all affected with the severest form of color-blindness, the fair face of Nature would be seen by us as in the chiaro-scuro of an engraving of one of Turner's landscapes, not as in the glowing hues of the wondrous picture itself. And, in regard to our visual conceptions, it may be stated with perfect certainty, as the result of very numerous observations made upon persons who have acquired sight for the first time, that these do not serve for the recognition even of those objects with which the individual had become most familiar through the touch until the two sets of sense-perceptions have been coordinated by experience.[1] When once this coordination has been effected, however, the composite perception of
- ↑ Thus, in a recently-recorded case in which sight was imparted by operation to a young woman who had been blind from birth, but who had, nevertheless, learned to work well with her needle, when the pair of scissors she had been accustomed to use was placed before her, though she described their shape, color, and glistening metallic character, she was utterly unable to recognize them as scissors until she put her finger on them; when she at once named them, laughing at her own stupidity (as she called it) in not having made them out before.
