surface and catches some real glimpse of the tissue of thought and also of the real nature of the great triumphs in art, science and literature. "Think of the beauty of the scenes," says Kropotkin, "of Tourgueniéff's masterly novels. Every one of these could be the subject of a picture!" When Tourgueniéff himself thinks of Shakespeare he thinks of him in a picture, and declares it worthy "of the brush of a painter." And what are Shakespeare's works to any of his lovers but a panorama—a series of wonderful pictures—beautiful as Tourgueniéff's own novels? The scenes, the heroes, the heroines, the details of the novel or drama, are seen again by those who read them.
And this power of vision is something altogether distinct from the faculty that makes a bird or a rabbit keep clear of obstacles.
The great teachers know this so well that they almost instinctively pursue the pictorial method of teaching. That they can make the pictures visible is part of their greatness. But they do not despise aids. For example. In teaching geography to children the greatest geographers do not arm themselves with the best charts, models, and maps, before entering the class rooms. These things are useful to them, as students, but they are of use only in so far
