everyone in the language he can comprehend and that to try to awaken in the mind of a man of coarse skin a notion of the delicacies of a refined sentiment is to speak to a deaf man of the sweetness of harmony, and to a blind man of the beauties of colour."
A great deal of rough work has to be done in the world, and this rough work is so far from being fatal to man's development, that it is pretty certain that no one has been really educated who at some time in his life has not done his full share of it. Yet to make the flesh rock is to shut life's doors, and to make it hard in childhood is to put up the shutters at daybreak.
Full sensory development implies, of course, the keeping fine of the lower senses—touch, taste, and smell—a literal "fine life below stairs" in the organism. It depends on clean air, pure water, abundant light, food that does not offend or degrade the palate, fragrance, but nothing to dull the sense for odours; and last, but not least, the habit of attending to sense impressions. By such means the whole surface of the body becomes more responsive, less hide-bound, and thrills at the presence of subtler influences. It seizes undertones of life, and reaps new harvests of sensation. But who can buy all
