s wele； its yelp of despair； and its contented
snore； the cow's moo； a monkey's chatter； the snort of a horse； the
lion's roar； and the terrible snarl of the tiger。 Perhaps I ought to
add； for the benefit of the critics and doubters who may peruse this
essay； that with my own hands I have felt all these sounds。 From my
childhood to the present day I have availed myself of every opportunity
to visit zoological gardens； menageries； and the circus； and all the
animals； except the tiger； have talked into my hand。 I have touched the
tiger only in a museum； where he is as harmless as a lamb。 I have；
however； heard him talk by putting my hand on the bars of his cage。 I
have touched several lions in the flesh； and felt them roar royally；
like a cataract over rocks。
To continue； I know the _plop_ of liquid in a pitcher。 So if I spill my
milk； I have not the excuse of ignorance。 I am also familiar with the
pop of a cork； the sputter of a flame； the tick…tack of the clock； the
metallic swing of the windmill； the laboured rise and fall of the pump；
the voluminous spurt of the hose； the deceptive tap of the breeze at
door and window； and many other vibrations past puting。
There are tactual vibrations which do not belong to skin…touch。 They
perate the skin； the nerves； the bones； like pain； heat； and cold。
The beat of a drum smites me through from the chest to the
shoulder…blades。 The din of the train； the bridge； and grinding
machinery retains its 〃old…man…of…the…sea〃 grip upon me long after its
cause has been left behind。 If vibration and motion bine in my touch
for any length of time； the earth seems to run away whi