The Sense of Touch.
The sensations of smelling, tasting, hearing, and seeing, are conveyed by distinct organs, severally devoted to these objects, and all confined to the head. But the sense of touch, or feeling, extends over almost every part of the body. Though we may call every sensation feeling, yet what is properly denominated the sensation of touch, consists of the feeling or sensation excited by bodies brought in contact with the skin, and especially the tips of the fingers.
It is by the sense of touch, that men and other animals are able to perceive certain external qualities of objects. It is by this sense that we acquire ideas of hardness, softness, roughness, smoothness, heat and cold, weight and pressure, form and distance.
The accuracy of this sense is much improved by habit. In some cases, when persons have become deaf or blind, the sense of touch has grown so acute as partially to supply the loss of the sense of seeing or hearing. Blind persons have sometimes been able to determine the qualities of objects, with wonderful accuracy, by touch, and even to distinguish the colors of cloths, by being able to discriminate between the substances used in giving these their hues.
Merry’s Adventures.
CHAPTER XXI.
With a heavy and doubting heart, I proceeded on my way to New York. My situation was, in every respect, gloomy and depressing. I was alone in the world, and utterly unpractised in taking care of myself. I was cast forth to work my way in the rough voyage of life. I was like a person, who, while sailing confidently upon a raft, sees it suddenly sink in the waves, leaving him no other resource than to swim for his life, and that too, without preparation or practice.
It is, however, true, that necessity is, not only the mother of invention, but of exertion also, and by degrees I began to brace myself up to the emergency in which I was placed. It is a great thing—it is, indeed, the first requisite in order to obtain success—to have the mind and feelings prepared. I saw and felt that I had no other dependence now, than myself; that even my food, my clothing, my shelter, must henceforth, be the fruit of my own toil. It was a strange and startling position; and it was necessary for me to go over the events which had recently transpired, again and again, before I could realize a state of things so utterly at variance with the whole tenor of my life, my education, and my habits of thought.
It was long before, I could bring my pride down to my humble condition; it was long before I could resolve to grapple earnestly and heartily with the burthen which a life of toil presented to my imagination. I had heard of a punishment of criminals in Holland, in which they were obliged to work at a pump incessantly, to save themselves from being drowned; if they relaxed for a moment, the fatal element would rise over their heads and they would be lost forever. In my hour of distress, I looked upon my condition as little better than this. But necessity, necessity, that stern teacher, admonished me hour by hour, and at last its lesson was indelibly written on my heart. From that moment, fully estimating my dependence, I felt assured, and with a firmer step pushed on toward the place of my destination.
The day after my departure from Salem, as I was passing through the town of Bedford, I came to a handsome white house, the grounds of which seemed to bespeak wealth and taste on the part of its owner. It was at this moment beginning to snow, the flakes falling so thickly as to obscure the air. It was evidently setting in for a severe storm, and I was casting about for some place of shelter, when a tall, thin gentleman, of a very dignified appearance, approached me. There was that air of kindness about him, which emboldened me to inquire if he could tell me where I could get shelter till the storm was over.