It  sets    up  our ideals  and pictures    us  in  the acts    of  achieving   them.   It  enables us  to
live    our joys    and our sorrows,    our victories   and our defeats before  we  reach
them.   It  looks   into    the past    and allows  us  to  live    with    the kings   and seers   of  old,
or  it  goes    back    to  the beginning   and we  see things  in  the process of  the making.
It  comes   into    our present and plays   a   part    in  every   act from    the simplest    to  the
most    complex.    It  is  to  the mental  stream  what    the light   is  to  the traveler    who
carries  it  as  he  passes  through     the     darkness,   while   it  casts   its     beams   in  all
directions  around  him,    lighting    up  what    otherwise   would   be  intolerable gloom.
Imagination in  the Interpretation  of  History,    Literature, and Art.—Let    us
see some    of  the most    common  uses    of  the imagination.    Suppose I   describe    to
you the battle  of  the Marne.  Unless  you can take    the images  which   my  words
suggest and build   them    into    struggling, shouting,   bleeding    soldiers;   into    forts   and
entanglements   and breastworks;    into    roaring cannon  and whistling   bullet  and
screaming   shell—unless    you can take    all these   separate    images  and out of  them
get one great   unified complex,    then    my  description will    be  to  you only    so  many
words   largely without content,    and you will    lack    the power   to  comprehend  the
historical  event   in  any complete    way.    Unless  you can read    the poem,   and out of
the images  suggested   by  the words   reconstruct the picture which   was in  the mind
of   the     author  as  he  wrote   "The    Village     Blacksmith"     or  "Snowbound,"    the
significance    will    have    dropped out,    and the throbbing   scenes  of  life    and action
become   only    so  many    dead    words,  like    the     shell   of  the     chrysalis   after   the
butterfly   has left    its shroud. Without the power   of  imagination,    the history of
Washington's    winter  at  Valley  Forge   becomes a   mere    formal  recital,    and you can
never   get a   view    of  the snow-covered    tents,  the wind-swept  landscape,  the tracks
in  the snow    marked  by  the telltale    drops   of  blood,  or  the form    of  the heartbroken
commander   as  he  kneels  in  the silent  wood    to  pray    for his army.   Without the
power   to  construct   this    picture as  you read,   you may commit  the words,  and be
able    to  recite  them,   and to  pass    examination upon    them,   but the living  reality of
it  will    forever escape  you.
Your    power   of  imagination determines  your    ability to  interpret   literature  of  all
kinds;   for     the     interpretation  of  literature  is  nothing,    after   all,    but     the
reconstruction  on  our part    of  the pictures    with    their   meanings    which   were    in  the
mind    of  the writer  as  he  penned  the words,  and the experiencing    of  the emotions
which    moved   him     as  he  wrote.  Small   use     indeed  to  read    the     history     of  the
centuries   unless  we  can see in  it  living, acting  people, and real    events  occurring
in  actual  environments.   Small   use to  read    the world's great   books   unless  their
characters  are to  us  real    men and women—our   brothers    and sisters,    interpreted to
