ago, when he asked the English men of letters and science to think of their
breakfast tables, and then describe the images which appeared. I am about to ask
each one of you to do the same thing, but I want to warn you beforehand that the
images will not be so vivid as the sensory experiences themselves. They will be
much fainter and more vague, and less clear and definite; they will be fleeting,
and must be caught on the wing. Often the image may fade entirely out, and the
idea only be left.
The Varied Imagery Suggested by One's Dining Table.—Let each one now
recall the dining table as you last left it, and then answer questions concerning it
like the following:
Can I see clearly in my "mind's eye" the whole table as it stood spread before
me? Can I see all parts of it equally clearly? Do I get the snowy white and gloss
of the linen? The delicate coloring of the china, so that I can see where the pink
shades off into the white? The graceful lines and curves of the dishes? The sheen
of the silver? The brown of the toast? The yellow of the cream? The rich red and
dark green of the bouquet of roses? The sparkle of the glassware?
Can I again hear the rattle of the dishes? The clink of the spoon against the cup?
The moving up of the chairs? The chatter of the voices, each with its own
peculiar pitch and quality? The twitter of a bird outside the window? The tinkle
of a distant bell? The chirp of a neighborly cricket?
Can I taste clearly the milk? The coffee? The eggs? The bacon? The rolls? The
butter? The jelly? The fruit? Can I get the appetizing odor of the coffee? Of the
meat? The oranges and bananas? The perfume of the lilac bush outside the door?
The perfume from a handkerchief newly treated to a spray of heliotrope?
Can I recall the touch of my fingers on the velvety peach? On the smooth skin of
an apple? On the fretted glassware? The feel of the fresh linen? The contact of
leather-covered or cane-seated chair? Of the freshly donned garment? Can I get
clearly the temperature of the hot coffee in the mouth? Of the hot dish on the
hand? Of the ice water? Of the grateful coolness of the breeze wafted in through
the open window?
Can I feel again the strain of muscle and joint in passing the heavy dish? Can I
feel the movement of the jaws in chewing the beefsteak? Of the throat and lips in
talking? Of the chest and diaphragm in laughing? Of the muscles in sitting and
rising? In hand and arm in using knife and fork and spoon? Can I get again the
sensation of pain which accompanied biting on a tender tooth? From the