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ivy； so suggestive of pagan holidays。
So imagination crowns the experience of my hands。 And they learned their
cunning from the wise hand of another； which； itself guided by
imagination； led me safely in paths that I knew not； made darkness light
before me； and made crooked ways straight。
THE HANDS OF OTHERS
II
THE HANDS OF OTHERS
THE warmth and protectiveness of the hand are most homefelt to me who
have always looked to it for aid and joy。 I understand perfectly how the
Psalmist can lift up his voice with strength and gladness； singing； 〃I
put my trust in the Lord at all times； and his hand shall uphold me； and
I shall dwell in safety。〃 In the strength of the human hand； too； there
is something divine。 I am told that the glance of a beloved eye thrills
one from a distance； but there is no distance in the touch of a beloved
hand。 Even the letters I receive are……
Kind letters that betray the heart's deep history；
In which we feel the presence of a hand。
It is interesting to observe the differences in the hands of people。
They show all kinds of vitality； energy； stillness； and cordiality。 I
never realized how living the hand is until I saw those chill plaster
images in Mr。 Hutton's collection of casts。 The hand I know in life has
the fullness of blood in its veins； and is elastic with spirit。 How
different dear Mr。 Hutton's hand was from its dull； insensate image！ To
me the cast lacks the very form of the hand。 Of the many casts in Mr。
Hutton's collection I did not recognize any； not even my own。 But a
loving hand I never forget。 I remember in my fingers the large hands of
Bishop Brooks； brimful of tenderness and a strong man's joy。 If you were
deaf and blind； and could have held Mr。 Jefferson's hand； you would have
seen in it a face and heard a kind voice unlike any other you have
known。 Mark Twain's hand is full of whimsies and the drollest humours；
and while you hold it the drollery changes to sympathy and championship。
＇Illustration： Copyright； 1907； by the Whitman Studio
The Medallion
The bas…relief on the wall is a portrait of the Queen Dowager of Spain；
which Her Majesty had made for Miss Keller
To face page 22＇
I am told that the words I have just written do not 〃describe〃 the hands
of my friends； but merely endow them with the kindly human qualities
which I know they possess； and which language conveys in abstract words。
The criticism implies that I am not giving the primary truth of what I
feel； but how otherwise do descriptions in books I read； written by men
who can see； render the visible look of a face？ I read that a face is
strong； gentle； that it is full of patience； of intellect； that it is
fine； sweet； noble； beautiful。 Have I not the same right to use these
words in describing what I feel as you have in describing what you see？
They express truly what I feel in the hand。 I am seldom conscious of
physical qualities； and I do not remember whether the fingers of a hand
are short or long； or the skin is moist or dry。 No more can you； without
conscious effort； recall the details of a face； even when you have seen
it many times。 If you do recall the features； and say that an eye is
blue； a chin sharp； a nose short； or a cheek sunken； I fancy that you do
not succeed well in giving the impression of the person；……not so well
as when you interpret at once to the heart the essential moral qualities
of the face……its humour； gravity； sadness； spirituality。 If I should
tell you in physical terms how a hand feels； you would be no wiser for
my account than a blind man to whom you describe a face in detail。
Remember that when a blind man recovers his sight； he does not recognize
the monest thing that has been familiar to his touch； the dearest
face intimate to his fingers； and it does not help him at all that
things and people have been described to him again and again。 So you；
who are untrained of touch； do not recognize a hand by the grasp； and
so； too； any description I might give would fail to make you acquainted
with a friendly hand which my fingers have often folded about； and
which my affection translates to my memory。
I cannot describe hands under any class or type； there is no democracy
of hands。 Some hands tell me that they do everything with the maximum of
bustle and noise。 Other hands are fidgety and unadvised； with nervous；
fussy fingers which indicate a nature sensitive to the little pricks of
daily life。 Sometimes I recognize with foreboding the kindly but stupid
hand of one who tells with many words news that is no news。 I have met a
bishop with a jocose hand； a humourist with a hand of leaden gravity； a
man of pretentious valour with a timorous hand； and a quiet； apologetic
man with a fist of iron。 When I was a little girl I was taken to see＇A＇
a woman who was blind and paralysed。 I shall never forget how she held
out her small； trembling hand and pressed sympathy into mine。 My eyes
fill with tears as I think of her。 The weariness； pain； darkness； and
sweet patience were all to be felt in her thin； wasted； groping； loving
hand。
Few people who do not know me will understand； I think； how much I get
of the mood of a friend who is engaged in oral conversation with
somebody else。 My hand follows his motions； I touch his hand； his arm；
his face。 I can tell when he is full of glee over a good joke which has
not been repeated to me； or when he is telling a lively story。 One of
my friends is rather aggressive； and his hand always announces the
ing of a dispute。 By his impatient jerk I know he has argument ready
for some one。 I have felt him start as a sudden recollection or a new
idea shot through his mind。 I have felt grief in his hand。 I have felt
his soul wrap itself in darkness majestically as in a garment。 Another
friend has positive； emphatic hands which show great pertinacity of
opinion。 She is the only person I know who emphasizes her spelled words
and accents them as she emphasizes and accents her spoken words when I
read her lips。 I like this varied emphasis better than the monotonous
pound of unmodulated people who hammer their meaning into my palm。
Some hands； when they clasp yours； beam and bubble over with gladness。
They throb and expand with life。 Strangers have clasped my hand like
that of a long…lost sister。 Other people shake hands with me as if with
the fear that I may do them mischief。 Such persons hold out civil
finger…tips which they permit you to touch； and in the moment of
contract they retreat； and inwardly you hope that you will not be called
upon again to take that hand of 〃dormouse valour。〃 It betokens a prudish
mind； ungracious pride； and not seldom mistrust。 It is the antipode to
the hand of those who have large； lovable natures。
The handshake of some people makes you think of accident and sudden
death。 Contrast this ill…boding hand with the quick； skilful； quiet hand
of a nurse whom I remember with affection because she took the best
care of my teacher。 I have clasped the hands of some rich people that
spin not and toil not； and yet are not beautiful。 Beneath their soft；
smooth roundness what a chaos of undeveloped chara