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stretch his neck and crow。 A bird in my hand was then worth two in

the……barnyard。

My fingers cannot; of course; get the impression of a large whole at a

glance; but I feel the parts; and my mind puts them together。 I move

around my house; touching object after object in order; before I can

form an idea of the entire house。 In other people's houses I can touch

only what is shown to me……the chief objects of interest; carvings on the

wall; or a curious architectural feature; exhibited like the family

album。 Therefore a house with which I am not familiar has for me; at

first; no general effect or harmony of detail。 It is not a plete

conception; but a collection of object…impressions which; as they e

to me; are disconnected and isolated。 But my mind is full of

associations; sensations; theories; and with them it constructs the

house。 The process reminds me of the building of Solomon's temple; where

was neither saw; nor hammer; nor any tool heard while the stones were

being laid one upon another。 The silent worker is imagination which

decrees reality out of chaos。

Without imagination what a poor thing my world would be! My garden would

be a silent patch of earth strewn with sticks of a variety of shapes and

smells。 But when the eye of my mind is opened to its beauty; the bare

ground brightens beneath my feet; and the hedge…row bursts into l

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