I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands.I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa?although I know something of the delight of rhythm?for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor.I can well imagine that cadenced motion must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world.I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble;if this static grace can be so lovely?how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.
One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle.I was able to catch thus a meager glimpse of the world of drama?and I shall never forget the delight of that moment.But?oh?how much I must miss?and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance! If I could see only one play?I should know how to picture in my mind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.
So?through the evening of my second imaginary day of sight?the great fingers of dramatic literature would crow