第2部分(第6/7 頁)

l　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　hands