d sounds of the physical realm, when carried beyond the portals
of the senses, under the marvelous transmutation of God's touch, become
ideas. The process, in so far as its secret has been revealed, will not
be discussed at this point, but rather the relation of these impressions
to character.

In early years the senses are undiscriminating as far as the real worth
of an impression is concerned. The vulgar picture will be admired as
quickly as the beautiful one, if its colors are attractive. The impure
word is caught as readily as the pure. There is no standard of values;
even taste is not yet formed, and eyes and ears hungrily reach out for
anything to satisfy their voracious appetite. Each sensation which is
reported to the mind through the senses and intricate nervous system,
supplies an idea, embodying itself. It is with these that all the
thinking of the child is done, these rouse his feelings and prompt his
actions and, finally, mean character. Manifestly, then, his life can be
no better than the things he sees and hears, handles and tastes, for he
lives in a world of sensations and not of ideas. This was the thought of
the mother who said, "I never wash my little children's faces at night,
and put them to bed all sweet and clean on the outside, that I don't
think that I would give all the world if I could somehow get inside and
wash that too." But the inner cleansing from the influence of sight and
sound no hand can perform. God forgives sin, but even His touch does not
remove the impression of the picture or the word which memory has put
away. The only hope of beautiful character lies in bringing to the
unfolding life helpful influences which shall be stronger in their power
than the vitiating. When some definite counteracting impression is
needed, it is in the sacred confidences of the twilight hour, and at the
confessional of a mother's knee, that it can be most effectively given.

Aside from the moral import of the impressions, there is a vital
relationship between the senses and the quality of the intellectual
life. Since knowledge can come to the child only through his senses, the
amount of knowledge, as well as its sort, depends upon the story the
senses tell. If they be dull, the knowledge is meagre and life has
little with which to build. If they be defective, the impression is
either falsely reported or not at all. Tests have revealed the amazing
fact that over fifty per cent of children have imperfect