of the preceding observations, I shall give it in his own words. "Je ne me tiens pas bien en ma possession et disposition; le hazard y a plus de droit que moy; l'occasion, la compagnie, le branle même de ma voix tire plus de mon esprit, que je n'y trouve lorsque je sonde et employe à part moy. Ceci m'advient aussi, que je ne me trouve pas où je me cherche; et me trouve plus par rencontre, que par l'inquisition de mon jugement."1

The differences which I have now pointed out between philosophical and casual Memory, constitute the most remarkable of all the varieties which the minds of different individuals, considered in respect to this faculty, present to our observation. But there are other varieties, of a less striking nature, the consideration of which may also suggest some useful reflections.

It was before remarked, that our ideas are frequently associated, in consequence of the associations which take place among their arbitrary signs. Indeed, in the case of all our general speculations, it is difficult to see in what other way our thoughts can be associated; for I before endeavoured to shew, that without the use of signs of one kind or another, it would be impossible for us to make classes or genera objects of our attention.

All the signs by which our thoughts are expressed, are addressed either to the eye or to the ear; and the impressions made on these organs, at the time when we first receive an idea, contribute to give us a firmer hold of it. Visible objects (as I observed in the Chapter on Conception) are remembered more easily than those of any of our other senses; and hence it is, that the bulk of mankind are more aided in their recollection by the impressions made on the eye, than by those made on the ear. Every person must have remarked, in studying the elements of geometry, how much his recollection of the theorems was aided by the diagrams which are connected with them; and I have little doubt, that the difficulty which students commonly find to remember the propositions of the fifth book of Euclid, arises chiefly from this, that the magnitudes to which they relate are represented by straight lines, Liv. i. chap. 10. (Du parler prompt ou tardif.)

which do not make so strong an impression on the memory as the figures which illustrate the propositions in the other five books.

This advantage, which the objects of sight naturally have over those of hearing, in the distinctness and the permanence of the impressions which they make on the memory, continues, and even increases through life, in the case of the bulk of mankind; because their minds being but little addicted to general and abstract disquisition, are habitually occupied, either with the immediate perception of such objects, or with speculations in which the conception of them is more or less involved; which speculations, so far as they relate to individual things and individual events, may be carried on with little or no assistance from language.

The case is different with the philosopher, whose habits of abstraction and generalization lay him continually under a necessity of employing words as an instrument of thought. Such habits co-operating with that inattention, which he is apt to contract to things external, must have an obvious tendency to weaken the original powers of recollection and conception with respect to visible objects, and at the same time to strengthen the power of retaining propositions and reasonings expressed in language. The common system of education, too, by exercising the memory so much in the acquisition of grammar rules, and of passages from the ancient authors, contributes greatly, in the case of men of letters, to cultivate a capacity for retaining words.

It is surprising of what a degree of culture our power of retaining a succession, even of insignificant sounds, is susceptible. Instances sometimes occur of men who are easily able to commit to memory a long poem, composed in a language of which they are wholly ignorant; and I have myself known more than one instance of an individual who, after having forgotten completely the classical studies of his childhood, was yet able to repeat, with fluency, long passages from Homer and Virgil, without annexing an idea to the words that he uttered.

This susceptibility of memory with respect to words, is pos

sessed by all men in a very remarkable degree in their early years, and is, indeed, necessary to enable them to acquire the use of language; but unless it be carefully cultivated afterwards by constant exercise, it gradually decays as we advance to maturity. The plan of education which is followed in this country, however imperfect in many respects, falls in happily with this arrangement of nature, and stores the mind richly, even in infancy, with intellectual treasures, which are to remain with it through life. The rules of grammar which comprehend systems more or less perfect of the principles of the dead languages, take a permanent hold of the memory, when the understanding is yet unable to comprehend their import; and the classical remains of antiquity which, at the time we acquire them, do little more than furnish a gratification to the ear, supply us with inexhaustible sources of the most refined enjoyment; and, as our various powers gradually unfold themselves, are poured forth without effort from the memory, to delight the imagination, and to improve the heart. It cannot be doubted, that a great variety of other articles of useful knowledge, particularly with respect to geographical and chronological details, might be communicated with advantage to children in the form of memorial lines. It is only in childhood that such details can be learned with facility; and if they were once acquired, and rendered perfectly familiar to the mind, our riper years would be spared much of that painful and uninteresting labour, which is perpetually distracting our intellectual powers from those more important exertions, for which, in their mature state, they seem to be destined.

This tendency of literary habits in general, and more particularly of philosophical pursuits, to exercise the thoughts about words, can scarcely fail to have some effect in weakening the powers of recollection and conception with respect to sensible objects; and, in fact, I believe it will be found, that whatever advantage the philosopher may possess over men of little education, in stating general propositions and general reasonings, he is commonly inferior to them in point of minuteness and accuracy, when he attempts to describe any object

which he has seen, or any event which he has witnessed, supposing the curiosity of both, in such cases, to be interested in an equal degree. I acknowledge, indeed, that the undivided attention, which men unaccustomed to reflection are able to give to the objects of their perceptions, is, in part, the cause of the liveliness and correctness of their conceptions.

With this diversity in the intellectual habits of cultivated and of uncultivated minds, there is another variety of memory which seems to have some connexion. In recognising visible objects, the memory of one man proceeds on the general appearance, that of another attaches itself to some minute and distinguishing marks. A peasant knows the various kinds of trees from their general habits; a botanist, from those characteristical circumstances on which his classification proceeds. The last kind of memory is, I think, most common among literary men, and arises from their habit of recollecting by means of words. It is evidently much easier to express by a description, a number of botanical marks, than the general habit of a tree; and the same remark is applicable to other cases of a similar nature. But to whatever cause we ascribe it, there can be no doubt of the fact, that many individuals are to be found, and chiefly among men of letters, who, although they have no memory for the general appearances of objects, are yet able to retain, with correctness, an immense number of technical discriminations.1

[The following facts, which throw considerable light on some of the observations in the text on the varieties of memory, are copied from the excellent Survey of Peebles-shire by the Reverend Charles Findlater.

About the beginning, or towards the middle of July, the lambs, intended for holding stock, are weaned; when they receive the artificial marks to distinguish to whom they belong, which are the farmer's initials stamped upon their nose with a hot iron, provincially designed the bien; and also marks cut into

the ears with a knife, designed lug-mark. Head-mark, or, in other words, the characteristic of individuality stamped by the hand of nature upon every individual of her numerous progeny, (and which we learn so readily to discern in all those species with which we are most familiarly conversant,) is, however, esteemed by every sheep-farmer as the most certain and unequivocal mark of the identity of a sheep: it is a mark with which no coincidence can take place (as in artificial ones) through either accident or purpose."

Each of these kinds of memory has its peculiar advantages and inconveniencies, which the dread of being tedious induces me to leave to the investigation of my readers.

[SECT. III.-CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT.

MISCELLANEOUS FACTS AND OBSERVATIONS.

Among the extraordinary exertions of memory recorded in history, it is worthy of observation, that many of them (more especially of those which are handed down to us from ancient times) relate to acquisitions of the most trifling nature; or at least to acquisitions which, in the present age, would be understood to reflect but little credit on the capacity of those who should consider the possession of them as a subject of vanity. In judging, however, of such particulars, when they occur in the lives of eminent men, due allowances ought always to be made for the essential differences between the political institutions of the old world, and those of modern Europe. Thus, when we are told of Themistocles, that he could call by their names all the citizens of Athens, (whose number was 20,000 ;)

The sequel of this passage is equally interesting, and, in my opinion, does great credit to the sagacity of the writer as a philosophical observer.

Something very similar to what Mr. Findlater has here remarked with respect to the faculty acquired by the shepherd of recognising the individuals of his flock by head-mark, is observable in all men of business who have occasion to direct their attention habitually to the specific differences which mark the hand-writing of their various correspondents. In this case, too, as well as in the other, the general effect or character which the object presents to a practised eye, is a much more infallible criterion of identity than a precise resemblance in a few prominent details; --a resemblance, for instance, in the form of particular letters, or in those

capricious flourishes of the pen by which inexperienced scribes attempt to give additional authenticity to their manuscripts. I remember a case of suspected forgery which fell under the cognizance of one of our courts of law, in which a reference was made of a doubtful signature; first, to a set of engravers and writing masters, and afterwards to the principal clerks in the different banking-houses of Edinburgh. The former (I was told) after a minute comparison of the signature in question, with other undoubted subscriptions of the alleged writer, pronounced it to be genuine. The latter, without a moment's hesitation, asserted the contrary. I do not recollect the issue of the law-suit; but I have no doubt which of these two opinions was entitled to most weight in point of evidence.]