own distinct moral and intellectual characteristic; so that even after the lapse of years or ages, the soul, touched in its hidden springs of action, or vitalized anew and intensified in its power and capacity, shall call forth, with all the freshness of present reality, all the thoughts, and acts, and experiences of the past life, and hold them up in array before us? The book of memory is a book of many pages, but each one of them is stereotyped in the foundery of eternity. "The everlasting future grows upon the past; remembrance is the basis of eternal knowledge. Memory has its office in the present life, but it also runs forward into the future. It seems intended to treasure impressions, and thoughts, and feelings in all worlds, and to carry forward. the recollection of them into the illimitable future." Lord Bacon makes the supposition that no thoughts are absolutely lost from the human mind; and Mr. Coleridge suggests, from the known facts of human pathology, that all thoughts are in themselves imperishable. "In the very nature," says he, "of a living spirit, it may be more possible that heaven and earth should pass away, than that a single thought should be loosened or lost from that living" storehouse of human knowledge-the memory. The position assumed is that nothing is absolutely lost from the memory; the ideas that seem to be forgotten are virtually retained, and it requires only a new order of things in our physical economy, or a quickening of our mental action, to bring them back to our recollection. I. THE IMPERISHABILITY OF MEMORY IS INFERABLE FROM THE TENACITY, GRASP, AND PARTICULARITY OFTEN EXHIBITED BY IT IN THIS LIFE. Memory, like all other mental faculties, varies in different individuals. We need not speculate about the causes of this diversity. While with some it is weak, with others it is possessed of rare and wonderful power-indicating what the mind is capable of under circumstances favorable to the development of its power. We can not place this point more distinctly before our readers, than by instancing some of the surprising feats of memory that have come to us well authenticated. An instance of remarkable power of memory in an Indian orator, is given in Smith's History of the Colony of New York. In 1689 commissioners from Boston, Plymouth, and Connecticut had a conference with the Five Indian Nations, at Albany; when a Mohawk sachem, in a speech of great length, answered the message of the commissioners, and repeated all that had been said the preceding day. The art they had for assisting their memories was this: The sachem who presided had a bundle of sticks prepared for the purpose, and at the close of each principal article of the message delivered to them he gave a stick to another sachem, charging him with the remembrance of that particular article. By this means the orator, after a previous conference with the sachems who severally had the sticks, was prepared to repeat every part of the message, and to give to it its proper reply. This custom, as the historian remarks, was invariably pursued in all their public treaties. Seneca says of himself, "I do not deny that I myself possessed powers of memory in a very considerable degree. It was not only sufficient for the ordinary business of life, but appeared to some to be almost miraculous. When single verses were prescribed to each individual who came to attend our preceptor, on hearing them prescribed, I recited them in order, beginning with the last and ending with the first." Pliny mentions similar instances. Cyrus knew the names of all the soldiers in his army. Lucius Scipio knew the names of the Roman people. Mithridates, who ruled over twenty-two kingdoms, delivered laws to them in as many languages, and publicly addressed the natives of each kingdom in their own tongue, without an interpreter. Charmidas, or rather Carneades, could name all the books in a great library as they stood in order. Bonaparte is said to have had, in many respects, a wonderfully-retentive memory. It is related of Moderata Fonte, an Italian lady and an authoress of note, that she could repeat, verbatim, a sermon or discourse which she had heard but once. The same is related of Thomas Fuller, author of the "Worthies of England." Sir Walter Scott possessed a remarkable memory. Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, records a striking evidence of this. On a fishing excursion in the Tweed, the party sat down upon the bank. "Scott," says the Ettrick Shepherd, "desired me to sing them my ballad of Gilman's Cleuch. Now, be it remembered that this ballad had never been printed; I had merely composed it by rote, and, on finishing it three years before, had sung it once over to Sir Walter. I began it, at his request, but at the eighth or ninth stanza I stuck in it, and could not get on with another verse; on which he began it again, and recited it every word from beginning to end. It being a very long ballad, consisting of eighty-eight stanzas, I testified my astonishment, knowing that he had never heard it but once, and even then did not appear to be paying particular attention." Sydney Smith had an extraordinary memory, always ready. He could repeat pages of poetry, English, Latin, and French-when, where, or how he learned them no one of his family pretended to know; but they were always ready and appropriate in company, when conversation turned that way. The memory of Grotius was so retentive that he remembered almost every thing he 1ead. Professor Porson possessed a prodigious memory. When a boy at Eton school, he discovered the most astonishing powers of memory. In going up to a lesson one day, he was accosted by a boy in the same form-" Porson, what have you got there?" "Horace." "Let me look at it." Porson handed the book to the boy, who, pretending to return it, dextrously substituted another in its place, with which Porson proceeded. Being called on by the master, he read and construed Carm., 1, x, very regularly. Observing the class to laugh, the master said, "Porson, you seem to me to be reading on one side of the page, while I am looking at the other; pray whose edition have you?" Porson hesitated. "Let me see it," rejoined the master; who, to his great surprise, found it to be an English Ovid. Porson was ordered to go on; which he did easily, correctly, and promptly, to the end of the ode. It is said that Dr. Leyden had so strong a memory that he could repeat correctly a long Act of Parliament, or any similar document, after a single perusal. Woodfall's extraordinary power of reporting the debates in the House of Commons without the aid of written memoranda, is well known. During a debate he used to close his eyes and lean with both hands upon his stick, resolutely excluding all extraneous associations. The accuracy and precision of his reports brought his newspaper into great repute. He would retain a full recollection of a particular debate a fortnight after it had occurred, and during the intervention of other debates. He used to say that it was put by in a corner of his mind for future reference. It seems sometimes more easy to exert the memory than to suppress it. "We may remember," says Fulton, "what we are intent upon; but with all the art we can use, we can not, knowingly, forget what we would. Nor is there an Etna in the soul of man but what the memory makes.” These are only examples drawn from a vast number on record. They reveal the surprising power of memoryhow tenacious its grasp, how definite its particularity, and how wide its range! And is it not an intimation of still higher power, and still grander comprehension, when it shall act free from the incumbrances and obstructions with which it is hedged around in this life? II. THE NEXT ARGUMENT WE SHALL EMPLOY FOR THE CONFIRMATION OF THIS TRUTH IS DRAWN FROM THE SIMPLE FACT THAT MEMORY, IN ITS ORDINARY ACTION, OR WHEN STIMULATED BY EXTRAORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES, OFTEN CALLS BACK TO MIND THINGS WHICH SEEMED ENTIRELY FORGOTTEN. How often does the mind, startled by some sudden excitement, leap over the intervening space of years and call up the buried memories of incidents and friends! The sight of a face resembling that of some early companion will often call up the recollection of him in a manner surprising to ourselves-perhaps, when we may not have thought of him for years. The bare mention of a name, the melody of some old familiar tune, the sight of a cottage, landscape, or water-fall, the peals of a church bell, will often come to the soul laden with the precious memories of the past. They awake the memory from its slumber, and the vivid picture of former scenes flashes upon the vision. "At such a moment, who has not been astonished at the recollections called forth-the resurrection of withered hopes, of perished joys and sorrows, of scenes and companionships that seemed to be utterly forgotten and lost!" "Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, |