buhr, the historian. Macaulay
believed that he had never forgotten anything he had ever read, seen,
or thought. Coleridge tells of an ignorant family servant, who in
moments of unconsciousness through fever, recited passages of Greek
and Hebrew. The explanation was that the servant had been long in the
family of an old clergyman whose habit it was to read aloud the Bible
in the originals.

Physicians have noted instances where a foreigner coming to this
country at the age of four or five has completely forgotten his
native tongue. Grown old and gray, in moments of unconsciousness
through fever, the aged man has talked in the forgotten language of
infancy. Our best students of mental philosophy believe that no
thought or feeling, no enmity or aspiration, is ever forgotten. The
sentiments written on clay harden into granite. Dormant memories are
not dead. At a touch they return in their old-time power and vigor.
Science tells us that the flight of a bird, the falling of a leaf, the
laughter of a child, the vibration of song, changes the whole
universe. The boy shying a stone from one tree to another alters the
center of gravity for the earth. And if the movements of dead leaves
and stones are events unchangeably written down in nature, how much
more are living hopes and thoughts. The soul is more sensitive than
the thermometer, more delicate than the barometer, and all its
processes are registered. Thoughts are events that stain the mind
through in fast colors. Did man but know it, no event falls through
memory's net.

It helps us to understand the immortality of memory to notice the
provision made in nature for revealing hidden facts and forces. To-day
chemistry shows us how events done in darkness shall be revealed in
light, and the deeds of the closet be proclaimed from the housetop.
In olden times princes communicated with each other by messengers.
Then it was necessary to guard against the dispatch falling into the
hands of the enemy, so between the lines of the apparent message was a
dispatch traced in letters as colorless as water. But when the sheet
was held before the blazing fire, the secret writing appeared. Thus in
the kingdom of the soul, nature has provided for causing events to
stand forth from the past. Under stimulus the memory performs the most
astonishing feats. Excitement is a fire that causes the dim record to
stand forth in clearness.

A distinguished lawyer of an Eastern city relates that while