remarkable for their retentive memory. The strength of this faculty in Macaulay excited the wonder of his friends, and led Lord Melbourne to say that he wished he was as sure of any one thing as Tom Macaulay was of everything. The memory, however, like other functions of our nature, may be impaired by too severe use of it in early life, as its powers can only be gradually developed. Numerous instances have occurred of this faculty being so weakened by undue exercise as to be incapable of performing the simplest exercises. Forbes Winslow illustrates this by the case of a rather feeble minded man whose official duties were limited to signing his own name to a number of papers, but who became at last unable to recollect it. Indeed, the inability to recall one's name has been suddenly manifested by persons while calling on friends or inquiring for letters at the post office. A curious instance of temporary forgetfulness was that of an absent-minded gentleman who, the day after his marriage, called at his mother-in-law's house, and inquired for his wife, whom he had left at his own, by her maiden name. The vagaries of memory are often important tests of the condition of the brain, which gives warning in this way either of sudden injury or the progress of natural decay. Sometimes this abnormal influence is shown by the total obliteration of impressions which a restoration to health will renew, even after the lapse of years; at others, groups of ideas are successively removed in the very order in which they were acquired, or the reverse; and again, a single letter in a word is the only trace of its disordered action. Dr. Graves, of Dublin, attended a farmer, whose memory was so impaired by a paralytic fit that, though able to call to mind other parts of speech, he invariably forgot substantives and proper names. All he could remember in such words was the initial letter. To remedy this defect he wrote down in a little pocket-dictionary the things he was in the habit of calling for or speaking about, including the names of his children, servants, and acquaintances, which he arranged alphabetically. His mode of using this book was as follows: If he wished to ask anything about a cow, before he commenced the sentence he turned to the letter C, and looked out for the word cow; keeping his finger and eye fixed on it until he had finished the sentence. He could pronounce the word cow in the proper place as long as he had his eye fixed upon the written letters; but the moment he shut the book it passed out of his memory, although he recollected its initial, and could refer to it when necessary. His dependence on his dictionary was shown on one occasion on a call on Dr. Graves in Dublin, when, having forgotten the book, which he usually brought open to the hall door, he was totally unable to tell the servant what or whom he wanted. Examples of partial loss of memory heralding the approach of cerebral disease, are not uncommon in the experience of medical men. A patient who had several paralytic seizures, always knew when the attack was impending by forgetting his own Christian name. When asked to sign a paper, he could only write his surname, and occasionally only half of that. A similar inability to sign the full name sometimes occurs in epileptic persons, some days before their attacks. Intemperance in eating as well as drinking, has been known to impair the memory. Suetonius says this was the cause of the surprising weakness of this faculty in the Emperor Claudius, who not only forgot the names and persons of those to whom he wished to speak, but even of what he desired to converse about. Mere bodily fatigue or other slight cause will sometimes occasion a temporary loss of memory. Sir Henry Holland relates that, having descended in one day two deep mines in the Hartz Mountains, his exhaustion from fatigue and want of food suddenly deprived him of memory, which was not restored till he had taken food and wine, and been some time at rest. These transient fits of loss of memory are not indicative of organic disease, but result from a want of proper circulation in the brain. Curious effects are sometimes produced by accident or disease, upon the memory of language. An injury to the head, occasioned by a fall from a horse, has caused a person to entirely forget a particular language with which he had been acquainted, though in other respects his memory remained unimpaired; and the same peculiarities are not uncommon in cases of brain disease. In such circumstances, the mind usually recurs to the ideas engraven upon it in childhood, subsequent impressions being often wholly effaced. At the approach of death, persons who have for years talked a foreign language, will pray in their native tongue. Dr. Johnson, who furnished a remarkable exception to this rule, is said, when dying, to have forgotten the Lord's Prayer in English, and to have attempted its repetition in Latin, which was, however, the language in which he habitually thought. A patient of Dr. Rush, subject to attacks of recurrent insanity, was always warned of their approach by inability to converse in anything but a kind of Italian patois. As the disease advanced and reached its height, the lady could only talk in French; when her illness abated she was obliged to express herself in German, and in the convalescent stage she spoke her native tongue. In perfect health she rarely used any language but her own, and in fact found it difficult to speak those which, during her attack of insanity, she spoke with great fluency and, with the exception of Italian, with singular correctness. The fact that the mind, in fever, somnambulism, and other abnormal states, should betray knowledge and capacities of which it was at other times wholly unconscious, is, as Sir William Hamilton observes, one of the wonders of psychology. This sudden exaltation of the memory is, however, a warning of the existence of dangerous disorders; being often symptomatic in children of scrofulous and cerebral affections, and in old age, as Forbes Winslow has pointed out, indicative of approaching fatal apoplexy. The revival of mental impressions which accident or disease has scemingly annihilated, at the exact stage at which they left off, is one of the most remarkable curiosities of memory. A British captain, whose brain was injured at the battle of the Nile, remained unconscious for fifteen months at Greenwich Hospital, till, by the operation of trepanning, his sensibility returned, and he at once rose in his bed and finished giving the orders which had been interrupted amid the din of battle. Still more remarkable is the case of the New England farmer mentioned by Prichard, who, after splitting some timber for a fence, put his beetle and wedges into the hollow of a tree, intending to direct his son to bring them home. That night he was seized with delirium, and remained in this condition for several years, when his mental power was suddenly restored. The first question he asked was whether his son had brought in the beetle. Fearing that explanations. would result in bringing on a return of the disease, they replied that he could not find them, whereupon the old man rose from his bed, went straight to the hollow tree, and found the wedges and the rings of the beetle, the beetle itself having mouldered away. Thus, the solid wood proved less durable than the delicate, unused nerve vesicle which preserved the impression where the tools had been placed, and which, though "wax to receive," was "marble to retain." Alexander Young. ON BRYANT AS A MAN. N the third of November, 1864, William Cullen Bryant reached his seventieth birthday. The event was appropriately celebrated by the "Century Club "* of New York, by a Festival, memorable not only in the annals of the society itself, but in the history of art and letters on this continent. Edward Everett fitly applauds the appreciative action of the Association in his letter to Mr. Bancroft on the subject: "I congratulate the Century Club on the opportunity of paying this richly earned tribute of respect and affection to their veteran, and him on the well-deserved honor. The taste, the culture, the patriotism of the country are, on this occasion, in full sympathy, alike with those who weave and with him who wears the laurel crown. Happy the community that has the discernment to appreciate its gifted sons happy the poet, the artist, the scholar, who is permitted to enjoy in this way a foretaste of posthumous commemoration and fame." Under such auspices, the celebration of the poet's "three score and ten " had eve ry element that could make it dignified and agreeable. A pure and refined taste directed the arrangements, and presided in all the exercises of the occasion. Long lines of floral decorations and festooned evergreens welcomed the guests to the hall of the house of the "Century." The gallery, brilliantly lighted, was hung with new paintings of our most distinguished artists. The large saloon, where assembled the notable company, was sumptuously decked with a variety of the rarest flowers. Behind the raised platform on which Mr. Bryant and the President of the Club, Mr. Bancroft, took their seats, was a lyre composed entirely of fresh violets, amaranths, and immortelles, and in its strings the initials of the poet's name were written in flowers. Above the lyre was his marble bust crowned with laurel. Passages of his poems, inscribed on tablets in letters of gold, hung on the walls. The company present had all the distinction which culture and social and intellectual accomplishments can give. As Boker sang at the time : "To me the sight of these assembled here Will be a wonder till my latest year. My memory holds no picture in its round So pure in aim, in justice so profound." Before that audience, whose hearts were one in admiration of the bard, addresses were made, poems recited, and letters read from distinguished citizens detained unavoidably at home. Music gave animation and a banquet variety to the entertainment. One impressive and notable feature of the Festival was the presentation to Mr. Bryant, in a touching and beautiful address by Mr. Huntington, President of the Academy of Design, of upwards of forty paintings, gifts of the artist - members of the Club, among whom were Bierstadt, Church, Cropsey, Darley, Durand, Gifford, Gignoux, Hazeltine, Hennesey, Hicks, Huntington, Eastman Johnson, Kensett, Louis Lang, McEntee, Rogers, Rossiter, Launt Thompson, Vaux, J. Q. A. Ward, and others, scarcely less known to fame. Poems of rare merit, addressed to the venerable poet, by Lowell, Whittier, Holmes, Tuckerman, Bayard Taylor, Julia Ward Howe, Stoddard, Mrs. Sigourney, Buchanan Reade, Boker, Street, and others, graced the occasion, Bancroft, the historian, delivered the congratulatory address in terms of singular eloquence. Emerson was there with his ripe wisdom and rhythmic speech. Dr. Osgood, R. H. Dana, and Everts uttered felicitous and glowing words of description and salutation. Longfel low, Pierpont, Halleck, Verplanck, Willis, and other eminent friends, sent epistles of affectionate greeting. The ovation was hearty, brilliant, and unique. Bryant's place in literature has long since been acknowledged. The eminence that he took, by unanimous consent, on the publication of his "Thanatopsis," he has kept without a superior, and we think without a peer, in America. He has impressed his genius upon the country, and it is associated with whatever is most charming in its scenery and exalted in the hopes and aspirations of freemen. In his strong individuality he stands by himself; is "no imitator," as Emerson says of him. His singularity consists of the union of his strong and healthy poetical genius, his balanced practical mind, and his lofty and symmetrical character. As we regard it, the highest manhood is in large intellectual calibre, high moral development, and beneficent activity. In this respect Bryant is nobly eminent. Examples of remarkable mental gifts and attainments are numerous enough in the history of the race, but it is seldom that they are allied to exalted and spotless character. Indeed, so frequent are the illustrations of the lower passions and disreputable habits in persons of great originality and power, that until quite recently it has been the fashion, even in influential quarters, to associate some glaring moral defect with remarkable genius; and so their biographies are conspicuous for apologies for their vices and delinquencies, as if to the finer and rarer manifestations of mind were inevitably attached infirmities of will and life, or as if their brilliant gifts afford them an immunity in transgression. Though the opinion of the world seems to be fast changing on this point, it is notorious still, that a splendid fame for some personal quality or deed goes far to palliate the hateful features of a life. Mr. Bryant's career is an example of the highest style of living. Here genius is not only untainted by vice, and undeformed by abuse, but is used diligently and conscientiously for gracious ends. The magnificent tribute of the "Century" was the homage of prominent representatives of the mind and morals of the nation to the man as well as to the illustrious singer. While, of course, without his poetic genius no such testimony would have been rendered, still, all through the speeches, the poems, the letters, that signalized the occasion, is shown a sincere reverence for his character, admiration for the greatness and beauty of his life. This was not the verdict of men whose words are inspired by party ambition, who see office in the distance, and who think of votes while they praise. The historian Bancroft, in his congratulatory address, strikes the key-note in which these expressions of admiration and love are pitched, when he says: "Our tribute to you is to the poet, but we should not have paid it had we not revered you as a man. Your blameless life is a continual record of patriotism and integrity; and passing untouched through the fiery conflicts that grow out of the ambition of others, you have, as all agree, preserved a perfect consistency with yourself, and an unswerving fidelity to your convictions. This is high praise, but the point at which we address you removes even the suspicion of flattery." Longfellow writes: "I assure you nothing would give me greater pleasure than to do honor to Bryant at all times and in all ways; both as a poet and a man. He has written noble verse, and led a noble life, and we are all proud of him." Lowell, detained from the festival by the sudden death of a gallant and accomplished brother, just slain in battle, says in his message: "The lesson of Bryant's character and example seems to me of such lasting value that I am rejoiced to hear attention called to it in a manner so distinguished." In a |