them. In order that an idea should be retained, it is neces sary that the attention should be fixed upon it, and the conception of it perfect. We are not aware how many of the thoughts of others, that we have laboured to fix in our minds, passed rapidly away because we did not perfectly understand them. The conception of them was incomplete, yet, as we had the shadow of an idea, we were satisfied; it was too much trouble to examine it thoroughly until it assumed a definite form, and would thus have retained a permanent place in the memory. Instructors cannot know whether children perfectly comprehend what they learn. We probably all remember having recited lessons very glibly, and having received the commendations of our teacher, when we knew no more of the true meaning of the lesson than if it had been in Hebrew. You are now old enough to be emancipated from the rote-system-that thraldom of mind which enchains all its faculties, and so weakens them that for a long time they cannot act with natural energy.

Minds of much quickness and vivacity are prone to take ideas in this vague, confused manner, and all their knowledge, while they do so, will be superficial. They should check their too rapid thoughts until they become distinct and true, and patiently go over a subject until they are certain the conception of it is complete.

Stewart tells us, the qualities of a good memory are susceptibility, retentiveness, and readiness.

By the first, he means easiness of impression: as the wax yields to the signet, so should the mind take the perfect impress of every subject; but not like the wax, which so easily melts away, leaving not a trace; the mind should retain its images like sculptor's marble, and, moreover, should be quick to produce them when they are needed. Classification is a powerful auxiliary to memory. In a well-ordered mind, every new fact is immediately referred to its proper place, just as in botany a newly discovered plant is set down in its class and order; and, if the genus is already known, it forms a new species under it. If you

once acquire the habit of placing every idea in its category, a chain will be formed over which memory will pass like electricity along a conducting wire.

Look into your own mind, and see if everything lies there in a heterogeneous mass. It may appear, at first sight, as does this terrene sphere to uninquisitive ignorance: a mass of rough materials, thrown together without order or arrangement. The scientific geologist reduces the whole to order. He discovers the regular strata of rocks covering the globe, and demonstrates the uniformity of the series, from the imperishable granite to the crumbling sandstone upon its surface. Lay down first principles as the granite foundation upon which you are to build the whole superstructure of knowledge.

Habits of correct association of ideas aid memory. It is not our intention to go into the depths of mental philosophy, but only to suggest a few practical hints, in simple language, that you may be induced to pursue the subject much farther.

Ideas are so associated in the mind, that the presence of one suggests another.

The associations in common, uninstructed minds, are those of time and place, resemblance and contrast. The following couplet of Swift's may serve as an illustration of the first; similar examples, from Shakspeare, and other familiar authors, will undoubtedly occur to your minds.

"Yes," says the steward, "I remember when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's, Such a thing as this happened, just about the time of gooseberries!"

More philosophical associations are those of cause and effect, premises and conclusion, genus and species, &c.

To assist memory, and to form a habit of philosophical association, it is of use to arrange a Mnemonica, or commonplace-book, and to write down under the separate divisions what you most wish to retain. All knowledge may be said to consist of FACTS, SENTIMENTS, and PRINCIPLES; and this may furnish a simple classification for such a Mnemonica. Divide a blank book into three parts, reserving one-half or

two-thirds for the first part, and divide the remainder equally for the two after parts.

I. FACTS.

Allow two or three pages under this division for each of the following subdivisions, namely,—

1. RELIGIOUS.
2. POLITICAL.

3. LITERARY.

4. SCIENTIFIC.

5. PRACTICAL.

6. MILITARY.

7. NAVAL.

II. PRINCIPLES.

1. AXIOMS.

2. GENERAL TRUTHS.

3. CAUSE, OR ORIGIN.

4. ELEMENTS, OR CONSTITUENT PARTS.

III. SENTIMENTS.

1. RELIGIOUS.

2. MORAL.

3. POETICAL.

Each of these may be extended much farther.

Such a Mnemonica will be found very useful; but do not rely too much and too long upon it. Memory is like a true friend-the more you confide in her the better she serves you.

Various systems of artificial memory have been invented, but they are of doubtful utility. It is far better to form habits of correct classification, than to depend upon the arbitrary and often ridiculous associations of systems of mnemonics. Feinagle's system has been one of the most celebrated. The foundation of it is in locality, or the association of place. He divides a room into compartments: sides, ceiling, and floor, are each subdivided into nine parts. In order to remember a series of words, they are put in the several squares or places, and the recollection of them is assisted by associating some idea of relation between the objects and their situation; and, as we find by experience

that whatever is ludicrous is calculated to make a strong impression upon the mind, the more ridiculous the association the better. To illustrate this idea, Mr. Feinagle places the names of certain sensible objects in the different compartments, and connects the ideas of their images by some story, so as to make it almost impossible to forget the order in which they are arranged. But all this complicated apparatus is first to be fixed in the memory. In the first square you have a pump, perhaps; in the second, a monkey; in the third, a fool's cap, and so on. If you wish to remember a sermon, enter into your mnemonical room-hang the first division of the discourse upon the pump-handle, place the second on the monkey's head, and the third in the fool's cap. By these arbitrary and ludicrous associations you are to fix them in memory. Surely there can be no real utility in such an absurd system.

The memory of words and the memory of ideas are very different. Numerous instances of wonderful memory of the first kind are given. Seneca, in his youth, could repeat two thousand words, in their order, after hearing them once. Joseph Scaliger could repeat the contents of whole books in foreign languages. Klopstock, the German poet, when a boy at school, could recite the whole of Homer's Iliad. An Englishman once came to Frederick the Great of Prussia, for the purpose of giving him some specimens of his extraordinary memory. Frederick sent for Voltaire, who read to his Majesty a pretty long poem, which he had just finished. The Englishman was concealed in such a manner as to be able to hear every word that was said. When Voltaire had concluded, Frederick remarked that a foreign gentleman would immediately repeat the same poem to him, and therefore it could not be original. Voltaire listened with astonishment to the stranger's declamation, and then fell into a great rage and tore the manuscript in pieces. When Frederick informed him of his mistake, the Englishman again dictated to Voltaire the whole poem, with perfect correctness!

It is impossible for us now to discover whether these

efforts were owing to a naturally strong memory, which had been habitually exercised, or to artificial memory; but most probably to the former.

The memory of events and of ideas may be good, when that of words is very defective. Both should be cultivated in due proportion. It is better to enrich the memory with a fine sentiment, or a beautiful piece of poetry, than to doom it to banishment in your portfolio, which is, generally, only one way of consigning it to oblivion.

It has been often asserted, that a very superior memory is seldom found in connection with invention, or with uncommon judgment. A memory of words may not be ; but that which depends upon powerful conception, or philosophical arrangement, may be very tenacious of ideas, even where there is genius of the highest order, or the most consummate judgment.

Maria Gaetana Agnesi, a lady of extraordinary genius and most extensive acquirements, was born at Milan, on the 15th of May 1718. Her father, Pietro Agnesi, of Milan, was royal feudatory of Monteveglia and its dependencies; and being a man of some rank and consequence, he was disposed, from paternal affection, to provide suitably for the education of his infant daughter, who gave the most striking indications of talent. From her tenderest years she discovered a wonderful aptness and a vehement desire for acquiring languages. Under the direction of proper masters, she studied at the very same time the Latin and Greek, the French and German; and while the rapidity of her progress excited universal astonishment, such were the prodigious powers of her memory, that she could easily pursue these diversified objects without feeling the smallest degree of confusion. When yet scarcely nine years old, this surprising child delivered a Latin oration, to prove that the cultivation of letters is not inconsistent with the female character, before an assembly of learned persons, invited to her father's house.

At the age of eleven, the young Agnesi could not only read Greek, and translate it instantly into Latin, but could even speak that refined language, and with the same ease