over many things till he comes at last to that he there would find; as if wrapped up in folds, by degrees we unlap and light upon them. Nor is the difference hereof in men less wonder. In some men how prodigious! In others how dead and dull! Appius Claudius had so strong a memory, that he boasted he could salute all the citizens of Rome by their names. And Mithridates, of Pontus, could speak twenty-two languages, and muster his soldiers by his memory, calling them all by their names. And upon this ground, when the Senate had condemned his books to be burnt, Cassius Severus told them, if they would not have them remain, they should burn him too, for that he had them all in his memory. On the other side some of the Thracians were usually so blockish, that they could not count beyond four or five. And Messala Corvinus lived to forget his own name ; as I have known some, that have in health forgot their own children, whom they have daily seen and lived with. If we consult philosophy, how this huge difference comes, that will presume to tell us, it is from the temper of the brain; the moderately dry being happier in their memories than the over-moist, which, being liquid and slippery, are less receptive and tenacious of any slight impressions that occasionally thereon are dart ed. Like glimpses of the sun on water, they shine at present, but leave no sign that they were ever there; and this may be the reason, (because of their great humidity,) why memory in children is so brittle. But how it comes to pass, that many old men can remember things of their youth done threescore years ago, and yet not those that they acted but the day before, is certainly to be admired; since none can tell me where they lodge, characterized the while, without being shuffled out or quite defaced by new succeeding actions. One thing in the memory beyond all is observable. We may easily remember what we are intent upon; but with all the art we can use, we cannot knowingly forget what we would. What would some give to wipe their sorrows from their thought, which, maugre all their industry, they cannot but remember. With good reason, therefore, would the wise Themistocles have learned the art of forgetfulness, as deeming it far more beneficial to man, than that (so much cried up) of memory. And for this cause, doubtless, we had need be careful that even in secret we plunge not into evil actions. Though we have none to witness what we do, we shall be galled sufficiently with our own peculiar memory, which, haunting us perpetually, with all our best endeavours we cannot either cast away or blot out. The worm would die, if memory did not feed it to eternity. It is that which makes the penal part of hell; for whether it be the punishment of loss, or the punishment of sense, it is memory that does inflame them both. Nor is there any Ætna in the soul of man, but what the memory makes. In order unto this, I will not care to know who it is that does me injury, that I may not by my memory malice them. Remembering the wrong, I may be apt to malign the author; which not knowing, I shall free myself of vexation, without bearing any grudge to the man. As good actions, and ignorance of ill, keep a perpetual calm in the mind, so, questionless, a secret horror is begotten by a secret vice. From whence we may undoubtedly conclude, that though the gale of success blow never so full and prosperously, yet no man can be truly happy, that is not truly innocent. OF FAM E. Ir may seem strange, that the whole world of men should be carried on with an earnest desire of a noble fame and memory after their deaths, when yet we know it is not material to our well or ill being what censures pass upon us. The tongues of the living avail nothing to the good or hurt of those that lie in their graves. They can neither add to their pleasure, nor yet diminish their torment, if they find any. My account must pass upon my own actions, not upon the reports of others. In vain men labored to approve themselves to goodness, if the palaces, which virtue rears, could be unbuilt by the taxes of a wounding tongue. False witnesses can never find admission where the God of Heaven sits judging. There is no common law in the New Jerusalem. There truth will be received, though either plaintiff or defendant speaks it. Here we may article against a man by a common fame, and by the frothy buzz of the world cast away the blood of innocents. But Heaven proceeds not after such uncertainties. The single man shall be believed in truth before all the humming of successive ages. What will become of many of our lawyers, when not an advocate, but truth, shall be admitted? Fame shall there be excluded as a lying witness; though here there is nothing which we do possess, which we reckon of an equal value. Our wealth, our pleasure, our lives, will not all hold weight against it, when this comes in competition. Nay, when we are circled round with calami ties, our confidence in this, like a constant friend, takes us by the hand and cheers us against all our miseries. When Philip asked Democritus if he did not fear to lose his head, he answered, No; for if he did, the Athenians would give him one immortal. He should be statued in the treasury of eternal fame. See if it were not Ovid's comforter in his banishment: "Nil non mortale tenemus, Pectoris exceptis ingeniique bonis. En ego, cum patriâ caream, vobisque, domoque; "All that we hold will die, But our brave thoughts and ingenuity. Even I that want my country, house, and friend, Possess yet my own genius, and enjoy That which is more than Cæsar can destroy. Each groom may kill me; but whensoe'er I die, Ov. Trist. iii. 7. Plutarch tells us of a poor Indian, that would rather endure a dooming to death, than shoot before Alexander, when he had discontinued ; lest by shooting ill, he should mar the fame he had gotten. Doubtless, even in this, man is |