(comparing it to a chain) whenever the links are separated, together with a knowledge of the contrivance of abbreviated signs, would perhaps render the matter sufficiently intelligible. But it would be necessary, thoroughly to understand the nature of the thing, of which the sign has been abbreviated: particularly, as the usual mode of education is satisfied with possessing the convenience of the abbreviation, without any inquiry into the nature of the thing, and the cause of the abbreviation of its sign. This faulty mode of instruction, has furnished us with a profusion of names, and left us ignorant of the things they represent.

Ben Johnson has afforded us the shortest, and probably, the best account of memory.

“Memory of all the powers of the mind, is the most delicate, and frail: It is the first of our faculties that age invades. Seneca, the Father, the Rhetorician, confesseth of himself, he had a miraculous one, not only to receive, but to hold. I myself could in my youth, have repeated all that ever I had made, and so continued till I was past forty: since it is much decayed in me. Yet I can repeat whole books that I have read, and Poems of some selected friends, which I have lik’d to charge my memory with. It was wont to be faithful to me, but shaken with Age now, and Sloth (which weakens the strongest abilities) it may perform somewhat, but cannot promise much. By exercise it is to be made better and serviceable. Whatsoever I pawn’d with it while I was young and a boy, it offers me readily, and without stops: but what I trust to it now, or have done of later years, it lays up more negligently, and sometimes loses; so that I receive mine own (though frequently called for) as if it were new and borrow’d. Nor do I always find presently from it what I do seek; but while I am doing another thing, that I laboured for will come: and what I sought with trouble, will offer itself when I am quiet. Now in some men I have found it as happy as nature, who, whatsoever they read or pen, they can say without book presently; as if they did then write in their mind. And it is more a wonder in such as have a swift stile, for their Memories are commonly slowest; such as torture their writings, and go into council for every word, must needs fix somewhat, and make it their own at last, though but through their own vexation.”—Discoveries, vol. vi. p. 240, 1716.

If in a chain of ideas, a number of the links are broken, or leaving out the metaphor, if there be an inability to recollect circumstances in the order, in which they occurred, the mind cannot possess any accurate information. When patients of this description are asked a question, they appear as if awakened from a sound sleep: they are searching, they know not where, for the proper materials of an answer, and, in the painful, and fruitless efforts of recollection, generally lose sight of the question itself. Shakespeare, the highest authority in every thing relating to the human mind and its affections, seems to be persuaded, that some defect of memory is necessary to constitute madness.

“It is not madnesse
That I have uttered: bring me to the test
And I the matter will re-word, which madnesse
Would gambol from.”—Hamlet, Act III. Scene 4.

In persons of sound mind, as well as in maniacs, the memory is the first power which decays; and there is something remarkable in the manner of its decline. The transactions of the latter part of life are feebly recollected, whilst the scenes of youth and of manhood, remain more strongly impressed. When I have listened to the conversations of the old incurable patients, the topic has generally turned upon the transactions of early days; and, on the circumstances of that period of life, they have frequently spoken with tolerable correctness. In many cases, where the mind has been injured by intemperance, the same withering of the recollection may be observed. It may, perhaps, arise from the mind at an early period of life, being most susceptible and retentive of impressions, and from a greater disposition to be pleased, with the objects which are presented: whereas, the cold caution, and fastidiousness with which age surveys the prospects of life, joined to the dulness of the senses, and the slight curiosity which prevails, will, in some degree, explain the difficulty of recalling the history of later transactions.

Insane people, who have been good scholars, after a long confinement, lose, in a wonderful degree, the correctness of orthography: when they write, above half the words are frequently mis-spelt, they are written according to the pronunciation. It shews how treacherous the memory is without reinforcement. The same necessity of a constant recruit, and frequent review of our ideas, satisfactorily explains, why a number of patients lapse nearly into a state of ideotism. These have, for some years, been the silent and gloomy inhabitants of the hospital, who have avoided conversation, and courted solitude; consequently have acquired no new ideas, and time has effaced the impression of those, formerly stamped on the mind. Mr. Locke, well observes, although he speaks figuratively, “that there seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even of those which are struck deepest, and in minds the most retentive; so that, if they be not sometimes renewed by repeated exercise of the senses, or reflection on those kind of objects, which at first occasioned them, the print wears out, and at last there remains nothing to be seen.”

Connected with loss of memory, there is a form of insanity which occurs in young persons; and, as far as these cases have been the subject of my observation, they have been more frequently noticed in females. Those whom I have seen, have been distinguished by prompt capacity and lively disposition: and in general have become the favourites of parents and tutors, by their facility in acquiring knowledge, and by a prematurity of attainment. This disorder commences, about, or shortly after, the period of menstruation, and in many instances has been unconnected with hereditary taint; as far as could be ascertained by minute enquiry. The attack is almost imperceptible; some months usually elapse, before it becomes the subject of particular notice; and fond relatives are frequently deceived by the hope that it is only an abatement of excessive vivacity, conducing to a prudent reserve, and steadiness of character. A degree of apparent thoughtfulness and inactivity precede, together with a diminution of the ordinary curiosity, concerning that which is passing before them; and they therefore neglect those objects and pursuits which formerly proved sources of delight and instruction. The sensibility appears to be considerably blunted; they do not bear the same affection towards their parents and relations; they become unfeeling to kindness, and careless of reproof. To their companions they shew a cold civility, but take no interest whatever in their concerns. If they read a book, they are unable to give any account of its contents: sometimes, with steadfast eyes, they will dwell for an hour on one page, and then turn over a number in a few minutes. It is very difficult to persuade them to write, which most readily develops their state of mind: much time is consumed and little produced. The subject is repeatedly begun, but they seldom advance beyond a sentence or two: the orthography