154 LIFE AND HABIT. 



J perience should find no place in that brief epitome of 

 them which is all we can give in so small a volume 

 ■ as offspring ? 



If we cannot ourselves remember the hundred- 



, thousandth part of what happened to us during our own 

 childhood, how can we expect our offspring to remember 

 more than what, through frequent repetition, they can 

 now remember as a residuum, or general impression. 



i On the other hand, whatever we remember in consequence 

 of but a single impression, we remember consciously. 

 We can at will recall details, and are perfectly well 

 aware, when we do so, that we are recollecting. A man 

 who has never seen death looks for the first time upon 

 the dead face of some near relative or friend. He gazes 

 for a few short minutes, but the impression thus made 

 does not soon pass out of his mind. He remembers 

 the room, the hour of the day or night, and if by day, 

 what sort of a day. He remembers in what part of 

 the room, and how disposed the body of the deceased 

 was lying. Twenty years afterwards he can, at will, 

 recall all these matters to his mind, and picture to 

 himself the scene as he originally witnessed it. 



The reason is plain ; the impression was very un- 

 familiar, and affected the beholder, both as regards the 

 loss of one who was dear to him, and as reminding 

 him with more than common force that he will one 

 day die himself. Moreover the impression was a simple 

 one, not involving much subordinate detail ; we have 

 in this case, therefore, an example of the most lasting 

 kind of impression that can be made by a single un- 

 repeated event. But if we examine ourselves closely, 



