1 70 Idle Days in Patagonia. 



chapter, once informed me that always after the 

 first few rounds of a game he knew some of the 

 cards, and could recognize them as they were being 

 dealt out, by means of certain slight shades of 

 difference in the colouring of the backs. He had 

 turned his attention to this business when very 

 young, and as he was close upon fifty when he 

 imparted this interesting piece of information, and 

 had always existed comfortably on his winnings, I 

 saw no reason to disbelieve what he told me. Yet 

 this very man, whose vision was keen enough to 

 detect differences in cards so slight that another 

 could not see them, even when pointed out this 

 preternaturally sharp-eyed individual was greatly 

 surprised when I explained to him that half-a-dozen 

 birds of the sparrow kind, that fed in his courtyard, 

 and sang and built their nests in his garden and 

 vineyard and fields, were not one but six distinct 

 species. He had never seen any difference in them : 

 they all had the same customs, the same motions ; 

 in size, colour, and shape they were all one ; to his 

 hearing they all chirped and twittered alike, and 

 warbled the same song. 



And as it was with this man, so, to some extent, 

 it is with all of us. That special thing which 

 interests us, and in which we find our profit or 

 pleasure, we see very distinctly, and our memories 

 are singularly tenacious of its image ; while other 

 things, in which we take only a general interest, or 

 which are nothing to us, are not seen so sharply, 

 and soon become blurred in memory ; and if there 



