thoughts to generalities, I refuse to dwell upon single cases. While waiting for some new general idea to suggest itself, I have the consciousness of there being many competing images struggling to appear, which do not belong to the same genus, and therefore restrain instead of reënforcing one another. At length the black-robed figure suddenly reappears; on viewing which, the accessories assume an appropriate character, and the mind wanders among a variety of these, as it had previously done among the others. In the course of the degradation of highly generalized pictures to individual ones, many generic representations are sure to appear which are good so far as they go, but are not complete pictures. Whenever the mind has halted in a vain effort to make the image more comprehensive without injuring its congruity, the dead-lock is relieved by the sudden obliteration of a large part of it, leaving a vacancy which is filled by some one of the competing associations overcoming the others, and presenting itself within the narrow field of view of our full consciousness and attention.
Other conditions being the same, it is reasonable to suppose that the idea that has been most frequently dwelt upon will have left the deepest impression on the brain, and will have precedence. Thus, in making a drawing of a pendulum in the act of swinging, we should always represent it at one or other side of its excursion, when it delays, stops for an instant, and returns. We see it longer in either of those extreme positions than in any of the intermediate ones. Similarly, we draw a man walking, or otherwise in motion, in the attitude where there is a momentary change of direction, and consequently more or less of rest at or about that position. It is different when the movement is continuous; the wheel of a moving carriage is drawn in a blur, with, however, numerous radial streaks, showing, if I mistake not, that attentive observation is never continuous, but acts in rapid pulses, so that the revolving wheel is seen in many momentary positions. I have endeavored, in this way, to measure the intervals between the successive throbs of close attention. If a wheel revolves rapidly, it is impossible to analyze its motion, and its spokes form an apparently equable shade.
In my memoir, read about a year ago before the Anthropological Institute, on composite portraits, I used a phrase, which I wrote with a little misgiving, which I have since quoted, and which I wish now to amend. I desired briefly to convey the idea that composite portraits were in a true sense generalizations and analogous to the images stamped on the brain, as already described, and I used these words: "A composite portrait represents the picture that could rise before the mind's eye of an individual who had the gift of pictorial imagination in an exalted degree."
The question we have now to answer is this:
If a person gifted with the visualizing power in perfection should pose his eye in the place of the object-glass of the camera, would the
