and, by enabling him to keep more facts and opinions before the mind, strengthens the judgment. If a person has to make a speech, he is not under the necessity of driving it into his head for a week before, and of going upon the platform in fear and trembling, lest, after all, he should forget it. On the contrary, having stowed away each thought into its proper pigeon-hole, so to speak, he feels perfectly at ease, and consequently delivers his speech with credit to himself and to the satisfaction of his audience.
Give any man, who possesses no system of memory, a hundred words unconnected with one another, or as many astronomical numbers, or latitudes, or dates, and ask him to commit them to memory. He will find it a long and disagree-able task; and, after all, unless his memory is exceptionally good, he will feel painfully uncertain whether he can remember the whole of them or not. Give them to a mnemotechnist, and he will grapple with them like a strong man rejoicing in his strength. To him the work is easy, pleasant, and certain of being accomplished.
The object of education is twofold,—to store the mind, and to train it. The art of memory will greatly aid in both. No one can question its power of storing the mind with facts, who has witnessed the feats of memory achieved by mere youths, after but a few hours' practice. No one, who has himself acquired the art, can doubt its power to train the mind, to educate it in the best sense of the term. For mere mechanical repe-
