form and lineaments half filled up. This is the simplest act of memory.
And as we cannot see one thing without at the same time seeing another,
different objects hang together in recollection, and when we call for one
the other quickly follows. To think of the place in which we have last
seen a thing is often the best way of recalling it to the mind. Hence
memory is dependent on association. The act of recollection may be
compared to the sight of an object at a great distance which we have
previously seen near and seek to bring near to us in thought. Memory is to
sense as dreaming is to waking; and like dreaming has a wayward and
uncertain power of recalling impressions from the past.

Thus begins the passage from the outward to the inward sense. But as yet
there is no conception of a universal--the mind only remembers the
individual object or objects, and is always attaching to them some colour
or association of sense. The power of recollection seems to depend on the
intensity or largeness of the perception, or on the strength of some
emotion with which it is inseparably connected. This is the natural memory
which is allied to sense, such as children appear to have and barbarians
and animals. It is necessarily limited in range, and its limitation is its
strength. In later life, when the mind has become crowded with names,
acts, feelings, images innumerable, we acquire by education another memory
of system and arrangement which is both stronger and weaker than the first
--weaker in the recollection of sensible impressions as they are
represented to us by eye or ear--stronger by the natural connexion of ideas
with objects or with one another. And many of the notions which form a
part of the train of our thoughts are hardly realized by us at the time,
but, like numbers or algebraical symbols, are used as signs only, thus
lightening the labour of recollection.

And now we may suppose that numerous images present themselves to the mind,