This is that habit which some people have, of thinking of one thing, while they are doing another. The famous Sir Isaac Newton was a philosopher, and he thought a great deal about the heavenly bodies, and such mighty matters. Of course, he could hardly be expected to think much about common things. However, he did once have a fancy for a lady, and one evening he went to see her. As he was sitting with her by the fireside smoking his pipe, he became absorbed in his mathematics, and in his absence of mind he took hold of the lady’s finger and stuck it into the fiery bowl of his pipe, thus making it a tobacco-stopper!
I once knew an old lady who would go about the room, looking upon the shelf, peeping into the table drawer, tumbling over a cupboard that served as a kind of Noah’s ark, where every strange thing was deposited—all the time teasing and fretting because she could not find her spectacles, until at last she discovered that the said spectacles were snugly sitting astride of her nose!
But this is a trifling instance of absence of mind, compared with some others. An old maid of Edinburgh, in Scotland, had taken an unaccountable fancy to a pig, which she kept as a kind of pet about the house, and often took it into her lap. The poor thing seemed to be forever pinched with a pain in its bowels, and therefore kept up an almost perpetual squealing. Still, the kind woman loved it all the better, and cherished it the more for its very infirmities. The lady was withal a literary lady, and fond of reading and writing books, and her head ran upon these operations so much, that she often forgot where she was, and what she was doing.
One day, she appeared at the door of a neighbor in a good deal of trouble, with the pig under her arm, squealing with all its might, as usual; upon which the following dialogue ensued:
Woman. Good morning, neighbor! Good morning! I called to see you about—about—something or other—but in fact I forget what it was I was after.
Neighbor. Oh! you wanted something or other, and you thought you’d come and ask me what ’twas you wanted?
Woman. Why yes—no. Be still, you naughty pig! be still! Yes, I am looking for something. Stop your everlasting squealing! Oh! I remember! I’ve lost my pig. Have you seen anything of him?
Neighbor. Why, what’s that you have under your arm?
Woman. Gracious! I’ve got the pig under my arm all this time! Poor, dear thing—that I should have forgotten you, while I was all the time thinking of you! and that I should have lost you while I was clasping you to my breast! Well done! I must be a genius, as aunt Dorcas says!
Some years ago there lived at the city of Washington a famous Englishman by the name of Thomas Law. He was very absent-minded, and often forgot his christian name. One day, he was writing a letter, and when he came to the end, and wanted to sign his name, he was in great trouble because he could not remember the first part of it. At last, Claxton, the door-keeper, chanced to be passing, and Law remembered that his christian name was the same as Claxton’s. Accordingly he said, “Claxton, what is your christian name?” “Thomas,” was the answer. “Oh yes, Thomas,” said Law, and immediately wrote his name, “Thomas Law!”