‘No matter,’ he exclaimed; ‘do not strain your mind. Take things perfectly easy. I have been reading in several volumes I possess on cases resembling yours; and here is a book,’ he continued, ‘with some examples, two of which you shall hear, that you may take heart.’
He balanced a pair of gold glasses on his nose and read as follows, slowly and deliberately:—
‘A young clergyman, when on the point of being married, suffered an injury of the head by which his understanding was entirely and permanently deranged. He lived in this condition till the age of eighty, and to the last talked of nothing but his approaching wedding, and expressed impatience of the arrival of the happy day.’
‘What do you think of that?’ said the surgeon.
I did not answer.
‘Do you understand it?’ said he.
‘I understand it,’ I replied, ‘but I do not see what it has to do with the memory.’
‘There is too much memory in it,’ he exclaimed with a dry smile; ‘but you are right, and I’m very well satisfied that you should be able to reason. Now I will read you something that does concern the memory, and you shall be consoled when you hear it;’ and he read aloud as follows:—