d with objects. I hear nothing at all, and
indeed the whole thing is so indistinct it bewilders me when I
think of it. My mental imagery is very vague and hazy, unless I
have previously taken special notice of what I now have an image
of. For instance, when I have an image of a certain person I
cannot tell his particular characteristics unless my attention
was formerly directed to them.'

"Another writes: 'There is no sound in connection with any image.
In remembering, I call up an incident and gradually fill out the
details. I can very seldom recall how anything sounds. One sound
from the play "Robespierre," by Henry Irving, which I heard about
two years ago and which I could recall some time afterward, I
have been unable to recall this fall, though I have tried to do
so. I can see the scene quite perfectly, the position of the
actors and stage setting, even the action of a player who brought
out the sound.'

"Quite a large proportion of persons find it impossible to
imagine motion at all. As they think of a football game, all
the players are standing stock-still; they are as they are
represented in a photograph. They are in the act of running, but
no motion is represented. Likewise, the banners and streamers
are all motionless. They find it impossible to think of such a
thing as motion. Others find that the motions are the most
vivid part of their images. What they remember of a scene is
principally movement.

"One writes: 'When the word "breakfast-table" was given out I saw
our breakfast-table at home, especially the table and the white
tablecloth. The cloth seemed to be the most distinct object. I
can see each one in his place at the table. I can see no color
except that of the tablecloth. The dishes are there, but are very
indistinct. I cannot hear the rattle of the dishes or the voices
very distinctly; the voices seem much louder than the dishes, but
neither are very clear. I can feel the motions which I make
during the breakfast hour. I feel myself come in, sit down and
begin to eat. I can see the motions of those about me quite
plainly. I believe the feeling of motion was the most distinct
feeling I had. When the word "railroad-train" was given I saw the
train very plainly just stopping in front of the depot. I saw the
people getting on the train; these people were very indistinct.
It is their motions rather than the people themselves which I
see. I can feel myself getting on the train, finding a seat, and