recover."
"Dr. Abbott once told me that my case was not entirely unique," said I;
"but I thought he said it only to comfort me."
"There is nothing new under the sun," said Dr. Khayme; "we have such
cases in the records of more than, one ancient writer. Averroes himself
clearly refers to such a case."
"He must have lived a long time ago," said I, "judging from the sound of
his name; and I doubt that he would have compared well with,
our people."
"But more remarkable things are told by the prophets--even your own
prophets. The mental changes undergone by Saul of Tarsus, by John on
Patmos, by Nabuchodonosor, and by many others, are not less wonderful
than, yours."
"They were miracles," said I.
"What is miracle?" asked the Doctor, but continued without waiting for
me to reply; "more wonderful changes have happened and do happen every
year to men's minds than this which has happened to yours; men lose
their minds utterly for a time, and then recover their faculties
entirely; men lose their identity, so to speak; men can be changed in an
hour, by the use of a drug, into different creatures, if we are to judge
by the record their own consciousness gives them."
"I cannot doubt my own senses," said I; "my changes come upon me without
a drug and in a moment."
"If you will read Sir William Hamilton, you will find authentic records
which will forever relieve you of the belief that your condition is
unparalleled. It may be unique in that phase of it which I hope will
prove valuable; but as to its being the one only case of the general--"
"I do not dispute there having been cases as strange as mine," I
interrupted; "your word for that is enough; but you ought to tell me why
you insist on the possibility of a cure and the usefulness of the
condition at the same time. If the condition may prove useful, why
change it?"
"There are many things in nature," said the Doctor, seriously, "there
are many things in nature which show their greatest worth only at the
moment of their extinction. Your seeming imperfection of memory is, I
repeat, but a relaxation of one of its functions in order that another
function may be strengthened--and all for a purpose."
"What is that purpose?"
"I cannot tell you."
"Why can you not?"
"Because," said he, "the manner in which you will prove the usefulness
of your power is yet to be developed. Generally, I might say, in order
to encourage you, that it will probably be given to you
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