a mark of a developed character. Every person has more or less involuntary attention, while but few possess developed voluntary attention. The former is instinctive—the latter comes only by practice and training.
But there is this important point to be remembered, that interest may be developed by voluntary attention bestowed and held upon an object. Things that are originally lacking in sufficient interest to attract the involuntary attention may develop a secondary interest if the voluntary attention be placed upon and held upon them. As Halleck says on this point: "When it is said that attention will not take a firm hold on an uninteresting thing, we must not forget that anyone not shallow and fickle can soon discover something interesting in most objects. Here cultivated minds show their especial superiority, for the attention which they are able to give generally ends in finding a pearl in the most uninteresting looking oyster. When an object necessarily loses interest from one point of view, such minds discover in it new attributes. The essence of genius is to present an old thing in new ways, whether it be some force in nature or some aspect of humanity."
It is very difficult to teach another person how to cultivate the attention. This because the whole thing consists so largely in the use of the will, and by faithful practice and persistent application. The first requisite is the determination to use the will. You must argue it out with yourself, until you become convinced that it is necessary and desirable for you to acquire the art of voluntary attention—you must convince yourself beyond reasonable doubt. This is the first step and one more difficult than it would seem at first sight. The principal difficulty in it lies in the fact that to do the thing you must do some active earnest thinking, and the majority of people are too lazy to indulge in such mental effort. Having mastered this first step, you must induce a strong burning desire to acquire the art of voluntary attention—you must learn to want it hard. In this way you induce a condition of interest and attractiveness where it was previously lacking. Third and last, you must hold your will firmly and persistently to the task, and practice faithfully.
Begin by turning your attention upon some uninteresting thing and studying its details until you are able to describe them. This will prove very tiresome at first but you must stick to it. Do not practice too long at a time at first; take a rest and try it again later. You will soon find that it comes easier, and that a new interest is beginning to manifest itself in the task. Examine this book, as practice, learn how many pages there are in it; how many chapters; how many pages in each chapter; the details of type, printing and binding—all the little things about it—so that you could give another person a full account of the minor details of the book. This may seem uninteresting—and so it will be at first—but a little practice will create a new interest in the petty details, and you will be surprised at the number of little things that you will notice. This plan, practiced on many things, in spare hours, will develop the power of voluntary attention and perception in anyone, no matter how deficient he may have been in these things. If you can get some one else to join in the game-task with you, and then each endeavor to excel the other in finding details, the task will be much easier, and better work will be accomplished. Begin to take notice of things about you; the places you visit; the things in the rooms, etc. In this way you will start the habit of "noticing things," which is the first requisite for memory development.
Halleck gives the following excellent advice on this subject: "To look at a thing intelligently is the most difficult of all arts. The first rule for the cultivation of accurate perception is: Do not try to perceive the whole of a complex object at once. Take the human face as an example. A man, holding an important position to which he had been elected, offended many people because he could not remember faces, and hence failed to recognize individuals the second time he met them. His trouble was in looking at the countenance as a whole. When he changed his method of observation, and noticed carefully the nose, mouth, eyes, chin, and color of hair, he at once began to find recognition easier. He was no longer in difficulty of mistaking A for B, since he remembered that the shape of B's nose was different, or the color of his hair at least three shades lighter. This example shows that another rule can be formulated: Pay careful attention to details. We are perhaps asked to give a minute description of the exterior of a somewhat noted suburban house that we have lately seen. We reply in general terms, giving the size and color of the house. Perhaps we also have an idea of part of the material used in the exterior construction. We are asked to be exact about the shape of the door, porch, roof, chimneys and windows; whether the windows are plain or circular, whether they have cornices, or whether the trimmings around them are of the same material as the rest of the house. A friend, who will be unable to see the house, wishes to know definitely about the angles of the roof, and the way the windows are arranged with reference to them. Unless we can answer these questions exactly, we merely tantalize our friends by telling them we have seen the house. To see an object merely as an undiscriminated mass of something in a certain place, is to do no more than a donkey accomplishes as he trots along."
There are three general rules that may be given in this matter of bestowing the voluntary attention in the direction of actually seeing things, instead of merely looking at them. The first is: Make yourself take an interest in the thing. The second: See it as if you were taking note of it in order to repeat its details to a friend—this will force you to "take notice." The third: Give to your subconsciousness a mental command to take note of what you are looking at—say to it; "Here, you take note of this and remember it for me!" This last consists of a peculiar "knack" that can be attained by a little practice—it will "come to you" suddenly after a few trials.
Regarding this third rule whereby the subconsciousness is made to work for you, Charles Leland has the following to say, although he uses it to illustrate another point: "As I understand it, it is a kind of impulse or projection of will into the coming work. I may here illustrate this with a curious fact in physics. If the reader wished to ring a doorbell so as to produce as much sound as possible, he would probably pull it as far back as he could, and then let it go. But if he would, in letting it go, simply give it a tap with his forefinger, he would actually redouble the sound. Or, to shoot an arrow as far as possible, it is not enough to merely draw the bow to its utmost span or tension. If, just as it goes, you will give the bow a quick push, though the effort be trifling, the arrow will fly almost as far again as it would have done without it. Or, if, as is well known in wielding a very sharp sabre, we make the draw cut; that is, if to the blow or chop, as with an axe, we also add a certain slight pull, simultaneously, we can cut through a silk handkerchief or a sheep. Forethought (command to the subconsciousness) is the tap on the bell; the push on the bow; the draw on the sabre. It is the deliberate but yet rapid action of the mind when before dismissing thought, we bid the mind to consequently respond. It is more than merely thinking what we are to do; it is the bidding or ordering the Self to fulfill a task before willing it."
Remember first, last and always, that before you can remember, or recollect, you must first perceive; and that perception is possible only through attention, and responds in degree to the latter. Therefore, it has truly been said that: "The great Art of Memory is Attention."
CHAPTER VII.
ASSOCIATION.
In the preceding chapters we have seen that in order that a thing may be remembered, it must be impressed clearly upon the mind in the first place; and that in order to obtain a clear impression there must be a manifestation of attention. So much for the recording of the impressions. But when we come to recalling, recollecting or remembering the impressions we are brought face to face with another important law of memory—the law of Association. Association plays a part analogous to the indexing and cross-indexing of a book; a library; or another system in which the aim is to readily find something that has been filed away, or contained in some way in a collection of similar things. As Kay says: "In order that what is in the memory may be recalled or brought again before consciousness, it is necessary that it be regarded in connection, or in association with one or more other things or ideas, and as a rule the greater the number of other things with which it is associated the greater the likelihood of its recall. The two processes are involved in every act of memory. We must first impress, and then we must associate. Without