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but as he reproduced it with his lively embellishments and fresh
versions and artful circumlocutions； not one person in ten remembered
that he had listened to those same words in those same accents only a
twelvemonth ago。 The poor deluded creatures who take it for granted
that all the world remembers what they have said； and laugh at them
when they say it over again； may profit by this recollection。 But
what if one does say the same things；of course in a little
different form each time；over her？ If he has anything to say worth
saying； that is just what be ought to do。 Whether he ought to or
not； it is very certain that this is what all who write much or speak
much necessarily must and will do。 Think of the clergyman who
preaches fifty or a hundred or more sermons every year for fifty
years！ Think of the stump speaker who shouts before a hundred
audiences during the same political campaign； always using the same
arguments； illustrations； and catchwords！ Think of the editor； as
Carlyle has pictured him； threshing the same straw every morning；
until we know what is coming when we see the first line； as we do
when we read the large capitals at the head of a thrilling story；
which ends in an advertisement of an all…cleansing soap or an all…
curing remedy！
The latch…key which opens into the inner chambers of my consciousness
fits； as I have sufficient reason to believe； the private apartments
of a good many other people's thoughts。 The longer we live； the more
we find we are like other persons。 When I meet with any facts in my
own mental experience； I feel almost sure that I shall find them
repeated or anticipated in the writings or the conversation of
others。 This feeling gives one a freedom in telling his own personal
history he could not have enjoyed without it。 My story belongs to
you as much as to me。 De te fabula narratur。 Change the personal
pronoun；that is all。 It gives many readers a singular pleasure to
find a writer telling them something they have long known or felt；
but which they have never before found any one to put in words for
them。 An author does not always know when he is doing the service of
the angel who stirred the waters of the pool of Bethesda。 Many a
reader is delighted to find his solitary thought has a companion； and
is grateful to the benefactor who has strengthened him。 This is the
advantage of the humble reader over the ambitious and self…
worshipping writer。 It is not with him pereant illi； but beati sunt
illi qui pro nobis nostra dixerunt； …Blessed are those who have said
our good things for us。
What I have been saying of repetitions leads me into a train of
reflections like which I think many readers will find something in
their own mental history。 The area of consciousness is covered by
layers of habitual thoughts； as a sea…beach is covered with wave…
worn； rounded pebbles； shaped； smoothed； and polished by long
attrition against each other。 These thoughts remain very much the
same from day to day； from week to week； and as we grow older； from
month to month； and from year to year。 The tides of wakening
consciousness roll in upon them daily as we unclose our eyelids； and
keep up the gentle movement and murmur of ordinary mental respiration
until we close them again in slumber。 When we think we are thinking；
we are for the most part only listening to sound of attrition between
these inert elements of intelligence。 They shift their places a
little； they change their relations to each other； they roll over and
turn up new surfaces。 Now and then a new fragment is cast in among
them； to be worn and rounded and takes its place with the others； but
the pebbled floor of consciousness is almost as stationary as the
pavement of a city thoroughfare。
It so happens that at this particular tine I have something to tell
which I am quite sure is not one of rolled pebbles which my reader
has seen before in any of my pages； or； as I feel confident； in those
of any other writer。
If my reader asks why I do not send the statement I am going to make
to some one of the special periodicals that deal with such subjects；
my answer is； that I like to tell my own stories at my own time； in
own chosen columns； where they will be read by a class of readers
with whom I like to talk。
All men of letters or of science； all writers well known to the
public； are constantly tampered with； in these days； by a class of
predaceous and hungry fellow…laborers who may be collectively spoken
of as the brain…tappers。 They want an author's ideas on the subjects
which interest them； the inquirers； from the gravest religious and
moral questions to the most trivial matters of his habits and his
whims and fancies。 Some of their questions he cannot answer； some he
does not choose to answer； some he is not yet ready to answer； and
when he is ready he prefers to select his own organ of publication。
I do not find fault with all the brain…tappers。 Some of them are
doing excellent service by accumulating facts which could not
otherwise be attained。 Rut one gets tired of the strings of
questions sent him； to which he is expected to return an answer；
plucked； ripe or unripe； from his private tree of knowledge。 The
braintappers are like the owner of the goose that laid the golden
eggs。 They would have the embryos and germs of one's thoughts out of
the mental oviducts； and cannot wait for their spontaneous evolution
and extrusion。
The story I have promised is； on the whole； the most remarkable of a
series which I may have told in part at some previous date； but
which； if I have not told； may be worth recalling at a future time。
Some few of my readers may remember that in a former paper I
suggested the possibility of the existence of an idiotic area in the
human mind； corresponding to the blind spot in the human retina。 I
trust that I shall not be thought to have let my wits go wandering in
that region of my own intellectual domain； when I relate a singular
coincidence which very lately occurred in my experience； and add a
few remarks made by one of our company on the delicate and difficult
but fascinating subject which it forces upon our attention。 I will
first copy the memorandum made at the time：
〃Remarkable coincidence。 On Monday； April 18th； being at table from
6。30 P。 M。 to 7。30； with ________and ________ the two ladies of my
household； I told them of the case of 'trial by battel' offered by
Abraham Thornton in 1817。 I mentioned his throwing down his glove；
which was not taken up by the brother of his victim； and so he had to
be let off； for the old law was still in force。 I mentioned that
Abraham Thornton was said to have come to this country； 'and ＇I added
he may be living near us； for aught that I know。' I rose from the
table； and found an English letter waiting for me； left while I sat
at dinner。 d copy the first portion of this letter：
'20 ALFRED PLACE； West （near Museum）
South Kensington； LONDON； S。 W。
April 7； 1887。
DR。 O。 W 。 HOLMES：
DEAR SIR；In travelling； the other day； I met with a reprint of the
very interesting case of Thornton for murder； 1817。 The prisoner
pleaded successfully the old Wager of Battel。 I thought you would
like to read the account； and send it with this。。。。
Yours faithfully；
FRED。 RATHBONE。'〃
Mr。 Rathbone is a well…known dealer in old Wedgwood and eighteenth…
century art。 As a friend of my hospitable entertainer； Mr。 Willett；
he had shown me many attentions in England； but I was not expecting
any communication from him； and when； fresh from my conversation； I
found this letter just arrived by mail； and left while I was at
table； and on breaking the seal read what I had a few moments before
been； telling； I was greatly surprised； and immediately made a note
of the occurrence； as given above。
I had long been familiar with all the details of this celebrated
case；； but had not referred to it； so far as I can remember； for
months or years。 I know of no train of thought which led me to speak
of it on that particular day。 I had never alluded to it before in
that company； nor had I ever spoken of it with Mr。 Rathbone。
I told this story over our teacups。 Among the company at the table
is a young English girl。 She seemed to be amused by the story。
〃Fancy！〃 she said；〃how very very odd！〃 〃It was a striking and
curious coincidence；〃 said the professor who was with us at the
table。 〃As remarkable as two teaspoons in one saucer；〃 was the
comment of a college youth who happened to be one of the company。
But the member of our circle whom the reader will hereafter know as
Number Seven； began stirring his tea in a nervous sort of way； and I
knew that he was getting ready to say something about the case。 An
ingenious man he is； with a brain like a tinder…box； its contents
catching at any spark that is flying about。 I alwa