The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, December 01, 1897, Image 10

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    THE BATTALION.
9
Memory.
In the creation of man the greatest gift bestowed on him
by his creator was memory, for from it comes all the develop
ment of the human race; all science, all knowledge, and all
the wisdom of man are dependent upon it. Upon memory’s
tablet are written conceptions of the mind, and it is by it that
the faculties of the mind are developed. Blot memory from
the human mind and. the past to the very moment of our ex
istence would be as one dark chasm. We can imagine that
at the time when thought first sprang into the human mind
there lies out before us a great unwritten sheet upon which is
to be stamped indelibly every thought, word, act, and deed of
our lives. Day by day we are making our individual history,
filling' up that great sheet spread before us; day by day we
read that which we have written and then the recollection of
the past begins to loom up before us. In the great whirl of
time which grows faster each recurring year, that sheet is un
folded daily before us, and we read as no other can, with joy
or pain the history which we have made either in honor or in
sname. As each day’s history is written recollections in
crease and then more fully should we realize the importance
of the personal history we make. Were this diary written
by ourselves, and confined alone to our personal inspection,
great might be the blessing to us, and we should never forget
that that which has been good in us is too often never read,
that which is evil, the world often unchartiably reads and
condems us, and as the poet has well said “ Our evil deeds
are written in brass and our good ones in water.” Could we
only realize the importance of what we write upon that sheet!
When once written nothing can erase it; it is there written
indelibly as a recollection of the past, either to give joy to us
in future years and lend honor to our names and posterity, or
to give grief and pain or possibly ruin forever. Today many
of these recollections haunt me, today there are many acts