_has_--doubtless in some or all cases more than he has ever shown.

No one can say what is hidden in every memory; it is like the sounding
ocean with its buried cities, and treasures and wondrous relics of the
olden time. This much we may assume to know, that every image or idea
or impression whichever reached us through any of our senses entered a
cell when it was ready for it, where it sleeps or wakes, most images
being in the former condition. In fact, every brain is like a
monastery of the Middle Ages, or a beehive. But it is built on a
gigantic scale, for it is thought that no man, however learned or
experienced he might be, ever contrived during all his life to so much
as even half fill the cells of his memory. And if any reader should be
apprehensive lest it come to pass with him in this age of unlimited
supply of cheap knowledge that he will fill all his cells let him
console himself with the reflection that it is supposed that Nature,
in such a case, will have a further supply of new cells ready, she
never, as yet, having failed in such rough hospitality, though it
often leaves much to be desired!

Yes, they are all there--every image of the past, every face which
ever smiled on us--the hopes and fears of bygone years--the rustling
of grass and flowers and the roar of the sea--the sound of trumpets in
processions grand--the voices of the great and good among mankind--or
what you will. Every line ever read in print, every picture and face
and house is there. Many an experiment has shown this to be true; also
that by mesmerizing or hypnotizing processes the most hidden images or
memories can be awakened. In fact, the idea has lost much of its
wonder since the time of Coleridge, now that every sound can be
recorded, laid away and reproduced, and we are touching closely on an
age when all that lies _perdu_ in any mind can or will be set forth