Moreover, Shakespeare indicates how conscience in its magisterial aspects has skill for reviving forgotten deeds. In the laboratory scientists take two glasses, each containing a liquid colorless as water and pour them together, when lo! they unite and form a substance blacker than the blackest ink. As the chemical bath brings out the picture that was latent in the photographic plate, so in its higher moods events half-remembered and half-forgotten rise into perfect recollection. History tells us of the Oriental despot who in an hour of revelry commanded his butler to slay a prophet whom he had imprisoned and bring the pale head in upon a charger. Long afterward there came a day when, sitting in the seclusion of his palace, a soldier told those around the banqueting-table the story of a wonder-worker whom he had seen upon his journey. When the banqueters were wondering who this man was, suddenly the king arose pale and trembling and cried out. "I know! It is John the Baptist whom I have beheaded; he is risen from the dead!" This old-time story tells us that dormant memories are not dead, but are like hibernating serpents that with warmth lift their heads to strike. It fulfills, as has been said, the old-time story of the man groping along the wall until his fingers hit upon a hidden spring, when the concealed door flew open and revealed the hidden skeleton. It tells us that much may be forgotten in the sense of being out of mind, but nothing is forgotten in the sense that it cannot be recalled. Every thought the mind thinks moves forward in character, even as foods long forgotten report themselves in flesh and blood. Memory is a canvas above and the man works beneath it. Every faculty is a brush with which man thinks out his portrait. Here and now, deceived by siren's song, each Macbeth thinks himself better than he is. But the time comes at last when memory cleanses the portrait and causes his face to stand forth ineffaceable in full revelation. But memory also hath aspects gracious and most inspiring. "I have lived well yesterday," said the poet; "let to-morrow do its worst." To this sentiment the statesman added: "I have done what I could for my fellows, and my memories thereof are more precious than gold and pearls." Thus all they who have loved wisdom and goodness will find their treasures safe in memory's care. Perhaps some precious things do perish out of life. The melody trembling on the chords after the song is sung sinks away into silence. The light lingering in the clouds after the day is done at last dies out in darkness. But as the soul is consciously immortal through personality, it has an unconscious immortality through its tool or teaching, through its example or influence. Time avails not for destroying. God and the soul never forget.