“‘Good heavens, Jane!’—the words sounded so commonplace that every trace of the unearthly was dissipated at the first syllable.—‘Good heavens, Jane! Go and change that frock!—How often have I told you what a fright you look in mauve.—A mill-girl on a holiday!—Come! Get along and change it!’ “It seems silly, I daresay, and all that, but, do you know, no sooner did I hear him growling and grumbling and finding fault with colours he had a dozen times at least admired and praised than—I couldn’t help it!—I forgot everything—everything. And all I could say was: “‘James! You’ve been eating onions again!’ “‘Not my fault, I assure you, my dear,’ he snapped back; ‘that damned cook always will put garlic in the nectar! You must get rid of her.’ “... I suppose I must have fainted then, for I remember no more till I found myself lying on the floor with my head on the fender. I picked myself up very puzzled as to what had happened. Then I remembered my ... dream, with a shock rather of amusement than fear, when suddenly—suddenly I smelled the nauseating stench of strong garlic! That finished me entirely. How I got out of the place I cannot tell. Out I did get. And I have never gone back.” This lady evidently would not have subscribed to the old teaching of Salerno: “Six things that heere in order shall issue Against all poisons have a secret poure. Peares, Garlick, reddish-roots, Nuts, Rape and Rew, But Garlick cheese, for they that it devoure May walk in ways infected every houre; Sith Garlick then hath poure to save from death Bear with it though it make unsavoury breath: And scorne not Garlick, like to some that think It only makes men wink, and drinke, and stink.” (It may be remembered, by the way, that Wilkie Collins’s “Haunted Hotel” was haunted by a smell.) Although we may agree with Shelley that “Odours when sweet violets sicken Live within the sense they quicken,” yet we must admit that the memory of an odour cannot be reproduced in our mind with the same clearness as a vanished scene or an old tune. It may be found on trial that by concentrating the attention strongly upon some familiar smell, particularly if at the same time we stimulate the memory by picturing in our mind’s eye a scene in which that odour figured as a feature in the sensory landscape, we are sometimes able to recall its actual sensation. But the recollection lacks the intimate reality of visual and auditory images. Without doubt the mind’s eye and mind’s ear, when consciously aroused, are consistently more acute and their representations are more vivid than those of the mind’s olfactory organ.