Drunkenness has sometimes a curious effect upon the memory. Actions committed during intoxication may be forgotten on a recovery from this state, and remembered distinctly when the person becomes again intoxicated. Drunkenness has thus an analogy to dreaming, in which state circumstances are occasionally brought to mind which had entirely been forgotten. The same thing may also occur in fevers, wherein even languages with which we were familiar in childhood or youth, but had forgotten, are renewed upon the memory and pass away from it again when the disease which recalled them is removed. With most people intoxication is a gradual process, and increases progressively as they pour down the liquor; but there are some individuals in whom it takes place suddenly, and without any previous indication of its approach. It is not uncommon to see such persons sit for hours at the bottle without experiencing any thing beyond a moderate elevation of spirits, yet assume all at once the outrage and boisterous irregularity of the most decided drunkenness. Some drunkards retain their senses after the physical powers are quite exhausted. Others, even when the mind is wrought to a pitch leading to the most absurd actions, preserve a degree of cunning and observation which enables them to elude the tricks which their companions are preparing to play upon them. In such cases, they display great address, and take the first opportunity of retaliating; or, if such does not occur, of slipping out of the room unobserved and getting away. Some, while the whole mind seems locked up in the stupor of forgetfulness, hear all that is going on. No one should ever presume on the intoxicated state of another to talk of him detractingly in his presence. While apparently deprived of all sensation, he may be an attentive listener; and whatever is said, though unheeded at the moment, is not forgotten afterwards, but treasured carefully up in the memory. Much discord and ill-will frequently arise from such imprudence. There are persons who are exceedingly profuse, and fond of giving away their money, watches, rings, &c., to the company. This peculiarity will never, I believe, be found in a miser: avarice is a passion strong under every circumstance. Drinking does not loosen the grasp of the covetous man, or open his heart: he is for ever the same. The generality of people are apt to talk of their private affairs when intoxicated. They then reveal the most deeply-hidden secrets to their companions. Others have their minds so happily constituted that nothing escapes them. They are, even in their most unguarded moments, secret and close as the grave.