A politician who sees a man once should remember him forever.’ My wife told me that I must train my memory. So when I came home that night I sat down alone and spent fifteen minutes trying silently to recall with accuracy the principal events of the day. I could remember but little at first—now I remember that I could not then recall what I had for breakfast. After a few days’ practice I found I could recall more. Events came back to me more minutely, more accurately, and more vividly than at first. After a fortnight or so of this, Catherine said ‘why don’t you relate to me the events of the day instead of recalling them to yourself? It would be interesting and my interest in it would be a stimulus to you.’ Having great respect for my wife’s opinion, I began a habit of oral confession, as it were, which was continued for almost fifty years. Every night, the last thing before retiring, I told her everything I could remember that had happened to me, or about me, during the day. I generally recalled the very dishes I had for breakfast, dinner and tea; the people I had seen, and what they had said; the editorials
