brain, a young lady treated us to a charming
divertissement on the piano.

"Are you tired?"

"Oh no; not at all."

"Shall we try something with a greater
number of figures?"

"If you please."

"Listen, then. I have a bottle of ditch-water,
the contents of which, as near as I can
estimate, amount to eighty-seven thousand,
five hundred and sixty-two drops. In every
drop, on examining it with the microscope, I
find three species of animalcules large,
middle-sized, and small, namely, seventeen
large ones, thirty-nine middle-sized, and two
hundred and sixty-four small. First, tell me
how many large animalcules I have in my
bottle."

After a few paces the correct answer is
given: "You have one million, four hundred
and eighty-eight thousand, five hundred and
fifty-four."

"And how many middle-sized ones?"

"Three millions, four hundred and fourteen
thousand, nine hundred and eighteen."

"Exactly. And how many small ones?"

"Twenty-three millions, one hundred and
twenty-six thousand—"

"No; you have made an error there."

"Stop; let me see. It is twenty-three
millions, one hundred and sixteen thousand,
three hundred and sixty-eight."

"Perfectly correct. And now, if you
please, how many animalcules, large, small,
and middle-sized, have I altogether in my
bottle of ditch-water?"

"You have twenty-eight millions, nineteen
thousand, eight hundred and forty."

"Right. But I observe, on watching them,
that each large animalcule eats, per day, one
middle-sized and three little animalcules.
How many animalcules shall I have left at
the end of a couple of days?"

"There will be, altogether, sixteen millions,
one hundred and eleven thousand, four
hundred and eight survivors."

After a few other arithmetical lucubrations,
the calculating performer made a proposition
which not a little startled his auditors.

"Dictate to me," he said, "from a written
paper, a hundred and fifty figures, any you
please, in any order, and I will repeat them
to you by heart. Read them aloud to me, by
sixes."

A gentleman present took pencil and paper,
and wrote down a string of figures as they
came into his head, by chance. "Seven,
nought, nine, five, three, one."

"Yes," said the phenomenon, "go on."

"Nought, five, seven, six, two, three."

"Yes; go on."

And so on, till there were a hundred and
fifty figures on the list.

"Will you like to make it two hundred?"
asked the imperturbable calculator.

"No, no; that's quite enough," shouted
the humane audience.

"Now, repeat them once again, quick."

The figures were repeated accordingly.

"I am ready; they are nailed fast in my
head. If I make a mistake, say ' False,' but
don't correct me. Which way will you like
to have them said?—beginning from the
beginning, or beginning from the end? The
great number of zeros in the list makes it
more difficult; but never mind."

"Begin from the beginning," was the
considerate word of command.

The wonder resumed his pacing step, and,
with half-shut eyes and forefinger vibrating
by the side of his forehead, close to the
phrenological organ of number (a favourite
action with him), commenced his repetition:
"Seven, nought, nine, five, three, one;
nought, five, seven, six, two, three, etcetera;
until the hundred and fifty figures were run
off the roll-call, in much the same tone as a
little child recites "How doth the little busy
bee improve each shining hour." There
were only one or two errors, owing, he said,
to the treacherous zeros; and, on the admonition
"False," they were corrected without
aid. And then he repeated the list backwards,
with the same monotonous ease. And
then he offered to name any one given figure
on the list.

"What is the forty-fifth figure, counting
from the end?"

"A seven, between a one on the right
hand, and a nine on the left."

"What is the twenty-first figure from the
beginning?"

"A five, with a zero to the right, and a
three to the left."

And then he sat down, amidst crowning
applause, wiping the perspiration from his
brow, as well he might. And then he rose,
and gave a detailed summing up (with the
figures) of all the problems he had gone
through during the evening.

Jean Jacques Winkler, the person who
executes these prodigies of mental gymnastics,
according to his own account, was born
at Zurich, in eighteen hundred and thirty-one.
He is one of a family of eight—four
sons and four daughters. His father is a
retired bill-broker, living on his income a
sort of animal life (the son's expression), and
wishing to keep the wanderer at home.
Jean Jacques, from his earliest childhood,
studied all sorts of subjects by night and by
day, possessing a peculiar aptitude for calculation,
combined with a prodigious memory.
He studied in various places, and under
various instructors, even under Arago,
amongst others. This hard study gradually
weakened his eyesight, till he became quite
blind, and continued so for two years and
a-half, namely, from eighteen hundred and
fifty-three to eighteen hundred and fifty-five,
when he was twenty-two to twenty-five
years of age. The blindness came on "comically,"
he says, without headache or pain in
the eyes; in short, he has never been ill in