The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (7.1895)

The Iniquity of Oblivion

By Kenneth Grahame

man I know is fond of asking the irritating question—and


n in putting it he regards neither age nor sex, neither ancient
friendship nor the rawest nodding acquaintance—“ Did you ever
forget an invitation to dinner ? ”
Of course the denial is prompt, passionate, and invariable.
There are few crimes of which one would not rather be accused
than this. He who cannot summon up the faintest blush at the
recollection of having once said “ Season,” when no money had
passed between him and the Railway Company whose guest he
was for the moment—of having under-stated his income for
purposes of taxation—or of having told his wife he was going
to church, and then furtively picked up a fishing-rod as he passed
through the hall—will colour angrily at the most innocent sugges-
tion of a single possible lapse of memory regarding an invitation
to dinner. But, none the less, every one finds it a little difficult
to meet the natural rejoinder : “ How do you know ? ”
Indeed, no other reply but painful silence is possible. To say,
“Because I do,” is natural enough, and frequently quite conclusive
of further argument ; still, it can hardly be called a reasoned
refutation. The fact is, you don't know, and you cannot know.
Your conviction that you do is based, first, on some sort of idea

that