facture prophecies fast enough to meet the demand. "Men mark when they hit and never mark when they miss," Bacon said; and it is true of the hits and misses of others when the hits coincide with our wishes. But it was a wise old Greek who, when shown the votive offerings to Neptune of those who had been saved from shipwreck, cried: "But where are the offerings of those who never returned?"

The 1917 mayoralty campaign in New York City, to illustrate from another angle, has proved again what has been observed repeatedly, that only the unusual-sensational-in municipal administration attracts the attention of voters. The public is indifferent to the quality of government unless intolerable scandals are disclosed. They are interested in turning rascals out, but not much concerned with retaining good officials. Good government is uneventful. Nothing strikingly unusual happens. So the attention relaxes. Probably Mitchel's administration was the best that New York has ever had, but there was nothing extraordinarily impressive to compel the attention to note its quality. Hence, reasoning, on the basis of the results produced, was defective.

The tendency to fix the attention on the unusual reaches widely into events because, in some way or other, many of them affect our weal and woe; and in attending to two events, one of which follows the other, man, as we have seen, is prone to assume the operation of a force to bring about the conjunction. This, of course, vitiates his thinking. The connection supposed by many to exist between the phases of the moon and the sowing of crops is an instance. A more common illustration to-day is the belief in some relation between the phases of the moon and rain. "It will not rain until we have a change of the moon" is a frequent statement. The truth in this probably lies in the fact that people do not begin to talk much about the weather until the condition is somewhat threatening. By

that time rain is due, and in localities in which the prospect of rain is sufficient to warrant its discussion the chances are pretty good that it will come within, say, a week. By that time the moon has changed and the connection between the two events is settled to the satisfaction of those who are looking for that sort of cause.

Thinking, then, briefly to survey the field, requires that, first of all, the trouble be located and defined. In intellectual matters this usually means a clear statement of the problem to be investigated. It must be freed from all unessential accretions-isolated from the incidental factors associated with it. These accidental adhesions confuse the issue and derange thinking. After the problem has been clearly stated we are ready to get the facts. Everything bearing on the difficulty should be ascertained. Darwin's method indicates the numberless facts, days, and years sometimes needed.

"When on board H. M. S. Beagle as naturalist," he says, "I was much struck with certain facts in the distribution of organic beings inhabiting South America, and in the geological relations of the present to the past inhabitants of that continent. These facts, as will be seen in the latter chapters of this volume, seemed to throw some light on the origin of species—that mystery of mysteries, as it has been called by one of our greatest philosophers. On my return home it occurred to me, in 1837, that something might perhaps be made out on this question by patiently accumulating and reflecting on all sorts of facts which could possibly have any bearing on it. After five years' work I allowed myself to speculate on the subject, and drew up some short notes; these I enlarged in 1844 into a sketch of the conclusions which then seemed to me probable; from that period to the present day" [1859] "I have steadily pursued the same object."

Not until facts have been accumulated and ordered are 1Origin of Species, Introduction.

suggestions that are worth while likely to appear. Knowledge gives the raw material for solving problems, but in addition to knowledge there must be a sensitive, open mind anxious to see things as they are, instead of as we should wish them to be. While Newcomen was working on the engine which bears his name he noticed that the piston gave several strokes in unusually rapid succession. On searching for the cause he found that a hole in the piston let the cold water pass into the cylinder and thus caused a rapid vacuum. A thought suddenly flashed into Newcomen's mind, and internal condensation by means of a jet was the result.

Naturally, Newcomen had no emotional bias, but many questions, especially those of a social and industrial nature, cut deeply into our personal interests and desires. We therefore stress unduly certain factors and ignore others. Partly for this reason thinking is diverted into wrong channels and, at times, it is completely blocked. Again, man, for reasons lying far back in his past, tends to assume certain relations between events. It is, therefore, necessary to be continually on guard against diverting and perverting influences upon the course of thought; for only by the utmost watchfulness can a problem be kept clear of unessential and human factors. And we should never forget that "Cultivation," as Samuel Butler has said, "will breed in any man a certainty of the uncertainty of his most assured convictions."

CHAPTER III

HABIT IN PREPARATION FOR EFFICIENCY

WHEN we observe an animal or plant we are impressed with the similarity of its life from day to day. It does much the same thing under essentially the same conditions. The root of a plant always grows down into the earth and the stem seeks the light; cats mew beseechingly at the sight of milk and spit when a strange dog appears; and a man awakens at about the same time every morning, eats much the same things for breakfast, reaches his office at the same hour each day, and begins his work in the serial order of yesterday. The reason for this similarity of action is habit.

As was pointed out long ago by various writers, habits are the result of changes in matter. It is because of this that we sometimes speak of the habits of plants. Indeed, one may go much further and refer to the "habits" of non-living matter. Shoes, for example, are more comfortable and flexible after having been worn for a few weeks, and the wood of a violin of an old master has acquired "habits" of vibrating that make it a more sensitive and delicate musical instrument.

It will be observed that in some of these instances the changes are, in a sense, external. The creases of the shoes that make them more comfortable are visible. The alteration of the wood of the violin, however, is invisible. As a result of the skilful playing of the master the wood has acquired certain vibratory tendencies. It has become more flexible in certain ways; it responds more delicately to touch. To be able to adapt itself to new conditionsto have the capacity to change, the ability to adopt new habits a substance must be flexible enough to alter its

form or its structure without losing its integrity. It must not go to pieces. Substances which have no plasticity or which break under alteration cannot acquire new habits.

We are not accustomed, however, to speak of these responses of non-living matter as habits. Neither do we usually apply the word to the actions of plants. The term has been reserved for the relatively settled ways of behavior of animals-modes of action which have been acquired during the lifetime of the individual. Habit is thus distinguished from instinct. If we put it a little more technically, habit is a relatively organized and fixed nervous process, or series of processes, acquired by an individual, the repetition of which results in greater facility and better accommodation to the conditions that start the process. Objects and animals alike offer resistance to modification-to change; and, when the change has taken place, the new arrangement acquires a permanency of its own. It has taken on new habits and again it resists alteration.

The justification for making habit analogous to the behavior of plants and the action of non-living matter is found in the fact already mentioned that habits are the result of changes in matter. A sprained arm, for example, is ever sensitive to strain. Some persons, again, are prone to sore throat, bronchitis, or tonsilitis. The tissues may be said to have the habit of easily becoming irritated. Functional diseases, again, are due to a predisposition of certain organs to function abnormally, and in such cases the purpose of medicine is to establish correct "habits" of action. "Tapering off" is another illustration. The purpose of this treatment is gradually to overcome old habits by starting and strengthening new ones.

If we ask how habits are formed in animals we must turn to the nervous system for the answer. Nervous impulses started through the eye, ear, or other sense-organ run their course. They must find an exit; and their exit