The serious side of this whole affair is that when a habit is forming in any direction it creeps upon us so slowly and silently that we get no warning of its approach. The explanation for this lies nowhere else than with the neurons themselves, for, as a rule, they learn lessons rather slowly.

To sit with curved back once did my grandmother no harm; neither did the second time or the third time signify very much. But each day made the list of times longer; each was a lesson repeated once more, until at last bones were permanently bent, while muscles and tendons were in the firm grasp of neurons that had learned their lessons perfectly. They did the thing they had been taught to do..

It is clear, then, that for every habit there is a time when it can be checked, and also a time after which it is as firmly fixed as the stature of a man or the shape of his head.

The way a man sits and stands and walks; the way he eats and drinks and talks; the way he smiles and laughs; the way he teaches or preaches, drives his horses or his engines, hammers nails or holds his gun-each way he has for doing each separate act of his life is the result of having done it in that same way over and over again until that particular method has become a habit.

As a result we judge each other by our habits, and we are justified in doing this. For, whether each was started by a definite choice or not; whether will power was used

to force attention in certain directions or not, the fact remains that will power did not interfere to overcome bad habits. And we blame a man almost as severely for what he might have done with himself, and failed to do, as for the things that he did do with deliberate purpose. If he is untidy, slovenly, rough in his manner, loud voiced; if he loses his temper or talks through his nose, or drawls or contorts his face when he talks; if, in any direction, he does such things as make him unattractive to us and different from those whom we admire, we rate him accordingly.

Each of us will, in fact, always be liked or disliked according to our habits. We shall succeed or fail according to these same habits. Sometimes those that may seem unimportant will have great influence.

A certain man was such a fine scholar and such a strong character that an eastern college talked about asking him to join its ranks as a teacher. Before all was settled, however, the man was invited to dine with several members of the faculty of that college. After that, nothing more was said about his coming there to teach. Why was the subject dropped? Simply because his habits at the table were so rough and unfinished that those other men knew it would be a mistake to set him up as an example before students. His table habits defeated him. Yet they were formed almost before he was old enough to think about them.

It is in this matter of early habits, then, that the responsibility of parents is greatest; for, as a rule, for weal or for woe, the habits of the young are the habits of their parents.

In talking about this whole matter with a friend the other day, she said: "If mothers only knew! Why, I grow alarmed when I see a child doing anything in the wrong way twice in succession. It simply means that a habit is beginning. And if mothers were kinder, they might save their children so much afterwards. Here is Eleanor an illustration of my own folly. I always combed and braided her hair for her until she was twelve years old. Then I put it into her own hands, and now she can't remember to take the combings from the comb when she is through. She wishes to do it, and always has to pay her penny fine when she forgets. I also wish it, and she is anxious to please me. Her will and my will are united in the struggle against that one small habit; but, as yet, we haven't conquered. If I had only had her take the hair from the comb, even while I was helping her, she would have had that habit by this time, and all this energy of our wills could now be spent on something else."

This is a practical, everyday illustration of the way in which many habits are started in childhood. They are the result of oversight or of ignorance; yet the mischief is as thoroughly done as if it were intended. Fortunately, however, the way of escape is within ourselves.

CHAPTER XXVIII

FREEDOM AND SLAVERY

An acquaintance of mine has a curious way of getting material for the best articles she writes.

She keeps paper and pencil in her bedroom, and even while she dresses in the morning she stops abruptly at almost any point and writes as fast as she can for a few minutes, then goes on with her dressing. She says she can do this because everything, from exercise and bath to nail cleaning and necktie, steps along so much as a matter of habit, so entirely in its usual order, that she pays no attention to what she is doing, and that her mind is thus released for thoughts about her writing.

A child, whom I also know, carries out an opposite plan, which wastes nervous energy every morning. Nothing goes by routine in her life. She makes decisions at every point. “Is it really time to get up?" she wonders. 'Surely five minutes longer won't matter." "Isn't the water too cold for a bath?" "How about leaving teeth until after breakfast?" "And finger nails- can't they wait too?"

Each question has to be settled on its own behalf, and thinking neurons use up energy and force in directions where they should be released from all responsibility where one act should follow another almost unconsciously.

Routine work during each day of our lives is, in point of fact, the salvation of the nervous system. Moreover, habit is the friend that makes routine possible.

A child who has formed the habit of quick obedience saves himself wear and tear by always obeying promptly. A boy who has learned how to focus attention when he studies saves himself hours of time.

If practice never made it easier to walk or to run, to ride or to swim, to lace a shoe, untie a knot, or braid the hair; that is, if neurons were unable through practice to learn lessons or to form habits, neither we as individuals nor the human race as a whole would ever be free enough from small things to make progress in large affairs.

Freedom," as I use the word, means ability to do things without giving each separate one of them a conscious thought. The opposite condition, slavery, means the unconscious doing of that of which we disapprove. In other words, habits of which we approve make us free, while habits of which we disapprove hold us in bondage.

Whether for slavery or for freedom, all habits are formed in one or the other of the following two ways: