exist. There must be a period in its formation, when custom can have little or no influence, and when we have nothing but a temporary and casual motive for the performance of the action. When is the action habitual? when not? What is the delicate and discriminating circumstance which decides you to call that mode of acting a habit? Nothing, for instance, is more common than to see persons beating the ground with their feet in any moment of vacancy of mind; and it easily degenerates into a habit: the first or second time after it is done, it cannot be called a habit; is it so the tenth time? or when can the habit be fairly said to have established itself? It does not, I confess, appear to me to be by any means very difficult to answer this question. An active habit for anything may be said to be formed, when we feel either a difficulty in not doing it, or a pain from its not being done; and when the principal cause for this pain, or difficulty, is, that we have done the thing often before. For instance, to recur to the previous example, you tap the floor with your foot; some one, who happens to be nervous, or indisposed, requests you to abstain: you very readily comply; and in five minutes, when the prohibition is out of your mind, begin again; and so on, perhaps for three or four times. The proneness to do the thing, and the difficulty of not doing it, are here clear indications that the connection between the beating of the foot, and the vacant good-humoured feeling of mind, is not in you merely casual and momentary, but that the one has the strongest disposition to produce the other; and the only cause that can be alleged why they should be connected, is, that they have been connected before. You see a person drinking out of a particular mug or tumbler: put another in its place; if they both do equally well, of course there is no habit; but if the tumbler be missed, and the other complained of, it is clear that a habit is formed: there is a connection between the

act of drinking, and the idea of that tumbler, which cannot be separated without giving pain. Who could drink tea out of a wine-glass, or beer out of a tea-cup, or take up wine with a spoon? The displeasure that would ensue from separating the liquid and the particular kind of vessel in which it had been customarily conveyed, is a plain proof that the habit, in each particular case, is formed. In the same manner with passive habits. A passive habit may be said to be formed when the passive impression cannot be separated without pain, or difficulty, from that which preceded it; and when the principal cause of this pain or difficulty, is the mere circumstance of their having been connected. A man is habitually peevish, - that is, in his mind; the little crosses and accidents of life, are not overlooked, but strongly associated with resentment : let him attempt to separate them, let him endeavour to take a good-natured and forgiving view of human life; it costs him the greatest efforts, exposes him to the most mortifying failures, and is only to be acquired, at last, by very magnanimous resolution. The fish is not dressed to his liking, or a turkey comes to table when he had set his affections upon a goose. You immediately perceive a great deal of ill-temper; and whatever reasons there may be for hiding it, or whatever efforts may be made to hide it, it is still very visible. You say this man is habitually peevish, from the great difficulty he finds in separating the accidents of life from the acute malevolent feelings with which he has connected them; and for which difficulty, -as it is felt in a much less degree by the average of men, — no other reason can be given, than the previous indulgence of such sort of feelings. Every one might feel a little peevish at the accidents of life; and a slight difficulty might be universally experienced in attempting to check it; but the degree of that difficulty appears to be so much greater in such instances as I have mentioned,

that we determine without scruple that they are to be referred to something more than the mere original tendency of nature; and that that something more, is habit.

The period of time in which a habit renews its action, or (if I may be allowed the expression) the orbit of a habit, is of very different dimensions. We may have a habit of shrugging up the shoulders every half-hour; or, of eating three eggs every morning; or, of dining at a club once a month; or, of going down to see a relation once a year: but it is difficult to conceive any habit forming itself for a period greater than a year. I can easily conceive that a person who set off on every 1st of June, to pay a visit, might have the force of habit added to his other inducements, and go, partly because he loved the persons, partly because he had done it before; but is it easy to believe that there is a habit of doing anything every other year? or, how very ridiculous it would sound for two persons to say, "We agreed a long time ago to dine together every Bissextile, or leap-year, and it is now grown into a perfect habit!" This limitation of habits to the period of a year, which I by no means lay any great stress upon, but which has some degree of truth in it, depends somewhat upon the revolution of names and appearances. To do anything the first day of a month, or on one particular day every year, is to strengthen a habit by the recurrence of names or seasons; but if an action be performed every third or fourth year, the same name and the same appearances have occurred, without being connected with the same deed, and therefore the habit is impaired.

The strength of habit depends partly upon the length of its duration, partly upon the violence of the cause which gave it birth. Whoever had seen any person burnt to death by accident, might probably acquire an habitual dread of fire, and would certainly acquire it very rapidly; because the deep impression of the

original cause would multiply the number, and increase the strength, of the associations. The famous Isaac Barrow, the mathematician and divine, had an habitual dislike of dogs, and it proceeded from the following cause: He was a very early riser; and one morning, as he was walking in the garden of a friend's house, with whom he was staying, a fierce mastiff, that used to be chained all day, and let loose all night, for the security of the house, set upon him with the greatest fury. The doctor caught him by the throat, threw him, and lay upon him; and, whilst he kept him down, considered what he should do in that exigence. The account the doctor gave of it to his friends was, that he had once a mind to have killed the dog; but he altered his resolution upon recollecting that it would be unjust, since the dog only did his duty, and he himself was to blame for rambling out so early. At length he called out so loud, that he was heard by some in the house, who came out, and speedily separated the mastiff and the mathematician. However, it is added, that the adventure gave the doctor a strong habitual aversion for dogs and I dare say, if the truth were known, fixed in the dog's mind a still stronger aversion to doctors. It may be questioned whether any habits formed by the gradual accumulation of repeated facts, ever equal in power, these deep marks left in the mind, by the rude and rapid inroads of passion.

No habit formed (if I may use the expression) against the stream, can ever be so strong as one that goes with it. It is natural to mankind to resent injuries; I don't say commendable, but natural: therefore, no habit of commanding resentment is so secure of remaining, as a habit of gratifying it. A habit of intemperance, is stronger than a habit of temperance; and whatever may be the time for which habits are laid aside, they are always more liable to be resumed, than any other train of actions: the road may be stopt up,

and overgrown with brambles; and another road of much greater convenience opened, in a contrary direction; but, in spite of all this, there is a prodigious tendency to move in the old track; and we are very frequently never satisfied till we get back to it.

Those persons are most liable to contract habits, either good or bad, whose lives are the most monotonous, and move on with the most complete uniformity. He who has lived in various countries, will have no national babits; in various parts of the same country, no provincial habits. If he have never been compelled to a particular line of occupation, he will have no professional habits; and if he have not voluntarily sunk into a sameness of existence, if he have seen many different circumstances, and done many different things, it is probable he will have no individual habits. Uniformity of occupation, is the cause both of bodily, moral, and intellectual habits. It is very often easy enough to discover a military man by the general air and style of his behaviour; he has put on one look, and done one thing, so often, that the habit sticks to him. There is a clerical air as well as a military air, from the same causes. Exactly in the same way, is there a style of understanding, a love of contention, and a perpetual affectation of wit, in lawyers, who have contracted the bad habits of their profession; and unrivalled vigour, quickness, and temper, in those who have availed themselves of the good. With equal diversities of occupation, those persons are, perhaps, the most likely to contract objectionable habits, who are prevented, by any cause, from reviewing and considering themselves; as absent men, very profound men, very busy men, very proud men. As bad habit

implies associated action not common to the world at large, it will probably be most visible in those who are not accustomed to compare themselves much with others.

Men aware of the power of habit, escape its influence;