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THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.— SUPPLEMENT. 



regard to the other factor I may offer a few gen- 

 eral remarks. In the first place, I believe it is 

 owing to this factor that observation, as distin- 

 guished from action, makes time seem long. For 

 during action consciousness is largely occupied 

 with effecting whatever adaptations — psychical 

 or mechanical — we may happen to be engaged 

 upon ; while during observation consciousness is 

 lree to contemplate, with a much more undivided 

 attention, the sequence-relations of whatever phe- 

 nomena we may happen to be observing. Hence, 

 notwithstanding that during a period of activity 

 we are usually subject to more intense and abrupt 

 changes in our states of consciousness than we 

 are during a period of passively observing, and 

 notwithstanding that on this account the more 

 obvious factor of our time-consciousness must be 

 more intensely operative in the former than it is 

 in the latter case, nevertheless, it is in the latter 

 case that time seems longest, because the less ob- 

 vious factor of our time-consciousness is here more 

 intensely operative than it is in the former case. 

 So that our estimate of time during a period of 

 action or of observation respectively would seem 

 to be determined by the proportional value of the 

 two complementary factors of our time-conscious- 

 ness. 



As another general example of the action of 

 the less obvious factor, I may allude to a circum- 

 stance which I think will scarcely be disputed, 

 viz., that in all cases where we " look forward " to 

 the passage of a given interval of time, and so 

 unduly occupy consciousness with the sequence- 

 relations among its own states, the given interval 

 seems to vary inversely as the degree of our de- 

 sire for it to terminate — that is, as the earnest- 

 ness with which our attention is fixed on the pas- 

 sage of time. A good example of this quantita- 

 tive relation is to be found in our experiences 

 while railway-traveling; for, however long the 

 journey may be, the latter portion of it seems 

 more tedious than the former; so that, for in- 

 stance, if the journey is of two hours' duration, 

 the last hour seems longer than the first one, but 

 if the jonrncy is of twelve hours' duration the 

 second hour 6eems no longer than the first one, 

 while the twelfth hour seems very protracted. 

 Now the explanation of this I believe to be that, 

 as the end of our journey approaches, we "look 

 forward" to its termination more persistently 

 than at any other time during its progress. And 

 it is to be observed, as we should expect, that it 

 makes little or no difference whether our desire 

 for the rapid passage of time is determined by 

 the anticipation of an agreeable or of a disagree- 



able event ; waiting for the arrival of a very dear 

 friend who has been absent for a long time, for 

 instance, seeming quite as remarkable, in the re- 

 spects we are considering, as waiting for an ex- 

 amination. Moreover, it is to be further ob- 

 served, as we should also expect, that the ele- 

 ment of definileness in the time which we have to 

 wait makes a great difference in our estimate of 

 its duration. For instance, I have several times 

 observed that if I know there is an hour to wait 

 for a train, the time seems much longer than if I 

 have to wait an hour for a train which is overdue, 

 and the approach of which — there being no tele- 

 graphic communication — the officials are momen- 

 tarily expecting. And this difference is easily 

 explained, if we reflect that in the former case 

 there is no occupation for consciousness in the 

 direction of hope ; whereas in the latter case the 

 consciousness of the passage of time is partly 

 obliterated by the continuous state of expecta- 

 tion from moment to moment which to a large 

 extent monopolizes consciousness. And, lastly, 

 there is still one other point to be observed, viz , 

 that on taking a retrospect of a given interval 

 of time, it occasionally happens that it may be 

 made alternately to look longer or shorter, ac- 

 cording as we contemplate it in relation to one 

 class or to another class of ideas which we experi- 

 enced during that interval. Thus, if a man takes 

 a retrospect of the interval of time during which 

 he has been harassed by a laweuit, it may ap- 

 pear longer when contemplated in relation to the 

 suit than if contemplated in relation to other 

 more agreeable events which transpired during 

 the same period. And I believe the explanation 

 of this to be that, by his recollection of the law- 

 suit, he recalls by association a massive body of 

 ideas, all of which were more or less intimately 

 associated with his previous desire for the rapid 

 termination of the suit ; while in the case of the 

 more agreeable events his associations have no 

 reference to any such time-elements. 



In conclusion, if this analysis is correct, a ques- 

 tion arises as to the relative values of the two fac- 

 tors of our time-consciousness. Now, without pre- 

 tending to answer this question with any degree 

 of precision, I think it is evident that the factor 

 which I have called the reference of states of con- 

 sciousness to their own sequence, is, or admits of 

 becoming; a much more important factor — at any 

 rate, for short intervals of time — than the com- 

 plementary factor which depends on the vivid 

 character of the states of consciousness and the 

 abrupt character of their changes. Thus, for in- 

 stance, an exciting series of events, though they 



