The first crude manifestation of this disposition to make rule, to rationalise life by subjecting it to a general method, is seen in those actions which seem little more than the working of habit, the insistence on the customary lines of procedure at meals and such like. A mother writes that her boy when five years old was quite a stickler for punctilious order in these matters. His cup and spoon had to be put in precisely the right place, the sequences of the day, as the lesson before the walk, the walk before bed, had to be rigorously observed. Any breach of the customary was apt to be resented as a sort of impiety. This may be an extreme instance, but my observation leads me to say that such punctiliousness is not uncommon. What is more, I have seen it developing itself where the system of parental government was by no means characterised by severe insistence on such minutiæ of order. And this would seem to show that it cannot wholly be set down to the influences of such government. It seems rather to be a spontaneous extension of the realm of rule or law. This impulse to extend rule appears more plainly in many of the little ceremonial observances of the child. Very charmingly is this respect for rule exhibited in relation to his animals, dolls and other pets. Not only are they required to do things in a proper orderly manner, but people have to treat them with due deference. “Every night,” writes a mother of her boy aged two years seven months, "after I have kissed and shaken hands with him, I have to kiss his ‘boy,’ that is his doll, who sleeps with him, and to shake its two hands—also to shake the four hoofs of a tiny horse which lies at the foot of his cot. When all this has been gone through, he stands up and entreats, ‘More tata, please, more tata,’ _i.e._, ‘kiss me again and say more good-nights’. These customs of his with regard to kissing are peculiar to himself—he kisses his ‘boy’ (doll), also pictures of horses, dogs, cocks and hens, and he puts his head against us _to be kissed_; but he will only shake hands and will not kiss people himself: he reserves his kisses for what he seems to feel inferior things. We kiss our boy, he kisses his; but he insists upon being shaken hands with for his part. If other children come to play he gives them toys, watches them with delight, tries to give them rides on his ‘go-go’s,’ but does not kiss them; though he will stroke their hair he does not return their kisses. It seems to me that he regards it as an action to be reserved for an inferior thing." I have quoted at length this careful bit of maternal observation because it seems to indicate so clearly a spontaneous extension of a custom. The practice of the mother and father in kissing him was generalised into a rule of ceremony in the treatment of all inferiors.