Having done with Logic, we launched into analytic psychology, and having chosen Hartley for our text-book, we raised Priestley’s edition to an extravagant price by searching through London to furnish each of us with a copy. When we had finished Hartley, we suspended our meetings; but my father’s Analysis of the Mind being published soon after, we reassembled for the purpose of reading it. With this our exercises ended. I have always dated from these conversations my own real inauguration as an original and independent thinker. It was also through them that I acquired, or very much strengthened, a mental habit to which I attribute all that I have ever done, or ever shall do, in speculation; that of never accepting half-solutions of difficulties as complete; never abandoning a puzzle, but again and again returning to it until it was cleared up; never allowing obscure corners of a subject to remain unexplored, because they did not appear important; never thinking that I perfectly understood any part of a subject until I understood the whole.
Note from KBJ: Young scholars (especially philosophers) would do well to adopt Mill's "mental habit." When I undertake a scholarly project, whether it's on rape or violence or the moral status of animals or legal theory or persuasive definition or Anselm's ontological argument or John Stuart Mill's feminism, I make an exhaustive survey of the literature before writing, or at least before doing any serious writing. Only when I feel that I understand the whole (in Mill's terminology) do I feel that I understand any part of it. Right now, for example, I am tracking down every philosophical book and article ever written on ethical egoism. After I read each item, I annotate it on a bibliography. It will make the writing of my book much easier.
Note 2 from KBJ: I found a mistake in Google Books. James Mill's Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind was published in 1829, in two volumes. Google lists "1822" as the date of publication of volume one. Compare this with this. Someone at Google evidently read "1829" (on the title page of volume one) as "1822." The numeral "9" does appear to be smudged. Should I bring it to Google's attention?
