With some differences of opinion Dr. Thorndike and I have much in common in the conclusions to which we have been independently led as to the method and limits of animal intelligence. We seem to be in essential agreement in the belief that the method of animal intelligence is to profit by chance experience without rational foresight, and that unless such experience be individually acquired, the data essential for intelligent progress are absent. While in our attempts to realize the general nature of animal consciousness there is a close similarity of treatment. In my “Introduction to Comparative Psychology” a good deal of space is devoted to an analysis of the psychology of skill “in order that we may infer what takes place in the minds of animals;” and I said:--“When I am playing a hard game of tennis, or when I am sailing a yacht close to the wind in a choppy sea, self does not at all tend to become focal. Hence, though I am a self-conscious being I am not always self-conscious. And presumably when I am least self-conscious, I am nearest the condition of the animal at the stage of mere sense experience. I am exhilarated with the sense of pleasurable existence, my whole being tingles with sentient life. I sense, or am aware of, my own life and consciousness, in an unusually subtle manner. Experience is vivid and continuous. Such I take it to be the condition of the conscious but not yet self-conscious animal.” I can therefore cordially endorse Dr. Thorndike’s conclusions as expressed in the following passages:-- “One who has watched the life of a cat or dog for a month or more under test conditions, gets, or fancies he gets, a fairly definite idea of what the intellectual [intelligent] life of a cat or dog feels like. It is most like what we feel when consciousness contains little thought about anything, when we feel the sense-impressions in their first intention, so to speak, when we feel our own body, and the impulses we give to it. Sometimes one gets this animal consciousness while in swimming, for example. One feels the water, the sky, the birds above, but with no thoughts about them or memories of how they looked at other times, or æsthetic judgments about their beauty; one feels no ideas about what movements he will make, but feels himself make them, feels his body throughout. Self-consciousness dies away. Social consciousness dies away. The meanings, and values, and connections of things die away. One feels sense-impressions, has impulses, feels the movements he makes; that is all.”