Up to thirty days there was no fear of a mocking bird into whose cage the chicks were put, no fear of a stuffed hawk or a stuffed owl (kept stationary). Chicks try to escape from water (even though warmed to the temperature of their bodies) from the very first. Up to forty days there appears no marked waning of the instinct. They did not show any emotional reaction to the flame produced by six candles stuck closely together. From the start they react instinctively to confinement, to loneliness, to bodily restraint, but their feeling in these cases would better be called discomfort than fear. From the 10th or 12th to the 20th day, and probably later and very possibly earlier, one notices in chicks a general avoidance of open places. Turn them out in your study and they will not go out into the middle of the room, but will cling to the edges, go under chairs, around table legs and along the walls. One sees nothing of the sort up through the fourth day. Some experiments with feeding hive bees to the chicks are interesting in connection with the following statement by Lloyd Morgan: “One of my chicks, three or four days old, snapped up a hive bee and ran off with it. Then he dropped it, shook his head much and often, and wiped his bill repeatedly. I do not think he had been stung: _probably he tasted the poison_” (‘Introduction to Comparative Psychology,’ p. 86). I fed seven bees apiece to three chicks from ten to twenty days old. _They ate them all greedily_, first smashing them down on the ground violently in a rather dexterous manner. Apparently this method of treatment is peculiar to the object. Chicks _three_ days old did not eat the bees. Some pecked at them, but none would snap them up, and when the bee approached, they sometimes sounded the danger note. Finally an account may be given of the reaction of chicks at different ages, up to twenty-six days, to loud sounds. These were the sounds made by clapping the hands, slamming a door, whistling sharply, banging a tin pan on the floor, mewing like a cat, playing a violin, thumping a coal scuttle with a shovel, etc. Two chicks were together in each experiment. Three fourths of the times no effect was produced. On the other occasions there was some running or crouching or, at least, starting to run or crouch; but, as was said, nothing like what Spalding reports as the reaction to the ‘cheep’ of the hawk. It is interesting to notice that the two most emphatic reactions were to the imitation mew. One time a chick ran wildly, chirring, and then crouched and stayed still until I had counted 105. The other time a chick crouched and stayed still until I counted 40. But the other chick with them did not; and in a dozen other cases the ‘meaw’ had no effect.