I purchased them from the barrow of a hawker in Norwich streets, in two following years—one being a little larger than the other, and they are in consequence known by the names of the _old gentleman_ and the _young gentleman_. Although selected as the best from a number of others, I am sorry to say that they both appeared to be ill or greatly injured, and it was a considerable time before they recovered sufficiently either to begin to take food, or to move about with their proper freedom, or with the well-known liveliness of Tortoises! Another Tortoise, which I purchased, did actually die a short time afterwards, having lived in a state of semi-stupor for the intervening period; and I fear that the capability of these creatures for suffering is not much recognised in the usual methods of their conveyance and treatment. The two Tortoises which survived have, as I said, now lived on my premises and thriven for three and four years. They have become almost pets. They most evidently recognise the place as their home. They know the various localities of the garden perfectly. They know the sunny spots to which to go at suitable times to bask. They know where to find sun, and where to find this and shade combined, when they so desire it; and they return, afternoon after afternoon, to the same cosy, and dry, and sheltered spots, under the dry ivy of the wall, or elsewhere, which they have often previously selected as their night’s abode. It is very plain that they have some recognition of individuals. For instance, if Lady Eade and myself are both preparing to feed them, they will constantly leave me and walk off to her—doubtless because she is more in the habit of bringing them their favourite kinds of food than I am. They appear to be quick of _sight_, but show very little, if any, sign of having any impressions conveyed to them by the sense of _hearing_. They evidently possess a full sense of _taste_, for they discriminate instantly between food they like, and that which is less palatable to them. The daily _habits_ of these creatures are certainly very staid and methodical, and vary but little, except as the season of the year, and the warmth of the day, vary. They are often, in the height of summer, quite early risers, and on sunny mornings will often be up, and perambulating the garden, and nibbling the little trefoil leaves found amongst the grass, by seven or six o’clock, or even earlier. But, I must say, that these early habits are quite limited to the very finest weather; and it has seemed that in the matter of early activity, these animals always err, if at all, on the side of care and caution. They never leave their beds, or the neighbourhood of cover, if there is the slightest appearance of cloudiness or rain, at least until the day is well up; and for a large portion of their year the time for coming forth is not until eight, nine, or ten o’clock.