The first step in life is to get an experience, to struggle into a consciousness which may be immediately valuable, and which is at once emotional and motor in its action; the second step is to compare and identify the experience gained so as to ascertain its meaning for life with greater certainty. Recognition thus comes early into play, but while the sphere of the sense of the novel lies in that of the unrecognised, it does not in any wise occupy the whole, for much that is unrecognised still is far from conveying feeling of novelty, because this feeling is, as we have said, far from being experienced on every presentation of the novel. The novel is equivalent rather to the unrecognisable. A dog may lose in a few months the power of recognising its master, yet the master after such a lapse of time cannot be said to awaken sense of novel. Though not recognised for master he is recognised as one of many familiar objects, he is known to be a man, and that is as far as the identification goes. The experience then is in reality not a fresh one. Here is a new man but there is nothing novel in the experience, much less is there a feeling of novelty. I doubt much if a dog or any lower animal notices and appreciates pleasurably or painfully the novel as such. The unrecognisable and unclassifiable presented to them may agitate them in various ways, as contrast a horse and a courageous dog on first seeing a locomotive, but there is no evidence of real feeling of the novelty of the experience as such. The enjoyment of the novel for its own sake is probably wholly confined to late human psychism.