In the twenty-first month the child puts some lace or embroidered stuff about him, lets it hang down from his shoulders, looks round behind at the train, advancing, stopping, eagerly throwing it into fresh folds. Here there is a mixture of apish imitation with vanity. As the child had, moreover, even in the seventeenth month, been fond of placing himself before the glass and making all sorts of faces, the experiments with the mirror were no longer continued. They show the transition from the infant's condition previous to the development of the _ego_, when he can not yet see distinctly, to the condition of the developed _ego_, who consciously distinguishes himself from his image in the glass and from other persons and their images. Yet for a long time after this step there exists a certain lack of clearness in regard to names. In the twenty-first month the child laughs at his image in the glass and points to it when I ask, "Where is Axel?" and at my image when asked, "Where is papa?" But, being asked with emphasis, the child turns round to me with a look of doubt. I once brought a large mirror near the child's bed in the evening after he had gone to sleep, so that he might perceive himself directly upon waking. He saw his image immediately after waking, seemed very much surprised at it, gazed fixedly at it, and when at last I asked, "Where is Axel?" he pointed not to himself but to the image (six hundred and twentieth day). In the thirty-first month it still afforded him great pleasure to gaze at his image in the glass. The child would laugh at it persistently and heartily. Animals show great variety of behavior in this respect, as is well known. A pair of Turkish ducks, that I used to see every day for weeks, always kept themselves apart from other ducks. When the female died, the drake, to my surprise, betook himself by preference to a cellar-window that was covered on the inside and gave strong reflections, and he would stand with his head before this for hours every day. He saw his image there, and thought perhaps that it was his lost companion. A kitten before which I held a small mirror must surely have taken the image for a second living cat, for she went behind the glass and around it when it was conveniently placed. Many animals, on the contrary, are afraid of their reflected image, and run away from it. In like manner little children are sometimes frightened by the discovery of their own shadows. My child exhibited signs of fear at his shadow the first time he saw it; but in his fourth year he was pleased with it, and to the question, "Where does the shadow come from?" he answered, to our surprise, "From the sun" (fortieth month).