sciousness, but in the foregoing remarks I have given you what I conceive is the true speculative history of the rise and manifestation of that mental act. To complete my explanation of self-consciousness I have still a few observations to make, and then we shall proceed to consider what bearings the conclusions we have established have on the doctrines of the Sophists. Man alone is characterised by self-consciousness. This endowment certainly does not belong, and is not to be attributed to, the lower animals. They have feeling, sensation, appetite, passion, desire; but they certainly have no thought or consciousness of themselves, no self-consciousness, in the proper sense of that word. There is, however, an improper sense in which every sentient creature, as well as men, may be said to be self-conscious. What is that sense? By pointing out that sense we shall be better able to apprehend and explain what true self-consciousness is. When a sentient being experiences a sensation, it may be said to feel itself, as well as the sensation. (Observe, I do not say that it thinks itself; that is a very different matter.) But it feels itself as that which is experiencing the sensation. It shuns or endeavours to get rid of painful sensations: it courts and endeavours to procure pleasurable ones. When a cat lies by the fire or in the sun, it enjoys an agreeable warmth. We cannot doubt that it feels itself doing so. When a dog is hungry, or has got his foot hurt, we cannot doubt that he feels himself in a painful predicament. But in neither of these cases,
