FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[5]Vide the writer,N. Y. Medical Record, August 15, 1896.[6]Semper,Animal Life, p. 83.[7]Hickson,The Fauna of the Deep Sea, p. 150et seq.[8]Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, and Intelligence of Animals, p. 84.[9]"In Solaster or Asteracanthion the lenses look like brilliant eggs, each in its own scarlet nest."—Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, and Intelligence of Animals, p. 132et seq.[10]Lubbock,loc. cit. ante, p. 140.[11]Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 27.[12]Mantagazza,loc. cit., p. 97.[13]Darwin,Descent of Man, pp. 262, 263.[14]William Hamilton Gibson,Sharp Eyes, p. 307.[15]I have a distinct purpose in introducing these and other queer-eyed individuals while discussing the sense of sight. I wish to demonstrate through one or more of them the correlation of morphology, physiology, and psychology, as formulated in the first chapter of this work. This is one of the most important facts in the doctrine of evolution, and upon it is based the law of progressive psychical development from the simple manifestations of conscious determination in the lowest organisms to the most complex operations of the mind in man.[16]Semper,Animal Life, p. 374et seq.[17]Consult Furneaux,Life in Ponds and Streams, p. 325.[18]Consult Comstock,Manual for the Study of Insects, p. 110.[19]Consult Comstock,loc. cit. ante, p. 455.[20]Bolles Lee,Les Balanciers des Dipteres; quoted also by Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, etc., pp. 110, 111.[21]Newport,The Antennæ of Insects, Entomol. Society, Vol. II.[22]Will,Das Geschmacksorgen der Insecten, Wiss. Zool.; quoted also by Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, etc., p. 96.

[5]Vide the writer,N. Y. Medical Record, August 15, 1896.

[6]Semper,Animal Life, p. 83.

[7]Hickson,The Fauna of the Deep Sea, p. 150et seq.

[8]Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, and Intelligence of Animals, p. 84.

[9]"In Solaster or Asteracanthion the lenses look like brilliant eggs, each in its own scarlet nest."—Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, and Intelligence of Animals, p. 132et seq.

[10]Lubbock,loc. cit. ante, p. 140.

[11]Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 27.

[12]Mantagazza,loc. cit., p. 97.

[13]Darwin,Descent of Man, pp. 262, 263.

[14]William Hamilton Gibson,Sharp Eyes, p. 307.

[15]I have a distinct purpose in introducing these and other queer-eyed individuals while discussing the sense of sight. I wish to demonstrate through one or more of them the correlation of morphology, physiology, and psychology, as formulated in the first chapter of this work. This is one of the most important facts in the doctrine of evolution, and upon it is based the law of progressive psychical development from the simple manifestations of conscious determination in the lowest organisms to the most complex operations of the mind in man.

[16]Semper,Animal Life, p. 374et seq.

[17]Consult Furneaux,Life in Ponds and Streams, p. 325.

[18]Consult Comstock,Manual for the Study of Insects, p. 110.

[19]Consult Comstock,loc. cit. ante, p. 455.

[20]Bolles Lee,Les Balanciers des Dipteres; quoted also by Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, etc., pp. 110, 111.

[21]Newport,The Antennæ of Insects, Entomol. Society, Vol. II.

[22]Will,Das Geschmacksorgen der Insecten, Wiss. Zool.; quoted also by Lubbock,Senses, Instincts, etc., p. 96.

Conscious determination, or, effort induced by conscious volition, is the basic mental operation upon which is reared that complex psychical structure which is to be found in the higher animals, and especially in man—the highest product of evolutionary development.

By conscious volition is not meant that consciousness which appertains to the child of two or three years, who, at that age, recognizes theego. Ego-knowledge, while undoubtedly present in some of the higher animals, such as the dog, monkey, horse, cat, etc., is not a factor in the psychical make-up of any of the lower animals (insects, crustaceans, mollusks, etc.). But consciousness, so far as volition or choice is concerned, enters into thepsychosof animals exceedingly low in the scale of animal life.

We have seen in the chapter on the senses in the lower animals, that animals possess one or all of the five senses—touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing; we will see in a later chapter that some of them likewise possess certain othersenses which man has lost in the process of evolution.

Now, let us very briefly discuss themodus operandithrough which and by which conscious determination and other psychical manifestations arise from the physical basis—the senses.[23]I have asserted, and, as I believe, I have demonstrated elsewhere, the interdependence and correlation of physiology and psychology. Furthermore, I wish to be plainly understood as also asserting the physical basis and origin of all psychical operations whatever they may be.

Mind is always associated, according to our experience and knowledge (and this question must be studied objectively) with a peculiar tissue which is only to be found in animal organisms. This tissue is called nerve, and is made up of cells and, broadly speaking, prolongations of cells which are called nerve-fibres.

Certain accumulations of nerve-cells called ganglions (ganglia) are to be found scattered throughout the structure of animals. Experiment and observation teach that these ganglia subserve agoverning influence over nerve-action; hence, they are called nerve-centres.

Nerve-tissue is found in all animals above and including Hydrozoa, according to Romanes;[24]I am inclined to believe, however, that it is present in animals even lower than Hydrozoa, for I have been able, on more than one occasion, to verify Professor Clark's observations in regard to the protozoan,Stentor polymorphus, which, as he asserts,[25]has a well-developed nervous system. Moreover, I have seen, in my opinion, unquestionable acts of conscious determination enacted by this little creature, as I will point out further along in this chapter.

Nerve-tissue has the peculiar faculty of transmitting impressions made upon it by stimuli. When a nerve is acted on by a stimulus, the impression wave is transmitted along the in-going nerve to the ganglion; here, the stimulus is transferred to the out-going nerve, which, going to the muscle, causes it to contract.

This form of nerve-action is called reflex action, and reflex action is, in the beginning, the germ from which spring volition (choice) and all of the higher psychical attributes.

Again, it is to be observed, as animals become more highly organized, that nerves have the power of discriminating between stimuli, and "it is thispower of discriminating between stimuli," as Romanes puts it, "irrespective of their relative mechanical intensities, that constitutes the physiological aspect of choice" (volition). It is also through the faculty of discrimination that the special senses, upon which the entire psychical structure depends, have been evolved.

The fact of this power of discrimination has been so clearly and so beautifully demonstrated by Romanes, that I present his experiment and observations, as detailed by him in his magnificent work,Mental Evolution in Animals:—

"I have observed that if a sea-anemone is placed in an aquarium tank, and allowed to fasten on one side of the tank near the surface of the water, and if a jet of sea-water is made to play continuously and forcibly upon the anemone from above, the result of course is that the animal becomes surrounded with a turmoil of water and air-bubbles. Yet, after a short time, it becomes so accustomed to this turmoil that it will expand its tentacles in search of food, just as it does when placed in calm water. If now one of the expanded tentacles is gently touched with a solid body, all the others close around that body, in just the same way as they would were they expanded in calm water. That is to say, the tentacles are able to discriminate between the stimulus which is applied by the turmoil of the water and that which is supplied by their contact with the solid body, and they respondto the latter stimulus notwithstanding that it is of incomparably less intensity than the former."[26]

When a stimulus passes over a nerve to a ganglion, it leaves upon it an impression which remains for a shorter or longer time as the stimulus is great or small. Now, when a stimulus is again applied to the nerve, the impression wave follows in the footsteps, as it were, of the first impression wave, and the ganglion reflects or transfers it just as before, thus showing that nerve has another peculiar quality—that ofmemory.

Again, when two or more reflexes are excited by the same stimulus or stimuli, the ganglion learns to associate one with the other, thus showing that it possesses another quality—that of the association of ideas (stimuli and reflexes).

All of these operations are, in their beginnings, exceedingly simple; yet, as organisms increase in complexity, these simple beginnings become more complex and more highly developed.

Heretofore, the operations described have been entirely ganglionic (reflex) and utterly without that which we call consciousness. Now, since consciousness, as I understand it, is simply a knowledge of existence, and since this knowledge of existence is only to be had through sensual perceptions, and, since sensual perceptions are excited undoubtedly by coördinated stimuli, then, "there cannot be coördination of many stimuli withoutsome ganglion through which they are all brought into relation. In the process of bringing these into relation, this ganglion must be subject to the influence of each—must undergo many changes. And the quick succession of changes in a ganglion, implying as it does perpetual experiences of differences and likenesses, constitute the raw material of consciousness."[27]

However quick this succession of changes may be, there must be an interval of time between the application of the stimulus and the response to that stimulus, hence, the element of time enters into all psychical operations that are not distinctly reflex. Even in the reflexes there is a time element, but it is distinctly shorter than the time interval that enters into the make-up of a conscious psychical operation. This can easily be demonstrated, as has been done, time and again, by actual experiment.

"With this gradual dawn of consciousness as revealed to subjective analysis, we should expect some facts of physiology, or of objective analysis, to correspond; and this we do find. For in our own organisms we know that reflex actions are not accompanied by consciousness, although the complexity of the nerve-muscular systems concerned in these actions may be very considerable. Clearly, therefore, it is not mere complexity of ganglionic action that determines consciousness. What, then, is the difference between the mode of operation of the cerebral hemispheres and that of the lower ganglia, which may be taken to correspond with the great subjective distinction between the consciousness which may attend the former and the no-consciousness which is invariably characteristic of the latter? I think that the only difference that can be pointed to is a difference of rate of time."[28]

The gradual cultivation of the senses (evolution), during which the special adaptations of their motor reactions are gradually developed, is a necessary prerequisite to the formation and elaboration of conscious volition.[29]In the foregoing pages I have very briefly discussed this cultivation of the senses and the development of their motor reactions. I have likewise outlined the origin of volition from sensual perceptions; it now becomes necessary in this discussion of mind, in the lower animals, to study those organisms in which volition (choice) first makes its appearance in the shape of conscious determination.

Stentor polymorphusis exceedingly interesting on more than one account. Its queer, trumpet-like shape, with its flaring, bell-like, open mouth (if I may use such a term to indicate its entire cephalic extremity), surmounted by rows of vibratile cilia, its pulsating contractile vesicle, its ability to move from place to place by swimming, are allinteresting features; but, when it is ascertained to be the first creature in the entire Animal Kingdom in which a true nervous system is to be found, then it becomes doubly interesting.

This protozoan has been a favorite subject for study with microscopists, but Professor Clark of Harvard was the first observer to note and call attention to its nerve-supply. Says he in his note calling attention to this discovery:—

"The digestive and circulatory systems are the only parts of the organization essential to life that are known to investigators; but recently I have been led to believe that I have discovered thenervous system, or at least a part of it, and that too in the very region of the body where there is the most activity, and therefore more likely than elsewhere to have this system most strongly developed. Immediately within the edge of the disk (bell) there runs all around a narrow faint band, which lies so close to the surface that it is difficult to determine precisely that it is not actually superficial. From this band there arise, at nearly equal distances all round, about a dozen excessively faint thin stripes, which converge in a general direction toward the mouth."[30]

This band Professor Clark very correctly, as I believe, assumes to be a part of Stentor's nervous system; for, with a medium high-power lens (×500) I have been able to make out ganglionic enlargementsboth in the circular band and in the stripes. These ganglia are the brain of this infusorian. When the animalcule is stained with eosin, the nervous system can very readily be made out and followed throughout all of its ramifications.

On one occasion, while I was studying the contractile vesicle (heart) of one of these animalcules, I saw it evince what seemed to me to be unquestionable evidences of conscious determination.

Just above the creature, which was resting in its tube (it builds a gelatinous tube into which it shrinks when alarmed or disturbed in any way), there was a bit of alga, from which ripened spores were being given off. Some of these spores were ruptured (probably by my manipulations) and starch grains were escaping therefrom.

The Stentor, from its location below the alga, could not reach the starch grains without altering its position. I saw it elevate itself in its tube until it touched the starch grains with its cilia. With these it swept a grain into its mouth, and then sank down in its tube. I thought, at first, that this was the result of accident, but when the creature again elevated itself, and again captured a starch grain, I was compelled to admit design!

By some sense, it had discovered the presence of starch, which it recognized to be food; it could not get at this food without making a change in its position, which, therefore, it immediately proceeded to do!

Here was an act which required, so it seemed to me, correlative ideation, and which was doubly surprising, because occurring in an animal of such extremely simple organization. This observation was substantiated, however, by the testimony of Professor Carter, an English biologist, which came to my notice a week or so thereafter. This investigator witnessed a similar act in an animalcule belonging, it is true, to another family, but which is almost, if not quite, as simple in its organization as Stentor. He does not designate the particular rhizopods that he had under observation, yet from his language, we are able to classify them approximately. His account is so very interesting that I take the liberty of quoting him in full.

"On one occasion, while investigating the nature of some large, transparent, spore-like elliptical cells (fungal?) whose protoplasm was rotating, while it was at the same time charged with triangular grains of starch, I observed some actinophorous rhizopods creeping about them, which had similar shaped grains of starch in their interior; and having determined the nature of these grains by the addition of iodine, I cleansed the glasses, and placed under the microscope a new portion of the sediment from the basin containing these cells and actinophryans for further examination, when I observed one of the spore-like cells had become ruptured, and that a portion of its protoplasm, charged with the triangular starch grains, wasslightly protruding through the crevice. It then struck me that the actinophryans had obtained their starch grains from this source; and while looking at the ruptured cell, anactinophrysmade its appearance, and creeping round the cell, at last arrived at the crevice, from which it extricated one of the grains of starch mentioned, and then crept off to a good distance. Presently, however, it returned to the same cell; and although there were now no more starch grains protruding, theactinophrysmanaged again to extract one from the interior through the crevice. All this was repeated several times, showing that theactinophrysinstinctively knew that those were nutritious grains, that they were contained in this cell, and that, although each time after incepting a grain it went away to some distance, it knew how to find its way back to the cell again which furnished this nutriment.

"On another occasion I saw anactinophrysstation itself close to a ripe spore-cell ofpythium, which was situated on a filament ofSpirogyra crassa; and as the young ciliated monadic germs issued forth one after another from the dehiscent spore-cell, theactinophrysremained by it and caught every one of them, even to the last, when it retired to another part of the field, as if instinctively conscious that there was nothing more to be got at the old place.

"But by far the greatest feat of this kind that ever presented itself to me was the catching of ayoungacinetaby an old sluggishamœba, as the former left its parent; this took place as follows:

"In the evening of the 2d of June, 1858, in Bombay, while looking through a microscope at someEuglenæ, etc., which had been placed aside for examination in a watch-glass, my eye fell upon a stalked and triangularacineta(A. mystacina?), around which anamœbawas creeping and lingering, as they do when they are in quest of food. But knowing the antipathy that theamœba, like almost every other infusorian, has to the tentacles of theacineta, I concluded that theamœbawas not encouraging an appetite for its whiskered companion, when I was surprised to find that it crept up the stem of theacineta, and wound itself round its body.

"This mark of affection, too much like that frequently evinced at the other end of the scale, even where there is mind for its control, did not long remain without interpretation. There was a youngacineta, tender and without poisonous tentacles (for they are not developed at birth), just ready to make its exit from its parent, an exit which takes place so quickly, and is followed by such rapid bounding movements of the non-ciliatedacineta, that who would venture to say,a priori, that a dull, heavy, sluggishamœbacould catch such an agile little thing? But theamœbæare as unerring and unrelaxing in their grasp as they are unrelenting in their cruel inceptions of the living and the dead,when they serve them for nutrition; and thus theamœba, placing itself around the ovarian aperture of theacineta, received the young one, nurse-like, in its fatal lap, incepted it, descended from the parent, and crept off. Being unable to conceive at the time that this was such an act of atrocity on the part of theamœbaas the sequel disclosed, and thinking that the youngacinetamight yet escape, or pass into some other form in the body of its host, I watched theamœbafor some time afterwards, until the tale ended by the youngacinetabecoming divided into two parts, and thus in their respective digestive spaces ultimately becoming broken down and digested."[31]

In the discussion of conscious and unconscious mind, I called attention to the marginal bodies of the nectocalyx of the jelly-fish. These bodies in the "covered-eyed" species are protected by hoods of gelatinous tissue; in the naked-eyed species the hoods are absent. The marginal bodies in both species are practically identical as far as general make-up is concerned, being composed of an accumulation of brightly-colored pigment-cells, embedded in which are several minute clear crystals. Nerve-fibres connect these bodies with the sensorium ("nerve-ring").

Jelly-fish seek the light, and they can be made to follow a bright light from one side of theaquarium to the other by manipulating the light in the proper manner. Even where a slight current is set up in the water, they will swim against it in their efforts to reach the light.

When two or more of the marginal bodies are excised, no effect seems to follow such excision, but as soon as the last of these bodies is cut out, the creature falls to the bottom of the tank without motion.

When a point in the nectocalyx is irritated with a point of a needle or by a vegetable or mineral irritant, the tip of the manubrium will turn toward, and endeavor to touch, the spot irritated. It does not turn at once, as it would were its movements the result of reflex action; it moves deliberately as though actuated by volition.

The above experiments and observation seem to indicate the presence of conscious determination in the medusa; in fact, there seems to be a distinct element of choice in these psychical manifestations.

While engaged in watching a water-louse, I saw it swim to a hydra, tear off one of its buds, and then swim some distance away to a small bit of mud, behind which it hid until it devoured its tender morsel. Again it swam back to the hydra and plucked from it one of its young; again it swam back to the little mud heap, behind which it once more ensconced itself until it was through with its meal. When we remember that this little creature was among entirely new surroundings (for I dipped it from a pond in a tablespoon full of water which I had poured into a saucer), we will appreciate the fact that the water-louse evinced conscious determination and no little memory. It probably discovered the hydra accidentally; it then, as soon as it had secured its prey, swam away, seeking some spot where it could eat its food without molestation. But when it sought the hydra again and swam back to its sheltering mud heap, it showed that it remembered the route to and from its source of food supply and its temporary hiding-place.

At the base of a large terminal ganglion in the neuro-cephalic system of the common garden snail, lying immediately below and between its two "horns," will be found, I am satisfied, the centre governing its sense of direction. For, when this portion of this ganglion is destroyed, the snail loses its ability of returning to its home when carried only a short distance away; otherwise, it can find its way back to its domicile when taken what must be to it a very great distance away, indeed. Beneath the stone coping of a brick wall surrounding the front of my lawn, and which, on the side toward my residence, is almost flush with the ground, many garden snails find a cool, moist, and congenial home. Last summer I took six of these snails, and, after marking them with a paint of zinc oxide and gum arabic, set them free on thelawn. In time, four of these marked snails returned to their home beneath the stone coping; two of them were probably destroyed by enemies. Again, the same number of snails were marked, after the base of the above-mentioned ganglion had been destroyed, and likewise set free. Although they lived and were to be observed now and then on the trees and bushes of the lawn, none of them ever returned to the place from which they were taken beneath the stone coping. I have performed this experiment repeatedly, always with like results.

These experiments show that the snail is capable of conscious effort; furthermore, they indicate that this little animal is the possessor of a special sense which many of the higher animals have lost in the process of evolution. I refer to the sense of direction, or "homing instinct," so-called, which will be treated at length in the chapter on Auxiliary Senses.

Darwin has very beautifully demonstrated the senses of touch, taste, and smell in the angle-worm; provisionally he denies it, however, the senses of sight and hearing.[32]I think he is in error as to these last two senses.

Angle-worms are nocturnal in their habits, hence, we should expect, from the very nature of things, to find them able to differentiate between light and darkness. And experiments show, very conclusively,that they are very sensitive to light. My vermicularium is made of glass, consequently, when one of its inmates happens to be next to the glass sides, which very frequently occurs, it is easy to experiment on it with pencils of strong light. If a ray of light is directed upon an angle-worm, it at once begins to show discomfort, and, in a very few moments, it will crawl away from the source of annoyance, and hide in some tunnel deep in the earth of the vermicularium. Again, when the worms are out of their tunnels at night, a strong light shining on them will at once cause them to seek their holes.

If the back of an earthworm be examined with a high-power lens (×500), small points of pigment will be seen here and there in its dorsal integument; these, I believe, are primitive eyes (ocelli). I think that the worm is enabled to tell the difference between light and darkness through the agency of these minute dark spots, which serve to arrest the rays of light, thus conveying a stimulus to nerve-fibrils, which, in turn, carry it to the sensorium.

Any country schoolboy will tell you that worms can hear. He points to his simple experiment (pounding on the earth with a club) in proof of his assertion. For, as soon as he begins to pound the ground in a favorable neighborhood, the worms will come to the surface "to see what makes the noise." Darwin assumes that the worms feel thevibrations, which are disagreeable to them, and come to the surface in order to escape them. I do not deny the possibility or the probability of this assumption; I do deny, however, that it proves that worms are deaf.

If the third anal segment (abdominal aspect) of a worm be examined, two round, disk-like organs incorporated in the integument will be found; these organs are supplied with special nerves which lead to the central nerve-cord. Experiments lead me to believe that these are organs of audition.

When I tap the earth of my vermicularium with a pencil, the unmutilated worms will come to the surface; but, when the organs described above are removed, the worms so mutilated will not respond to the tapping, but will remain in their tunnel. The worms are not appreciably impaired by such mutilation; on the contrary, they seem to thrive as well as those to which the knife has not been applied.

In creatures which possess, in all probability, the senses of touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing, we would naturally expect to find some evidences of conscious determination; and we do.

Certain leaves are the favorite food of earth-worms, while certain other leaves are eaten by them, but not with avidity. When these two kinds of leaves are given to worms, they will carefully select the favorite food and will ignorethe other, thus unmistakably evincing conscious choice. Their avoidance of light is probably the result of conscious determination, and not reflex, as some observers maintain.

Oysters taken from a bank never uncovered by the sea, open their shells, lose the water within, and soon die; but oysters kept in a reservoir and occasionally uncovered learn to keep their shells closed, and live much longer when taken out of the water. This is an act of intelligence due directly to experience without even the factor of heredity.[33]It is an instance of almost immediate adaptation to surrounding circumstances.

A gentleman fixed a land-snail, with the mouth of the shell upward, in a chink of a rock. The animal protruded its foot to the utmost extent, and, attaching it above, tried to pull the shell vertically in a straight line. Then it stretched its body to the right side, pulled, and failed to move the shell. It then stretched its foot to the left side, pulled with all of its strength, and released the shell. There were intervals of rest between these several attempts, during which the snail remained quiescent.[34]Thus we see that it exerted force in three directions, never twice in the same direction, which fact shows conscious determination and no slight degree of intelligence.

A ground wasp once built a nest beneath the brick pavement in front of my door. The entrance of the nest was situated in the little sulcus, or ditch, between two bricks. While the wasp was absent, I stopped the entrance with a pellet of paper, and, when the little housekeeper returned, she was nonplussed for a moment or two, when she discovered that her doorway had been closed. The wasp, after examining the pellet of paper, seized it with her jaws and tried to pull it away; but, since she stood on the brick and pulled backwards (toward herself), the edge of the brick interposed, and she could not dislodge the obstacle. Finally, she got down into the little gully between the two bricks, and pulled the pellet away from the opening of the nest without any further trouble. Three times I performed the experiment, the wasp going through like performances each time. At the fourth time, however, she went at once into the little space between the bricks, and then removed the wad of paper without difficulty. I stopped the hole five or six times after this, but she had learned a lesson; she always got into the sulcus between the bricks before attempting to remove the paper. She had discovered the fact that she could not remove it when she stood upon the surfaces of the bricks, owing to the interposition of their sides, and that she could drag it away if she got down into the little ditch and pulled the paper in a direction where nothing opposed. In this instance there was not only conscious determination, but also a distinct exhibition of memory. It took the wasp some time to learn that she had to pull in a certain direction before she could remove the pellet of paper; but when she had once learned this fact, she remembered it. And this brings us to another quality of mind—memory—which will be discussed in the next chapter.

FOOTNOTES:[23]"Sensorial impression is at the bottom of all our ideas, all our conceptions, though it may at first conceal itself in the form of a binary, ternary, quaternary compound; and, on our methodically pursuing the inquiry, it is easily recognizable—just as a simple substance in organic chemistry may be always summoned to appear, if we sit down with the resolution to disengage it from all the artificial combinations which hold it imprisoned."—Luys,The Brain and its Functions, p. 252.[24]Romanes,Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 24.[25]Clark,Mind in Nature, p. 64et seq.[26]Romanes,Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 48, 49.[27]Spencer,Principles of Psychology, Vol. I. p. 435.[28]Romanes,Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 72, 73.[29]Maudsley,Physiology of Mind, p. 247.[30]Clark,Mind in Nature, pp. 64, 65.[31]Carter,Annals of Natural History, 3d Series, 1863, pp. 45, 46; quoted also by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, pp. 20, 21.[32]Darwin,Formation of Vegetable Mould.[33]Dicquemase,Journal de Physique, Vol. XXVIII. p. 244; quoted also by Darwin, MS.; by Bingley,Animal Biography, Vol. III. p. 454; and by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 25.[34]Consult Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 26.

[23]"Sensorial impression is at the bottom of all our ideas, all our conceptions, though it may at first conceal itself in the form of a binary, ternary, quaternary compound; and, on our methodically pursuing the inquiry, it is easily recognizable—just as a simple substance in organic chemistry may be always summoned to appear, if we sit down with the resolution to disengage it from all the artificial combinations which hold it imprisoned."—Luys,The Brain and its Functions, p. 252.

[24]Romanes,Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 24.

[25]Clark,Mind in Nature, p. 64et seq.

[26]Romanes,Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 48, 49.

[27]Spencer,Principles of Psychology, Vol. I. p. 435.

[28]Romanes,Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 72, 73.

[29]Maudsley,Physiology of Mind, p. 247.

[30]Clark,Mind in Nature, pp. 64, 65.

[31]Carter,Annals of Natural History, 3d Series, 1863, pp. 45, 46; quoted also by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, pp. 20, 21.

[32]Darwin,Formation of Vegetable Mould.

[33]Dicquemase,Journal de Physique, Vol. XXVIII. p. 244; quoted also by Darwin, MS.; by Bingley,Animal Biography, Vol. III. p. 454; and by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 25.

[34]Consult Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 26.

In discussing memory as it is to be observed in the lower animals, I think it best to divide the subject into four parts; viz.,Memory of Locality(Surroundings),Memory of Friends(Kindred),Memory of Strangers(Other Animals not Kin), andMemory of Events(Education,Happenings,etc.).

Memory of Locality.—There can be no doubt but that the rhizopods observed by Carter displayed memory of locality. He distinctly asserts that he saw the actinophrys, after it had incepted a starch grain, "crawl away to a good distance" and then return to the spore-cell from which it was taking the grains of starch. The creature must have remembered the route to and from the spore-cell. The same must be said of the water-louse observed by myself, which not only came back to the source of its food-supply, but also returned to a certain lurking-spot at which it hid itself each time until it had eaten the hydra buds. It must be remembered that a journey of one inch, to these minute little creatures, is, comparatively speaking, an immense distance. Each grain of sand, each particle of decayed vegetable matter, etc., is, to these microscopic animalcules, a gigantic boulder, a mighty muck heap. These obstacles in the path undoubtedly serve as landmarks to the wandering myriads of microscopic animalcules.

It can be demonstrated that the snail has memory of locality. This creature is essentially a homing animal, as I will show in the chapter on Auxiliary Senses, consequently we would naturally expect to find it possessing memory of locality. An interesting observation by Mr. Lonsdale, an English observer, which has been often quoted, clearly proves that this creature does possess this psychical function. Mr. Lonsdale placed two snails in a small and badly kept garden. One of them was weak and poorly nourished, the other strong and well. The strong one disappeared and was traced by its slimy track over a wall into a neighboring garden where there was plenty of food. Mr. Lonsdale thought that it had deserted its mate, but it subsequently appeared and conducted its comrade over the wall into the bountiful food-supply of the neighboring garden. It seemed to coax and assist its feeble companion when it lingered on the way.[35]

Marked bees and ants invariably return to places where they have found food-supplies, thus showing the possession of a memory of locality androute. It is very interesting to watch a marked ant during her journey back to her nest, after she has been carried away and placed among unfamiliar scenes and surroundings. At first, owing to her fright, she will dash away helter-skelter; but soon recovering, she will head in the direction of home, and moderate her pace until she creeps along at a very cautious and circumspect gait, indeed. Every now and then she will climb a tall grass-blade or weed and take observations. After a while she sees certain landmarks, and her speed becomes faster; soon the surrounding country becomes familiar, and she ceases to climb blades of grass, etc., now she is in the midst of well-known scenes, and at last she fairly races into her nest.

In this instance the ant is led at first by her sense of direction alone; as soon, however, as she comes to country which she has hunted over, and with which she is familiar, memory comes into play and the sense of direction ceases to act, or, if it acts at all, it acts unconsciously.

Sand-wasps build their nests in the ground, and, when leaving their tunnels in search of food for the prospective grubs, always circle about them and observe the lay of the land before taking their departure. Numerous sand-wasps build in the interstices between the bricks of a pavement in front of my house. When one leaves her tunnel she will fly about the orifice for several seconds(taking observations) before she finally flies away. When she returns, she hovers about the orifice, or, rather, in its neighborhood, until she is quite certain that it is the entrance to her home, when she will dart in with such rapidity that the eye can scarcely follow her movements.

On one occasion, I covered the pavement surrounding the entrance with newspapers, leaving, however, about three inches on all sides of the orifice uncovered. When the wasp returned she seemed to be completely at a loss what to do. She hovered about for at least an hour, and then flew away.

Thinking that this experiment was too great a tax on the wasp's intelligence, I tried the following, which seemed to me to be nearer a natural happening than the former experiment. I believe that, in studying mind in the lower animals, one's experiments should be as near nature as they can possibly be.

As soon as the wasp had left her tunnel, I covered the surface of the bricks and the interstices between them, for several feet around the orifice of the tunnel, with sand. This might have happened, naturally, through the agency of the wind.

When the wasp returned, it was perfectly apparent that she did not recognize her domicile. She flew here and there and round about, but she would not alight. Finally, I swept the sand away, when she at once flew to her nest and entered.

In my opinion, these experiments prove very clearly the presence of memory of locality in these insects. The sense of direction, which a vast majority of the lower animals possess in some degree, is, however, of material assistance to their memory; this special sense will be fully discussed in another chapter.

Most of the beetles are homing animals; that is, they have certain spots to which they will return after excursions in search of food. Heretofore, observers have held to the opinion that beetles made their homes wherever they happened to be; but close study of marked individuals, especially ofCarabidæandCicindelidæhas taught me otherwise. Some of the long-horned beetles appear to be rovers, but these are always males, and their roving habits are due to sexual promptings. The females are, however, to a great extent, homing animals, and do not wander far after they have once established a home. Being creatures which recognize certain surroundings as home, they must, necessarily, have some memory of locality. This proposition is new, being formulated and advanced by myself alone, therefore I expect that it will be negatived by many investigators. All that I ask, however, is thatmarkedspecimens of the different genera be closely watched; I am confident that if this plan be followed, the truthfulness of this proposition will soon be universally acknowledged.

Reptiles and certain fishes are homing animals,and this habit is especially noticeable in the land or box terrapin. One of these animals had its home for many years in my lawn, and I have often satisfied myself in regard to its knowledge of locality. I have frequently taken it several hundred yards (its usual "using-place" is circumscribed at about one hundred yards) away from its home and set it free.

At first, led by its sense of direction, it would turn towards home and slowly crawl in that direction. It would not feeden route, but seemed intent only on arriving at its home as quickly as possible. Finally, when it arrived among familiar surroundings, it would begin to feed, but would still make its way homeward. It clearly and unmistakably indicated by its actions that it had a memory of locality.

This treatise on mind in the lower animals is, mainly, a study of psychical manifestations as they are to be observed in insects; therefore, the higher animals will only be studied incidentally. Suffice it to say that, among the higher animals, evidences of memory of locality are very abundant, and are so patent that they do not need discussion.

Memory of Friends(Kindred).—This phase of mind in ants has been closely studied and graphically described by Sir John Lubbock. Most of his experiments and observations have been verified by myself, therefore the reader will pardon me if Iquote freely from his valuable work,Ants, Bees, and Wasps.

The observations of Huber, Ford, Lubbock, and other observers declare that ants can remember and recognize their kindred after having been separated from them for several months. "Huber mentions that some ants which he had kept in captivity having accidentally escaped, met and recognized their former companions, fell to mutual caresses with their antennæ, took them up by their mandibles, and led them to their own nests; they came presently in a crowd to seek the fugitives under and about the artificial ant-hill, and even ventured to reach the bell-glass, where they effected a complete desertion by carrying away successively all the ants they found there. In a few days, the ruche was depopulated. These ants had remained four months without any communication."[36]

On one occasion, I took tenLasius nigerand confined them in a specially constructed formicary so that they could not possibly leave the nest. I supplied these colonists with a gravid queen, so they very quickly became satisfied with their new home. Four months thereafter, I put three of these ants, previously marked with a paint of zinc oxideand gum arabic, into their former nest. They were at once recognized by their kindred, which began to caress them with their antennæ and to remove the paint from their bodies. In the course of a half hour, the paint had all been removed, and I lost sight of them among the other ants.

A month after the performance of this experiment, I took three marked ants from the parent nest and placed them in the new nest. They were at once recognized by the colonists, which received them, as it were, with open arms and began to cleanse their bodies by removing the paint. In both of these experiments the recognition appeared to be instantaneous; there was no hesitancy whatever.

On the other hand, when performing like experiments withLasius flavus, it took the ants (on two occasions) some little time to recognize their kindred; when the marked ants were put into the nest they were at once seized by the other ants, which pulled them about the nest for some time. They were finally recognized, however, and the paint removed from their bodies by the busy little tongues of their kindred.

This would seem to indicate thatLasius nigerhad a better memory thanLasius flavus; whether the failure of the latter to recognize their friends at once was due, however, to faulty memory or not, is a psychical problem that will, probably, never be solved.

Lubbock's experiments withMyrmica ruginodisclearly demonstrate that these ants can recognize their kin. Says he:—

"On August 20, 1875, I divided a colony ofMyrmica ruginodisso that one half were in one nest, A, and the other half in another, B, and were kept entirely apart.

"On October 3, I put into nest B a stranger and an old companion from nest A. They were marked with a spot of color. One of them immediately flew at the stranger; of the friend they took no notice.

"October 18.—At 10a.m.I put in a stranger and a friend from nest A. In the evening the former was killed, the latter was quite at home.

"October 19.—I put one in a small bottle with a friend from nest A. They did not show any enmity. I then put in a stranger, and one of them immediately began to fight with her."[37]

These experiments show thatMyrmica ruginodisrecognize their kin at sight, and that they are able to remember and recognize one another after long separations.

Lubbock states thatLasius flavusaccept others of the same species as their friends, no matter how great a distance lies between the nests. His experiments were made with ants taken from contiguous nests as well as those located some distance apart, and, in one instance, with ants taken from a nestin another part of the country. He states that, in the last-mentioned experiment, "in one or two cases they seemed to be attacked, though so feebly that I could not feel sure about it; but in no case were the ants killed."[38]

My experiments and observations with this ant are directly the reverse. As long as the individuals experimented with belonged to contiguous nests, and were, probably, derived from the same root-stock, there was no fighting; but, in the case of ants taken from opposite sides of the house, which, probably, sprang from two different sources, there was, invariably, much fighting, in which not a few of the combatants lost their lives. Whether or not the American species ofLasius flavusare naturally more pugnacious than the English species, I know not; if they are, then this fact will account for the difference in behavior of the two species to a certain extent, though not entirely.

Others of the social Hymenoptera—for instance, bees and wasps—remember kindred. On one occasion, I clipped the wings of a wasp, and, after she had learned that she could no longer fly, placed her on a strange nest. She was at once attacked, and was soon stung to death. I kept a wasp confined in a glass for three weeks, carefully feeding her meanwhile, and then placed her on the nest from which she had been taken. She was at oncerecognized by the other wasps, which caressed her with their antennæ, and licked her with their tongues.

Bees, though they seem able to recognize kindred, and to remember them also for some time, do not show these faculties of the mind as plainly as do wasps and ants. This is probably due to the fact that bees are a later development, socially speaking, and are not as psychically mature as the other social insects.

In the higher animals the memory of kindred, especially in monkeys, is quite well developed, and is so well known that it does not need demonstration.

Memory of Strangers(Animals other than Kin).—The recognition of enemies can be noticed in animals quite low in the scale of life, and, although this psychical phase is almost universally instinctive, it carries with it certain elements of consciousness. As we ascend the scale, however, we discover that certain animals are capable of remembering other animals after a hostile encounter with them; thus, a pet squirrel remembered the turtle which had bitten him after two years had elapsed, and a white mouse showed, very plainly, that he had not forgotten the pet crow from whose clutches he had been rescued, even after three years had passed by. I might enumerate quite a number of instances like these, but think it hardly necessary; any one who has paid any attention tonatural history has seen evidences of this phase of memory in animals. I will, however, give one more illustration of this form of memory, which, in my opinion, is quite remarkable. In my front yard, last summer, there dwelt a large colony of bumblebees. One day, in a moment of idleness, I tossed a tennis ball, with which I was teaching a young dog to retrieve, into the nest. The dog dashed after it, scratching up the ground and barking loudly; immediately the bees sallied forth, pounced upon the dog and stung him severely. During the entire summer this dog could never come near the nest without being stung; his companions, two in number, trotted to and fro on the path near which the nest was located without being noticed in the slightest degree by the bees. The disturber, and, to them, would-be ravisher and destroyer of their home, however, was always assailed and put to flight. He eventually learned to give that portion of the yard a wide berth, and could not be coaxed into coming within thirty yards of the home of his savage little foes.

Instances of memory of individuals, incited by friendship or regard, between animals of different species is quite rare among the lower animals (insects, reptiles, etc.), yet, I have fortunately been able to note this phase of memory as occurring in several animals, comparatively speaking, low in the scale of intellectual development. I have every reason for believing that even the toad remembersindividuals, at least, it remembers the sound of some particular voice or whistle. It most certainly remembers localities and places, and that, too, when unaided by its sense of direction which it possesses in a high degree. A toad which I had under observation, and which I was in the habit of feeding, would come at my call or whistle, and this it learned to do after only two weeks of teaching. It would do this even in the middle of a hot summer day (toads feed at dusk and during the night), showing, thereby, that it remembered that this call meant food.

I have strong reasons for believing that certain spiders possess this phase of memory; at least, a certain lycosid once evinced such unmistakable evidences of a recognition of my individual person, that more than one observer became convinced that she knew me from other people. At the time these observations were made, I was confined to the house by sickness.

In my room and dwelling beneath my table was a large black spider, one of the most beautiful of her species. When I first made her acquaintance she was very timid, and would run to her den if I made the slightest motion. As time passed, however, she grew bolder and would come to the edge of the table which was close beside my bed, and regard me intently with her beady black eyes. Finally she became so tame that she would take flies and insects from my fingers. She learned toknow me so well that she could easily tell the difference when others came into the room. When I would leave the room for a short outing, on my return I would find her waiting for me on the top of the table. When others entered the room, she would hide herself in her den, and remain there, very frequently, until they took their departure.

It has been known for quite a while that in the nests of ants there are always to be found other insects, which appear to dwell in perfect harmony with the real builders and owners of the domiciles. Some of these creatures (the aphides, for instance) are brought into the nests by the ants themselves, which use them as we do cows, milking from their bodies a clear, sweet fluid, which they greedily lap up with their tongues. But there are other animals in the teeming formicary which seem to subserve no useful purpose other than that of ministering to the ants' love of pets or playmates. One notable little alien in certain ant communities is a minute claviger beetle (so called from its peculiar claviger, or club-shaped antennæ), which seems to be a well-beloved friend and companion, and which is always treated with great kindness.[39]These little beetles sometimes leave the nest, and may be observed sunning themselves at the entrance. The busy workers are never so busy but that they can spend a fraction of a second for the purpose of caressing their diminutive playmates. On one occasion, a swarm was about to take place in one of my formicaries. The young princes and princesses had emerged and had congregated about the entrance; they seemed loath to take wing and fly away on their honeymoon jaunt out into the unknown world. The workers were gently urging them to depart, sometimes even nipping them slightly with their mandibles. Several little clavigers could be seen running here and there and everywhere through the crowd of anxious workers and timid young males and females. They irresistibly reminded me of a lot of little dogs in a crowd of men around some centre of excitement or attraction. I have seen dogs, on more than one occasion, act in just such a manner. The ants, notwithstanding their evident worry and excitement, seemed to notice their little pets, and to give them, every now and then, an encouraging pat, as it were, on their backs or heads.

The clavigers are not the only pets in a formicary; several other species of beetles and one bug also live in ants' nests, and seem to occupy places in the affection of the masters of the home akin to those which dogs, cats, and other pets occupy in our own affections.

It has been asserted, most frequently by superficial observers, however, that the reptilianpsychosis exceedingly low; this is a popular error, for many reptiles give evidence, on occasions, of a, comparatively speaking, high degree of intelligence.Especially is this true in regard to their memory of individuals.

I kept for some time in my room, some years ago, a male black snake (Bascanion constrictor). Whenever this creature became hungry, he would follow me about the room like a dog or a cat. He would wind his way up my legs and body, until his head was on a level with my own; he would then bow repeatedly, darting out his tongue with inconceivable rapidity.

He would never attempt to crawl up the legs of a visitor (some visitors knew "Blacky" quite well and were not at all afraid of him), thus showing that he knew me personally.

Again, a friend sent me two Floridian chameleons, which dwelt in my desk, and which, in course of time, became very tame. My desk is a combination bookcase and writing-table, and these creatures passed most of their time among the books, changing color so perfectly, especially when alarmed, that it took a very sharp eye indeed to descry them when they were quiescent. When I sat at my desk writing they would jump down on my head or shoulders and explore my entire body, running here and there and everywhere about me, sometimes tickling me with their sharp little claws until I, too, was forced into making a tour of discovery, in order to bring them once more to the light. But let a stranger enter the room, and, presto! they were gone in the twinkling of an eye. Ileft home on one occasion and was gone for two months. When I came to my room and sat down at my desk, I looked about for my little pets, and could not see them. I had come to the conclusion that they had either died or escaped from the room, when suddenly I saw a tiny little head peep out from between two books and as suddenly disappear. I pulled out a writing-pad and went to work, keeping a watch, however, for my shy little friends. They gradually became bolder and bolder, until all at once they seemed to recognize me, first one and then the other leaping to my shoulders. In a few moments they were making their usual tour over my person. In this instance these lizards remembered me after an absence of at least two months; it took them about two hours fully to recall my personality, yet they did it in the end.

Birds remember individuals, and testify their love or hatred for such individuals in actions that are unmistakable. Thus, an eagle in Central Park, for some—to me—unknown reason, took a great dislike to myself, and, whenever I approached its cage, would erect its crest and regard me in the most belligerent manner. On several occasions it even left its perch and flew to the bars in its desire to attack me. A large, handsome gobbler belonging to my mother has shown the house boy that it is war to the death between them. This turkey never fails to attack the boy whenever opportunity offers; no other person is ever molested by him.

A lady writes me as follows: "Last week my brother" (a lad of twelve) "killed a snake which was just in the act of robbing a song-sparrow's nest. Ever since then, the male sparrow has shown gratitude to George in a truly wonderful manner. When he goes into the garden the sparrow will fly to him, sometimes alighting on his head, at other times on his shoulder, all the while pouring out a tumultuous song of praise and gratitude. It will accompany him about the garden, never leaving him until he reaches the garden gate. George, as you know, is a quiet boy, who loves animals, and this may account, in a degree, for the sparrow's extraordinary actions."

I am perfectly convinced that the nesting birds on my place know me, and that they remember me from one nesting-time to another. I have repeatedly approached my face to within a foot of setting birds without alarming them. On one occasion I even placed my hand on a brooding cardinal, which merely fluttered from beneath it without showing further alarm; yet no wild bird has ever evinced toward myself any special degree of friendship. When I was a lad I remember that a certain decrepit old drake would follow me like a dog, and appeared to enjoy himself in my society. I could not appreciate his friendship then, and greatly fear that I was, at times, rather cruel to the old fellow.

One of the queerest friendships that ever cameunder my observation was that which existed between a bantam cock and a pekin drake. The cock was the most diminutive specimen of his kind that I ever saw, being hardly larger than a quail, while the drake was almost as large as a full-grown female goose. These two birds, so widely dissimilar as to genus and species, were always together. If "One Lung" (the cock) took it into his head to go into the garden and flew over the fence, "Chung" (the drake) would solemnly waddle to a certain hole in the fence well known to himself, and, by dint of much pushing with his strong, yellow feet, would squeeze himself through, and rejoin his companion with many a guttural quack and flirt of his tail. If "Chung" desired to take a bath, he would make for the brook, where "One Lung" would soon join him, always remaining, however, on the bank, where he would strut about and crow continuously. On one occasion, a chicken-hawk attacked the cock, which, though it defended itself valiantly, was in great danger of being destroyed. The drake soon became aware of what was happening, and hurled himself, with many a squawking quack, like a white avalanche against the hawk, and, with one quick blow of his horny, flat bill, laid this pirate of the air dead at his feet! He then examined the cock, with low-voiced exclamations issuing from his throat all the while. Then, finding him uninjured, he flapped his wings and quacked loud and long, as if in thankfulness. As for "One Lung," he pecked the dead hawk several times, then hopped up on its body and crowed as loud as he could, as if to say, "Look-what-I-have-do-o-o-ne!"

"One Lung" was taken to a neighboring farm for breeding purposes by his owner, and "Chung" moped and appeared utterly inconsolable during his absence. When the bantam was finally brought home, the drake recognized him "afar off" and came hurrying to meet him with flapping wings and much vociferation. He caressed him with his bill, and appeared to make a close examination of his person. These birds have always passed the night close together, the bantam roosting among the branches of a low bush, while his faithful companion squatted on the ground at its root.

Several years ago I knew a hen which was devotedly attached to an old white horse. When the horse was confined to the stable, the hen was always to be found in his stall, either in the manger, on the floor, or perched upon his back. This last position was a favorite one, and it was only abandoned when the hen was in search of food. When the horse was out on pasture, the hen went with him and stayed close beside him until nightfall, when she always returned and roosted on one of the stall partitions.

Many cow owners of my town are in the habit of turning out their cows in the morning, allowing them to roam about in the search of grass duringthe day. As there are many large open commons in the immediate neighborhood of town, the cows easily find an abundance of food. In my early morning walks I repeatedly noticed a large red cow which was always accompanied by a small black dog. When the cows came back into town in the evening, many of them passed my house, and among the number was the red cow and the dog in attendance. I became very much interested in the cow and dog, and, one evening, followed the former to her home. I asked her owner if he had trained the dog to follow the cow, whereupon he disclaimed all knowledge of any dog, declaring that he had not allowed a dog on his premises for many years. The next morning I was at his cow-house before the animal was turned out. When this occurred I followed her. A few blocks from her home, she was met by the dog, which bounded about her and showed his delight by wagging his tail. When she returned home in the evening he accompanied her until he arrived at his own home (the place where he met her in the morning), when he left her and crawled through a hole in the fence. His owner declared that his dog had been leaving home early in the morning and returning in the evening during the entire spring and summer (it was then September), and that he had often wondered where he stayed during the day. This queer friendship continued until November, when some miscreant put an end to it by shootingthe dog. Neither the favored cow nor any of her companions (there were, sometimes, at least a hundred cows on the commons grazing together) appeared to pay the slightest attention to the dog or to notice him in any way. The dog kept close to his friend, the red cow, during the day, sometimes sitting gravely on his haunches and watching her eat, at other times frisking about her, as though asking for a romp. When she started to return home he followed close at her heels.

Another of my dog acquaintances struck up a friendship with a hog, and seemed to be highly pleased when he was allowed to play with his porcine friend. What is more wonderful, the hog appeared to be just as fond of his dog friend, and always greeted him with a series of delighted grunts. If permitted, they would play together for hours at a time. The dog was the bitter enemy of other hogs, and would worry them at every opportunity.[40]

I have had many friends among the lower animals, but have always gained and retained their good-will through their appetite. Some of these creatures will be considered queer pets, for instance, grasshoppers, spiders, and crickets, yet they were very interesting and often showed much intelligence. The lower animals, with the singleexception of the dog (I do not include the cat, for I doubt her friendship), rarely accept man as a companion and friend spontaneously. Their appetites or the exigencies of their surroundings very frequently occasion them to act in a friendly manner towards man, simply in order to induce him to befriend them. It is the rarest thing in the world for them to experience disinterested friendship for him. As I have said elsewhere in this paper, a few instances of disinterested and spontaneous affection of animals, other than dogs, for human beings are, however, on record, and I am happy in being able to record another.

In 1882 there was received at the Fair Grounds in St. Louis, Missouri, a consignment of South American monkeys. Among the lot were several large individuals of a species then unknown to me, and which remain unknown to me to this day. When I entered the monkey house I went at once to the cage of the newcomers. One of the creatures, after examining me very carefully, uttered a peculiar cry, and then leaped to the bars and began jabbering at a great rate. I told the keeper that I believed that the monkey wished to make friends with me; that the tones of its voice were decidedly pacific. He laughed at the idea, and declared that this same animal had bitten him severely when he was removing it from the box in which it had been shipped to the cage in which it was then confined. I said nothing more, but, going behind the rail,inserted my hand between the bars of the cage. The monkey immediately seized it with its paws, kissed it, and then licked it with its tongue. It then drew its head down beside it, murmuring all the while in low tones. It showed great pleasure when I scratched its head and body, and, in fact, seemed to regard me with the greatest affection. When the keeper, in his astonishment, drew near, the monkey bounded toward him, chattering and showing every indication of great anger. This animal never forgot me, but always recognized me the very moment I entered the monkey house.

In the same house there was a large dog-faced ape (chacma) named "Joe," whose friend and companion was a little white and black kitten. "Joe" called no living thing, except the cat, his friend; he had many acquaintances, but only one friend. He would tolerate me, and even invented a name for me, so the keeper declared, yet his friendship never got beyond tolerance. But he loved the cat, and the cat seemed to love him—that is, as much as a cat could love. He could not bear to have her taken from his cage; whenever this was done he would rage up and down his den, coughing, growling, and yelling like a mad creature. When she was restored to him he would seize her by the nape of the neck and carry her to the back of his cage, from which coign of vantage he would growl forth maledictions on the heads of his tormentors.

In order to test this monkey's memory, the cat was removed from the cage, and another cat was substituted. "Joe" at first appeared to be afraid of the new cat, and retired to the rear of his den. He would avoid the cat, whenever she approached him, by moving about the cage. Finally, he became very angry, and seizing poor puss, he broke her back and then pulled her head from her body! This was done so quickly that the tragedy was over before we could make a move to prevent it.

At the end of three months his pet was returned to him. The kitten had grown considerably during this interval, yet "Joe" recognized her at once, and welcomed her with many extravagant acts denoting joy and satisfaction.

All of the higher animals, such as the dog, horse, cat, ox, elephant, monkey, etc., possess this phase of memory.

Memory of Events(Education,Happenings,etc.).—The memory of events and their sequences is a faculty of the mind that is to be noticed in animals very low in the scale of life. In fact, psychical development is based almost wholly upon this mental attribute. The vast majority of what are now entirely instinctive habits were, in the beginning, the results of sensual perceptions formulated and remembered (consciously and unconsciously), which gave rise to conscious ideation; this conscious ideation, in turn, became instinct.

This part of my subject is treated at length inthe chapter onReason, therefore I will only introduce here certain evidence of this phase of memory as it is to be observed in the lower animals, especially in insects. A wasp of the variety commonly called "mud-dauber" last summer built her nest on the ceiling of my room in one corner. The windows of this room remained open night and day during the hot summer months, so her nest was easy of access. One day, while the wasp was busy about her home, I closed all the windows and awaited developments. At length she flew toward a window, against which she landed with a thump which for a moment or two completely dazed her. The wasp soon discovered that she was barred from the outer world by some transparent, translucent substance; she then proceeded on a voyage of discovery, flying around the room and searching here and there and everywhere for an exit. She finally found a small hole in a window casing which communicated with the outside; through this she made her escape from the room. Upon opening the window I saw her examining the passage through which she had come, going through it repeatedly. She finally flew away, but shortly returned with a pellet of mud. Notwithstanding the fact that all the windows were then open, the wasp went at once to the hole in the casing, through which she made her way into the room and thence to her nest on the ceiling. She never again, so far as I was able to ascertain, madean exit or an entrance through the windows, but always made use of the hole in the casing. This little creature undoubtedly gave unmistakable evidences of ratiocination; she found that a transparent barrier had been placed in her way—a barrier so translucent and transparent that she could not see it until she actually felt it. She therefore concluded that she would never again risk injury by flying through the windows. What is most remarkable about this instance is that this insect derived her knowledge from a single experience, and at once profited thereby. The wasp remembered the event—her experience with the window glass—and avoided a like occurrence by going through the hole in the casing. Her experience was a bit of education.

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