FOOTNOTES:

There are many people alive to-day, probably, who saw the trained fleas which were on exhibition in the large cities of the United States some thirty or forty years ago. These little creatures had been taught to perform military evolutions, to dance, to draw miniature carts, to feign death, etc., at the command or signal of their owner and trainer. The mere fact that they possessed memory enough to learn, retain, and remember their lessons is not proof positive of reason, but the fact of their having restrained their natural tendency and desire to escape, when they could so easily gratify such a desire or tendency, is a potent factor in an argument for their possession of the ratiocinative faculty.Their teacher explained that he "brought them to reason" by keeping them at first in a glass vessel, where they jumped and bumped their heads to no purpose against the transparent walls of their prison. Thus their vaulting ambition was held in check, and they learned to reason from cause and effect.

It is a well-known fact that many of the higher animals can be taught to do many things entirely foreign to their natures. This is brought about entirely through the faculty of remembering events. I am confident that many of the lower animals, insects, crustaceans, reptiles, are likewise the possessors of this faculty, and are capable of being taught. I, myself, have succeeded in teaching a toad to hop over a stick at the word of command. Again, I taught two chameleons to take certain positions and to retain them at feeding time. These little creatures remembered their lesson, and at my whistle would "line up" on the particular book that I had designated as their dining-table. We have seen that fleas are capable of being highly educated, hence it is reasonable to presume that other insects, specially and generically akin to the flea, likewise possess the faculty of remembering events. Of course, this faculty is necessarily more highly developed in some animals than in others; it differs in degree of development, not in kind.

FOOTNOTES:[35]Darwin,Descent of Man, pp. 262, 263.[36]Huber, p. 172; quoted by Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, p. 120; also by Kirby and Spence,Introduction to Entomology, Vol. III. p. 66; also by Newport,Trans. Ent. Soc., London, Vol. II. p. 239.[37]Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, p. 121et seq.[38]Lubbock,loc. cit. ante, p. 124.[39]Consult Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, pp. 75, 76.[40]These animals sometimes did not meet for months, yet they never forgot each other, and their friendship continued for several years.

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

[36]Huber, p. 172; quoted by Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, p. 120; also by Kirby and Spence,Introduction to Entomology, Vol. III. p. 66; also by Newport,Trans. Ent. Soc., London, Vol. II. p. 239.

[37]Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, p. 121et seq.

[38]Lubbock,loc. cit. ante, p. 124.

[39]Consult Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, pp. 75, 76.

[40]These animals sometimes did not meet for months, yet they never forgot each other, and their friendship continued for several years.

Careful observation and investigation lead me to believe that, in many of the higher animals, all the fundamental emotions, such as love, hate, fear, anger, jealousy, etc., are present. Books on natural history fairly teem with data in support of this proposition. Such authorities as Romanes,[41]Darwin,[42]Semper[43]and Hartman[44]give instance after instance in support of the dictum that the emotional nature of many of the higher animals is highly developed.

Man has been called the Laughing Animal, because, so it has been claimed, he alone of all animals expresses emotion through the agency of the smile or through laughter.

This is a grave mistake, for both the dog and the monkey, in certain instances, have been known to express pleasure through the agency of the smile. And, in the case of certain monkeys, theaction of the facial muscles was accompanied by cachinnatory sounds.

"Tom," a capuchin monkey of the St. Louis, Missouri, zoölogical garden (Fair Grounds), was quite a noted "laugher," and his facial expressions as well as the sounds he uttered were so evidently laughter, pure and simple, that the most casual observer was able to recognize them as such.

"Stranger," a half-bred spaniel belonging to my kennel, invariably expressed pleasure with smiles. The action of the facial muscles, as well as the facial expression engendered by this action, was widely different from like phenomena when the dog showed his teeth in anger.[45]

Young chimpanzees chuckle and smile when one they love returns to them after an absence of some little time. Their eyes sparkle and grow bright, while very evident and easily recognized smiles flit over their countenances.[46]

Young orang-utans likewise chuckle and grin when tickled, and, as Wallace observes, give expression to unmistakable smiles. "Dr. Duchenne—and I cannot quote a better authority—informs me that he kept a tame monkey in his house for a year; and when he gave it, during meal-times, some choice delicacy, he observed that the corners of its mouth were slightly raised; thusan expression of satisfaction, partaking of the nature of an incipient smile, and resembling that often seen on the face of man, could be plainly perceived in this animal."[47]

A dog belonging to Mr. Henry Barklay, of Paducah, Kentucky, not only smiles when pleased, but also gives utterance to an unmistakable chuckle. When I first saw and heard this manifestation of delight, I thought that the animal had been taught the accomplishment; his master assured me, however, that such was not the case, that both the smile and the chuckle were natural and inborn traits of the dog.

I think it hardly necessary to give more data on this point; suffice it to say that it is a fact beyond dispute that certain monkeys and dogs are "laughing animals," and that man isnotthe only animal that expresses emotion through the agency of the smile and laughter!

On one occasion during very hot weather, one of the combs in my bee-house became loosened at the top through melting of the wax. The weight on the comb dragged it down, and suddenly it broke from its supports and sagged over against a neighboring comb. It was perfectly apparent to me that if something were not done at once, the comb would continue to sag until it broke away from all its connections, and would then be precipitated to the floor of the hive. The bees likewiserecognized this impending calamity, and clearly showed that they did by the noise and tumult which arose among them as soon as they discovered the precarious situation of the endangered comb.[48]

The loud buzzing which they immediately set up clearly indicated their dismay and consternation. It seemed to me very much like the noisy vociferation of conflicting counsels, which would undoubtedly arise among the people in some orderly town were they suddenly threatened by some unforeseen and unheard-of catastrophe.

The tumult among the bees continued for four or five minutes, when, suddenly, order was evolved out of chaos, and they set to work to prevent the fall of the comb, showing almost, if not altogether, as much intelligence as human beings would evince under like circumstances.

They shored up the endangered comb by building a thick pillar of wax between it and a neighboring comb, thus effectually fixing it so that it could sag no further. When this had been done, they re-affixed the top of the comb to the ceiling of the hive by a broad, thick bar of wax; the pillar used in propping up the comb was afterwards removed and the wax used elsewhere.

In this instance, these little creatures at first clearly evinced the emotions of fear, dismay, consternation, and grief; afterwards, they just asclearly showed fortitude and joy; for, after the supporting pillar had been built, I saw the queen, surrounded by a crowd of courtier-bees, on the comb near it, and am fully convinced that she had been brought out by her rejoicing subjects to view the results of their brave struggle against an utterly unforeseen but now happily averted calamity.

On another occasion I witnessed the terrible grief of a community of bees at the death of their queen, which was seized with illness (a sudden and overwhelming diarrhœa, to which bees, at times, are very subject) while making a progression through her domains, and fell to the floor of the hive and died before she could be conveyed back to the royal cell. I was, therefore, able to see the conduct of the bees during her illness and after her death.

When she fell to the floor, the bees seemed to know at once that something out of the ordinary had happened. The sick queen was immediately surrounded by a dense circle of her subjects, those next to her licking her with their tongues and endeavoring to raise her to her feet.

When she died they were a little slow in recognizing the fact, but when they did realize that she was dead those nearest the dead sovereign set up a loud buzzing. This was transmitted from circle to circle, from bee to bee, until the entire hive was in an uproar. The bees rushed to and fro bewailing their loss, and seemingly crazed by grief.All work was immediately suspended, and even the young were abandoned and left, for the time being, to shift for themselves. Those bees which returned to the hive laden with honey did not put it into the cells but retained it in their honey-bags. In fact, the entire social economy of the hive was disrupted and disarranged, and this confusion lasted for hours. After about twenty-four hours of mourning for the dead queen the bees recovered their equanimity, and began the work of rearing another queen from a worker larva.

In another chapter of this book (vid.Memory) I have related an instance of complex ideation in a bird. I have reference to the sparrow whose young was saved from a snake, and which remembered the lad who destroyed its enemy. This bird undoubtedly showed gratitude. Another correspondent writes: "Knowing your love for, and your interest in, all animals, I think my experience with two house wrens this summer will entertain you. These birds selected for their home an old boot, which they discovered on a bench in an outhouse. Here they built their nest, and, in the course of time, had the great pleasure of welcoming into the world two interesting 'wrenlets.'

"One day, while feeding my pigeons, I noticed that the old wrens were greatly disturbed by something or other. They kept flying about me, uttering sharp, complaining cries; they would now and then fly to the outhouse, and then back to me.At last it occurred to me that some accident might have befallen the young wrens, so I proceeded to investigate, and soon discovered the trouble.

"Some one, in rummaging about the room, had overturned the boot, which had fallen in such manner that the top pressed against the wall, thus effectually barring the way to the nest. I righted the boot, thereby restoring the children to their parents, much to the delight of all parties concerned. Ever since this episode the male wren has shown his gratitude in an unmistakable manner. He has followed me into the house on several occasions; he has learned where I sit when engaged in sewing, and pays me short visits, flying though the window several times a day, and, wonderful to relate, after the young had learned to fly, he brought them around to my window and evidently gave them to understand that I was their saviour!"

The higher animals, such as the horse, the ox, the dog, the monkey, etc., show the emotions of anger, hate, fear, love, and grief so plainly that "he who runs may read." That these animals possess these emotions is a fact which hardly needs demonstration. They likewise have very retentive memories, sometimes treasuring up an injury for days, months, and years, until an opportunity arrives for them to "get even," thus showing that they are revengeful.

Thus, a dog of my acquaintance had been severely thrashed last winter by a larger dog. He bided his time, and, this summer, after his antagonist had been handicapped by having that atrocious invention, a muzzle, affixed to his head, he fell upon him, "tooth and toe-nail," and would have killed him had he not been prevented.

Again, some years ago my attention was called to a large mandril by the keeper of the monkey house in the St. Louis Zoölogical Garden, who remarked that "That monkey will do me up some day. I had to thrash him several days ago, and ever since then he has had it in for me."

Not ten minutes after the conversation, while I was in another part of the building, I heard a yell from the keeper, and, on rushing to see what had happened, found that the man's thumb had been almost severed from his hand by the powerful teeth of the mandril. The keeper had been explaining something to some visitors, standing with his back to the animal, and with his hand resting on one of the bars of the cage. The brute saw his opportunity, and, in the twinkling of an eye, seized it and inflicted a severe injury to the individual whom he regarded as his enemy.

During another visit to the above-mentioned monkey house, I accidentally inflicted an injury to a capuchin monkey, "Tom" by name, who was a great friend of mine and who had been taken from his cage and given to me by the keeper. After playing with him for a time,I had placed him on the floor and had resumed my conversation with the keeper. Suddenly, "Tom" gave a loud squall and jumped into my lap, wringing one of his hands and moaning piteously.

He held up his hand towards me, calling my attention to it with many a grimace and cry; he even felt it with his other hand, carefully separating the fingers and gently stroking them. On examination I discovered that the tips of two fingers were bruised and abraded; the little fellow had evidently had them caught in some way beneath the heel of my shoe. He quietly and patiently submitted while we dressed his wounded digits, but removed the bandages just as soon as he was returned to his cage, evidently having more faith in the curative qualities of his own saliva than in the medicaments of man.

In this instance, the monkey clearly indicated that he had been hurt; he pointed out the portion of his body where the injury was situated, and then allowed his friend to "doctor" the injury, although he did not evince an abiding faith in that friend's skill. In contradistinction to the mandril which evinced revenge, the capuchin showed that he was of a forgiving disposition, for, no sooner was he hurt, than he sought consolation from the very person who inflicted the injury.

An English observer, Captain Johnson, writes as follows, when speaking of a monkey which he had shot: "He instantly ran down to the lowest branchof a tree, as if he were going to fly at me, stopped suddenly, and coolly put his paw to the part wounded, and held it out, covered with blood, for me to see. I was so much hurt at the time that it has left an impression never to be effaced, and I have never since fired a gun at any of the tribe."[49]

Another observer, Sir William Hoste, records a similar case. One of his officers saw a monkey running along some rocks, holding her young one in her arms. He fired, and the animal fell. When he arrived at the place where she was lying, she clasped her young one closer, and pointed with her fingers to the hole in her breast made by the bullet. "Dipping her finger in the blood and holding it up, she seemed to reproach him with having been the cause of her pain, and also that of her young one, to which she frequently pointed."[50]

These observations would seem to indicate that monkeys are capable of feeling and of expressing sorrow and reproach. "So intense is the grief of female monkeys for the loss of their young, that it invariably caused the death of certain kinds kept under confinement by Brehm in North America."[51]

By the observant and analytical mind, the various psychical phenomena evinced by the lower animals are not regarded as being either wonderful or extraordinary. Man is a conceited, arrogant individual, and his place in nature has done much toward fostering and enlarging this self-conceit and arrogance. Even in the time of Moses this self-glorification wasen evidence. The genesis of the world, as related by this famous historiographer, geographer, naturalist, theologian, and lawgiver, plainly shows this. At the present time, science declares, emphatically, that man is but a mammal, whose brain has undergone exceptional evolutionary development. He is but the younger kinsman of other mammals whose evolutionary development has sought other channels; these, in turn, are but younger kin of yet older animals, and so on backwards, to the beginning of life in bathybian protoplasm. The resistless forces of evolution have placed him where he is, and no amount of self-adulation can hide the scientific fact that he isnota special creation. All the creatures of the living world are kin, and that force which animated the first moneron, and which we call life, has been transmitted from creature to creature until the present day, absolutely unchanged. There is no reason for believing that life will ever be entirely extinguished, until conditions arise which will render the presence of this force impossible.

When we recognize the fact that intelligent ratiocination is but the product and the result of the psychical action of a certain substance called brain matter, and not the product and the result of the action of an essence or force unconnected with,or outside of, brain; and, furthermore, when we know that these lower animals have receptive ganglia analogous to those possessed by man, analogical deductions force us to the conclusion that these animals should possess mental emotions and functions similar to those of man.

The microscope shows that these animals have notochords, nervous systems, and ganglia, or brains. With a one-sixteenth objective, and an achromatic light condenser, I have been able to differentiate the gray matter in the brain of an ant, and even, on two occasions, to bring out the cells and filaments of the cortex. Here in the brain of an ant, is an anatomical and physiological similarity to the brain of man: therefore, it is reasonable to expect evidences of mental operations in the ant akin to those of man.

That we do find these evidences in abundance can no longer be denied. Sir John Lubbock chloroformed someLasius nigerbelonging to his formicary. The other ants brought their anæsthetized comrades out of the nest and carried them away; they thought that they were dead. He made some other specimens of the same species intoxicated, and the ants carefully bore their helpless companions back into the nest. The care evinced in helping their intoxicated friends to reach the safe shelter of their nest undoubtedly indicates a sense of sympathy toward the afflicted individuals.

Ants frequently display sympathy for mutilated companions. Whether or not this feeling is ethical or material is not and can not be determined; the fact remains, however, that sympathy is evinced. I myself have observed it on many occasions. I removed the anterior pair of legs from a specimen ofLasius flavus, and placed her near the entrance to her nest. In a short time a companion came to her assistance, and, lifting her with her mandibles, carried her into the nest. A specimen ofF. fusca, destitute of antennæ, was attacked and severely injured by an ant of another species. An ant of her own species soon came by. "She examined," says Lubbock, whom I quote, "the poor sufferer carefully, then picked her up tenderly and carried her into the nest. It would have been difficult for any one who witnessed the scene to have denied to this ant the possession of human feelings."[52]

Not only do they display sympathy toward mutilated and helpless friends, but also toward healthy individuals who may accidentally get into trouble and need assistance. Belt, while watching a column ofEciton hamata, placed a stone upon one of them to secure her. The next ant in line, as soon as she discovered the condition of her friend, ran hurriedly backward and communicated the intelligence to the others. "They rushed to the rescue; some bit at the stone and tried to move it,others seized the prisoner by the legs and tugged with such force that I thought the legs would be pulled off; but they persevered until they got the captive free. I next covered one up with a piece of clay, leaving only the ends of its antennæ projecting. It was soon discovered by its fellows, which set to work immediately, and by biting off pieces of the clay soon liberated it."

At another time he found a few of the same ants passing along at intervals. He buried one beneath a lump of clay, leaving only the head protruding. A companion soon discovered her and tried to release her. Finding this to be impossible, she hurried away. Belt thought that she had abandoned the unfortunate prisoner, but she had only gone for assistance, and soon returned accompanied by a dozen companions, which made directly for the imprisoned ant and soon set her free. "I do not see how," says Belt in conclusion, "this action could be instinctive. It was sympathetic help, such as man only among the higher mammalia shows. The excitement and ardor with which they carried on their unflagging exertions for the rescue of their comrade could not have been greater if they had been human beings."[53]I have buriedLasius flavusbeneath sand, and in every instance, sooner or later, they have been dug out by their companions.

Rev. Mr. White has noticed the same sympathetic help amongF. sanguinea.[54]Lubbock noticed in one of his nests ofF. fusca, Jan. 23, 1881, an ant lying on her back and unable to move. She was unable even to feed herself. Several times he uncovered the part of the nest where she was. The other ants at once carried her to the covered part. "On March 4," says he, "the ants were all out of the nest, probably for fresh air, and had collected together in a corner of the box; they had not, however, forgotten her, but had carried her with them. I took off the glass lid of the box, and after a while they returned as usual to the nest, taking her in again. On March 5th she was still alive, but on the 15th, notwithstanding all their care, she was dead."[55]

Dr. Stimson Lambert of Owensboro, Kentucky, a careful and accurate observer, informs me that he has frequently observed the large red ants (F. rufa) helping their mutilated or crippled companions.

Ants exhibit another emotion that shows the high development of their psychical or emotional nature. In the tender watchfulness and care of their young they are surpassed by no living creature. As soon as the young ant bursts its pupa case, it is carefully assisted into the world by its foster-mothers. These foster-mothers clean it with their tongues, gently going over the entire surfaceof its body, and then feed it. The young ant is conducted by them throughout the whole nest, and shown all the devious passageways and corridors. When it makes its first visit into the outside world, it is always accompanied by several chaperons. This parental love, if I may use the expression, is even extended to the unhatched eggs. If an ants' nest is disturbed by a stroke of a spade or hoe, the little inhabitants will at once begin to remove eggs, pupæ, and young to a place of safety.

This parental love is even evinced by insects who never see their offspring. The butterfly uses the utmost care in selecting a suitable leaf on which to deposit her eggs. She selects one that will be nourishing food for the larvæ when hatched out, and, after carefully observing whether it is preoccupied by the eggs of some other butterfly (in which case she abandons it), she proceeds to deposit her eggs. "Having fulfilled this duty, from which no obstacle short of absolute impossibility, no danger however threatening, can divert her, the affectionate mother dies."[56]

The gadfly uses a like forethought in selecting a place for her eggs. The larvæ of the gadfly (Œstrus equi) are developed in the stomach of the horse, so the provident mother attaches the eggs to the hairs of the foreleg between the knee and the shoulder, a place the horse is almost certain to lick with his tongue and, in this manner,convey the eggs to his stomach, where they are hatched out. The breeding place of certain of the ichneumons is the body of a caterpillar. The ichneumon may be seen busily searching the bushes for her victim. When she finds it, she inserts her ovipositor into its body and lays her egg. If some other ichneumon has preceded her, she recognizes the fact at once, and will not deposit her egg, but will go in search of another grub. When the egg is hatched, the larva feeds on the body of its host, carefully avoiding the vital organs. The caterpillar retains just enough vitality to assume the pupa state, and then dies. The chrysalis discloses, not a butterfly, but an ichneumon.

The mason wasp (Epipone spinipes) builds its cells and lays its eggs, one in each cell. It then hunts and procures spiders, which it deposits in the cells and then seals the openings. These spiders are not killed outright, but are partially paralyzed by the sting of the wasp. The insect thus secures for her young a supply of fresh food. This wasp not only knows the difference between the eggs that will produce female young, but she also makes this knowledge useful. She always supplies the females with more spiders than she does the males. The females are larger and require more food, hence the discrimination. All of this care and forethought is expended on young which the mother will never see. Human love cannot give greater evidences of complete unselfishness.

I once removed a ball of eggs from the web of a spider. The mother clung tenaciously to her treasure, and, when I tried to remove her with a pair of forceps, she bit fiercely at the steel blades of the instrument. In her great love for her offspring she lost all sense of fear. Time and again I removed her several inches from the eggs; she would run about in a distracted way, for all the world like a mother who had lost her baby, until she found the ball of eggs. She would then seize it and attempt to remove it to a place of safety. The naturalist, Bonnet, put a spider and her bag of eggs in the pit of an ant-lion. The myrmeleon seized the egg-bag and tore it away from the spider. Bonnet forced the spider out of the pit, but she returned and chose to be dragged in and buried alive rather than leave her eggs.[57]

Earwigs lay their eggs, and then incubate them after the manner of the hen. When the young are hatched out, the proud mother leads forth the brood and shows unmistakable pride and affection in her children. On one occasion, when a storm was coming up, I saw an earwig marshal her troop of young ones, and lead them to a place of safety beneath the bark of a tree.

M. Geer scattered the eggs of an earwig over the bottom of a box: "The earwig carried them, however, one by one, into a certain part of the box,and then remained constantly sitting upon the heap without ever quitting it for a moment until the eggs were hatched."[58]This, I take it, is at least an instance of love of offspring, even if it is not a higher emotion. From the earwig's habit of watching over her young I am inclined to believe that this insect possesses true mother-love.

Many of the lower animals give unmistakable evidences of the possession by them of the emotions of anger and fear. Ants, centipedes, tarantulas, weevils, etc., as well as many of the crustacea will give battle on the slightest provocation, clearly showing by their actions that anger and hate are their incentives. When alarmed, their actions indicate very plainly that the emotion of fear has seized them.

In the next chapter I hope to show that many of the lower animals possess one or more of the finer emotions, which I have thought best to group under the head of Æstheticism.

FOOTNOTES:[41]Romanes,Animal Intelligence.[42]Darwin,Descent of Man.[43]Semper,Animal Life.[44]Hartmann,Anthropoid Apes.[45]Compare Darwin,Expression of the Emotions, p. 120.[46]Martin,Natural History of Mammalia, Vol. I. pp. 383, 410; quoted also by Darwin,loc. cit. ante.[47]Darwin,loc. cit. ante, p. 133.[48]Compare Huber, Vol. II. p. 280.[49]Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 475.[50]Romanes,op. cit., p. 476.[51]Darwin,Descent of Man, p. 70.[52]Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, p. 107.[53]Belt,The Naturalist in Nicaragua, p. 26; quoted also by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 48.[54]White,Leisure Hour, p. 390, 1880.[55]Lubbock,loc. cit. ante, p. 107et seq.[56]Kirby and Spence,Entomology, p. 228.[57]Bonnet,Œuvres; quoted also by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 205.[58]Romanes,loc. cit. ante, p. 229; quoted also by Bingley,loc. cit., Vol. III. pp. 150, 151.

[41]Romanes,Animal Intelligence.

[42]Darwin,Descent of Man.

[43]Semper,Animal Life.

[44]Hartmann,Anthropoid Apes.

[45]Compare Darwin,Expression of the Emotions, p. 120.

[46]Martin,Natural History of Mammalia, Vol. I. pp. 383, 410; quoted also by Darwin,loc. cit. ante.

[47]Darwin,loc. cit. ante, p. 133.

[48]Compare Huber, Vol. II. p. 280.

[49]Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 475.

[50]Romanes,op. cit., p. 476.

[51]Darwin,Descent of Man, p. 70.

[52]Lubbock,Ants, Bees, and Wasps, p. 107.

[53]Belt,The Naturalist in Nicaragua, p. 26; quoted also by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 48.

[54]White,Leisure Hour, p. 390, 1880.

[55]Lubbock,loc. cit. ante, p. 107et seq.

[56]Kirby and Spence,Entomology, p. 228.

[57]Bonnet,Œuvres; quoted also by Romanes,Animal Intelligence, p. 205.

[58]Romanes,loc. cit. ante, p. 229; quoted also by Bingley,loc. cit., Vol. III. pp. 150, 151.

"The man that hath not music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils." The above quotation is the thought of one of the most acute, profound, and accurate psychologists that ever lived. That which he observed to be true among men, strangely enough, a long and systematic course of observation leads me to believe to be equally true among the lower animals; for wherever it can be observed that animals evince an appreciation for musical sounds, or show discrimination in their perception of harmonious tonal vibrations, such animals, with a single exception—the spider—will be found to be of kind disposition, and not given to "treasons, stratagems, and spoils" other than those required by their struggle for existence. So true is this rule, that the single exception—the spider—proves the verity of the deduction or conclusion. For, like many men, the spider's love for the beautiful, not only in music but in decorative effects as well, is intimately associated with murder-lust; it kills for the love of killing. Many examples of the association ofgreat cruelty and profound love for the beautiful in nature and the arts might be given; it is necessary for my purpose, however, to give but two—Nero and Catherine de' Medici.

That spiders appreciate musical sounds, and that they can differentiate between those sounds that are pleasing and those that are disagreeable to them, I have not a scintilla of doubt. The following facts bearing on this point came under my own observation or were told me by people in whose veracity I believe implicitly, or are vouched for by scientists of world-wide fame.

During one entire summer until late in autumn, a large, black hunting spider (Lycosa) dwelt in my piano. When I playedandantemovements softly, she would come out on the music rack and seem to listen intently. Her palpi would vibrate with almost inconceivable rapidity, while every now and then she would lift her anterior pair of legs and wave them to and fro, and up and down. Just as soon, however, as I commenced a march or galop, she would take to her heels and flee away to her den somewhere in the interior of the piano, where she would sulk until I enticed her forth withTräumereior Handel'sLargo.

On one occasion, while standing beside an organist who was improvising on the swell organ withviol d'amourstop drawn, a spider let herself down from the ceiling of the church and hung suspended immediately above his hands. He coupled on to greatorgan and commenced one of Guilmant's resonantbravuramarches; immediately the spider turned and rapidly climbed her silken thread to her web high up among the timbers of the ceiling. The organist informed me that he had noticed, time and again, that spiders were affected by music. Several days afterwards I went to the church for the special purpose of experiment; I seated myself at the organ and commenced to improvise on the swell organ withflute,viol d'amour, andtremulantstops out. In a few moments the spider let herself down from the ceiling and hung suspended before my eyes. So close was she that I could see her palpi vibrating rapidly and continuously. I suddenly dropped to great organ and burst into a loud, quick galop; the spider at once turned and ascended towards the ceiling with the utmost rapidity. Again and again I enticed her from her home in the ceiling, or sent her scurrying back, by playing slowpianoor quickfortecompositions. She clearly and conclusively indicated that loud, quick music was disagreeable to her. Professor C. Reclain of Leipsic, once, during a concert, saw a spider descend from one of the chandeliers and hang suspended above the orchestra during a violin solo; as soon, however, as the full orchestra joined in, it quickly ascended to its web.[59]This fact ofmusical discrimination in a creature so low in the scale of animal life is truly wonderful; it indicates that these lowly creatures have arrived at a degree of æstheticism that is very high indeed.

Spiders are decorative artists of no little ability. I saw one which spun a web, beautifully adorned it with a broad, silken pathway, and then used it as a pleasure resort; I also saw a spider which intentionally beautified its web by affixing to it hundreds of minute flakes of logwood dye;[60]thus we see that the æstheticism of spiders is not confined to the love of music, but extends to other fields. In passing, I may state that once, while confined to my room for a long time by sickness, I became intimately acquainted with a wolf-spider which seemed to take an æsthetic delight in her toilet. This lycosid became so very tame that she would crawl upon my finger and allow herself to be brought close to my eyes, so that I could observe her deft and skilful movements while beautifying her person. She learned to know me personally, rapidly running away and hiding herself when visitors entered my chamber, but never showing fear when I alone was in the room. This spider also showed an appreciation for certain musical sounds (the instrument used was the paperand comb mouth-organ of childhood); low, soft music would always entice her from her den beneath the table-lid, while loud, quick sounds seemed to frighten and disgust her.

Among animal music-lovers this chapter does not embrace those natural musicians, the crickets, grasshoppers, locusts, frogs, and birds, whose love-songs form such a large part of the æsthetic in nature; yet the instance I am about to relate cannot be omitted, for it clearly indicates a love for musical sounds other than those produced by the creature itself or its mates.

A gentleman,[61]formerly living in the country, but now an attorney-at-law and residing in the town in which I live, told me that, on one occasion, he succeeded in raising two quails from eggs placed beneath a brooding barnyard fowl. These birds grew to maturity, and, what is rare indeed, became so exceedingly tame that they ran about the house and yard with the utmost freedom, showing not the slightest fear, and, seemingly, taking the greatest pleasure in the caresses bestowed upon them by the children of the household. This gentleman comes of a musical family, and, on pleasant summer nights, he and his sisters and brothers were in the habit of going to the stiles some distance away from the house and there singing and playing on the guitar and violin for several hours. The quails roosted on a dresser in the kitchen, but,as soon as the music began, they left their roost and flew to the stiles no matter how late in the night it might be, and there they would stay, perched on the shoulders of the musicians, until the concert was over; they would then go back to roost. They seemed to be passionately fond of the singing voice, and would seek out a singer wherever he or she might be, whenever they heard the sound of singing. Intimbrethe human female voice is more nearly akin to that of the quail than to that of any other animal. When a lad, "before my voice changed," I could call up these birds at will by giving their various calls; I did not whistle the songs; Isangthem. The peculiar quality of the female voice referred to above may be considered by some to have been the cause that influenced these birds; yet my informant distinctly states thatthe voice of an adult male equally attracted them.

The opening movement of Chopin'sMarche Funébreaffects me very disagreeably. The music is, to me, absolutely repugnant. The beautiful melody in the second movement is, however, to me exceedingly agreeable and affords me intense pleasure and gratification. The lower animals are likewise agreeably or disagreeably affected by certain musical sounds. Close observation has taught me the fact that certain musical keys are more agreeable to dogs than others. If a composition in a certain key, the fundamental note of which isagreeable to a dog, be played, he will either listen quietly and intently to the sounds, or will, sometimes, utter low and not unmusical howls in accord or "in tune" with the fundamental note. If the music be in a key not pleasing to him, he will either show absolute indifference, or will express his dissatisfaction with discordant yelps not in accord with the fundamental note of the key.

The bell of a certain church in my town sounds G. A collie, which lives next door to the church, when the bell is rung, never fails to express his delight in the sound. He listens intently while the bell is ringing, occasionally giving utterance to low howls, the notes being eitherB♭,E♭, or some other note in accord with G. This dog visits a house next door to another church, the bell of which sounds F. He never shows the slightest interest when this bell is rung. When I play compositions inF♯, an English fox-terrier of mine will lie on the floor and listen for an hour at a time. If I change to the key ofE♭,B♭, or G, he will soon leave the room.

A question naturally obtrudes itself here in the matter of the dog which barks in accord with the church-bell. Does he do this knowingly (consciously), or is it simply an accident? I believe the former, and consider it the result of an acquired psychical habitude.

That the dog is conscious (self-conscious) that his voice is in accord with the bell, I will notventure to assert, for, knowledge on this point, I take it, is beyond the power of man to acquire. I mean by the word, "knowingly," when I say that the dog knowingly pitches his voice in accord with the bell, not that he has any knowledge whatever of harmony, such as an educated musician possesses, or such even as the inherited experiences of a thousand years of music-loving ancestors would naturally impress upon the mind of a civilized European of to-day, but that he has an acquired imitative faculty (a faculty possessed by some of the negroes of Central Africa as well as by many other savage races), of attuning his voice to sounds which are pleasing to his ears. In support of this proposition I instance the fact of the dog's acquired habit of barking, which has been developed since his domestication. In his wild state the dogneverbarks.

Man himself has done much toward arousing and cultivating the imitative faculty in the dog (which, in the beginning, impelled this highly developed animal toanswerhis master, thus originating the first vocables—barking—in the canine language), by conversing with him. In all probability, it is only an "anatomical barrier and a psychical accident" at best, which prevent the dog from addressing his master through the agency of speech itself!

The dog's voice is exceedingly pleasing to himself, and, most frequently, when "baying the moon," heis listening to his own singing,not(as is generally supposed) as it pours forth from his throat, but in a more pleasing manner, as it is breathed back to his listening ears from the airy lips of Echo!

That dogs have discovered that pleasing phenomenon, the echo, I do not question for a single instant. If a dog which is in the habit of "baying the moon" be watched, it will be observed that he invariably selects the same spot or spots for his nocturnal concerts. If you happen to be standing in the neighborhood, you will also notice that there is always an echo, more or less distinct, of his barking; and, if you will observe closely, you will see that the dog listens for this echo, and that he will not resume his song until it (the echo) has entirely ceased. That this is the true explanation of "baying the moon" (where there is not another dog in the distance whose clamorous barkings have aroused a like performance on the part of the animal under observation), the following instance, coming under my own observation, would seem to indicate.

I had frequently noticed that a spaniel crept under a honeysuckle bush in my front yard whenever he gave one of his serenades. Time and again I tried to hear the echo, but in vain, and an almost verified fact seemed in danger of total annihilation. Finally, it occurred to me to dispossess the dog and take his place beneath the bush. I called him out and succeeded with much difficultyin getting beneath the bush, from whence I, imitating his voice, sent several howling barks. My theory was no longer merely theory, but was, instead, a verified fact, for, sharp, clear, and distinct, the echoes of my voice came back from some buildings an eighth of a mile away! Some peculiar acoustic environment made it impossible to get the echo at any place, as far as I could discover, other than beneath the bush.[62]

It is highly probable that the susceptibility of rats and mice to the influence of musical sounds has been known for ages. The legend of the Pied Piper of Hamelin is by no means recent, nor is it confined to European peoples alone; in one form or another it exists among Asiatic, Indian, and Indo-Malayan races. In all the legends, the rats or mice are drawn together by sounds emanating from some kind of musical instrument.

A celebrated violinist told me that, at one period of his life, he lived in a house that fairly swarmed with rats. He noticed that these creatures were peculiarly susceptible to minor chords, or to compositions played in minors, and that quick, lively music would bring them forth from their lurking-places in great numbers. A few abrupt, dissonant discords would, invariably, send them scurrying to their holes.

Another violinist informs me that several mice living in his room are influenced by the music of his violin; when he plays anandantemovement very softly, they appear to listen intently and to enjoy the music; but when he plays anallegroin quick time and loud, they quickly run away. The organist of the First Presbyterian Church of Owensboro, Kentucky,[63]tells me that when he lived in Cuba, New York, a mouse dwelt beneath a bookcase in his room, and that he often performed the following experiment: Seating himself at the piano, he would begin improvising softly. In a few moments the mouse would come from beneath the bookcase, approach the centre of the room, and, standing on its hind feet, would listen intently to the music. A loud chord on the piano would send it scampering away to its home. He would then resume hispianissimoimprovisation, and the mouse would soon return to its former station near the centre of the room, only to vanish again as soon as the loud chords were struck.

A violinist of Louisville, Kentucky, Mr. Karl Benedik, told me, on one occasion, that he had repeatedly noticed that several mice, which lived in his room, were influenced by the music of his violin. When he played anandantemovementpianissimo, they would appear to listen with pleasure; but when he played anallegroin quicktempoandforte, they immediately ran away.

Mice not only enjoy the music of others, but sometimes make music themselves. My father enjoyed nightly concerts or serenades, for a long time, from some "singing mice" in his library. I was fortunate enough to hear this novel concert on one occasion. The mice, two in number, came out from beneath the casing of the fireplace. They took places on the hearth, several feet distant from one another, and first one, and then the other, sang. Their songs were low and musical, not unlike the song of the canary, though there were no cadenzas orfioriturapassages. They seemed to use six notes, these notes being repeated in melodious sequences. I noticed, several times, a run of four notes in ascending scale. On another occasion, in my bedroom, I heard a mouse sing his pleasing little song over and over again.

Miss Ada Sterling, editor ofFashions, writes me as follows:—

"... Anent your paper ... I have had some curious experiences of a similar nature; one was in an uncarpeted room, the house being deserted at that time. I stood still, planning certain things and humming softly to myself. Presently, a shadowy something caught my eye, and I discovered a little mouse, very young evidently, then another and another, until four were near. I did not attribute their tameness to music, and in surprise turned to see if there were others about. Instantly they scampered off, my action having frightened them.

"When I finally arrived at the conclusion that music had attracted them, I sat down and began to hum, this time with an open sound instead of a closed tone, and in a second the little creatures were out again, standing perfectly still, as if the sound gave them delight. Gradually I swelled the tone, and yet they were undisturbed until I became too bold and gave a clear, sharp, full sound, and this at once frightened them.

"I experimented in this way for more than a month, never missing my audience once, and by this time the little creatures, grown so fat and bold as to cause serious damage, were ruthlessly caught and killed.

"I heard Kate Field, about four years ago, when, as the guest of Mr. Stedman, she told several interesting stories, relate an experience of her own, wherein, one night early in her life, she had leaned against the walls of the Campanile, gray and phantom-like in the moonlight, and, singing softly to herself, was surprised at discovering several little lizards lying about on the stones, their heads held alertly in the air as if entranced by the sound of her voice. She, too, experimented with the varying sounds, and from time to time, and evidently looked back upon the experiment as one of rare interest to herself."

Tree lizards will listen completely entranced to the music of a good whistler, and will allow themselves to be captured while thus inthralled.Some lizards are fairly good musicians themselves, notably the tree lizards of the East Tennessee mountains. I have repeatedly heard them singing on the slopes of Chilhowie and adjacent peaks.

Burroughs writes very entertainingly of a singing lizard, or, rather, salamander: "... Approach never so cautiously the spot from which the sound proceeds and it instantly ceases, and you may watch for an hour without hearing it again. 'Is it a frog,' I said—'the small tree-frog, the piper of the marshes—repeating his spring note but little changed amid the trees?' Doubtless it is, but I must see him in the very act. So I watched and waited, but to no purpose, till one day, while bee-hunting in the woods, I heard the sound proceeding from the leaves at my feet. Keeping entirely quiet, the little musician presently emerged, and lifting himself up on a small stick, his throat palpitated, and the plaintive note again came forth. 'The queerest frog that ever I saw,' said a youth who accompanied me and whom I had enlisted to help solve the mystery. No, it was no frog or toad at all, but the small red salamander commonly called lizard."[64]

The sound of the piccolo is very pleasing to these little creatures, and I have frequently collected about me as many as ten or a dozen by sounding this instrument in the still depths of a wood which I knew these salamanders frequented.

Certain snakes are very susceptible to the charm of harmonious tonal vibration; witness the performance of the Hindu snake charmer, who, while handling that deadly poisonous creature, the cobra-de-capello, plays continuously on flageolets, fifes, or other musical instruments.[65]I, myself, have often held tree lizards completely entranced until grasped in my hand, by whistling shrilly and continuously.

I remember, on one occasion, when I was quite young, that a large black snake crawled through a ventilating hole in the wall of the "quarters" or row of brick cottages occupied by the negroes, and took shelter beneath the floor. It was seen by myself and some of my dusky playmates, who immediately carried the tidings to the negro gardener. He called one of the hands from the field, and, after placing him with a loaded shotgun at one side of the hole in the wall, took his station just behind him and commenced to play on his fiddle. In a few moments the snake came out, and was killed by the discharge of the gun in the hands of the other negro. I have been informed, time and again, by negroes that they could charm snakes from their holes with music, but theinstance related above is the only one of the snake being led to its death by the bewitching power of musical sounds that has ever come under my immediate personal observation.

Before dismissing the subject of the influence of music on animals, I wish to call attention to the fact that Romanes declares that pigeons and parrots evince an æsthetic enjoyment of musical sounds.

"Moreover," writes he, "the pleasure which birds manifest in musical sounds is not always restricted to the sounds which they themselves produce."

Bingley quotes John Lockman, the celebrated composer, who declares that he once saw a pigeon which could distinguish a particular air. Lockman was visiting a Mr. Lee in Cheshire, whose daughter was a fine pianist, "and whenever she played the air ofSperi sifrom Handel's opera of 'Admetus,' a pigeon would descend from an adjacent dovecot to the window of the room where she sat, 'and listen to the air apparently with the most pleasing emotions,' always returning to the dovecot immediately the air was finished. But it was only this one air that would induce the bird to behave in this way."[66]

A correspondent writes me that he has a cock which is passionately fond of the sound of the violin. This bird always flies to the window of themusic-room as soon as he hears the sound of the violin, where he will quietly remain perched as long as the music continues. As soon as the music ceases, he flies down from the window.

Horses very frequently show an appreciation for musical sounds, especially when they are produced by a band of brasses.

Amusement and pastime are, unquestionably, æsthetic psychical characteristics, hence, when we see evidences of these mental operations, we must acknowledge the presence of æstheticism in the animals in which they are to be noticed.

I propose to show that animals low in the scale of life—animals so low and so minute that it takes a very high-power lens to make them visible, have their pastimes and amusements. Also, that many insects and even the slothful snail are not so busily engaged in the struggle for existence that they cannot spare a few moments for play. In our researches in this field of animal intelligence we must not attribute the peculiar actions of the males in many species of animals when courting the females, to simple pastime, for they are the outward manifestations of sexual desire, and are not examples of psychical amusement. I have seen, in actinophorous rhizopods, certain actions, unconnected with sexual desire or the gratification of appetite, which lead me to believe that these minute microscopic organisms have their pastimes and moments of simple amusement.On several occasions while observing these creatures, I have seen them chasing one another around and around their miniature sea. They seemed to be engaged in a game of tag. This actinophrys is not very agile, but when excited by its play, it seems to be an entirely different creature, so lively does it become. These actions were not those of strife, for first one and then another would act the pursuer and the pursued. There were, generally, four or five actinophryans in the game.

One of the rotifers frequently acts as if engaged in play. On several occasions I have observed them perform a kind of dance, apas seul, for each rotifer would be alone by itself. Their motions were up and down as if exercising with an invisible skipping-rope. They would keep up this play for several minutes and then resume feeding or quietly remain at rest. This rotifer goes through another performance which I also believe to be simply a pastime. Its tail is armed with a double hook or forceps. It attaches itself to a piece of alga or other substance by this forceps, and then moves its body up and down in the water for several minutes at a time.

The snail (H. pomatia) likewise has its moments of relaxation and amusement. The following instance of play may be considered to be gallantry by some, but I do not believe that I am mistaken, however, when I consider it an example of animal pastime. Two snails approached each other, and,when immediately opposite, began slowly to wave their heads from side to side. They then bowed several times in courtly salutation. This performance they kept up for quite a while and then moved away in different directions. At no time did they come in contact, and careful observation failed to reveal any excitement in the genitalia. I have witnessed the embraces of snails, and the performance described above does not resemble, in the slightest degree, the manœuvres executed at such times by mating individuals.

Swarms of Diptera may be seen on any bright day dancing in the sunlight. Naturalists have heretofore considered this swarming to be a mating of the two sexes. This is not the case, however, in many instances. On numerous occasions, and at different seasons of the year, I have captured dozens of these insects in my net and have examined them microscopically. I found them all to be unimpregnated females; I have never yet discovered a male among them. In some of the Diptera the males emerge from the pupa state after the females; I therefore believe that the females await the presence of the males, and, while waiting, pass the time away in aërial gambols.

Forel, Lubbock, Kirby, Spence, and other naturalists have declared that ants, on certain occasions, indulge in pastimes and amusements. Huber says that he saw a colony ofpratensis,one fine day, "assembled on the surface of their nest, and behaving in a way that he could only explain as simulating festival sports or other games."[67]On the 27th of September last, the males and females of a colony ofLasius flavusemerged from their nest; I saw these young kings and queens congregate about the entrance of the nest and engage in playful antics until driven away by the workers. The workers would nip their legs with their mandibles until the royal offspring were forced to fly in order to escape being bitten. The inciting cause of these movements may have been sexual in character, but I hardly think so.

On the 19th of July, 1894, I saw severalLasius nigercome out of their nest accompanied by a minute beetle (Claviger foveolatus); the ants caressed and played with this little insect for some time, and then conducted it back into the nest.[68]

Many such little animals are kept by the ants as pets. Lubbock says of one of them, a species allied toPodura, and for which he proposes the nameBeckia, "It is an active, bustling, little being, and I have kept hundreds, I may say thousands, in my nests.They run in and out among the ants, keeping their antennæ in a perpetual state of vibration."[69]I have frequently noticed an insect belonging to the same genus as the above in the nests ofF. fuscaandF. rufescens. They reminded me very much of the important-looking little dogs one sees running about in the crowd on election day.

The females ofCoccinellæ("lady-bugs") frequently congregate and indulge in performances that cannot be anything else save pastimes. A beech tree in my yard is called "lady-bug tree" because, year after year, these insects collect there and hold their curious conventions. They caress one another with their antennæ, and gently "shoulder" one another from side to side. Sometimes several will get their heads together, and seem by their actions to be holding a confidential conversation.

These conventions always take place after oviposition, and careful and repeated observation has shown me that they are not connected with procreation or alimentation. I have witnessed many other instances of true psychical amusement in the lower animals, but do not think it is necessary to detail them here. Suffice it to say that I believe that almost every living creature, at some period of its existence, has its moments of relaxation from the cares of life, when it enjoys the gratification of amusement.

Some birds evince æsthetic taste, notably in the building of their nests, which they ornament and decorate in a manner very pleasing to the eye.

The snakeskin bird gets its name from its habit of using the cast-off skins of snakes for decorative purposes. Not long ago I found a nest in a small wood, not far from the town in which I live, which was beautifully ornamented with the exuviated skin of a black snake (Bascanion constrictor). This skin must have been at least five feet in length, and the little artists had woven it into the walls of their nest in such a manner that its translucent, glittering scales contrasted very beautifully with the darker materials of their home.

Humming-birds use bits of lichen and moss to decorate their tiny nests. These materials serve a twofold purpose: they not only render the nest beautiful, but they also serve to protect it by making it resemble the limb on which it is placed. It takes a very acute and discriminating eye, indeed, to locate a humming-bird's nest.

Probably of all the lower animals, the male satin or bower bird of New South Wales has the decorative feeling the most developed. This bird builds a pleasure resort, a summer-house, or, rather, dance hall, which he ornaments profusely with every glittering, shining, striking object that he can carry to his bower in the depths of the forest. This bower is built of twigs, and, when completed, is anoblong, sugar-loaf-like structure, open at both ends. The bird decorates his dancing hall (for he comes here to perform love-dances during the courting season) with bright-colored rags, shells, pebbles, bones, etc.

I once saw a pair of bower birds in captivity (they were owned by Mr. George Hahn of St. Louis), which constructed the dance hall from materials furnished by their owner.

The love of personal cleanliness is, probably, the root and beginning of much that is æsthetic among the lower animals.

When quite a small lad, one of the first lessons set down in my copy-book, after I had graduated in "pot-hooks and hangers," was the trite old saw, "Cleanliness is next to godliness." My Yankee governess, a tall, angular spinster, from Maine, made the meaning of this copy clear to my infant mind, pointing her remarks by calling attention to the Kentucky real estate which had found a resting-place beneath my finger-nails, and which seemed to decorate them with perpetual badges of mourning. I have never forgotten that lesson and firmly believe in its truth.

The love of cleanliness seems to be inherent in the lower animals, with but few exceptions. We have all noticed the cat, the dog, the squirrel, the monkey, and the birds at toilet-making; and we know that they spend a large portion of their time in cleansing and beautifying their bodies.Some of them are dependent on their own ministrations, while others are greatly assisted by humble little servants, whose only remuneration is domicile, the cast-off clothing, or the garbage and refuse from their host's table.

For instance, the common domestic fowl is greatly assisted in its toilet by certain little animals belonging to the familyLiothe. These little creatures carefully scrape away and eat the scarf-skin, and other epidermal débris that would otherwise impair the health of their hosts.[70]Some of the fish family are entirely dependent on the ministrations of mutualists, as these little hygienic servitors are called, in matters of the toilet. Notably, the gilt catfish, which would undoubtedly die if deprived of its mutualist, theGyropeltes. This remarkable little creature does not live on the body of its host, but swims free in the water, and only seeks him when it is hungry. The skin of the gilt catfish secretes a thick, glairy, mucous exudate, which, if left to itself, would imperil the health of the fish. The Gyropeltes, however, regards this exudate as delicious food and rapidly removes and devours it.

All insects devote some of their time to the toilet, and there is probably no one who has not, at some time or other, noticed the fly, or some other insect, thus engaged. The greatest lover of bodily cleanliness in the whole insect tribe,however, is, I believe, my pet locust, "Whiskers"—so named by a little niece, on account of her long, graceful antennæ. "Whiskers" is one of the smallest of her family, and is a dainty, lovely, agile little creature, light olive-green in color, with red legs. She was reared from the egg, and has lived in my room all her short life. She is quite tame and recognizes me as soon as I approach, often hopping two feet or more in order to light on my coat-sleeve or outstretched hand.[71]

The first thing she does, after reaching my hand, is to seek my little finger and try her jaws on a diamond ring. The diamond seems to puzzle her greatly. She sometimes spends several minutes closely examining it. She will stand off at a little distance and pass her antennæ over every portion of it. Then she will come closer and make a more minute examination, finally essaying another bite with her powerful jaws. A great water drinker, she evidently thinks the stone is some strange kind of dewdrop, hence her persistent efforts to bite it.

"Whiskers" has developed cannibalistic tastes, for the hardened skin around my finger-nails is a favoritemorceauwhich she digs out with her sharp jaws and masticates with seeming delight.She nips out a piece of skin, cocks her head on one side, and, looking up at me with her clear, emerald-tinted eyes, her masticatory apparatus working like a grist-mill, she seems to say, "Well! old fellow, this is good."

She passes most of her time on a bit of turf, in a box on my table, where the sun shines bright and warm. She is fond of water, however, and makes frequent excursions to the water-pitcher across the room. How she discovered that it contained water is more than I can tell; but she did, and she visits it often.

It is in her habits of bodily cleanliness, however, that "Whiskers" outshines all other insects. I have watched her at early dawn and have always found her at her toilet. This is her first undertaking, even before taking a bite to eat. She makes frequent toilets during the day, and it is her last occupation at night before sinking to rest on a blade of grass. Her method of procedure is very interesting. She commences by first carefully cleansing her antennæ, drawing each of them through her mouth repeatedly. Then she treats her fore-legs to a thorough scrubbing, going over every portion with her tongue and jaws. With her fore-legs, using them as hands, she then cleans her head and shoulders, if I may use the latter term. Her middle legs and her long "vaulters" are then subjected to the same careful treatment. Her back and the posterior portion of her abdomen are next rubbed down, she using the last pair of legs for this purpose. Finally, standing erect and incurvating her abdomen between her legs, she cleans it and her ovipositor with her jaws and tongue. Her toilet is made twenty or thirty times a day. Invariably, after one of her excursions to the water-pitcher, as soon as she returns to her box this is her first occupation.

Now, having seen that the lower animals possess æsthetic feeling, it is reasonable to suppose that some of them possess some of the acquired higher emotions, such, for instance, as parental affection. The evidence seems to indicate that some of the lower animals do evince such affection, as I will now endeavor to point out.

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