And there thou'rt sure to meet the good,
Whom on earth thou lovedst best,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

"Earth to earth," and "dust to dust,"
The solemn Priest hath said;
So we lay the turf above thee now,
And we seal thy narrow bed:
But thy spirit, brother, soars away
Among the faithful blest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

And when the Lord shall summon us,
Whom thou hast left behind,
May we, untainted by the world,
As sure a welcome find;

May each, like thee, depart in peace,

To be a glorious guest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

(By permission of the Author.)

REASONING POWERS OF ANIMALS.

EDWARD JESSE.

THE greater attention I pay to the various faculties, and what may be considered as the reasoning powers of animals, the more convinced I am that there is much yet to be learnt of the extent of those faculties. There is, no doubt, an intelligence to be observed in them of a most extraordinary nature, which is far beyond the result of mere instinct, and which, I cannot but think, ought to place them in a much higher scale than we have hitherto allowed them to hold. It is, indeed, only by watching the various impulses of animals with

constant attention, that we can arrive at the conclusion that many of them are in possession of a combination of wonderful impressions and ideas, far beyond those which we are too apt to suppose they derive only from natural instincts. Can we doubt that they are in possession of thought, memory, recollection, joy and sympathy, jealousy, gratitude, sense of injuries, with an aptitude to revenge them, fondness for praise, calculation of time, and many other impulses which might be enumerated? The science of intellect, however, in animals has been little cultivated and in consequence is little understood. In order to attain a more perfect knowledge of this interesting subject, we must compare their actions with those of man; and we shall then find that the difference, in many respects, is not so great as is generally supposed. A few examples will better illustrate the truth of these remarks; and in introducing them I may mention that although animals are not endowed with mental faculties equal to those of man, yet, in my opinion, some particular animals most certainly evince marks of the same faculties which are to be found in the human mind.

The kitchen door of a gentleman's house opens by a common latch, with an iron handle for the hand, exactly four feet from the ground. A cat has been in the constant habit of springing from the ground to this handle, by which she hangs by one fore-foot, while with the other she raises the latch, her body and hind legs dangling in the air. The latch being lifted, the cat descends and pushes open the door. This feat she has performed so often as to become troublesome to the

servants.

A nearly similar instance of sense occurred in the case of a favourite cat which belonged to Mr. Sergeantson. When she was shut up in the counting-house, and wanted to be let out, she was in the habit of pulling at the bell-rope, which always brought some one to her relief.

Now here are two instances of sense and calculation,

arising from a prospect of future benefit to themselves, showing these animals to be in some degree rational beings. Certainly, without some portion of reason, they would not have acted in the manner related.

A gentleman who held a high official appointment in Persia, related the following anecdote to me, proving that animals have some mode of holding communication with each other in a way of which we are at present ignorant.

Storks abound in Persia, and make their nests on old towers and ruins. One season a pair of these birds returned to their old haunt on the top of a building opposite one of the windows of my informant's residence, they found it tenanted by a pair of pea-fowl. The storks tried in vain to dislodge the intruders, but the latter refused to give up possession. In this dilemma the unhappy storks flew away, but returned in two days accompanied by a large number of other storks, who assisted effectually in ejecting the intruders. Having done this, they remained quietly near the spot to see that their friends were securely reinstated, and, having ascertained this to their satisfaction, they left them and returned to their own quarters.

I was much interested lately in reading an account of a robin, whose nest, containing young ones, was attacked by a snake. The loud cries of the bird attracted the attention of a man who was working near the spot, when he went immediately to its assistance and killed the snake. When its adversary was dead, the robin showed its gratitude to the preserver of its young in every way in its power, at the same time flying now and then in a rage to peck at the dead snake. Audubon, also, says, that when a snake attacks the nests of birds a loud cry of alarm is raised, which attracts the attention of other birds, who join in attacking the snake till he retreats.

Animals frequently take strange dislikes to individuals. One of my little terriers is perfectly furious when one particular gentleman comes into my house,

and to no one else. The excellent clergyman of our parish assured me that, when he had a curacy in Cambridgeshire he was attacked by a swallow whenever he went into his garden for two or three successive days. The bird seemed furious at these times, flying close to his face, so that at last he became alarmed, and caused the swallow to be killed. It is not easy to account for this dislike, especially as the bird's-nest was in the upper window of his house.

Not only, however, do they evince those faculties which are to be found in man, but many animals bear a strong resemblance in their looks to man himself, especially when we find a man debased by violent, licentious, or sordid habits. How often have I heard people exclaim, when walking round the Zoological Gardens, how like such a man is to that baboon or monkey, that pig, or goat, or owl. Again, savages who live in what may be called a state of nature, independent of cultivation, are possessed of many acute and extraordinary faculties, such indeed as are only to be found in animals which are not domesticated, thus showing another strong link between them. An animal is also apt to appreciate kindness, and often to return it with strong affection. A gentleman one day, while in his library in London, was disturbed by a strange cat coming down the chimney, and jumping upon his knees as if to claim protection. It was much wounded, and covered with soot. The kind and benevolent man allowed the animal to remain on his lap, soothing it with his voice, and permitting it to clean itself and to lick its wounds. The cat evidently came to find a friend, and she found one. The attachment was mutual. The cat followed her protector wherever he went, accompanied him into Italy and various other places, and lost that fondness for localities which is so peculiar to these animals. The cat, unlike many favourites, lived to a good old age.

A friend called upon me on the 11th of May, 1843, and asked me to accompany him to Eton College to see a curious bird's-nest. We accordingly proceeded thither,

and, having passed through the beautiful chapel, ascended the winding steps of the bell-tower or turret. After getting to a considerable height, our further progress was stopped by a sort of pillar built of sticks. The staircase was sufficiently lighted to afford complete observation of the proceedings of the birds, which I will now endeavour accurately to describe.

On the ledge of one of the narrow apertures for the admission of light, a pair of jackdaws had built their nest. The ledge, however, was so narrow, that the nest had evidently an inclination inwards, and would probably without some support have fallen down upon the steps below. In order to obviate this difficulty, the birds had contrived the following ingenious method of supporting the nest. As the staircase was a spiral one, they began to make a pillar of sticks on that identical step, which alone would give them the best foundation for their intended work. Had they gone to the one above, or to the one below that which they had so sagaciously fixed upon, it was very evident that they would not have acquired that precise slope or angle for their pillar, which was necessary for the effectual support of the nest. It was the eighth step below the opening, and from it the pillar was raised to a height of exactly ten feet, and was composed of a strong stacklike work of sticks. The nest then rested upon the top of it, and was perfectly secure. The labour, which these ingenious and industrious birds had bestowed in the collection of so large a mass of sticks, must have been enormous. One circumstance struck me as very curious. The entrance of the aperture in the wall was very narrow; the difficulty of conveying some of the larger sticks through it must have been consequently great. On examining the sticks, I found that each of hem had been broken, or rather cracked, exactly in the centre, so that they could be doubled up. They were thus also the better adapted for the construction of the stack in a compact form. I should add that the birds were occupied during seventeen days in the per