232 



HARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



[Oct. 1, 1866. 



flying ou to the top of the pigsty wall. It followed 

 the pig about, as it would have followed a hen. The 

 two fed together from the same trough, and slept 

 together at night, the chicken roosting on the pig's 

 shoulders, or, if the night were cold, lying comfort- 

 ably snuggled between its fore legs, and it was no 

 uncommon sight to see the chicken taking a ride 

 round the sty on the pig's back. The pig never 

 made the slightest attempt to hurt the chicken, 

 which was the more curious, as most pigs have an 

 especial appetite for chickens that may be so un- 

 lucky as to come within their reach. 



The friendship remained unbroken for many weeks, 

 till the pig was killed. The next day the chicken, 

 now grown into a fine young cock, moped alone in 

 the sty, evidently missing its departed friend ; so it 

 was removed at night, and placed on the perches 

 amongst the other hens, whereat — alas ! for the con- 

 stancy of chickens' attachments — it seemed quite 

 content ; and it associated with its own kind until 

 it met the fate of most chickens. 



Another instance of these unaccountable friend- 

 ships happened at the house of my friend and neigh- 

 bour Mr. L . The family had been removing to 



a house very near to the one they were leaving, and 

 took with them a large rough dog and a favourite 

 white pigeon. Knowing the attachment to locality 

 that pigeons exhibit, my friend expected that thebird 

 would very soon find its way back to its old haunts. 

 This, however, was not the case ; the pigeon ap- 

 peared perfectly content with its new home, but, by 

 a strange caprice, immediately began making over- 

 tures of acquaintanceship with the dog, who received 

 its visits politely, and soon a complete friendship 

 sprang up between them. The pigeon was accus- 

 tomed to enter the dog's kennel and sit with him, 

 whilst the dog would lie quietly and permit the 

 pigeon to peck his head. 



When I was a boy, two of my aunts left their 

 house in Liverpool to come and live near us in 

 Cheshire. The last of the furniture was packed 

 upon carts ready for removal, and the house was 

 empty, when they were startled by hearing one of 

 the bedroom bells ringing violently. Of course, 

 every one ran upstairs to see who was there and 

 what was the matter, when, on reaching the landing 

 where the bell itself was hung, the wire merely pass- 

 ing through the wall, there stood Master Gyp, a 

 small spaniel, looking up at the still swinging bell 

 and wagging his tail with doggish delight. He had 

 evidently been playing about in the empty rooms, 

 and had jumped up to the bell-pull, and had acciden- 

 tally rung the bell, and hearing it ring had gone out 

 to look, and the movement of the bell amused him. 

 There would have been nothing very clever or cu- 

 rious, had this been all ; but as soon as the bell had 

 ceased to vibrate, the dog ran back into the bedroom, 

 pulled the bellrope a second time, and then ran out 

 as before to watch the bell ringing. Some reason- 



ing process as to cause and effect must assuredly 

 have passed through the dog's mind, for by repeat- 

 ing the action in so marked a manner, the dog had 

 evidently/o?^ out that pulling the rope would set 

 the bell ringing. 



Some years ago I was managing a farm in Cum- 

 berland, where there was a little rough terrier, one of 

 the vilest-tempered dogs I ever saw. I am generally 

 pretty clever at making friends with strange dogs, 

 but this one resisted all my efforts at conciliation, 

 flying at me whenever I came into the yard. At 

 length, without any apparent cause, she suddenly 

 became as violently attached to me as she had before 

 disliked me. She was never content unless follow- 

 ing me about ; she went with me to my lodgings 

 at meal-times, and always remained with me at 

 night, sleeping on an old arm-chair by the kitchen 

 fire ; in short, she became to me, and, I think, al- 

 most to me alone, one of the most faithful of dogs. 

 Soon, her affection began to manifest itself in a more 

 palpable, and not always convenient manner, for 

 she was not content with the arm-chair for a bed, 

 but at night regularly hunted about for some article 

 of my clothing to sleep upon. The bolt which 

 fastened the knocker to the front door projected 

 about an inch through on the inside of the door, and 

 on this I always hung my great coat. This was her 

 favourite bed ; by jumping up and pulling at it, she 

 could generally get it down pretty easily ; she would 

 then drag it to the kitchen hearth and make herself 

 comfortable for the night. Sometimes her preference 

 for my great coat was a source of inconvenience, 

 for she did not always manage to secure her prize 

 without tearing it, and as she would have it, I was 

 at last obliged to put it out of her reach. Then, as 

 she was not able to get the coat, she would search 

 for something else belonging to me— slippers, caps, 

 scarfs — and my landlady told me that often when 

 dirty clothes were put together at night to be washed 

 the next day, she would rout through the heap and 

 invariably pick out some article of my clothing from 

 amongst many others ; in fact, I never knew her to 

 take anything to lie upon that was not mine. 



I scarcely know whether to consider the following 

 as an exhibition of instinct or not ; if it be, it is 

 very curious. In a recent number of Science 

 Gossip a correspondent speaks of some large brown 

 (or rather black) ants that build their nests of heaps 

 of fallen fir-leaves. I am not an entomologist, and 

 I do not know the scientific name of the insect, but 

 I believe them to be the same kind that I used very 

 often to see in the neighbourhood of Cirencester, 

 where their nests, two feet in diameter and nearly 

 a foot high, may be constantly seen in the fir woods. 

 The ants crawl over these nests in immense numbers, 

 and a sort of buzzing, humming noise that they 

 make may be distinctly heard. Sometimes the whole 

 colony may be seen travelling from one spot to 

 another, and they then march in a narrow column, 



