244 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
in his simplicity that some kind lady had picked it 
up and left it with one of the shopmen to be claimed 
by its rightful owner. 
I had heard of such actions on the part of dogs 
before, but always with a smile; for we know the 
people who tell this kind of story—the dog- 
worshippers, or canophilists as they are sometimes 
called, a people weak in their intellectuals, and as 
a rule unveracious, although probably not con- 
sciously so. But now I had myself witnessed this 
thing, which, when read, will perhaps cause others 
to smile in their turn. 
But what is one to say of such an action? Just 
now we are all of us, philosophers included, in a 
muddle over the questions of mind and intellect 
in the lower animals, and just how. much of each 
element goes to the composition of any one act; 
but probably most persons would say at once that 
the action of the little red dog in Regent Street 
was purely intelligent. I am not sure. The swift- 
ness, smoothness, and certainty with which the 
whole thing was carried out gave it the appearance 
of a series of automatic movements rather than a 
reasoned act which had never been rehearsed. 
Recently during my country rambles I have 
been on the look-out for the small red dog, and 
have met with several interesting examples in the 
southern counties. One, in Hampshire, moved me 
to laughter like that small animal at Charterhouse 
Hinton. 
This was at Sway, a village near Lymington. A 
