282 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
it is easy to agree with Dr. Romanes. The other 
offensive instinct of the dog, of which burying meat 
to make it putrid, rolling in filth, etc. etc. are 
different manifestations, is not a survival, in the 
sense in which zoologists use that word, any more 
than the desire of the well-fed cat for the canary, 
and of the hen-hatched ducklings for the pond, are 
survivals. These are important instincts which 
have never ceased to operate. The dog is a flesh- 
eater with a preference for carrion, and his senses 
of taste and smell are correlated, and carrion 
attracts him just as fruit attracts the frugivorous 
bat. Man’s smelling sense and the dog’s do not 
correspond; they are inverted, and what is delight- 
ful to one is disgusting to the other. “A cur’s 
tail may be warmed and pressed and bound round 
with ligatures, and after twelve years of labour 
bestowed on it, it will retain its original form,” 
is an Oriental saying. In like manner the dog may 
be shut up in an atmosphere of opoponax and 
frangipani for twelve hundred years and he will 
love the smell of carrion still. When the dog runs 
frisking and barking, he expresses gladness; and 
he expresses a still greater degree of gladness by 
madly rolling, feet up, on the grass, uttering a 
continuous purring growl. ‘The discovery of a 
carrion smell on the grass will always cause the 
dog to behave in this way. It is the something 
wanting still in the life of enforced separation from 
the odours that delight him; and when he unex- 
pectedly discovers a thing of this kind his joy is 
