74 TJie Descent of Man Past 1. 



if lie might koGp three or four of them for a few days, in order 

 to select one. When asked how he iould possibly learn so soon, 

 whether a particular monkey would turn out a good actor, he 

 answered that it all depended mi their poner of attention. ]f, 

 when he was talking and explaining anything to a monkey, its 

 attention was easily distracted, as by a fly on the wall or other 

 trifling object, the ease was hopeless. If he tried by punishment 

 to make an inattentive monkey act. it turned sulky. On the 

 other hand, a monkey which carefully attended to him could 

 always be trained. 



It is almost superfluous to state that animals have excellent 

 Memories for persons and places. A baboon at the Cape of Good 

 Hope, as I have been informed by Sir Andrew Smith, recogn sed 

 him with joy after an absence of nine months. I had a dog who 

 was savage and averse to all strangers, and I purposely tried his 

 memory after an absence of five years and two days. I went 

 near the stable where he lived, and shouted to him in my old 

 manner ; he shewed no joy, but instantly followed me out walk- 

 ing, and obeyed me, exactly as if I had parted with him only 

 half an hour before. A train of old associations, dormant during 

 five years, had thus been instantaneously awakened in his mind. 

 Even ants, as P. Huher ^° has clearly shewn, recognised their 

 fellow-ants belonging to the same community after a separation 

 of four months. Animals can certainly by some means judge of 

 the intervals of time between recurrent events. 



The Imagination is one of the highest prerogatives of man. 

 By this faculty he unites former images and ideas, independently 

 of the will, and thus creates brilliant and novel results. A poet, 

 as Jean Paul Richter remarks," " who must reflect whether he 

 " shall make a character say yes or no — to the devil with him ; 

 " he is only a stupid corpse." Dreaming gives us the best notion 

 of this power ; as Jean Paul again says, " The dream is an in- 

 " voluntary art of poetry." The value of the products of our 

 imagination depends of course on the number, accuracy, and 

 clearness of our impressions, on our judgment and taste in 

 selecting or rejecting the involuntary combinations, and to a 

 certain extent on our power of voluntarily combining them. As 

 dogs, cats, horses, and probably all the higher animals, even 

 birds^ have vivid dreams, and this is shewn by their movements 

 Bnd the sounds uttered, we must admit that they possess some 



" ' I.es Mceurs des Fourmis,' 20 -q^ Jerdon, ' Birds of India,' 



1810, p. 150. vol. i. 1862, p. xxi. Houzeau siiys 



' ^^ Quoted in Dr. Maudsley's ' Phy- that his pai-okeets and canary -birdi 



fiologyanil I'atliolcgyof Miud,' .8(j8, dreamt: ' Faculte's Montales,' torn. 



PI'. IS 'I'Ali. ii. p. 136. 



