260 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE 



were catapulted to death by schoolboys (oh ! for one hour 

 of Elisha and his she-bears); my wood-ducks (I had a 

 flotilla of fifteen) first showed a morbid propensity for 

 laying their precious eggs in cottage chimneys, and then 

 took to philandering on the seashore by night, and were 

 potted by flight-shooters. The only permanent additions 

 to the resident fauna for which I am responsible are three 

 in number, and they are not examples of acclimatisation, 

 but of restoration — badgers, to wit, which burrow and 

 breed, but never bless my eyes with a sight of their 

 streaked faces; jays, about which my neighbours use 

 dreadful swear- words ; and squirrels, which — no, I will not 

 admit yet that they are incompatible with clean forestry. 

 Let us change the subject. 



XLVI 



We are all familiar with a certain class of anecdotes in 

 Animal favour with readers of the Spectator — stories 

 inteiugence illustrating intelligent behaviour in the lower 

 animals. Unluckily, they are almost always told by un- 

 trained observers biased by afiection for some particular 

 cat or dog, and predisposed to hypothetical interpretation 

 of facts. How cautious one ought to be in the endeavour 

 to distinguish between inherited instinct and intelligent 

 reflection there are a thousand examples to prove. The 

 sister of the late Mr. Romanes had a pet capuchin monkey 

 of an exceedingly irritable temper. She noted in her 

 diary that one day this creature bit her several times, and 

 seemed afterwards overwhelmed with shame, sitting quite 

 quiet, and hiding its face in its arms. The obvious deduc- 

 tion was that it possessed an ethical sense, and was 



