WAYS OF NATURE 
instructed in her maternal duties: they are instinc- 
tive with her; it is of vital importance to the contin- 
uance of the species that they should be. If it were 
a matter of instruction or acquired knowledge, how 
precarious it would be! 
The idea of teaching is an advanced idea, and 
can come only to a being that is capable of returning 
upon itself in thought, and that can form abstract 
conceptions — conceptions that float free, so to 
speak, dissociated from particular concrete objects. 
If a fox, or a wolf, for instance, were capable of 
reflection and of dwelling upon the future and upon 
the past, it might feel the need of instructing its 
young in the matter of traps and hounds, if such a 
thing were possible without language. When the 
cat brings her kitten a live mouse, she is not think- 
ing about instructing it in the art of dealing with 
mice, but is intent solely upon feeding her young. 
The kitten already knows, through inheritance, 
about mice. So when the hen leads her brood forth 
and scratches for them, she has but one purpose — 
to provide them with food. If she is confined to the 
coop, the chickens go forth and soon scratch for 
themselves and snap up the proper insect food. 
The mother’s care and protection count for much, 
but they do not take the place of inherited instinct. 
It has been found that newly hatched chickens, when 
left to themselves, do not know the difference be- 
tween edible and non-edible insects, but that they 
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