he meant by intellect what Mr. Row considered he did. Indeed, it seems to 
me impossible that he could have done so, and I do not think that what 
Mr. Row has defined as intellect is exactly intellect after all. With regard, 
for instance, to the case of the chamois judging of the breadth of a chasm, 
my impression is that the chamois judges probably just as a man would. 
A man would judge of such a matter on the spur of the moment, entirely by 
that sort of instinct which he and the chamois both have, and there would be no 
intellectual process in the case at all. There is no doubt at all in regard to 
the fact stated by Professor MacDonald as to many admirable ships having 
been laid down by ship-architects who have been without that mathematical 
training which is considered so essential in naval architecture. The lines of 
those ships have been devised in the architect’s eye by a kind of instinct, 
and very remarkable results have been produced. I know that the dis- 
tinguished mathematician Professor Oliver Byrne, a member of this In- 
stitute, was associated with a man in America who turned out some 
admirable ships by rule of thumb, and who could not design from cal- 
culations. Professor Byrne had to give him the mathematical elements in 
the construction of those ships which he thus devised entirely by a kind of 
instinct. It has been said that a dog barks when he is afraid. Now, on 
that point I have arrived at a different conclusion, and my impression is that 
a dog barks most when he is least afraid ! I have often seen a dog barking 
at a man who was strange to it ; but if, under such circumstances, you show 
a good front, the dog leaves off barking, turns away, and, in all probability, 
howls. You convert his first impressions with regard to you into a positive 
panic. On the point that memory influences animals with regard to their 
instincts there can be no doubt whatever. It is unquestionable that when men 
first go to an uninhabited island, the birds and animals, unused to the presence 
of human beings among them, allow themselves to be approached without the 
slightest fear, and the habit which they acquire of making off at the approach 
of man seems to be the result of experience, or of an inherited memory 
becoming an instinct. They certainly do not always wait to ascertain the 
destructive properties of the weapons used against them ; for if birds did not 
fly away from a gun until they were shot, they would never have the chance 
of flying away at all. (Laughter.) I cannot agree with Mr. Row on another 
point. His experience and mine differ with regard to the pointing of a stick 
at a bird ; for I have often seen a whole colony of crows and other birds put 
to flight by having an umbrella or a stick levelled at them. I have, however, 
heard before what Mr. Row has stated, that birds will fly away from a gun, 
but not from a stick ; and I have heard this explanation given— that the 
birds by experience have learnt the smell of gunpowder, and the danger 
to them with which it is associated. But, to leave these small details, 
which do not invalidate the general arguments of our author, I do not think 
Mr. Morshead has given us a sufficient indication or definition of what is the 
distinctive difference between that kind of intellectual power which is called 
instinct, and that other kind of intellectual power which we call intellect 
alone. I suppose that Mr. Morshead’s view is, that instinct is a kind of 
