272 
BRAMBLES AND BAY LEAVES. 
advances, instinct declines; so that in man we can but 
faintly trace its last glimmerings. 
But it must be again asserted that instinct is not the 
only guiding faculty of the brute. It has been proved, 
for instance, that crows can count three. At any country 
fair you may see learned ponies, learned pigs, and learned 
dogs. Were those animals not possessed of mental 
faculties of precisely the same kind as the mental 
faculties of man, it would be impossible to teach them 
the difference between A and B, much less to spell words 
and count numbers. Some of the anecdotes told of 
elephants, in Sir Emerson Tennant's u Natural History 
of Ceylon," are sufficiently conclusive as to the perfection 
of the reasoning powers of that noble beast, to bring a 
blush of shame to the face of any who would take refuge 
in the word instinct, or endeavour to substitute for 
intelligence that less distinctive word “ sagacity." But 
here is Eido; let him answer for himself. When he 
enjoyed fewer comforts than he does now, a bone was 
regarded as a treasure. If a nice bone came in his way 
when hunger had been satisfied, he found a place to hide 
it, and when hunger returned he found the bone accept¬ 
able. Now, instinct would not accomplish this piece of 
thrifty strategy. It implies anticipation of a future want, 
a knowledge of what will supply that want, judgment in 
the selection of a place of concealment, memory of its 
whereabouts, and a power of combining all these several 
ideas; so as to render them practically useful in regard 
to one object—bone. Now, if it be conceded that in 
one act, as in this case, of hiding a bone, an animal 
establishes a claim to be placed on the same footing with 
