DO ANIMALS REASON? [To THE Eoiron. Or TB R "
SPECTATOR."
SIR,—" More than a centary ago Gilbert White remarked that
the maxim that defines instinct to be that secret influence by which every species is compelled naturally to pursue at all times the same way or track without any teaching or example, must be taken in a qualified sense, for there are instances in which instinct does vary and conform to the circumstances of place and convenience.'
Herein that delightful observer, perhaps without suspecting what he was conceding to the brute, indicates where instinct
passes into Beason."
My little thoroughbred Irish terrier, a dog of most methodical habits, always slept at night in his box in the kitchen. When his mistress rose for her customary round of inspecting windows, &c., before retiring to bed, be was wont to accompany her, finishing up with the kitchen, where he always looked for a bone as a bonne-bouche. When, however, a "cold snap" came on in winter, he liked the warm fire so much that when his mistress started on her usual round he remained where he was, comfortably lying before the fire, though quietly listening all the while to her movements. He waited until he heard the click of the lock in the last door before going to the kitchen. Then he got up and marched straight to the warm kitchen to his bed and his bone.
Was this instinct, or was it reason ? As a puppy he liked in cold weather, when the fire was low, to creep inside the kerb for extra warmth, but this was contrary to rules, and he knew it. If we came into the room and found him in the act of transgression, a look was enough to fetch him out again. He was not fed at mealtimes, but sometimes, thinking him unusually hungry, we threw him a small dry crust. This he would occasionally refuse ; no amount of coaxing would induce him to eat it. But we had only to put the crust inside the kerb and continue our conversation, when he would stealthily, quietly creep in, pick up the crust, fetch it out on to the hearthrug, and at once eat it with apparent relish. "Stolen waters," certainly. But what was it ? Instinct F—I am,
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