plete success is achieved, sometimes a total failure; and oftenest of all, the irritation disappears of itself.

With reference to the recurrent healthy appetites, every animal soon finds the means of gratification, or perishes. The preservation of the individual, and the continuance of the species, hang upon the satisfaction of the cravings of hunger and sexual desire; and if these objects are attained, it is a proof that means have been found of gratifying both appetites. In obtaining food, and in the cares of offspring, the animal tribes put forth all their powers and faculties, native and acquired: not the inborn instincts alone, but the whole range of cultivated intelligence, personal experience, direct imitation and traditions of race pertaining to each species, come into play in the battle of life, and in securing the family succession.

Animal Emotions.

Under this head we propose to call attention to certain impulses and states of excitement that do not fall under either sensations or appetites, as these are ordinarily conceived, but nevertheless belong to the mental system of the animal tribes. The term 'emotion' is used in common speech with great latitude and vagueness. There is, however, no apparent impropriety in employing it as the class-name for such manifestations as the following:

1. Resentment. This is the name for the active impulses of an animal to repel, subdue, and utterly destroy everything that causes it pain, injury, or harm. In its higher forms of deliberate destructiveness, it is a complex effect, resulting from an extensive combination of feelings and energies. In its less complicated manifestations, it is closely connected with the peculiarities of nervous action already described: we will endeavour to indicate its different stages and degrees of complication.

The simplest form of an act of resentment is seen in the response of a circle of sense to any disagreeable or unacceptable sensation. When the contact of an outward object is painful, the returning influence goes to stimulate the muscles of extension and retraction of the part affected. A live-coal put on the paw of a quadruped, or on the hand of a human being, produces the instant movement of the member from the injurious contact. This vehement and rapid action, the result of the operation of the circles of sense by themselves, is the most elementary form, the first germ, so to speak, of the complex emotions, both of resentment and of terror.

But an act of resentment implies something more than the convulsive retraction of the bodily organs from harmful agencies. It includes the act of turning teeth, with all the energy of pursuit and all the destructive power of the animal, on whatever pains or menaces it; and the attack is usually directed against other sentient beings. The instinct of war and destructiveness is superadded to the act of withdrawing the system from injury, in the ordinary form of resentment; and this destructive tendency, where it exists, does not necessarily require the stimulus of hurt to bring it into play. It is a terrible inspiration belonging to many animal tribes, leading them to make war upon living beings in general, although usually accompanied with some other peculiarities of the mental system that determine a preference in the creatures attacked.

If we were asked to resolve this destructive inspiration into its simplest constituents, and to point out the portions of the animal framework that it most probably connects itself with, we should say that there appears to be two distinct elements in its composition-an appetite, and a system of active organs cut out as tools or instruments for destructive effects. The appetite that kindles the energies of all carnivorous creatures is an extraordinary and indescribable one: we can only speak of it as a thirst for blood, an excitement, a furor, that nothing will allay but the spectacle of a living creature prostrate, torn, and mangled at the feet of the destroyer. In alliance with the appetite of hunger, it displays itself in its most energetic moods; but, nevertheless, it is not to be confounded with mere hunger, for this feeling taken alone could not produce the exultation and ecstasy of the true carnivora at the death of a helpless victim.. There is something in the organisation and tastes of creatures living upon flesh that tends to develop this inextinguishable fury of bloodthirstiness, so that the view or the scent of one of their ordinary animals of prey is enough to fire the impulse that lets loose all the active energies of wrath and destruction. But it is among the herbivora, with whom the appetite for animal food does not come into play, that we have examples of resentful energy in its purest form―as, for example, in the enraged bull or the angry deer.

The tools of destructive animals are very various: they may be teeth, claws, horns, poisoned fangs, crushing embraces, electric batteries, &c. These instruments are always supplied with muscles and nerves to maintain their action, and are associated with the general system, so as to fall under the law of accordance of state, and to come into play in harmony with the organs of sensation and appetite. The instinct of pursuit already alluded to supplies one portion of the destructive activity; and the forthputting of the organs serving as the tools, after a little groping and experience, completes the operation, and satiates the lust for blood, victory, and destruction. There is not the same degree of instinctive preparation for playing the part of an executioner that there is for the acts of walking, running, or pursuit; but the possession of the tools, the impulse to employ all the active agencies of frame whatsoever, and a little practice and experience suffice in the majority of cases to qualify for this melancholy occupation. There are higher cases of destructiveness, where nothing less than a concentration of all the endowments of instinct and cultivated intelligence will serve the end-as in the operations of the spider and the craftiness of the fox; but these are not necessary for the illustration of the mere emotion of resentment.

2. Terror. This expresses a state of feeling and manifestation common to the whole series of animal tribes, and only varying in degree according to the delicacy and susceptibility of the nervous organisation. It is a physical and mental condition of the frame, marked by tremor, trepidation, and a disposition to shrink or fly from the object causing it. There is a manifest loss of composure, ease, and of the power of being quiet or still; the convulsive movements and excited expression get beyond the control of the individual, or it may be of any foreign agency also. The causes of this disturbed condition of the system are, first, mere painful sensations; and, next, the apprehension of pain or danger as imminent. There are irrita

tions and injuries that afflict and annoy the senses and consciousness to such a degree as to be utterly unbearable—the distress of the sensation spreads itself as an irritant over the whole nervous system, and cannot be suppressed. The relief or issue provided by nature in such circumstances is the awakening of activity in other parts distant from the source of the evil. The tremor of the frame, the howling of the vocal organs, the rapidity of the motions, set on by the diffused stimulus of pain, constitute a flood of varied excitement such as to drown the local irritation and render existence bearable. The nervous stimulus of terror causes a violent and exhausting discharge of nervous energy in every region. More than ordinary exertions are made, an excess of excitement is gone through, but a waste of strength has been thereby incurred.

We have remarked that a retraction of a hurt member is the simplest form of both terror and resentment. When the responsive action of the sensational circle is not sufficient to rid the animal of the mischievous agency, when it still presses hard and becomes agonising, the commotion is extended over the system, and produces the various manifestations above described. The animal is wakened up from a state of tranquil repose to a lavish expenditure of nervous excitement; the muscles are vehemently stimulated to action; the secretions are deranged; and the excretions violently excited. In this tumult of consciousness, the conflagration of the energies, the pain is submerged, and a kind of carnival of luxurious feeling is gone through.

The state thus resulting from an agony that cannot be shaken off by the means at command, is induced also by influences that only suggest evil as impending, and even by agencies that have no other character than being strange, unwonted, or inexplicable. The modes of its attack are thus various according to the perceptions and intelligence of the individual creature, but it is a universal emotion of the animal nature, and the prompter of activity in a way and to an extent peculiar to itself.

3. Tenderness and Sociable Emotion.-It would be a great mistake to confine the emotion of tenderness to the human species—a mistake, however, not likely to be committed by persons at all accustomed to the society of the inferior animals. The anatomical peculiarity of this emotion seems to be the effusion of a certain fluid over the mucous surfaces of the

body generally, accompanied with a rich, luxurious sensation that cannot he confounded with anything else. The effusion seems most copious, and the feeling most intense, in the eyes and throat, but there is no reason to restrict the surface affected to these parts. In connection with the eye there is a secreting gland, and a receptacle for accumulating the lachrymal fluid ready for any sudden discharge. The effect upon the throat may be so great as to produce in the human subject the hysterical convulsions of the vocal apparatus experienced in the act of crying. The tender effusion, in all degrees of strength, gives a certain tone to the muscular movements, observable more particularly in the cast of the eye and in the character of

the utterance.

There are various things calculated to bring on the tender emotion: extreme pain and terror are apt to let it loose in the general outburst that is stimulated by the pressure of agony. But, so far as we can judge, its natural and proper stimulus is the presence of another being in circum

stances that do not provoke the resentful inspiration, and especially a being with some positive attractions, or some power of exciting a pleasurable interest. The contact or embrace of two individual beings invariably prompts an effusion of tenderness, and is also the consummation of its furor. It is the extreme contrast of the bloodthirsty emotion—the attractive impulse that produces friendliness and sociability instead of war and extermination. It is the basis of the warm affections, and the great stimulus to herd together in society. It is probably excited in every relation of mutual dependence.

The feeling of maternal love is the strongest example that life presents of the tender emotion. The circumstances of the mother with her offspring are such as to constitute an extreme case of protector and protected in the closest relationship that can possibly arise. It is in this instance that we can observe the power of an intensely-exalted tenderness over the character, in the devotion and the efforts of body and mind which a mother is capable of putting forth. The maternal instincts are one of the kinds most frequently singled out to excite astonishment at the gifts and faculties of the brute creation. We have no reason to suppose that a peculiar class of devices is imparted to an animal through the mere fact of its bearing progeny, but undoubtedly in this case the wits and energies are set to work with a force and fervour that seem often to surpass the animal's regard for its own individual wellbeing.

ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE.

In entering on the structure of the intellect among the inferior creatures, and especially in using the human intellect as a comparison to assist us in the inquiry, the chief difficulty consists in divesting ourselves of all that artificial apparatus employed by human beings to enlarge the compass of thought and knowledge. Spoken and written language, and all the significant machinery of human life, come to be regarded as an essential part of our intelligence, and it would not be easy for us to represent to ourselves the movements of the human intellect deprived of their assistance.

It is, however, necessary for us to make an attempt to set forth the fundamental peculiarities of intelligence in general, that we may by this means gain another step towards the rational explanation of the animal mind.

1. The first great feature of intelligence common to the whole animal race, with differences of degree, we may express by the term Docility; meaning by it the power of making acquisitions of every kind independent of, and supplementary to, the native or inborn capacities. These acquisitions consist in aggregates, groupings, or consecutive trains made up of sensations, instincts, appetites, or emotions, different from any aggregates or trains belonging to the original constitution. There is a power of adhesiveness inherent in the animal brain, which makes actions that have repeatedly been made to follow one another in a fixed order so connect themselves together that the animal at last passes from one to the other as if they were all one consecutive train of instinctive movements. On

this is founded the art of training living beings to mechanical arts and movements of a complicated description.

We have already seen that a sensation is completed by a muscular response, and that one muscular act may lead to another, according to general laws of organisation. In addition to this original and natural connection between sensations and activities, a vast number of artificial connections come to be made through the force of docile adhesiveness. An animal learns, for example, to obey commands; that is, certain sensations of hearing come to be coupled with specific acts, and to have the power of stimulating those acts at any time. In like manner sensations are coupled with appetites by artificial association, as when an animal expects its food by seeing the circumstances that usually precede its being fed. Moreover, trains of sensation leave a certain track behind them, or produce a tendency in the various circles to revive and repeat those trains. Whence it is that all the tribes of creatures possessing a fixed home learn the features of their own neighbourhood, and know whereabouts they are from the appearances about them. Likewise animals accustomed to journey over a particular route acquire a cohesive hold of the successive features, and always know what to expect next when on their way. This principle of the cohesion of successive states and movements of mind, through a certain amount of repetition and exercise, connecting actions with actions, actions with sensations, sensations with appetites, and sensations with sensations, might be exemplified at any length from the brute creation, and might be shewn not to differ in kind from the principle of contiguous association in the human mind, upon which human cultivation is so largly dependent. Not only is the animal nature in general rendered susceptible of unlimited training and education, in consequence of this adhesive energy inherent in the nervous framework, but every creature comes to possess a fund of experience and acquired associations, and becomes wiser as it grows in days and years. Along with its instinctive likings and dislikings-the guides of its early movements-there grow up a number of acquired likings and dislikings towards things that were at first matters of indifference perhaps, but come to be treated as the preludes to other things that are not indifferent. Good and evil are descried at a distance. The creature that has been roughly handled in an encounter connects ever afterwards the sight of its enemy with a disagreeable experience, and keeps out of its way; if it have associates or offspring, it will put together its sympathy and its bitter experience, and endeavour to keep them out of the danger too. The bird that has been terrified by the report of a gun, and witnessed the fall of one of its companions, acquires a joint impression of a human figure and dread; if its observation is good and its opportunities numerous, it may even mark a difference between a sportsman and a quiet rustic, and form separate associations with each.

There is evidently a great inferiority in the extent and in the character of the brute acquisitions as compared with humanity. It is doubtful how far an ordinary quadruped can revive the pictorial impressions of sight in the entire absence of the originals, so as to go through an operation truly mental, and live in the past, the absent, and the future. The best of animals can go but a little way towards recognising the properties of natural objects, chiefly on account of their utter want of all the artifices of