He began by displaying a fancy for playing with coins, not unusual amongst terriers, and he advanced to a discovery that he could exchange the coins for biscuits. He learnt that for a halfpenny he could get two biscuits, and for a penny, three; and, having become able to distinguish between the two coins, it was found impossible to cheat him. If he had contributed a penny, he would not leave the bar till he had had his third biscuit; and if there was nobody to attend to his wants, he kept the coin in his mouth till he could be served. Indeed, it was this persistence which ultimately caused poor Prin's death, for there is every reason to fear that he fell a victim to copper-poisoning.
By a little training he was taught to place the coins, after he had got the biscuits, upon the top of a small box fixed on the wall, and they were dropped for him through a slot. He never objected to part with them in this way, and having received the quid pro quo, he gave complete evidence of his appreciation of the honourable understanding which is so absolutely necessary for all commercial transactions.
An authenticated case like this is of extreme value, for just as the elementary stages of any science or discovery are the most difficult and the slowest in accomplishment, so are the primary stages of all mental processes. To find the preliminary steps of the evolution of mathematics and commerce in a dog is therefore a very important observation, and everything bearing on these early phases of intellect should be carefully recorded.
Lawson Tait.
[Feb. 10, 1877.]
The Spectator is always so kind to animals that I venture to send you the following story of a dog's sagacity, which may be depended upon as absolutely true:—
During the meeting of the British Association at Glasgow, a friend of mine had occasion to go one day from that place to Greenock on business. Hearing, on his arrival, that the person he wished to see was out, but expected shortly to return home, he determined to take a stroll about the town, to which he was a stranger. In the course of his walk he turned into a baker's shop and bought a bun. As he stood at the door of the shop eating his bun, a large dog came up to him and begged for a share, which he got, and seemed to enjoy, coming back for piece after piece. "Does the dog belong to you?" my friend asked of the shop-woman. "No," she answered, "but he spends most of his time here, and begs halfpennies from the people who pass." "Halfpennies! What good can they be to him?" "Oh, he knows very well what to do with them; he comes into the shop and buys cakes."
This seemed rather a remarkable instance of cleverness even for the cleverest of animals, so, by way of testing its reality, my friend went out of the shop into the street, where he was immediately accosted by the dog, who begged for something with all the eloquence of which a dog is capable. He offered him a halfpenny, and was rather surprised to see him accept it readily, and walk, with the air of a regular customer, into the shop, where he put his forepaws on the counter, and held out the halfpenny towards the attendant. The young woman produced a bun, but that did not suit the dog, and he held his money fast. "Ah," she said, "I know what he wants," and took down from a shelf a plate of shortbread. This was right; the dog paid his halfpenny, took his shortbread, and ate it with decorous satisfaction. When he had quite finished he left the shop, and my friend, much amused, followed him, and when he again begged found another halfpenny for him, and saw the whole process gone through a second time.
This dog clearly had learned by some means the use of money, and not merely that it would buy something to eat, but that it would buy several things, among which he could exercise a right of choice. What is perhaps most remarkable is that his proceedings were entirely independent, and for his own benefit, not that of any teacher or master.
A. L. W.