African Elephant

DOMESTICATED ANIMALS
THEIR RELATION TO MAN AND TO HIS
ADVANCEMENT IN CIVILIZATION

BY
NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SHALER
DEAN OF THE LAWRENCE SCIENTIFIC SCHOOL OF
HARVARD UNIVERSITY

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1908

Copyright, 1895, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

DOMESTICATED ANIMALS

INTRODUCTION

One of the effects of the modern advance in natural science has been greatly to increase the attention which is devoted to the influences that the conditions of diverse peoples have had upon their development. Man is no longer looked upon, as he was of old, as a being which had been imposed upon the earth in a sudden and arbitrary manner, set to rule the world into which he had been sent as a master. We now see him as one of the myriad species which has won its way by powers of mind out of darkness and the great struggle to the place of command. The way in which this creature, weak in body and exceedingly dependent on his surroundings, has in the modern geologic epoch come forth from the mass of the lower animals, is by far the most impressive and as yet the most unexplained phenomenon which the geologist has to consider. It is not likely that the marvellous advancement can be accounted for by any single cause; it is probably due, as are most of the great evolutions, to the concurrence of many influences; but among these which make for advance, we clearly have to reckon the animals and plants which man has learned to associate with his work of the household and the fields.

Although certain species of insects, particularly the ants, have the well-developed habit of subjugating certain creatures of their own family, man is the only vertebrate that has ever adopted the plan of domesticating a variety of animals and plants. The beginnings of this custom were made in a very remote time, and for long ages the profit which was thereby gained appears to have been but slight. Gradually, however, races, owing to their masterful quality and to the opportunities which were offered by the wild life about their dwelling places, obtained flocks and herds. In the group of continents commonly termed the old world, where there were several ancient primitive peoples of innate ability, and where there were many species of larger mammals which were well fitted for domestication, the advance in social development went on rapidly. In the new world, though the primitive races contained tribes of much ability, there was practically no chance for the people to add to their strength by the subjugation of beasts of burden, or to their food resources by the adoption of various animals which could be used for the needs of food or raiment. The advance of men when they have obtained valuable domesticated animals, and their failure to win a high station where the surrounding nature denied such opportunities, go far to prove the bearing of this accomplishment in the development of peoples.

A little consideration makes it evident to us that the advance of mankind above the original savage state is in several ways favored by the possession of domesticated animals. In the first place, each creature which is adopted into the household or the fields usually brings as its tribute a substantial contribution to the resources which tend to make the society commercially successful. When we consider the enlargements of resources and the diversification of industries which rest upon the adoption of any one of these animals—as, for instance, the horse—we see in a way what the possession of domesticated animals and plants really means, and are in a position to conceive, though at best but dimly, what the scores of these captive species have done for us. We recognize the fact that while, under almost any conditions, a certain manner of advance above the most primitive savagery is possible to a naturally able people, this on-going cannot lead any distance unless the folk have other help than their own weak bodies can give them. It is hardly too much to say that civilization has intimately depended on the subjugation of a great range of useful species.

It would be interesting to trace, if we could, what share the several domesticated animals have had in the development of the human races; but this task is not to be done. We can, however, discern that the Arab without the camel and the horse would not have found the place in history which he has filled, and that our own race could not have attained its place save for the aid which the horned cattle, sheep, and a host of other helpers which we have pressed into service, have afforded. These economic gains have to be judged in mass, they cannot be reckoned in detail. When we have made the best account of them we can, there remains another class of influences, the value of which, though evidently great, is yet harder to reckon; these arise from the education which has been attained through the care of these adopted creatures. Among savages the great need is a training in forethoughtfulness; all primitive peoples are like children, they live in the interests of the day; the cares of the seasons to come, or even of the morrow, are not for them. The possession of domesticated animals certainly did much to break up this old brutal way of life; it led to a higher sense of responsibility to the care of the household; it brought about systematic agriculture; it developed the art of war; it laid the foundations of wealth and commerce, and so set men well upon their upward way. Moreover, the use of domesticated animals of the better sort enabled the more vigorous and care-taking races to gain the strength which led to their advancement in power to a point where they were able to displace the lower and feebler tribes. In other words, the system of domestication has provided a method by which those peoples who were fitted to develop the qualities which make for civilization could advance; it has provided the opportunity for selection.

Of all the influences which have been exercised on man by the care of his flocks, herds, and droves, perhaps the most important is that which has arisen from the broader development of his sympathies. The savage may be defined as a man who cares only for his family and his tribe; the civilized man as one whose kindly interest extends to mankind and beyond to all sentient beings. In the development of this altruistic motive the care of the dependent species has evidently been most effective. We note that the peoples who have attained the first upward step in the association with domesticated animals are in their quality, so far as tested by literature and history, much above the mere savage. With the care of the flocks we find associated poetry, the first notes of higher religious motives, and a largeness of the sympathetic life which is favored by the nature of the occupation. Where the nomadic habits of the original shepherds pass into the more sedentary state of the soil tiller, the element of personal care and the affection and the consequent education of the sympathy were increased. Men had now to care for half a dozen or more kinds of animals; they had to learn their ways, in a manner to put themselves in their places and conceive their needs. Thus the life of a farmer is a continual lesson in the art of sympathy; with the result, certainly in part due to this cause, that there is no class of people from whom the brutal instincts of the ancient savage life which we all inherit have been so completely eradicated.

It is perhaps too much to attribute the advance of the agricultural classes of our civilized peoples, in all that serves to remove them from the brutality of their savage ancestors, altogether to the nature of their work—to the very large element of kindly care for which it calls, and which is the price of success in the occupation. Yet when we note the immediate way in which the people bred in cities, under circumstances of excitement are wont to behave like savages of the lower kind, showing in their conduct a lack of all sympathetic education, and contrast their behavior with that of their kinsmen from the fields—we see essential differences in character which cannot well be explained save by the diverse natures of the training which the men have received. Thus in the French Revolution, the baser, more inhuman deeds were not committed by the peasants, who had been the principal sufferers under the régime which was overthrown, but by the people of the great towns who had been less oppressed by the iniquities of the old system of government.

If it be true—as my personal experiences and observations lead me firmly to believe is the case—that man's contact with the domesticated animals has been and is ever to be one of the most effective means whereby his sympathetic, his civilized motives may be broadened and affirmed, there is clearly reason for giving to this side of life a larger share of attention than it has received. So far the presence of these lower creatures in our society has generally been accepted as a matter of course. Sentimentalists, after the fashion of Laurence Sterne, have dwelt upon the imaginary woes of the creatures. Associations of well-meaning people have endeavored to diminish the cruelty which people of the towns, rarely those bred on the soil, often inflict upon them. It seems, however, desirable that we should place this consideration upon a plane more fitting the knowledge of our time. It should be made plain, not only that the success of our civilization depends now as in the past on the coöperation which mankind has had from the domesticated animals, but also that the development of this relation is one of the most interesting features in all history. On through the ages of the geologic past comes this great procession of life, in the endless succession of species whose numbers in the aggregate are to be reckoned by the scores, if not by the hundreds of millions. Until this modern age, the throng goes forward blindly, groping its way towards the higher planes of life. At length certain of the more advanced forms attain to a measure of intellectual elevation. Still, for all this advance, the life is not organized so as to attain any large ends; no society arises from it.

Suddenly, in the last geological epoch, man, the descendant of a group which like all others had led the narrow life of the preparatory ages, appears upon the scene. At first, and in his lower human estate, his position was not noticeably higher than that of his kindred, but there was in him the seed of a great unlikeness, of very new things, in that his desires had an element of the unlimited which was to grow apace, and in time to make him greedy of on-going. As this innovating creature sought for agents of power in the wilderness about him, he blindly laid hands upon such of the fellow tenants of the wilds as might serve his immediate needs. This species, both animals and plants, endowed with the capacity for variation, the plasticity which is in general a characteristic of all organic forms, were early led by their new master, as of old they had been guided by the old organic laws. They changed according to his choice, abandoning their ancient ways for the novel paths of civilization. With this association of the higher forms of the earth under the leadership of man, there began an entirely new and unprecedented condition of the world's affairs. In place of the ancient law of nature there came the control of our species which had been, in a way, chosen to be the overlord of life.

At first, the number of species of animals and plants which man brought under his control was very limited; it was indeed confined to those which might readily be subjugated to meet immediate needs. Gradually, however, the list has been extended until it included thousands of forms, which, while they meet no need such as the savage recognizes, are gratifying to the taste or the ambitions of civilized peoples. These æsthetic devices, or those of necessity, are advancing so rapidly that each generation sees hundreds of new animal and plant species added to our living collections, so that our plant and animal gardens now contain a large share of the more attractive forms which are to be found in the various geographical realms. Our tilled fields yield perhaps a hundred times as many varieties of plants as they did in the earliest historic agriculture. The advance in the process of domestication is not so rapid as regards the animal kingdom as it is with the realm of plants, and this mainly for the reason that animals have a will of their own which has to be bent or broken to that of man. Still it goes on apace. We of to-day have at our command many times the number of sentient species contributive to our pleasure or profit that had been made captive at the beginning of our era. Naturally, in the early days of domestication, men brought under their control the greater number of the animals which gave promise of utility. As no new species of any economic importance have been created within the last geologic period, the field for the extension of economic domestication has of late been very limited. But the realm of sympathetic appreciation, unlike the economic, knows no definite bounds, and promises in time to bring all the more important organic forms under the care of the sympathetic and masterful being who has been chosen as the ruler of terrestrial life.

We thus see that the matter of domesticated animals is but a part of the larger problem which includes all that relates to man's destined mastery of the earth—a mastery which he is rapidly winning. It means that, in time, a large part of the life of this sphere is to be committed to his care, to survive or perish as he wills, to change at his bidding, to give, as other subjugated kinds have done, whatever of profit or pleasure they may contribute to his endless advancement. From this point of view our domesticated creatures should be presented to our people, with the purpose in mind of bringing them to see that the process of domestication has a far-reaching aspect, a dignity, we may fairly say a grandeur, that few human actions possess. If we can impress this view, it will be certain to awaken men to a larger sense of their responsibility for, and their duty by, the creatures which we have taken from their olden natural state into the social order. It will, at the same time, enlarge our conceptions of our own place in the order of this world.

In the following pages little effort has been made to present those facts concerning domesticated animals which would commonly be reckoned as scientific. The several essays which, in larger part, were separately printed in Scribner's Magazine, are intended for those persons who, while they may not care to approach the matter in the manner of the professional inquirer, are glad to have the results which naturalists have attained, so far as they may serve to extend knowledge of things which lie in the field of familiar experiences. To the text as it at first appeared, numerous additions have been made, and the concluding chapters, on the Rights of Animals, and on the Problem of Domestication, are new. In them an effort is made to direct attention to the importance of the problem of man's relation to the lower life which is about him, and which in the future far more than in the past is to be helped or hindered by his rule. Our life is made up of large problems; but there seem few that are greater than this, which concerns our duty by the creatures that share with us the blessings of existence, and over which we have come to rule.

Sheep-Dogs Guarding a Flock at Night

THE DOG

Ancestry of the Domesticated Dogs.—Early Uses of the Animal: Variations induced by Civilization.—Shepherd-dogs: their Peculiarities; other Breeds.—Possible Intellectual Advances.—Evils of Specialized Breeding.—Likeness of Emotions of Dogs to those of Man: Comparison with other Domesticated Animals.—Modes of Expression of Emotions in Dogs.—Future Development of this Species.—Comparison of Dogs and Cats as regards Intelligence and Position in Relation to Man.

It is an interesting fact that the first creature which man won to domesticity was made captive and friend for the sake of companionship rather than for any grosser profit. The dog was, the world over, the first living possession of man beyond the limits of his own kindred. He has been so long separated from the primitive species whence he sprang that we cannot trace with any certainty his kinship with the creatures of the wilderness. Like his master he has become so artificialized that it is hard to conjecture what his original state may have been.

Naturalists are much divided in opinion in all that relates to the origin of our ancient and common domesticated animals; and this for the reason that the longer a creature has been subjected to the change-bringing conditions of our fields and households, the further it has departed from the parent stock. This difficulty is naturally the greatest in the case of the dogs, for the reason that they have been longer and more completely under the control of man than any other of the lower animals. Some students of the problem have inclined to the opinion that the dog is a descendant of the wolf; the whelps of this species, it is supposed, were captured by primitive men and brought under domestication. Savages, like children, are much given to bringing the young of wild animals to their homes; if the conditions are favorable they will care for these captives, even if the charge upon their resources is tolerably heavy. With most primitive people, however, life is so vagarious and starvation so recurrent that they are not apt to retain their pets long enough to establish domesticated forms. Thus, among our American Indians, though they show fondness for wild creatures as much as any other people, no species save the dog ever became permanently associated with their tribe. It is, however, possible, that in some sedentary group of savages the work of domesticating the ancestors of the dog, even if they were wolf-like, was accomplished.

The difficulty of this view is that even with the high measure of care which the conditions of civilization permit us to devote to the effort, it has been found impossible to educate captive wolves to the point where they show any affection for their masters, or are in the least degree useful in the arts of the household or the occupations of the chase. They are, in fact, indomitably fierce and utterly self-regarding. It seems unreasonable to believe that any savage would have found either pleasure or profit from an effort to tame any of the known species of wolves. Moreover, the fact that dogs show little or no tendency to revert to the form and habits of their brutal kindred, or to interbreed with them, is clearly against the supposition that there is any close relation between the creatures.

Greyhound after "the Kill"

Yet other speculative inquirers have sought the origin of the dog through the admixture of the blood of several different species, the wolf and the jackal being, perhaps, the principal or the only components of the hybrid stock. Here, too, the evidence of nature is against the supposition. No one has ever succeeded in hybridizing the wolf and the jackal, nor do our dogs show any more tendency to revert to the jackal than to the wolf. They meet their tropical relative with as much animosity as is proper, or at least customary, in the intercourse of allied yet distinct species. In fact, all the indices by which we are able to carry back the history of other domesticated animals to their primitive or even extinct ancestry, fail in the case of the dog. When the stock is allowed to go as nearly wild as they can be induced to become, we do not find that they thereby approach to any known wild form. It therefore seems reasonable to betake ourselves to another basis for the natural history of the dog, which has not yet been made a matter of much inquiry, but which promises to afford us more substantial truth than the conjectures which we have just considered.

We should, in the first place, note the fact that the ancestors of our more important domesticated animals, those which have been longest in subjugation, have commonly disappeared from the wild state—the species, except for the cultivated forms, having gone into the irrecoverable past. This is the case with the wild kindred of our bulls, horses, sheep, and camels, there probably being none of the original wild species of these groups now living, except those which have been more or less completely subjugated by man, and then have returned to the wilderness. The fact is, that with any large mammal the domestication of the species tends to bring about the destruction of the remaining wild forms. If we go back in fancy to the time when the dog was taken in from the wilderness, we readily perceive how certainly the subjugated individuals would have mingled with their wild kindred, so that either the wild would have become tame or vice versa. The same incompatibility which exists between slavery and freedom in our own species in any given territory may be said to hold in the case of captive animals. It is particularly on this account that I am disposed to think that our races of dogs have been derived from one or more original species of truly canine ancestors, the wild forms of which have long since disappeared from the earth.

St. Bernard

Although there are no species of wild dogs now in existence to which we can refer the origin of our household friends, there are several known to us only in their fossil state, from which they may possibly—indeed, we may say probably—have been derived. These creatures are, of course, represented only by their skeletons, and even these remains have only been found in an imperfect state of preservation. It is evident, however, that these extinct species, or at least certain of them, lived down to the time when man had come upon the earth, and was beginning to speculate on his surroundings for such company and help as he might win therefrom. It may interest the reader to know that a species of American dog existed in the Southern Appalachians down to a very recent time—recent, at least, in a geological sense. The remains of one of these animals were found by the writer in a cave in East Tennessee, near Cumberland Gap. From the fragments of the skeleton, Mr. J. A. Allen has described the species. The animal appears to have been of moderate size, and, from the position of the bones, it seems tolerably certain that it lived but a few centuries ago.

It is clearly a reasonable supposition that some of these primitive canine species may have been far more domesticable than the existing kindred of the dog—the wolves, foxes, jackals, or hyenas—differing from their fiercer kindred much as the zebras do from the wild asses, the one form being utterly undomesticable, and the other lending its back almost willingly to the burdens which man chooses to impose. It seems likely that this primitive species—perhaps more than one—whence the dog sprang was not a very vigorous or widespread form; else, as before remarked, a savage would have found it impossible to keep his half-tamed creatures from rejoining their wild kinsmen. Thus, if a man should in this day succeed in taming wolves, in a region where they were plenty, to the point where they began to abide his presence, or even to have some slight affection for him, the call of nature would be likely to lead them back to reunion with their kind.

It seems pretty certain that the first steps in the domestication of the dog must be attributed not to any distinct purpose of acquiring a useful companion, but to that vague instinct which leads children to make captives of any wild animals with which they come in contact. The fancy for pets is not only common to all mankind, civilized and savage alike, but is clearly exhibited in many of the mammals below the level of man. Almost every one has observed cases where dogs, cats, and horses have become attached to some creature of an alien species with which they have been by chance thrown in contact. The higher the grade of the intelligence, the more sympathetic with other life the animal is likely to become. Thus the elephants, whose natural endowments in the way of intelligence are perhaps superior to those of any other wild creatures, are, when brought into captivity, curiously prone to form attachments to human beings. Savages appear to make but little use of their dogs in hunting. In fact, those peculiar combinations of instinct and training which we find in our hounds, pointers, setters, and other dogs which have been bred to serve the purposes of sportsmen, have been acquired but slowly, and are of no value except where the search for game is carried on under what we may term civilized conditions. The dog of the savage is in all countries much like his master—a creature with few arts and unaccustomed to subdue his rude native impulses.

Spaniel Retrieving Wild Duck

It seems most likely that for ages the principal use of the dog which dwelt about the camps of the primitive people was found in the reserve food supply which they afforded their thriftless masters. When the hunting was successful the poor brutes had a chance to wax fat, and even in times of scarcity they managed to pick up enough food to keep them alive. When their masters were brought to a state of famine they were doubtless accustomed, as are many savages at the present time, to eat a portion of their pack. In the early conditions of humanity there was no other beast which could be made to serve so well this simple need in the way of provender. The dog is, in fact, the only animal ever domesticated which can be trusted through his own affections alone to abide with his master in the endless changes of camp and the rapid movements of flight and chase which characterized men before their housed state began. In a certain curious way the use of dogs for food has served greatly to advance the development of these captives. When the savage was driven to feed upon his dogs he was naturally more willing to sacrifice the least intelligent and affectionate of them, delaying, to the point of extremity, the time when he would kill those which had endeared themselves to him. In this way for ages a careful though unintended process of selection was applied to these creatures, and to it we may fairly attribute, as many considerate naturalists have done, a large part of the intellectual—indeed, we may say moral—elevation to which they have attained.

When the place of the dog as the first and most intimate companion of man was affirmed in the rude way above described—when the savagery to which he was at first made free gradually enlarged to civilization, a number of special uses were found for the peculiar capacities of the creature. These varied in the different parts of the world, according to the peculiarities in the conditions of the masters. In high latitudes, where the ground is snow-covered during the winter season, dogs were used, as they are to this day, in dragging sleds. They were, indeed, perhaps the first animals which were harnessed to vehicles. When they were brought to serve this definite end, we may well believe that the stronger and more enduring individuals were spared in times of dearth for the reason that they were almost indispensable to their masters, and even the little forethought which we find among primitive peoples would lead to their preservation. Here again, doubtless, came in the process of unintended selection which has made the Esquimau sled-dog one of the most remarkable varieties of his kind.

Perhaps the most interesting of the early variations induced among dogs is that which has arisen from the pastoral habit. We do not know when this custom of keeping sheep in large flocks was first instituted, but it is evidently of exceeding antiquity, probably far older than the pyramids of Egypt. The custom could hardly have been instituted without help of the shepherd's mate, the sheep-dog. Although the creatures of this breed are probably in form very near to the original wild species whence our canines came, the variety has as regards its instincts been, by a process of education and selection, led very far away from the original stock.

The wild forefathers of this species were clearly natural born sheep-slayers, and the motive abides to this day in all the breeds which have the strength to assail our unresisting flocks. The spirit is so ingrained that even the most civilized of our house-dogs, which may for generations never have tasted blood and which show no disposition to attack the other animals of the barn-yard, cannot be trusted alone with sheep. When two or more of them are together the old instincts of the wild pack return, and they will slay with insensate brutality until they are fairly exhausted with their fury. Their behavior on such occasions reminds one of the actions of their masters when possessed with the blind rage of a mob. Yet in the shepherd-dog we find this ancestral motive, once a large part of the life of the creature, so overcome by education and selection that they will not only care for a flock with all the devotion which self-interest can lead the master to give to the task, but they will cheerfully undergo almost any measure of privation in order to protect their charges from harm. The annals of shepherd districts, especially those where winter snows fall deeply, as in Scotland, abound in anecdotes of a well-attested nature which show how profoundly the dogs which tend the flocks are imbued with the love of the animals committed to their care. This affection is more curious for the reason that it is never in any measure returned by the sheep. To them the custodian is ever a dreaded overseer. He seems to bring to them nothing but the memories of danger derived from the experience which their species acquired in far-away times.

It is very interesting to note the behavior of a young shepherd-dog when he is first brought in contact with a flock. It is easy to see that he has an amazingly keen interest in the sheep. He regards them with an attention which he gives to no other living things, except perhaps his master. Out of a litter of well-bred pups belonging to this variety, the greater part will at once assume a curatorial attitude toward a flock. They will show a disposition to keep them together, and will seize on an individual only in case he undertakes to break away. They will generally use no more force than is necessary to reduce the recalcitrant to order. They arrest him by catching hold of the leg or fleece, and rarely seize hold of the throat, which other dogs, led by their inherited instincts, are apt at once to assail. Very rarely does a shepherd-dog of good ancestry, even at the outset of his career, attack a sheep in a way which shows that the ancient proclivities have been revived in his spirit. Even then a little remonstrance, or at most a slight castigation, is pretty sure to turn him from his evil ways. If we could measure in some visible manner the psychic peculiarities of animals, we would be led to regard this great change in the instincts of the dog, which has been brought about by his use in herding, as perhaps the most momentous transformation which man has ever accomplished in any creature, including himself; for none of our own inherited savage traits are so completely sublated at the time of our birth as is this old and sometime dominant slaying motive in the shepherd-dog.

With the advancing differentiation of human occupations and amusements, our breeds of dogs have, by more or less deliberate selection, been developed until by form and instincts they fit a great variety of purposes. Some of these pertain to industrial work, but the greater portion are related to the sports or fancies of men. The turnspit was bred for its short legs and small, compact body, and was serviceable in those treadmills of the hearth which have long since passed out of use, but which were for centuries features in our kitchens.

Bull-Dog

The massive type of bull-dogs, characterized by heavy frames and an indomitable will, appears to have been brought about by a process of selection having for its unconscious end the development of a breed which should render the herdsman of horned cattle something like the assistance which the shepherd-dog gave to those who had charge of flocks. In the more primitive state of our bulls and cows the creatures were much wilder than at present, and were generally kept, not in enclosed pastures, but on unfenced ranges. In these conditions the care taken needed the help which the ancestors of our modern bull-dog afforded. The tasks which the animal was called on to perform were of a ruder nature than those which were allotted to the shepherd-dog. Their business was to conquer the unruly beast. They were taught to seize the muzzle, and by the pain they thus inflicted they could subdue even the fiercer small bulls of the ancient type of form. From this original use the cattle-dogs were turned to the brutal sport of bull-baiting, a rude diversion which was indulged in by our ancestors for centuries, and has only disappeared in our less cruel modern days. Bred for the bull-ring, these dogs acquired the formidable strength and ferocity under excitement which made their name a terror and their qualities a satirical embodiment of the ruder traits which characterized the British folk.

The training which instituted the breed of bull-dogs was evidently much less continuous and effective than that which developed the shepherding variety. The use for the creature in the care of herds has passed away. In the older parts of the world cattle are kept only in enclosures; and where, as on our frontier, they still range over unbounded fields, they are guarded by horsemen who do not need the assistance of dogs to control the movements of the herds. No longer serviceable either in economies or sports, the breed of true bull-dogs is rapidly disappearing. As we may often observe in other fields of development, the peculiarities of this breed are now under the control of fancy, and the blood is being led far away from its old characteristics. The bull-terrier and other varieties, which retain something of the form and of the solemn demeanor which characterized their ancestors, but which are too small to assail horned cattle, mark the vanishing stages of this great stock, which will soon be known only in memory. The history of this peculiar herd-dog shows us how marvellously pliant the body and mind of this species has become under the conditions of civilization. The rude process of unconscious selection, acting without steadfastness of purpose or rationally developed skill, serves to sway the qualities of the animal this way or that to meet the ever-changing requirements of use or fancy. A similar selection in the case of our horned cattle has within a few centuries converted the cows into mild-mannered and sedentary milk-making machines, and has deprived the bulls of the greater part of their ancient savage humor. Owing to this change in the quality of their associates in captivity the dogs have also been led into great variations. The same type of interaction may be traced again and again in the isolated part of the world enclosed within our fences, as well as in the free realm of the wildernesses. All the individuals in the great host of life affect each other as do the soldiers of a well-organized army in the movements of a battle.

The shepherd-dog, the turnspit, and the bull-dog are the three remarkable variations of the canine blood which were brought about by a process of training and selection unconsciously directed to the institution of breeds suited to special economic ends. The other varieties of dogs have been shaped more distinctly for purposes of amusement or for the indulgence of mere fancy. The several varieties of hounds, harriers, beagles, pointers, setters, terriers, etc., have been designed to meet a dozen or more variations in the conditions of the chase. The marvellously complete way in which special peculiarities have been developed in mind and body makes this field of domestic culture the most fascinating subject of inquiry to the naturalist. The ordinary fox-hound has had his inheritances determined so as to fit him for pursuing a small animal which can rarely be kept in view during its flight, and which can only be followed by the odor it leaves in its trail, so these creatures run almost altogether under guidance of their sense of smell. The stag-hound, on the other hand, pursues a relatively large animal which cannot well be followed by the nose, at least with any speed; they therefore trust almost altogether to vision in their chase. The packs which hunt otters have developed the swimming habit and an array of instincts which fit them especially for this peculiar sport. If space allowed we could note at least a dozen divisions of the group of hounds or chasing dogs, each of which has developed a peculiar assemblage of qualities, more or less precisely adapted to some particular game.

Fox-Hound and Pups

Perhaps the most special adaption which man has brought about in his domesticated animals is found in our pointers and setters. In these groups the dogs have been taught, in somewhat diverse ways, to indicate the presence of birds to the gunner. Although the modes of action of these two breeds are closely related, they are sufficiently distinct to meet certain differences of circumstances. The peculiarities of their actions, it should be noted, are altogether related to the qualities of our fowling-pieces. These have been in use, at least in the form where shot took the place of the single ball, for less than two centuries, and the peculiar training of our pointers and setters has been brought about in even less time. It seems likely, indeed, that it is the result of about a hundred and fifty years of teaching, combined with the selection which so effectively works upon all our domesticated creatures. It thus appears that this peculiar impress upon the habits of the hunting-dog is the result of somewhere near thirty generations of culture.

Pointer Retrieving a Fallen Bird

Although, as has been often suggested, the pointing or setting habit probably rests upon an original custom of pausing for a moment before leaping upon their prey, which was possibly characteristic of the wild dog, it seems to me unlikely that this is the case, for we do not find this habit of creeping on the prey among our more primitive forms of dogs nor the wild allied species as a marked feature. All the canine animals trust rather to furious chase than to the cautious form of assault by stealthy approach and a final spring upon their prey, as is the habit with the cat tribe. Granting this somewhat doubtful claim that the induced habits of these dogs which have been specially adapted to the fowling-piece rest upon an original and native instinct, the amount of specialization which has been attained in about thirty generations of care remains a very surprising feature, and affords one of the most instructive lessons as to the possibilities of animal culture.

Pointer and Setter, Flushing Game

It is an interesting fact that the variation of a spontaneous sort, which is now taking place in our pointers and setters, is considerable. It is, perhaps, more distinctly indicated here than in any other of the breeds which are characterized by peculiar qualities of mind. All those familiar with the behavior of these strains of dogs have observed the high measure of individuality which characterizes them. I have recently been informed by a friend, who is a hunter and a very observing naturalist, of one of these variations in the pointer's instinct, which may, by careful selection, possibly lead to a very useful change in the habits of the animal. Hunting the Virginia partridge in the tall grass on the sea-coast of Georgia, his dog found by experience that his master could not discern him when he was pointing birds, and that a yelp of impatience would put up the covey before the gun was ready for them. The sagacious dog, therefore, adopted the habit of backing away from the point where he first fixed himself, so that he, by barking, denoted the presence of the birds without giving them alarm. Although, in this first instance, the action is purely rational, and is indeed good evidence of singular discernment and contriving skill, it seems likely that by careful breeding it may be brought into the realm of pure instinct or inherited habit.

The great variation in habits which is taking place in those varieties of dogs which are immediately under the master's eye during all the process of the chase, is easily explained by the fact that these creatures are in a position to be immediately and constantly influenced during their most active, and therefore teachable state of mind, by the will of man. A pack of fox-hounds is, to a great extent, out of hand while engaged in the pursuit of their prey; but a pointer or setter, even when under extreme excitement, is almost completely mastered by the superior will. When we observe the extent to which human intelligence is affecting the qualities of our hunting-dogs, it is not surprising to note that, in almost every district where there are peculiar kinds of game, varieties of the dog are developing which are especially adapted to its pursuit. Thus, in the parts of North America where the raccoon abounds, a variety of hunting-dog is in process of development which has a singular assemblage of qualities which fit it for this peculiar form of the chase. Although as yet "coon-dogs" have not been cultivated for a sufficient time to acquire distinct physical characteristics, their habits exhibit a larger range of specialization than those of any other breed of sporting dogs.

In those parts of the Americas where peccaries are hunted, the dogs used in their pursuit have learned to beware of assaulting the pack which they have brought to bay, and instead of indulging in the instinct which leads them into that way of danger and of certain death, they circle round the assemblage, compelling them to show front on every side and so to remain stationary until the hunters come up. Perhaps a score of similar specializations in the modes of action of our dogs which are employed in the chase could be recited; but as they all lead us to one conclusion—which is to the effect that these creatures are, as far as their mental powers are concerned, like clay in the hands of the potter—we may pass them by for some considerations which appear to have escaped the attention of writers who have discussed the problems of canine intelligence.

The singular elasticity as regards both mental and physical qualities which the dog exhibits, may well be compared with the other conditions which we find in certain of our domesticated animals, as, for instance, in the horse, where the mind shows but slight changes, and where the body has proved far less plastic than among dogs. The readiness with which the proportions of the dog may, by the breeder's art, be made to vary, is probably due to the fact that the group to which this creature belongs is one of relatively modern institution. It has the plasticity which we note as a characteristic of many other newly-established forms. The flexibility of mind is a concomitant of the carnivorous habit where creatures obtain their prey by the chase. Such an occupation tends to develop agile minds as well as bodies, and where exercised as it doubtless was by the ancestry of the dog, in the manner of pack hunting, where many individuals share in the chase, it is well calculated to insure a certain free and outgoing quality of the mind.

Dutch Dogs used in Harness

So long as our dogs were employed in the labor or the organized recreations of man, the tendency of the association with the superior being was in a high measure educative. They were constantly submitted to a more or less critical but always effective selection which tended ever to develop a higher grade of intelligence. With the advance in the organization of society the dog is losing something of his utility, even in the way of sport. He is fast becoming a mere idle favorite, prized for unimportant peculiarities of form. The effort in the main is not now to make creatures which can help in the employments of man, but to breed for show alone, demanding no more intelligence than is necessary to make the animal a well-behaved denizen of a house. The result is the institution of a wonderful variety in the size, shape, and special peculiarities of different breeds with what appears to be a concomitant loss in their intelligence. We often hear it remarked by those who are familiar with dogs that the ordinary mongrels are more intelligent and more susceptible of high training than the carefully inbred varieties, which are more highly prized because they conform to some thoroughly artificial standard of form or coloring. This is what we should expect from all we know concerning the breeding. Where for generations the dog-fancier has selected for reproduction with reference to the trifling and often injurious features of shape he seeks to attain, he naturally and almost necessarily neglects to choose the creatures in regard to their mental peculiarities. The result is that the breed tends to fall back in these regards to below the level of the ordinary cur, who makes his place in the affections of his owner because he has attractive or useful qualities of mind. It appears to me, in a word, that our treatment of this noble animal, where he is bred for ornament, is in effect degrading.

Although the formation of our fancy breeds does not serve to advance the development of those intellectual features which are the most interesting part of our dogs, the experiments have served to show the amazing physical plasticity of this species under the conditions of long domestication. The range in size between a tiny spaniel, such as those which are bred in Chihuahua, in northern Mexico, and the great Danes or mastiffs of northern Europe, is, perhaps, the greatest which has ever been attained in any mammal. In some cases the larger individuals belonging to the mastiff breed probably weigh nearly thirty times as much as their smaller kinsmen. Great as are these variations, they are only in form and bulk. They involve none of those curious changes in the number of bones of the skeleton which we may trace among the domesticated pigeons. We therefore turn from these results of breeders' fancy to consider certain of the mental qualities of dogs which have not come in our way in our review of the history of its relations to man.

King Charles Spaniel

First of all, we may note the fact that the friendly relations which dogs have become accustomed to form with men vary exceedingly in their range and activity. Perhaps in no other regard does the dog exhibit such distinctly human characteristics as in the way in which he meets the individuals of the mastering species. The gamut of their social relations with men is almost exactly parallel with our own. With from one to a dozen persons a dog may maintain an attitude of almost equally complete sympathy and mutual understanding. He may be on terms of acquaintanceship in varied degrees of familiarity with a few score others with whom he comes in frequent contact. Toward the rest of mankind he maintains a position of more or less complete distrust, which with experience may attain the indifference which men commonly show toward perfect strangers. If we observe a dog going along a much-frequented street, we may note that his relations to the people are substantially those which the folk have to each other. He shows as they do a certain consideration for the individuals he encounters, gives them their due place, and yet holds to his own. It is particularly noticeable that he avoids all contact with the other passers—in fact a dog has to be much beside himself with rage or fear, or insane from disease, before he will break those bounds of personality which civilization has set up to guide the conduct of life.

The social culture of dogs appears to have gone to the point where they recognize the meaning of an introduction—at least as far as the sympathetic relations of that understanding are concerned. Almost any well-bred dog will submit to be presented by his master, or even by persons whom he knows but is not accustomed to obey, to a stranger to whom he has already exhibited some dislike. During the introduction he will submit to those formal exchanges of courtesy which he is accustomed to recognize as the indices of friendship. The impression of this understanding seems to be so permanent that on subsequent meetings the dog, though he may maintain his original dislike of the man who has been forced upon his acquaintance, will continue to treat him with a certain consideration, though it is often easy to see that it is a difficult matter for him to conform to the requirements of society. When we compare the conduct of dogs in these regards with the behavior of other animals, even highly domesticated forms, we perceive how marvellously successful has been man's unconscious effort to mould this creature on his own nature.

Another extremely human characteristic of our canine friends is shown in their susceptibility to ridicule. Faint traces of this quality are to be found in monkeys and perhaps even in the more intelligent horses, but nowhere else save in man, and hardly there, except in the more sensitive natures, do we find contempt, expressed in laughter of the kind which conveys that emotion, so keenly and painfully appreciated. With those dogs which are endowed with a large human quality, such as our various breeds of hounds, it is possible by laughing in their faces not only to quell their rage, but to drive them to a distance. They seem in a way to be put to shame and at the same time hopelessly puzzled as to the nature of their predicament. In this connection we may note the very human feature that after you have cowed a dog by insistent laughter you can never hope to make friends with him. A case of this kind is fresh in my experience. A year or two ago I was imprudent enough to laugh at a very intelligent dog in my neighborhood, he having unreasonably assailed me at my house-door, where he had been left for a long time to wait while his owner was within and had thereby been brought into an unhappy state of mind. Sympathizing with his situation, I preferred to laugh him out of his humor rather than to beat him with my stick. I regret I did not take the other alternative, for I made the poor brute my implacable enemy by my pretence of contempt for him. I am inclined to think that if I had beaten him the matter could have been arranged afterward in a friendly way.

The Pounce of a Terrier

Another very remarkable and I believe hitherto unnoticed likeness between the mind of dogs and that of man is found in the fact that these dumb beasts, unlike all other inferior animals, except, perhaps, some of the more intelligent species of monkeys, will learn lessons from isolated experiences. In this regard they are indeed quite as apt as the lower kinds of men. Thus a dog who has had an unsavory or painful experience with a skunk or a porcupine is apt to keep away from these creatures for a long time thereafter. Where, as is not infrequently the case, a cur takes to eating eggs, a single dose of tartar emetic concealed in an egg which is placed where he can readily find it, is apt to effect an immediate and complete reform. This ready learning from experience is almost the gist of our human quality—at least on the intellectual side of it.

Perhaps the greatest success to which man has attained in his education of the dog is to be found in the measure in which he has overcome the fierce rage which clearly characterized the ancestors of this creature when they first felt the mastering hand. The reader cannot understand the intensity of the rage motive in the carnivora unless he has studied some of these brutes in their wild state, where from the time in the remote ages when they first began to take on the qualities of their species they have survived and won success by the fury of their assault. In almost all our breeds of dogs this primal ferocity has been overlaid by the various motives of rationality, sympathy, and conventional demeanor, until one may live half a lifetime with well-bred dogs without a chance to see the demon which we have buried in their breasts, as we have in our own, beneath a host of civilizing influences. It is rare indeed in our day that a dog, unless insane, will bite a human being. The most of their assaults are pure bluster, mere pretence of fury, as is shown by the fact that if, carried away by their pretence, they are led to use their teeth, it is usually a mere sham assault, having no semblance of the effectiveness of true combat.

Something of the pristine fury of the primitive dogs may still be noted in a certain brutal variety of watch-dogs which are still to be found in parts of continental Europe. The best types of this breed which I have ever seen are to be found among the dogs which are kept to guard the quarries of Solenhofen, in Bavaria, whence come all the fine lithographic stones which are so extensively used in printing. These quarries are scattered over several square miles of untilled country, and the separate pits are to be numbered by the score. As much valuable stone is necessarily left over night in the quarries, their care is confined to packs of watch-dogs which are turned loose at night and appear as if by instinct to spend the hours of darkness in prowling over the territory. Such is their size and ferocity that it takes a sturdy beggar to face them. I remember inadvertently disturbing one of these brutes from sleep, in the strong cage where he was confined, and I have never beheld such a picture of blind fury as he exhibited. I had not come within twenty feet of him, and was merely moving past his place of confinement; yet he sprang to the grating and strove with his teeth to break his way through the bars. I thought the animal must be mad, but his keeper assured me that such was his ordinary state of mind and that the humor was common to all the breed; even the masters dwelt in fear of them. Ordinarily the only exhibitions of the innate ferocity of our dogs are to be seen in their combats with each other, when for a time the creatures return to their primitive state of mind. Even these occasional exhibitions of fury are not found among all breeds of dogs, and among many individuals even of the combative strains of blood the motive of battle appears to have quite passed away.

Pomeranian or "Spitz "

In antithesis to the old Ishmaelitic humor of our primitive dogs, man has developed a singular, sympathetic, and kindly motive in these creatures. From the point of view of the dog's education we must not set too much store by his affection for his master. This kind of devotion of one being to another is displayed elsewhere in the animal kingdom, though it is more common among birds than among mammals. We find traces of it in the greater part of our domesticated creatures or in those which we have individually adopted from the wilderness. It is a part of the great sympathetic motive, which, originating far down in the series of animals, increases as they gain in the scale of being, until it reaches the highest level it has yet attained in spiritually minded men. The eminent peculiarity in the case of a dog is that the very centre of his life is formed of the affections, which are evidently the same as those which rule the days of the most cultivated men. To him these elements of friendliness are absolutely necessary to a comfortable existence. If by chance he becomes separated from his master and the other people with whom he is familiar, his bereavement is intense; but in most cases, at the end of a day or two, he is compelled to form new bonds, and he sets about the task in an exceedingly human way. I dwell in a town where dogs abound and where the frequent coming and going of the people puts many of the creatures astray. Perhaps as often as once a week, almost always late in the evening, one of these unhappy lost ones seeks to make friends with me. His advances toward this end always begin by his dogging my footsteps at a little distance. If I do not repulse him he will come nearer until he has made sure of my attention. A friendly word will bring him to my hand; but his behavior is never effusive, as it would be if he had found his rightful owner, but mildly propitiative and with a touch of sadness. There is, it seems to me, no other feature in the life of the dog which tells so much as to his moral nature as his conduct under these unhappy circumstances.

Poodles

In the long catalogue of human qualities which characterize our thoroughly domesticated dogs, we must not fail to take account of their sense of property. In this the creature differs from all other of our domesticated animals. It is a common characteristic of mammals, both in their wild and tame state, that they feel a motive of ownership in the food which they have captured or in the den which they have made their lair; but beyond these narrow personal limits we see no evidence of any sense of ownership in land or effects. We readily observe, however, that our household dogs not only know the chattels of their master and distinguish them from those of other people, but they also learn to recognize the bounds of their house-lot or even of a considerable farm. When a dog, even of a militant quality, enters on territory which he does not feel to belong to him, he is at once a very different creature as compared to his condition when he is on his own land. He treads warily and will accept without dispute an order to take himself off. A perception of this sort indicates an extraordinary amount of sympathy and discernment. It requires us to assume that the creature has a good sense of topography and that he observes closely the various acts, none of them perhaps very indicative, which go to show the limits of his master's claims.

Although the mental qualities of our highly domesticated dogs are singularly like those of their masters, the likeness going to the point that the household pet is apt to have acquired something of the general character of the people with whom he dwells, there are many suggestive differences arising from failures of development which are in the highest measure interesting to those who study the species. We note, in the first place, that although for ages in contact with the constructive work which occupies his masters, the dog shows no tendency whatever to essay any undertakings of this nature. He is quite alive to considerations of personal comfort and is particularly fond of a warm bed; yet, except for a few unverified stories, we may say that there is no evidence whatever to show that they ever try to improve their conditions by deliberately providing themselves with warm bedding. In no well-attested case has a dog shown any sense as to the nature of any mechanical contrivance. They will learn which way a door opens, and rarely if ever do they undiscerningly close it when it is slightly ajar and they wish to pass through the opening; but I have never been able to observe or obtain evidence to show that they would without teaching pull down a latch in the way in which a cat readily learns to do. Much as dogs have had to do with guns, they display no kind of interest in the arms except so far as they are tokens of sport to come. They connect the explosion with the capture of game, and will search for it in the direction toward which the barrel was pointed. I have not, however, been able to find that they know, as they might readily do, and as a crow would surely do, when the weapon was loaded and when empty. They show no interest in it, such as monkeys readily display toward any mechanical contrivance to which their attention has been directed. All these negative features indicate that the mechanical side of the canine mind is entirely undeveloped.

Collie

Although there is some evidence that the sense of number attains a measure of development in dogs, the ability to form mathematical conceptions of any kind appears to be very weak in this species. The fact that shepherd-dogs, in a way, keep an account of considerable flocks so that they will know when one is gone astray, can readily be explained on the supposition that they know their charges individually and not in sum. The absence of arithmetical capacity is, however, less important than the lack of mechanical sense, for the reason that such incapacity is also common in the lowest races of men. Although dogs, as before noted, quickly and clearly acquire a notion of property rights in all which pertains to their owner's holdings, they appear never to extend their sense of their own personal possessions beyond the original limit to which they had attained when the species was domesticated. The creature feels a sense of personal property in his food and in his sleeping-place, but appears not to extend his conception of individual rights beyond these primitively established limits.

All our well-bred household dogs quickly learn certain bodily habits which are necessary to make them acceptable members of a household. These habits are not well affirmed by inherited instinct, but the ease with which the instruction is acquired shows that they have become prone to submit to such regulations. Culture on this line rests upon a primal instinct, originating we know not how, which leads a number of wild animals to conceal their excrement. On the other hand, these creatures exhibit no sense of modesty, though that, in a more or less complete measure, is characteristic of all human tribes whatsoever.

As regards the memory, dogs appear to have a considerably greater measure of capacity than is observable in any other group of domesticated animals. There is no question that they can recall their associations with people from whom they have been separated for a year or more. Some trustworthy anecdotes appear to establish the fact that the recollections may endure for two or three years. I have observed an instance in which the memory seems perfectly clear after an interval of eighteen months, and this concerned a person who had been with the dog for a period of not more than four days. It is interesting to note the behavior of a dog when he has failed to recognize a person whom he has known well, but from whom he has been long separated. I have a shepherd-dog that has known me well, but the friendship is often interrupted by partings of some months' duration. When, after one of these absences, I appear to him in the distance, he comes furiously towards me, quite possessed by his enmity. At a certain point in his charge a doubt begins to beset him; he moderates his pace; his roaring bark passes into a whine; and as the full measure of his blunder is borne in upon him by my voice, he becomes the picture of shame. In his perplexity, he always finds relief in endeavoring with his paw to scrape a supposititious fly from the side of his nose. He then deals with what I suppose to be an equally imaginary flea; after he has thus gained a few seconds for readjustment, he welcomes me joyously. All this is so thoroughly human-like, that even the naturalist, the professional doubter, is forced to believe that the dog's mind works substantially as his own, and that the feelings connected with the action are essentially the same.

While in the case of the elephant and the pig, and in a less measure in several other of the lower animals, we have indices of as high or even higher intelligence than the dog, no other brute shows anything like the same measure of what we may term human quality. So far as the field of the emotions is concerned, we are driven to believe that it has been bred into the kind by the ages of intimate associations, supported by the selective process which has led people to preserve the individual of the species with which they found themselves the most in sympathy. I repeat the suggestion, and shall repeat it yet again, for the reason that just here—how effectively the reader's imagination will suggest—we find a basis for the hope that, with time and care, man may bring his subjects of the lower realm into a more intimate, affectionate, and helpful relation than is dreamed of by those who look upon them as mere brutes.

The most curious limitation which we find in dogs is as to the measure of expression to which they have attained. No one who has well considered the facts can doubt that our civilized varieties of this species have something like a hundred times as much which deserves utterance as their savage forefathers possessed. Yet the capacity for giving note to these thoughts or emotions has not gained anything like the proportion to the needs. It seems, however, that some gain in this direction has been made, and that much may be won hereafter in the way of further advance. Never having known the species whence our dogs came in its wild state, we are uncertain as to its modes of expression; but, observing the varieties of dogs which are kept by savages, it seems probable that the primitive canines used their voice only in howling or yelping; that is, as a continuous sound akin to the bellowings or other cries of the various wild mammals. It is characteristic of all these primitive forms of utterance that they are, to a great extent, involuntary, and that when the outcry is begun it continues in a mechanical manner, with no trace of modulation arising from the conditions of the moment. In other words, these actions resemble, in a way, sneezing or hiccoughing in human kind; actions which are stimulated by certain states of the body, but which are not at all under the control of the will. Howling or bellowing doubtless represents, in a measure, a state of mind as well as of body, but the action is of a general and uncontrolled kind.

The effect of advancing culture upon a dog has been gradually to decrease this ancient undifferentiated mode of expression afforded by howling and yelping, and to replace it by the much more speech-like bark. There is some doubt whether the dogs possessed by savages have the power of uttering the sharp, specialized note which is so characteristic of the civilized forms of their species. It is clear, however, that if they have the capacity of thus expressing themselves, they use it but rarely. On the other hand, our high-bred dogs have, to a great extent, lost the habit of expressing themselves in the ancient way. Many of our breeds appear to have become incapable of ululating. There is no doubt but this change in the mode of expression greatly increases the capacity of our dogs to set forth their states of mind. If we watch a high-bred dog, one with a wide range of sensibilities, which we may find in breeds which have long been closely associated with man, we may readily note five or six varieties of sound in the bark, each of which is clearly related to a certain state of mind. The bark of welcome, of fear, of rage, of doubt, and of pure fun, are almost always perfectly distinct to the educated ear, and this although the observer may not be acquainted with the creature; if he knows him well, he may be able to distinguish various other intonations—those which express impatience and even an element of sorrow. This last note verges toward the howl.

It does not seem to me that we should regard barking as a new and useful invention; there are, indeed, few such in the organic world. The sound appears to me to have been derived from the primitive habit of howling. If we hearken to this utterance we perceive that it is not an unbroken sound, but is somewhat intermittent. At either end of the prolonged sound we can often notice that it is divided into rather distinct yelps more or less completely separated from the other notes. The cries of a dog when beaten often exhibit the same peculiarity; so, too, the puppy, before he has attained skill in barking, will often prolong each utterance in a way which makes its relation to the ancient mode of expression tolerably clear. At the risk of being deemed fanciful, I venture to suggest that the bark is in effect a division of the howl into clearly separated notes, the change having come about as a similar alteration is effected in our own speech, by the increase in the intelligence which the creature is called upon to express. I conceive that while the primitive and massive emotions found satisfying utterance in the long-drawn notes, the more divided state of mind of the humanized successor has led to a change in its utterances. Although these modifications of speech, if such we may term them, have probably been developed on the basis of the dog's human relations, there is, it seems to me, good reason to believe that the diversities in note have come to have a distinct conventional value between the individuals of all the different breeds. Any one who closely observes these animals must have noticed the fact that the degree of attention they give to the utterances of their kindred varies in a way which indicates that they have great varieties of denotations. Some of the shades of the meaning which a dog's bark has to others of his species probably escape our less fine ears.

The creation of something like a language among our civilized dogs has naturally been accompanied by the development of an understanding of human speech. Although we cannot attach much importance to the mass of anecdote on this point, there is enough which is well attested—sufficient, indeed, which has come within the limits of my own observation—to make it clear that dogs, even without deliberate teaching, frequently acquire a tolerably clear understanding of a number of words and even of short phrases. They will catch these not only when given in distinct command, but when uttered in an ordinary tone, without any sign that they relate to their affairs. It is true that these understood words generally relate to some action which the dog is accustomed to perform, yet there are instances so well attested that they deserve credit, which seem to show that the creatures can get some sense of the drift of conversation even when it is carried on by persons with whom they are not familiar and does not clearly relate to their own affairs.

It should be observed that within the narrow limits of this essay little or no effort has been made to interpret the state of mind of dogs from the vast but rather untrustworthy mass of anecdote with which our books are filled. So large a part of this evidence is contaminated by prepossessions, and a yet larger part is so unverified in any scientific sense, that for purposes of sound inquiry it is worthless. It therefore seems best to limit ourselves, as has been done in this paper, to those general actions of the creatures which are matters of common knowledge and safely beyond question. From these indices we are able to determine a basis for some important conclusions. These are in effect as follows, viz.: Our domestic dog is derived from a species, one or more, akin to the wolf, the jackal, and the fox; to a group of animals not characterized by great native intelligence, but distinguished for their ferocity and their general untamableness. There is no reason to believe that the primitive dog had any more foundation for his great attainments than his obstinately savage kindred, except that he may have had a greater disposition to form an attachment to a master. We can hardly believe that he had any share of that marvellous sympathy with man and understanding of his motives which characterize the high-bred varieties of his species. All this vast transformation, which from a psychological point of view has carried the dog relatively as far up above his origin as civilization has lifted man above his lowest estate, has been due to human intercourse and the long and effective concomitant selection of good from bad. It is hardly too much to say that a large part of our human nature has been transferred into the descendants of this ancient wild beast. The sense of property, a great part of human affections, many of the attributes which constitute the gentleman, have been passed over to him.

In considering the effects arising from the intercourse of man with the dog, we should not overlook the development of human sympathy which has come about through this relation. The fact that the dog has been made by far the most sympathetic of the lower animals, is due to the affection which men for thousands of years have given to him. In his intercourse with this creature, man first learned to develop his altruistic motives beyond the limits of his own kind. With this extension of his affection must have begun the growth of that large motive, which is the most distinguishing feature of our modern life, which leads us to go forth in a loving manner to the living beings about us, not only to our flocks and herds but to the life of the unsubjugated realm as well. Thus, in a way, we may look upon the dog as affording the first steps on the path of culture which was to lift man from his primitive selfishness to the altruistic state to which he has attained.

Great as has been the work of man upon the dog—it deserves, indeed, to be ranked high among all the accomplishments of his culture—there is reason to believe that if he but go forward with understanding in the ways which have hitherto led him blindly to his success, the final result may be very much more perfect than that which has been attained. It is on this account that I feel it fit to make a strong protest against the system our breeders pursue. Except in the case of dogs used in sport and for herding sheep, the sole effort appears to be to create breeds which shall exhibit peculiarities of form which are mere extravagances, and move the real lover of this noble animal to indignation. In these preposterous and unseemly tasks no care is taken to continue the mental development on lines which have been established by long use. Still less is there any effort to essay the development of the intelligence in ways which are clearly open to us, and which afford possibilities of lifting this species to a yet nobler companionship with our own kind.

It seems worth while for our associations of dog fanciers to undertake to develop varieties of dogs solely with reference to the intellectual qualities of the animal. I venture to suggest that those who seek this end should select some of the primitive types of form, such as are found among the undifferentiated mass of the species, those which are improperly termed mongrels, and this for the reason that among these unselected creatures the intelligence is quicker and more varied than it is in the highly developed varieties. Under skilful trainers the successive generations bred in the experimental station should be subjected to tests which will indicate the measure of intellectual ability. The results already attained by the unconscious selection which man has applied serve to indicate that at the end of a century, and perhaps in much less time, we might develop an animal which in various ways would come to a closer intellectual relation with man than any other lower species has attained.

Cats deserve some mention for the reason, that, while they are the least essential, and on the whole the least interesting, of domesticated animals, they have had a certain place in civilization. They afford, moreover, a capital foil by which to set off the virtues of the dog. Nowhere else, indeed, among the creatures which are intimately associated with men, do we find two related forms which afford, along with a certain likeness, such great diversities of quality.

We know nothing as to the time when the cat first found its way to the associations of man. Presumably this period was much later than the advent of the dog into the human family. The presumption rests upon the fact that while the dog does not demand fixed residence as a condition of its fealty, but is at home wherever his master is, the cat is the creature of the domicile, caring more indeed for its dwelling-place than it ever does for the inmates thereof. In a word, the creature must have come to us after our forefathers gave up the nomadic life. Nevertheless, the association is very ancient; it has endured in Egypt at least for a term of several thousand years.

Among the curious features connected with the association of the cat with man, we may note that it is the only animal which has been tolerated, esteemed, and at times worshipped, without having a single distinctly valuable quality. It is, in a small way, serviceable in keeping down the excessive development of small rodents, which from the beginning have been the self-invited guests of man. As it is in a certain indifferent way sympathetic, and by its caresses appears to indicate affection, it has awakened a measure of sympathy which it hardly deserves. I have been unable to find any authentic instances which go to show the existence in cats of any real love for their masters.

In the matter of intelligence cats appear to rank almost as high as dogs. They are even quicker than their canine relatives in discerning the nature of man's artful contrivances; they readily acquire the habit of opening doors which are closed by means of a latch, even where it is necessary to combine the strong pull on the handle with the push that completes the operation. Feats of this sort are rarely if ever performed by dogs.

The most peculiar quality in the mind of cats is the intense way in which they cling to a well-known locality. Their memory of places, and affection for them, if we may so term it, is evidently far greater than that which they feel for people. Some years ago I had an interesting exhibition of this singular humor. A well-grown and thoroughly domesticated cat, one that seemed more than usually attached to people, was brought from my house in town to a place on the shore. When released, the creature seemed for some days to be nearly insane. It did not recognize any of its friends, it betook itself to the fields, and was with difficulty captured at the end of a week of roaming, during which it appeared to have had no food. Confined within one room, it gradually recovered its powers of mind, and began to take account of its friends. In the course of a month it seemed to be reconciled to its surroundings. Nine months after its first sojourn in the wilderness it was again brought from the town to the same place. On the second visit the creature was somewhat uneasy, but this passed away in a day or two. On a third visit, after a like interval, it seemed at once and entirely at home. Nevertheless, its habits while in the country differ very much from those it has in town. In its original domicile it insists on being about the table at meal-times. While in the country it does not care to be present; in fact, it appears to avoid associations with the household. It seems to me that this cat, after the manner of some men whose brains are diseased, now lives in two distinct states of consciousness, each relating to one of its places of abode.

Hounds Running a Wild Boar
(Showing the habit of attacking neck of prey.)

The differences as regards affection for localities which is shown by cats and dogs are perhaps to be accounted for by an original and essential variation in the habits of life in their wild ancestors. Judging by the kindred of the species which are known to us in their wild state, we may fairly suppose that the dogs were of old accustomed to range over a wide field, having no fixed place of abode; the pack ranging, if the occasion served, for hundreds of miles in any direction. On the other hand, with the cats, it is characteristic of the species that they have lairs to which they resort, and a definite hunting ground in which they seek their food. They are, in a word, animals of very determined routine. As there has been no effort by breeding to change this feature, it has remained in all its old ingrained intensity.

As a consequence of the affection which cats have for particular places, they often return to the wilderness when by chance the homes in which they have been reared are abandoned. Thus in New England, in those sections of the district where many farmsteads have of late years been deserted, the cats have remained about their ancient haunts and have become entirely wild. In this State they are bred in such numbers that their presence is now a serious menace to the birds and other weaker creatures of the country. The behavior of these feralized animals differs somewhat from that of creatures which have never been tamed. They have not the same immediate fear of a man, but the least effort to approach them leads to their hasty flight.

While considering the inelastic quality which is exhibited by cats as compared with the dog, the naturalist notes with interest the fact that the former creature belongs to a family which has never been accustomed to any social life beyond the limits of the family. Moreover, all the cats have the habit of hunting in a solitary way, each for itself, in the achievement and in the result. It is otherwise with dogs. They belong to a group which hunts in packs. For ages they have been used to a communal life. Their minds have thus become accustomed to social intercourse; they are used to having their excitements of the chase in comradeship, and generally they are accustomed to the rough-and-tumble fraternity which we behold in a pack of wolves. It was long ago remarked that the really social animals are those which afford the only good material for subjugation. The difference between the cat and dog seems, in a way, to warrant this statement.

Although it is likely that many efforts have been made to domesticate the other larger felines, no distinct success has attended these experiments. A large Asiatic cat known as the chetah is somewhat used in hunting for sport, but the species has never been adopted in any definite way. In fact, with all the larger cats, including the lion, which is structurally a little apart from the other members of the group, the size and furious nature of the animal have made it impossible to begin the process of selection which has been the means whereby the wilderness motive has been replaced by that of the household in the case of all other domesticated beasts.

THE HORSE

Value of the Strength of the Horse to Man.—Origin of the the Solid Hoof.—Domestication of the Horse.—How begun.—Use as a Pack Animal.—For War.—Peculiar Advantages of the Animal for Use of Men.—Mental Peculiarities.—Variability of Body.—Spontaneous Variations due to Climate.—Variations of Breeds.—Effect of the Invention of Horseshoes.—Donkeys and Mules compared with Horse.—Especial Value of these Animals.—Diminishing Value of Horses in Modern Civilization.—Continued Need of their Service in War.

The largest economic problem which primitive people on their way upward towards civilization had unconsciously to face was that of obtaining some kind of strength which could be added to the power of their own weak limbs. For all his eminent capacities of body, man is not a strong animal, nor is he so built that he can apply the measure of strength that is in him to good advantage. There are scores if not hundreds of species with which he came in contact in his effort to dominate nature that are stronger, swifter, and better provided with natural weapons. With the first step upward, as in almost all the succeeding steps, the advance depended on securing more energy than that with which our kind was directly endowed. It is hardly too much to say that the progress of mankind beyond the savage state would probably never have been effected but for the bodily help which has been rendered by a few domesticated animals.

From the point of view of the student of domesticated animals the races of men may well be divided into those which have and those which have not the use of the horse. Although there are half a score of other animals which have done much for man, which have indeed stamped themselves upon his history, no other creature has been so inseparably associated with the great triumphs of our kind, whether won on the battle-field or in the arts of peace. So far as material comfort, or even wealth, is concerned, we of the northern realms and present age could, perhaps, better spare the horse from our present life than either sheep or horned cattle; but without this creature it is certain that our civilization would never have developed in anything like its present form. Lacking the help which the horse gives, it is almost certain that, even now, it could not be maintained.

We know the ancient natural history of the horse more completely than that of any other of our domesticated animals. We can trace the steps by which its singularly strong limbs and feet, on which rests its value to man, were formed in the great laboratory of geologic time. The story is so closely related to the interests of man that it will be well briefly to set it before the reader. In the first stages of the Tertiary period, in the age when we begin to trace the evolution of the suck-giving animals above the lowly grade in which the kangaroos and opossums belong, we find the ancestors of our mammalian series all characterized by rather weakly organized limbs fitted, as were those of their remoter kindred the marsupials, for tree climbing rather than for moving over the surface of the ground. The fact is, that all the creatures of this great clan acquired their properties of body in arboreal life, and with such relatively small and light bodies as were fitted for tree climbing. For this use the feet need to be loose-jointed, and so the system of five toes, each terminating in a sharp and strong nail or claw, became fixed in the inheritances. When, gaining strength and coming to possess a more important place in the world, these ancient tree-dwellers were able to occupy the ground which of old had been possessed by the great reptiles, the limbs that had served well for an arboreal life had to undergo many changes in order to fit them for progression in the new realm.

If we watch the progress of a bear over the surface of the ground, we readily perceive how lumbering is its gait and how poor the speed which it attains. Its slow and shambling movement is due to the fact that it has the tree-climbing foot, and is not well fitted for motion such as is required in running. To attain anything like speed in this exercise it is necessary to support the body on the tips of the toes. Every man who has gained any skill in this art knows full well how incompetent he is if he tries to run with rapidity in the flat-footed manner. The bear cannot essay this method of progression on the toe-tips because its loose-jointed feet cannot be made to support its heavy body. In this way arose the necessity of developing a peculiar kind of foot when that part had to serve for rapid locomotion. The experiments to this end have been numerous and varied. Thus in the elephants, which retain the originally numerous toes, the bones of these members are planted in an upright position and tied together with such strong muscles and sinews, that the foot parts have something like the solidity and strength of the upper portions of the legs. In the single-hoofed or horse-like forms, and in the cloven-footed animals, other series of experiments have been tried which in the end have proved most successful, giving us animals with the speediest movements of any animals except the creatures of the air.

A Hunter

The success which has been attained in our ordinary large herbivora, and which has made them competent to evade the chase of the beasts of prey, has been accomplished by reducing the number of the toes, giving the strength of the aborted parts to increase the power of those remaining. The result is the formation of two great groups, the double-hoofed forms, including the pigs, deer, cattle, sheep, and their kindred, and the single-toed species, of which our horse is the foremost example. In the reduction of the number of toes, different plans were followed in each of these groups. In the cloven-hoofed forms, a single toe first disappeared, leaving but four; then the two outer of these were aborted, leaving two nearly equal digits. In the series of the horse, where we can trace the change more clearly, we find the earliest form five-toed, but the outer and inner digit shrunken so as to become of little use. This condition of the creature in the early Tertiaries gives us the beginning of the equine series, and shows that far away as the creature is now from ourselves, it originated from the main stem of mammalian life, from which our own forms have sprung. In the next higher stage in time, and likewise in development, we find these lessened toes at their vanishing point, and two of the remaining digits, lying on either side of what corresponds to the middle finger in our own hands, beginning to shrink in length and volume, while the central toe becomes larger and stronger than before. Last in the series we come to our ordinary equine form, in which nothing is left but the single massive extremity, though the remnants of two of the toes can be traced in the form of slender bones known as splints, which are altogether enclosed within the skin which wraps the region about the fetlock joints.

As if it were to show to us the history of this marvellous organic achievement, nature now and then, though seldom—perhaps not oftener than one in ten million instances—sends forth a horse with three hoofs to each leg. Two of these are small and lie on either side of the functioning extremity. Each of these hoofs is connected with a splint-bone which has in some way suddenly become reminded of its ancient use, and develops in a manner to imitate the creatures which passed from the earth millions of years ago. In most cases the splint-bones have no function whatever to perform. They are indeed superfluous and injurious parts, and are likely from time to time to be worse than useless, becoming the seats of disease. In this beautiful instance, perhaps the fairest of all those showing how the highly developed forms of our time retain a memory of their ancestral life, we see how the advance in the series of the horse has been effected against the resistance ancient organic habit opposes to all gains. We can therefore the better understand how the building of the hoof represents the labor of geologic ages during which the slow-made gains were won.

In its present elaborate form, the hoof of a horse is the most perfect instrument of support which has been devised in the animal kingdom to uphold a large and swiftly moving animal in its passage over the ground. The original toe-nail, and the neighboring soft parts connected with it, have been modified into a structure which in an extraordinary manner combines solidity with elasticity, so that it may strike violent blows upon the hard surface of the earth without harm. The bones of the toe to which it is affixed have enlarged with the progressive loss of their neighbors of the extremity, until they fairly continue the dimensions of the bony parts of the leg. Moreover, they have lengthened out, so as to give the limb a great extension, and this, in turn, magnifies the stride which the creature can take in running. The result is that the horse can carry a greater weight at a swifter speed than any other animal approaching it in size.

On Rotten Row, Hyde Park, London

The needs which led, in a slow accumulative way, to the invention of the admirable contrivance of the horse's foot, were doubtless founded on the necessities of swift movement in fleeing from the great predaceous animals. Incidentally, however, as this development has gone on, the peculiarities of the extremity have proved highly advantageous in defence, and the creatures have acquired certain peculiar ways of using their feet effectively to this end. The solid character of the hoof, its considerable weight, and the great power of the muscles of the hams, which are the principal agents in propelling the animal, make the hind feet capable of delivering a very powerful blow. The measure of its efficiency may be judged from the fact that a lion has been slain by a stroke from the foot of a donkey, and in their wild state a herd of horses with their heads together, can beat off the attack of the most powerful beasts of prey. In using the hind feet for assault or defence, horses have adopted an effective method of kicking which is unknown among other animals. Resting on their fore-legs, the hinder feet are thrown backward and upward, so that they may strike a blow six feet from the ground. Many of our cloven-footed animals have learned to strike cutting blows with the sharp hoofs of their fore-limbs—our bulls will stamp a fallen enemy with great force; but the backward kick of the horse is a peculiar movement, and is distinctly related to the peculiar structure of the animal's extremities.

It is an interesting fact that the development of a long and slowly elaborated series leading to the making of the horse appears to have taken place mainly, if not altogether, in the region about the headwaters of the Missouri River. In the olden days when this great work was done, that part of our continent was a well-watered country, much of its surface being occupied by great lakes which have long since disappeared. In the deposits accumulated in these bodies of fresh water are found the bones of the olden species telling the history of their series. It is not yet certain that the final step of the accomplishment which gave us our existing species was effected in this land. It seems indeed most likely that the ancestral form of our domesticated horses found their way to the continents of the Old World, and there underwent the last slight changes, before they were made captive by man. If there ever were perfect horses on this continent, they had passed away from its area before the coming of man to the land. The history of our aborigines would have been quite other than it has been, if they had had a chance to win the assistance of this noble helpmeet.

Central Asia appears to have been the domicile of the horse when he first began his acquaintance with our kind. We do not know the original form of the creature. The wild horses existing at the present day in that part of the world, and which plentifully occur in other regions whereunto they have been taken by man, appear to have been set free from captivity.

Horse of a Bulgarian Marauder

The first domestication of the horse appears to have been brought about, at an early time in the history of our race, in northern Asia. The time when this feat was accomplished antedates our records. The creature may first have come into possession of the Tartar tribes, but it quickly passed over Asia and Europe and shortly became the mainstay of the Aryan and Semitic folk. None other of our domesticated forms has been disseminated with like rapidity, or at the outset with as little change in its original features. From the first the horse seems to have been mainly used as a saddle and pack animal. It has never served in any considerable measure for food. The failure to make use of the flesh of this animal appears to be common to most of the savage or barbaric people who keep horses, and has been transmitted in a singularly definite way to all civilized folk. The origin of such a prejudice, despite the fact that the flesh of the horse is of excellent quality, can only be explained through the sympathetic motives common to all men. Their association with the horse, as with the dog, is so intimate as to make the use of these animals in the form of food more or less repugnant. In a small though unimportant way, mares have been used for milk, and there seems no reason to doubt that, if they had been carefully bred for this purpose, they might have been as serviceable as the cow. It may be that the failure to use the milk of the horse is to be accounted for on the same ground as the dislike to its flesh.

The horse was probably at first most valued for its use in war. The peoples which possessed it certainly had a great advantage over their less well provided neighbors. In fact the development of the military art, as distinguished from the mere fighting of savages, was made easy by the strength, endurance, fleetness, and measure of bravery characterizing this creature. In the wide range of species which have been domesticated or might be won to companionship with man, there is none other which so completely supplements the imperfect human body, making it fit for great deeds. If the horse had been much smaller or larger than he is, he would have been far less serviceable to man. It was a most fortunate accident that the creature came to us with the proportions which insured a high measure of utility in various lines of activity. The elephant has been found too large for agricultural uses, and too powerful to be controlled by the will and force of his master under conditions of excitement.

Mare and Foal

Those peoples which early acquired the resources in the way of strength and fleetness which the horse put at their disposition, became inevitably the conquerors of the folk who were denied these advantages. If we consider the conditions which have led to the domination of the world by the Aryan and Semitic people, and the races which they have affiliated with them, we readily discern the fact that they have, to a great extent, won by horse-power rather than by their own physical strength. Thus equipped by their able servants, they have pressed outward from their ancient realms and have in a way overridden the tribes which were unmounted.

So imposing is the effect of the horsed man on all peoples who are without previous knowledge of the united creatures, that it always carries fear to their hearts. To such folk the combination appears as a single terrible being. The ease with which the Spaniards conquered Mexico and Peru can, to a great extent, be attributed to the awe carried into the ranks of the savage footmen by their mail-clad horses. The Greeks, who were wont to represent the forces of nature and the accomplishments of man by skilfully constructed myths, have left a record showing their appreciation of the strength derived from the union of horse and man, in their fable of the Centaur, which possibly grew up in a time before their people had won the use of the animal, and when they only knew the creature by chance encounters with enemies who were mounted upon them. Although the naturalist of to-day perceives the impossibility of there ever having been on this earth a form uniting the trunk and fore-limbs of a quadruped to the upper part of a man's body, such scientific conceptions are a part of our modern, recently acquired store of knowledge. To the Greeks of the myth-making age the creature, half man, half horse, added but one more wonder to the vast store the world already contained. The currency of this fable shows us very clearly how great was the impression which the horse made upon primitive peoples.

To perceive the value of the horse in those ancient contests which opened the paths of civilization, we must note the fact that, until the invention of gunpowder, success in breaking the ranks of an enemy depended mainly on the charge. With a large body of vigorous horsemen it was generally possible to overwhelm an enemy's line of battle, either by direct assault or by an attack on its flank or rear. If the reader is curious to see the value of horsemen in ancient warfare, he should read the story of the campaigns of Hannibal against the Romans in Italy. The first successes of that great commander—victories which came near changing the history of the western world—were almost altogether due to the strength lying in his admirable Numidian cavalry. The Romans were already good soldiers, their footmen more trustworthy than those which the Carthagenian general could set against them; but with his horsemen, as at Cannæ, he could wrap in the Roman line and reduce the most valiant legions to the confused herd which awaited the butcher.

Cavalry Horse

Although the invention of firearms has somewhat changed the conditions under which cavalry may be used, making indeed the direct charge more costly to the assailant than the assailed, it has in no wise diminished, but rather increased, the value of horses in military campaigns. In the line of battle horses have become necessary for the conveyance of field officers and messengers, and the right arm of battle, the artillery, could not possibly be managed except by horse-power. The swift marches of modern armies, by hastening the issue of contests, have spared the world half the woes of its great campaigns, and are made possible by the ready movement of supply trains, which could not be effected except by the help of these creatures. The result is that a large part of the military strength of any state rests not only in the valor and training of its fighting men, but in the supply of horses that its fields may afford. In this connection it is instructive to compare the military strength of a country like China, where the horse is not a common element in the life of the people, with that of any of the western folk who may hereafter have to wrestle with that populous empire. Some writers, in their efforts to forecast the large politics of the future, have imagined that when the hardy and obedient Chinaman came to receive the European training in the military art, the armies of that country might prove from their numbers a menace to our own civilization. Such an issue seems in a high degree improbable, for the reason that the eastern realm could not provide the horses which would be necessary for the use of invading armies; nor is it at all likely that the rigid framework of their society will ever be so altered as to provide an abundance of these animals.

Plough Horses, France

Although in the first instance the horse served mainly, if not altogether, as an ally of man in his contests with his neighbors, its most substantial use has been in the peaceful arts. As pack animal and drawer of the plough, the ox appears in general to have come into use before its swifter companion. The displacement of horned cattle has been due to the fact that their structure and habits make them much less fit for arduous and long-continued labor than the horse has been found to be. The cloven foot, because of its division, is weak. It cannot sustain a heavy burden. Even with the unincumbered weight of the body of the animal, the feet are apt to become sore in marches which the heavily mounted horse endures unharmed. Centuries of experience have shown that while the ox is an excellent animal for drawing a plough in a stubborn soil, and is well adapted to pulling carriages where the burden is heavy and the speed is not a matter of importance and the distance not great, the creature is too slow for the greater part of the work which the farmer needs to do. The pace which they can be made to take in walking is not more than half as great as that of a quick-footed horse moving in the same gait; and the ox is practically incapable, because of its weak feet, of keeping up a trot on any ordinary road. But for the fact that an aged ox may be used for beef, they would doubtless long since have ceased to serve us as draught animals. As it is, with the growing money value of the laborer's time, this slow-moving creature is steadily and rather rapidly disappearing from our farms. This change, indeed, is one of the most indicative of all those now occurring in our agriculture. It is an excellent example of the operations which the increase in the workman's pay is bringing into our civilization.

The natural advantages of the horse for the use of man consisted in its size, strength, and endurance to burden; form of the body, which enabled a skilful rider to maintain his position astride the trunk; and the peculiar shape of the mouth and disposition of the teeth which made it possible to use the bit. With these direct physical advantages there were others of a physiological and psychic sort, of equal value. The creature breeds as well under domestication as in the wilderness; the young are fit for some service in the third year of their life, and are, at least in the less elaborated breeds, in a mature condition when they are five years old. Experience shows that the animal can subsist on a great variety of diet, being in this regard surpassed only by its humbler kinsman the donkey, and by the goats. There are few fields so lean that they will not maintain serviceable horses. They do well alike in mountain pastures and amid the herbage of the moistest plainland.

The mental peculiarities of the horse are much less characteristic than its physical. It is indeed the common opinion, among those who do not know the animal well, that it is endowed with much sagacity, but no experienced and careful observer is likely to maintain this opinion. All such students find the intelligence of the horse to be very limited. It requires but little observation to show that the creature observes quickly, and in some way classifies the objects with which it comes in contact. The fear aroused in it by unknown things makes this feature of attention to the surrounding world very evident. Almost all these animals retain a tolerably distinct memory of the roads which they have traversed, even if they have passed over them but a few times. The studies which I have made on this point show me that the average horse will be able to return on a road which it has traversed a few hours before, with less risk of blundering than an ordinary driver. Some well-endowed animals can remember as many as a dozen turnings in a path over which they have journeyed three or four times. It seems almost certain that their guidance in these movements is not at all effected by the sense of smell, but is due to a distinct memory of the detailed features of the country.

Belgian Fisherman's Horse

Good as is the horse's memory, it is difficult to organize its actions on that basis. Only in rare cases and with much labor can he be taught to execute movements that are at all complicated. Fire-engine horses may be trained of their own will to step into the position where they are to be attached to the carriage. Some artillery horses will, as I have noticed, associate the sound of the bugle with the resulting movements of the guns and take the appropriate positions, where they may be out of danger in the rapid swinging of the teams and carriages. It is partly because of this training received by disciplined artillery horses, that it seems to many experienced officers not worth while to have militia companies in this arm, who have to manœuvre with animals untrained for the service. Although some part of this mental defect in the horse, causing its actions to be widely contrasted with those of the dog, may be due to a lack of deliberate training and to breeding with reference to intellectual accomplishment, we see by comparing the creature with the elephant, which practically has never been bred in captivity, that the equine mind is, from the point of view of rationality, very feeble.

The emotional side of the horse's nature seems little more developed than its rational. Although they have a certain affection for the hand which feeds them, and in a mild way are disposed to form friendships with other animals, they are not really affectionate, and never, so far as I have been able to find, show any distinct signs of grief at separation from their masters or of pleasure when they return to them. Although there are many stories appearing to indicate a certain faithfulness in horses which have remained beside their fallen and wounded riders, the facts do not justify us in supposing that such actions are due to the affection a dog clearly feels.

Horses for Towing on the Beach in Holland

We have been singularly led astray by a chance use of the epithet "horse," which has come to be applied to many organic forms and functions where strength is indicated. Thus, in the case of plants we speak of "horse-radish" or "horse-mint," denoting thereby spices which have strong qualities. Horse-chestnut is another instance of the application of the term to plants. It chanced that "horse-sense" came to be used to indicate a sound understanding, and in an obscure way, but in a manner common with words, this has led to a vague implication of mental capacity in the animals whence the term is derived. The fact is that our horses, as far as their mental powers are concerned, appear to be the least improvable of our great domesticated animals.

A Hurdle Jumper

Little elastic as the horse appears to be on the psychic side of its nature, in its physical aspects it is one of the most plastic of all the forms subjected to the breeder's art. It requires no more than a glance at the streets of our large cities to see how great is the range in size, form, and carriage of these animals which may be found in any of our great centres of civilization. We readily perceive that these variations have a distinct relation to the several divisions of human activity in which this creature has a share. The massive cart-horse, weighing it may be as much as eighteen hundred or two thousand pounds, heavy limbed, big headed, unwilling to move at a pace faster than a slow trot, yet not without the measure of beauty seemingly inseparable from the species, contrasts very markedly with the alert saddle animal bred for speed and grace, and for the easy movement which makes it comfortable to the equestrian. Between these extremes we may note minor differences which, though they may not strike those persons who take only a commonplace view of the creatures, are most marked to the initiated. The trotter, the coach horse, the strong but nimble animals which are used in fire-engines and other heavy carriages which have to be swiftly moved, mark the results of breeding designed to insure particular qualities, and show how readily the physical features of the animal can be made to fit to our desires.

Although from an early day a certain amount of care has been given to breeding horses for saddle purposes, the careful and continuous choice which has led to the modern variations is a matter of only a few centuries of endeavor. So far as we can judge from the classic monuments, the olden varieties were mere varieties of the pony—the small, compact, agile creature which had not departed far from the parent wild form. It seems to me doubtful whether any of the horses possessed by the Greeks or Romans attained a weight much exceeding a thousand pounds, or had the peculiarities of our modern breeds. The first considerable departure from the original type appears to have been brought about when it became necessary to provide a creature which could serve as a mount for the heavy armored knights of the Middle Ages, where man and horse were weighted with from one to two hundred pounds of metal. To serve this need it was necessary to have a saddle animal of unusual strength, weighing about three-quarters of a ton, easily controllable and at once fairly speedy and nimble. To meet this necessity the Norman horse was gradually evolved, the form naturally taking shape in that part of Europe where the iron-clad warrior was most perfectly developed. In the tapestries and other illustrative work of that day, when the knight won tournaments and battle-fields, gaining victory by the weight and speed which he brought to bear upon his enemies, we can see this splendid animal, in physical form, at least, the finest product of man's care and skill in the development of the lower species.

With the advance in the use of firearms the value of the Norman horse in the art of war rapidly diminished. This breed, however, has, with slight modifications, survived, and is extensively used for draught purposes where strength at the sacrifice of speed is demanded. It is a curious fact that the creatures which now draw the beer wagons of London often afford the nearest living successors in form to the horses which bore the mediæval knights. It is an ignoble change, but we must be grateful for any accident which has preserved to us, though in a somewhat degraded form, this noblest product of the breeder's art, which, even as much as the valor of our ancestors, won success for our Teutonic folk in their great struggle with Islam. A tincture of this Norman blood, perhaps the firmest fixed in the species of any variety, pervades many other strains most valuable in our arts. The best of our artillery horses, particularly those set next the wheels, are generally in part Norman. In the well-known American Morgan, the swiftest and strongest of our harnessed forms, the observant eye detects indications of this masterful blood.

The Norman strains of horses retain certain interesting indications of their ancient lineage and occupation. As appears to be common with old breeds, the stock is readily maintained. It breeds true to its ancestry, with little tendency to those aberrations so common in the newly instituted varieties. When crossed with other strains, the effect of the intermixture of this strong blood is distinctly traceable for many generations. In their mental habits these creatures still appear to show something of the effects of their old use in war; it is a valiant race, less given to insane fear than other strains, and, even under excitement, more controllable than the most of their kindred. So far as I have been able to learn, they seem singularly free from those wild panics which are so common among our ordinary horses. It does not seem to me fanciful to suppose that these qualities were bred in the stock during the centuries of experience with the confusion of battle-fields and tournaments.

Exercising the Thoroughbreds

The horse, in common with the other domesticated animals varying readily in the hands of the breeder, undergoes a certain spontaneous change which in a way corresponds to the physiography of the region in which it is bred. At first sight it may seem as if these alterations are due to the admixture of previously existing varieties, or to the institution of peculiarities by some process of selection. I am, however, well convinced that these variations are in good part due to a direct influence from the environment. Thus in our high northern lands there is a distinct and spontaneous reduction in size of the creatures, which attains its farthest point in the Shetland pony. Again, as we go toward the tropics, a like though less conspicuous decrease in bulk is observable. The largest animals of the species develop in the middle latitudes, the realm where the form appears to have acquired its characters. The speed with which these local variations are made is often great. Thus the horses of Kentucky have, in about a century, acquired a certain stamp of the soil which makes it possible, in most cases, for the observer to identify an individual as from that State, though he may find it in a field a thousand miles away. The defining indications are not limited altogether to bodily form, but are shown in what might seem trifling features of carriage and behavior. The difference between the horses of Great Britain and those of the United States seems to me, from repeated observations, to be quite as great as that separating the men of the two realms. I believe that if a lot of a thousand, taken in equal parts from either land, were put together, a person well accustomed to taking account of these animals could separate them into two herds, with less than ten per cent. of error. It is doubtful if a more perfect selection could be made if the same experiment were tried on an equal number of men, provided the indices to be derived from peculiarities of speech or dress could be excluded.

An Arabian Horse

By some the Arabian horse is thought to be the most remarkable specialization of the kind which has been attained. In his native country and in his perfection, the Arab breed has been seen by but few persons who have been specially trained in noting the peculiarities of the animal. So far as I have been able to judge by pictures and a few specimens, said to be thoroughbreds of their stock, which I have had a chance to see, the Arabian form of the horse appears to have been led less far away from the primitive stock than many of our European and American varieties.

Arabian Sports

The very great, if not the preëminent, success of the horse in Arabia is the more remarkable from the fact that it has been attained under conditions which, from an a priori point of view, must be deemed most unfavorable. This variety has been bred in a land of scant herbage and deficient water-supply, where the creature has had from time to time, indeed we may say generally, to endure something of the dearth of food which stunts the Indian ponies and the other horses of the Cordilleran district. The ancestors of the horse appear to have attained their development in well-watered and fertile regions. All the varieties bred within the limits of civilization do best on rich pasturages such as Arabia does not afford. The success of the horse in that land shows how devoted must have been the care which has been given to its nurture. Fitting, as the Arabian horse does, exactly to the needs of nomadic people engaged in almost constant warfare, it has naturally been a far more important helper to the wild folk of the desert lands about the eastern Mediterranean and the Red Sea than to any other race. In those lands horses fell into the keeping of a very able folk. The contrast between the care devoted to the animals by them, and that which our Indians give to their ponies, is a fair measure of the difference in the ability of these very diverse races.

As a whole, the horse demands for his best nurture and keeping an amount of care required by no other animal which has been won to the uses of man, unless perhaps it be the silkworm. Kept in its best state, the horse has to be sedulously groomed. To be maintained in its very best condition some hours of human labor must each day be given to keeping his skin in order. The effect arising from a friction on the horse's hide is not confined to the beauty that comes from cleanliness, but in a curious way reacts upon the general nervous tone of the animal. All those who are familiar with horses will, I think, agree with me that much grooming distinctly increases the endurance and elasticity of their bodies. The influence of the grooming process appears to be somewhat like that obtained by massage and friction of the skin in the training of an athlete. More than once I have had occasion to observe the effect of this process on some ancient horse of good blood, which for years had been allowed in its old age to go uncared for as an idle tenant of the pastures. Two or three days of assiduous grooming will bring back the strength and suppleness to the aged limbs, and restore something of the olden spirit. The effect obtained from this care is the more remarkable for the reason that nothing similar to it was experienced by the wild ancestors of these creatures. It is as artificial as bathing in the case of man. The influence of the treatment shows how very unnatural is the state of our civilized horses.

The task of providing horses with food is more considerable than in the case of any of our other domesticated creatures. By nature the animal is a frequent feeder, and does not well endure long fasts. Its stomach is rather small for the size of the body, and the digestive process appears to be more than usually rapid. A mounted animal, when taxed to its utmost, should be fed four or five times a day, and with less than three good meals is apt to break down. No such care in the matter of provender is necessary in the case of the other members of man's animal family. The contrast between the physiological conditions of the camel and those of the horse are fully recognized by the Arabs, in their almost complete neglect of the individuals of the one species and their exceeding care of the other.

English Polo Ponies

Perhaps the greatest element of care which man has had to devote to the horse is found in the matter of shoeing. In the state of nature the admirably constructed hoof sufficiently provided the animal against the excessive wearing of its horny extremity. Nature, however, rarely provides for more strength and endurance than the creature in its wild state demands; and so it comes about that when horses have to bear burdens or draw carriages, particularly on roadways, their unprotected feet will not withstand the strain which is put upon them, the rate of growth of the structure composing the hoof not being sufficiently rapid to make good the wearing which these unnatural conditions impose. For thousands of years, in the roadless stages of man's development, the difficulties arising from the wearing of the hoof were not serious, for the creatures trod either on turf-covered plains or on the soft ways of the desert. When the advance of culture made roads necessary, when carriages were invented and something like our modern conditions were instituted, it became imperatively necessary to provide additional protection for the feet. We find the Greeks, in the classic time, wrestling with this problem. Xenophon, in his treatise on the care of horses, advises that they be reared on stony ground, he having observed that, in a natural way, the hoof becomes somewhat adapted to the necessities of its conditions. The Romans found the difficulty from the tender foot of the horse yet more serious on their paved roads; but both these classic people showed, in their ways of dealing with the difficulty, that lack of inventive skill which so curiously separates the olden from the modern men. They devised soles of leather and bags as coverings for the horse's feet, but none of the contrivances could have been very serviceable. All such coverings must have been quickly worn out in active use.

So far as we can determine, it was not until about the fourth century of our era that the iron horseshoe was invented. This valuable contrivance appears to have originated in Greek or Roman lands, probably in the former realm, for it first bore the name of "selene," from its likeness to the crescent shape of the new moon. Although simple, the horseshoe was a most important invention, for it completely reconciled the animal to the conditions of our higher civilization by removing the one hinderance to its general use in the work of war and commerce. It is probable that with this invention began the great task of differentiating the several breeds of European horses for their use in various employments, as draught animals for packing purposes, as light saddle horses, and the bearing of armored men. Neither the draught nor the war horses of Europe could well have been specialized until their heavy bodies were separated from the ground by these metallic coverings of the hoof.

Syrian Horse

Much has depended on the specialization of the horse into different breeds, made possible by the iron shoe. By reconciling the creature to uses—agriculture, which depends on draught animals, and the commerce of importance, which can only be effected by means of wagons—the rapid economic development of our civilization was made possible. By developing a horse capable of bearing an armored man, Europe was brought into a condition in which organized armies took the place of mere forays, and so the development of centralized states was promoted. In the warfare between the Mohammedans and the Christian states of Europe, in the campaigns with the Turks and the Saracens, it is easy to see that the powerful breeds of horses reared in western and northern Europe were a mighty element in determining the issue of the contest. The battles of these momentous campaigns represented, not only a struggle between the Christian Aryans and the Semitic followers of Mahomet, but, in quite as great a degree, the war was waged between the light and agile steeds of the Orient and the massive and powerful animals that bore the mail-clad warriors of the West. On the field of Tours, when the fate of Christian Europe for hours hung in the balance, we may well believe that the strong and enduring horses of the northern cavalry did much to give victory to our race.

Along with our general account of the place of the horse in civilization, it is fit to give something to the story of his near, though inferior, kinsmen, the ass and the mule, both of which have played a subordinate, though important, part in the same field of endeavor in which the nobler species has done so much for man. The original progenitors of our donkeys differed from the ancestral form of the horse by variations of good specific value. So far as we can determine from visible features, these forms were more distinctly parted than the dog and the wolf, or either of these animals from the jackal. Nevertheless, these equine forms are clearly closely akin, for they may be bred together. Although the original stock of the ass may possibly have been lost, it seems most likely that the wild forms which exist in Asia have not wandered off from captivity, but are the remnants of the original wilderness form.

It appears likely that the two domesticated equine species have been under the care of man for about the same length of time; but the difference in their condition, and in the place which they hold in civilization, is very great. As we have seen, the horse has been made to vary in a singular measure, its form and other qualities changing to meet the need or fancy of its master. Its humbler kinsman has remained almost unchanged. Except small differences in size, the donkeys in different parts of the world are singularly alike. In part this lack of change may be explained by the relative neglect with which this species has been treated. From the point of view of the breeder it has perhaps been the least cared for of any of our completely domesticated animals. In some parts of the world, as for instance in Spain, where a long-continued effort has been made to develop the animal for interbreeding with the horse, the result shows that the form is relatively inelastic. It is doubtful if any conceivable amount of care would develop such variations as the horse now exhibits.

The principal hinderances to the general acceptation of the donkey as a help-meet to man are found in its small size and slow motion. These qualities make the creature unserviceable in active war or in agriculture, and they seem to be so fixed in the blood that they are not to any extent corrigible. So long as pack animals were in general use, and in those parts of the world where the conditions of culture cause this method of transportation to be retained, the qualities of the donkey have proved and are still found of value. The animal can carry a relatively heavy burden, being in such tasks, for its weight, more efficient than the horse. It is less liable to stampedes. It learns a round of duty much more effectively than that creature, and can subsist by browsing on coarse herbage, where a horse would be so far weakened as to become useless. Thus, in developing the mines in the unimproved wilderness of the Cordilleras, where ores of the precious metals have to be carried for considerable distances, trains of "burros" are often employed. The animals quickly learn the nature of their task, and will do their work with but little guidance from man.

In general we may say that the donkeys belong to a vanishing state of human culture, to the time before carriage-ways existed. Now that civilization goes on wheels, they seem likely to have an ever-decreasing value. A century ago they were almost everywhere in common use. At the present time there are probably millions of people in the United States to whom the animal is known only by description. In a word, the creature marks a stage in the development of our industries which is passing away as rapidly as that in which the spinning-wheel and the hand-loom played a part.

As the use of the ass in the economic arts began to decline, the mule or hybrid progeny of this creature and the horse has progressively increased. Although the value of this mongrel has been known, particularly in southern Europe, from very early days, its most extensive employment has been found in the old slave-holding States of the Federal union. The custom of using mules has been almost unknown in England, and has never been generally adopted in the northern part of the United States. It appears to have been introduced into southern regions by the Spaniards and the French, and there to have spread, because of the peculiar fitness of the creature to the climate and the employment it had to endure in that part of America. The mule has the peculiar advantage that it is on the average as large as the horse, is nearly as quick-footed when walking, and has at the same time a considerable share of the patient endurance to hard labor and scant fare which characterizes the donkeys. It matures somewhat more speedily than its nobler kinsman, being ready to meet severe strains perhaps a year earlier. Unless unconscionably abused, its period of fitness for hard work endures about one-third longer, often lasting for thirty years. It is singularly exempt from disease, its sturdy frame withstanding rude usage until the old age time.

In the Circus

The mule is especially interesting to the naturalist for the reason that it affords the only certain case in which a hybrid has proved decidedly serviceable to man. It is not unlikely that a similar mixture of the blood of two species occurs in our ordinary cats, and it may exist in the case of the dog and in some of the domestic birds; but so far as we know, there has been no other useful result from the hybridizing, if it has occurred. Moreover, the mule is unique for the fact that the animal is distinctly stronger for its weight, and more enduring than either species which his blood combines. In fact, there is no product of man's industry in relation to domesticated animals which is more interesting than this singular creature. At present, its use appears to be going out of vogue; the evidence goes to show that the hybrid has no place in the affections of mankind, and that it is only likely to be kept in its use in tropical countries, and particularly in regions where the beasts have to be under the care of slaves or other negligent folk. It is a singular fact in connection with this hybrid, that it is nearly absolutely sterile, there being only two or three cases on record in which they have proved fecund. It seems, however, possible that if these rare instances of continued breeding were to be duly used, an intermediate species might be permanently established. This is, indeed, one of the most important lines for experiment which could be undertaken by an institution devoted to the study of problems relating to domestication.

It is commonly thought that a mule is a stupider creature than the horse; but I have never found a person, who was well acquainted with both animals, who hesitated to place the mongrel in the intellectual grade above the pure-blood animal. There is, it is true, a decided difference in the mental qualities of the two creatures. The mule is relatively undemonstrative, its emotions being sufficiently expressed by an occasional bray—a mode of utterance which he has inherited from the humbler side of his house in a singularly unchanged way. Even in the best humor it appears sullen, and lacks those playful capers which give such expression to the well-bred horse, particularly in its youthful state. It is evident, however, that it discriminates men and things more clearly than does the horse. In going over difficult ground it studies its surface, and picks its way so as to secure a footing in an almost infallible manner. Even when loaded with a pack, it will consider the incumbrance and not so often try to pass where the burden will become entangled with fixed objects.

Mules soon learn the difference between those who have the care of them and strangers. It is a well-known fact that trouble awaits the wight who unwarily ventures to take from the stall a mule which has not the advantage of his acquaintance. On this account they are rarely stolen. Even in the daytime they are often dangerous for strangers to approach, and the most of the ill-usage which men receive from their heels arises where unwitting people venture to treat them as they would horses. Mules are much less liable to panic-fear than the most of our domesticated animals, yet, when kept in the herded way, they occasionally become stampeded. Many a soldier of our Civil War, where mules played a large part in the campaigns, doubtless remembers the mad outbreaks of these creatures from their corrals, when they went charging through the army with a fury which, if directed against an enemy, would have been almost as effective as a cavalry charge.

It is interesting to note that mules have a greater disposition to adopt a leader in their movements than we note in either of the species whence they come. In the old days when mules were plentifully bred in Kentucky, and taken thence for sale to the plantation States, they went forth in droves, commonly under the leadership of a bell horse, or, by preference, a mare, which it was quite the custom to choose of a white color. In the course of a few hours the creatures would learn to know their guide, and to follow the leader with so little trouble that two men could conduct a throng of several hundred. Nevertheless, if the foremost mule of the procession turned aside, all the others would blindly follow him in the manner of a flock of sheep.

I recall an amusing instance of this "follow-my-leader" motive which occurred many years ago in a way somewhat personal to myself, in southern Kentucky. Engaged in survey work, I was passing along a quiet road when in the distance I heard a thunder of hoofs, and in a moment saw a great drove of mules, the appointed leader of which, a man on a white horse, had fallen to the rear of the column. The creatures, thinking that it was their duty to overtake the missing master, were going on the full run. Heeding the shouts of the troubled herder, I turned my wagon across the road, which, being at that point very narrow, was effectually barricaded by the vehicle. Although the rush was so wild that the brutes nearly overset my "outfit," they were brought to a full stop. Unhappily, on one side of the road and one hundred feet or so from it, there was a comfortably built southern house, with a broad gallery extending along the front; while in the door of the mansion were some women who had been attracted by the tumult. No sooner had the mob of mules been brought to a state of surging quiet, than one of the creatures jumped the picket fence, and started for the open house-door, thinking, perhaps, that he would find some peace of life in what probably seemed to him his accustomed barn. In much less time than it takes to tell it, a hundred or more mules were on the gallery, the floor of which gave way beneath their weight; they quickly broke down the columns which supported the roof, so that the whole structure at once became a heap of wood and mules. The unhappy proprietor of the drove, in his consternation, forgot even to swear—an art which I have never known on any other occasion to pass from a mule-driver; and, sitting on his white horse, he lifted his hands like an oriental in prayer, and said to me meekly, "Did you ever in all your life?" I assured him that I had never, and went my way, leaving him to settle an interesting case of damages with the owner of the mansion.

In considering the general influence of the horse and its kindred forms on human culture, we clearly perceive that we are now attaining a time when the machinery of civilization is to depend in a much less degree than of old on the help which these creatures give to man. Even fifty years ago the horse was far more necessary to the work of our kind than it is at present. Going back a hundred years, we perceive that the population of the civilized world could not possibly have been maintained, if by some disease all the horses had been swept away. Such a calamity in the year 1800 would have led to the depopulation of almost all the cities of the interior country, famine would have ravaged our States, and the whole economic system of society would have had to be reconstructed. Now the greater part of the work which of old had to be done by horses, can, at a slight increase of cost, be effected by mechanical engines. Ploughing, except on steep hillsides and in very stony ground, can be cheaply and effectively done by steam. The same agent can propel the harvesters and work the threshing machines. Even farmers who till fields of no great extent find it desirable to do much of their work by steam-engines, for the reason that fuel is less costly than horse feed. An interesting instance to show how far mechanical inventions have taken the place of horsed wagons in the work of civilized communities was afforded by the horse distemper which swept over the country in 1872. During the week or more in which this epidemic was at the worst, the State of Massachusetts was practically unhorsed, yet the greater part of the necessary business, that required to bring provisions to the town, was effected by means of the railways. The same incident shows, however, in another way, how absolutely necessary this animal is, in certain parts of our work. For the great Boston fire, which occurred at that time, was doubtless due to the fact that, owing to the sickness of the horses, an effort was made to drag the engines by hand-power, with the result that they came upon the ground so slowly as to give the fire a chance to become an uncontrollable conflagration.

In the present state of our arts there is one great occupation which we cannot conceive to be carried on without the services of horses. This is war. It is hardly too much to say that all our highly elaborated military system has depended for its development, as it does for its maintenance, on the transportation value of horses. Much has been said of late as to the use of bicycles as adjuncts to armies, and in a certain limited way they will doubtless prove serviceable in future campaigns; but no one who has had any experience of military duty, with its work across tilled fields and through forests, can imagine a man on a wheel rendering any very effective service except under peculiar conditions. Moreover, no ordnance corps can do its appointed work in the rear of a line of battle without sending its wagons across country and over ground which no unhorsed vehicle could traverse.

The mark of the old utility of the animal in varied employment is retained in our use of the term horse-power in measuring the energy of engines. That gauge of strength of old determined what man could do in the severest taxes upon the forces at his command. In attaining the point where, owing to the possession of horses, he could use this standard, he won a great way beyond the station of his ancestors, who had but the strength of men at their command. Modern invention, by giving us heat-engines, has made the way for an advance. In another century, or even in another generation, the horse may, save for the uses of war, be confined to the position of a luxury and an ornament.

THE FLOCKS AND HERDS: BEASTS FOR
BURDEN, FOOD, AND RAIMENT

Effect of this Group of Animals on Man.—First Subjugations.—Basis of Domesticability.—Horned Cattle.—Wool-bearing Animals.—Sheep and Goats.—Camels: their Limitation.—Elephants: Ancient History; Distribution; Intelligence; Use in the Arts; Need of True Domestication.—Pigs: their Peculiar Economic Value; Modern Varieties; Mental Qualities.—Relation of the Development of Domesticable Animals to the Time of Man's Appearance on the Earth.

It is not too much to say that the opportunity to go forward on the paths of culture, at least the chance to advance any considerable distance beyond the estate of primitive men, depends in a considerable measure upon what the wilderness may offer in the way of domesticable beasts of burden. Where such exist we find that the folk who dwell with them in any land are almost certain to have made great advances. Where the surrounding nature, however rich, denies this boon, we find that men, however great their natural abilities may appear to be, exhibit a retarded development. Thus in North America, where there was no domesticable beast of burden, the Indians, though an able folk, remain savages. So, too, in central and southern Africa, where the mammalian life, though rich, affords no large forms which tolerate captivity, the people have failed to attain any considerable culture. On the other hand, in the great continent of the Old World, where the horse, the ass, the buffalo, the camel, and the elephant existed in the primitive wilds, men rose swiftly toward the civilized station.

Domesticated Buffaloes in Egypt

The immediate effect arising from the possession of beasts of burden is greatly to enlarge the scope and educative value of human labor. A primitive agriculture, sufficient to provide for the needs of a people, can be carried on by man's labor alone, though the resulting food-supply has generally to be supplemented by the chase. Rarely, if ever, are the products of the soil thus won sufficient in quantity to be made the basis of any commerce. Such conveyance as is necessary among the people who are served by their own hands alone, has to be accomplished by boat transportation or by the backs of men. The immediate effect of using beasts for burden is the introduction of some kind of plough, which spares the labor of men in delving the ground, and the use of pack animals, which, employed in the manner of caravans, greatly promotes the extension of trade. A great range of secondary influences is found in the development of the arts of war, by which people who have become provided with pack or saddle animals are able to prevail over their savage neighbors, and thus to extend the realm of a nascent civilization. Yet another influence, arising from the domestication of large beasts, arises from the fact that these creatures are important storehouses of food; their flesh spares men the labor of the chase, and so promotes those regularities of employment which lead men into civilized ways of life. In fact, by making these creatures captive, men unintentionally brought themselves out of their ancient savagery. They were led into systematic and forethoughtful courses, and thus found a training which they could in no other way have secured.

Cattle of India

The first and simplest use made of the animals from which man derives strength appears to have been brought about by the subjugation of wild cattle—the bulls and buffaloes. Several wild varieties of the bovine tribe were originally widely disseminated in Europe and Asia, and these forms must have been frequent objects of chase by the ancient hunters. Although in their adult state these animals were doubtless originally intractable, the young were mild-mannered, and, as we can readily conceive, must often have been led captive to the abodes of the primitive people. As is common with all gregarious animals which have long acknowledged the authority of their natural herdsmen, the dominant males of their tribe, these creatures lent themselves to domestication. Even the first generation of the captives reared by hand probably showed a disposition to remain with their masters; and in a few generations this native impulse might well have been so far developed that the domestic herd was established, affording perhaps at first only flesh and hides, and leading the people who made them captives to a nomadic life—that constant search for fresh fields and pastures new which characterizes people who are supported by their flocks and herds.

It is a curious fact that the kindred of the buffaloes and bisons differ exceedingly in the measure of their domesticability. Thus, the ordinary buffalo of Asia, though a dull brute, is very subjugable, even in the literal sense, for he makes a tolerable beast for the plough and bears the yoke with due patience. His African kinsman, on the other hand, is perhaps the most unconquerable of all the large wild animals. The late Sir Samuel Baker, in answer to my question as to what wild form was the most to be feared in combat, unhesitatingly answered, "The African buffalo, the bulls of which charge home upon any aggressor with an immediate and determined fury, which often enables them to kill the hunter after they have been shot through the brain." Our American bison, though a much milder-spirited beast, seems also to be essentially undomesticable for the reason that he cannot be taught to subordinate his desires to the will of man. He can readily be brought to the point where he will tolerate captivity; but if, when engaged in ploughing, it occurs to him that he needs water, he will straightway go in search of it, not in a vicious, but in a perfectly obdurate manner. This quality of mind appears to be accountable for the failure of the many experiments which have been made to domesticate this interesting American form.

The limitations of the domesticating work, the fact that as between two kindred species the one has been chosen by man and the other left, indicate the truth—which is generally of much importance—that the intellectual qualities of animals commonly differ more than their frames. This is a part of the larger fact that with the advance in organization the individuality, as regards the whole spiritual field in persons and species alike, becomes greater. The culmination of the tendency is seen in man, where, with bodies which do not vary much, we have an almost infinite range in individual qualities.

This is perhaps a good place in which to make answer to the suggestion that the domesticability of the animal species is in inverse proportion to their native courage and independence of mind. The reader will see how fallacious is this common notion if he will consider the quality of the supremely domesticated creature, the dog. There is probably no beast which has a larger share of natural courage and of independent motive. When not under the control of their masters, they have perhaps as free a contact with nature as any creature in the world; the same thing may be said of the elephant, which, next to the dog, lends himself most obediently to the requirements of the master. Owing to the power of his huge body and to the ease with which he wins his food, he is in his native wilds the least dependent of land animals. Except from the assaults of man, he has nothing to fear; yet when enslaved he at once surrenders himself to his captors. In general, it may be said that the true gauge of domesticability is the sympathetic motive, that strange outgoing spirit which leads the mind to recognize the life about it and to accept that life as a part of its own. In other words, the domesticability of man is due to his willingness to enter into social relations and rests on the same foundation that supports his intercourse with the lower animals he has won to his use.

Indian Bullock and Water-Carrier

It is probable that the first use which was made of beasts of burden, in ways in which their strength became useful to man, was in packing the tents and other valuables of their masters as they moved from place to place. Even to this day in certain parts of the world bulls and oxen serve for such purposes. In fact the nomadic life, a fashion of society which is enforced wherever people subsist from their cattle alone, leads inevitably to such use of the beasts. In the southern Appalachian district of this country there remain traces of this service rendered by bulls and oxen. These creatures, provided with a kind of pack saddle, are occasionally used in conveying the dried roots of the ginseng, beeswax, feathers, and the peltries which are gathered by the inhabitants of remote districts, not accessible to carriages, to the markets of the outer world. All the varieties of ordinary cattle could be made to serve as burden-carriers, and they doubtless would be continued to be used for saddle purposes in one way or another but for the wide use of the horse, a creature very much better adapted for carrying weight. The cloven foot of the bulls and buffaloes gives a weakness to the extremities which will quickly lead to disease in case they are forced to carry heavy loads such as the horse or ass may safely bear.

Ploughing in Syria

The help which our bovine servants afford us by the power which they exert in traction, as in drawing ploughs, sleds, or wagons, appears to have been first rendered long after their introduction to the ways of man. The first of these uses in which the drawing strength of these animals was made serviceable appears to have been in the work of ploughing. In primitive days and with primitive tools, hand delving was a sore task. The inventive genius who first contrived to overturn the earth by means of the forked limb of a tree, shaped in the semblance of a plough and drawn by oxen, began a great revolution in the art of agriculture. To this unknown genius we may award a place among the benefactors of mankind, quite as distinguished as that which is occupied by the equally unknown inventors of the arts of making fire or of smelting ores. After the experience with the strength of oxen had been won from the work of ploughing, it was easy to pass to the other grades of their employment, where they were made to draw carriages.

Next after the contribution which the kindred of the bulls, have made by their strength, we must set that which has come from their milk. Although this substance can be obtained in small quantities from several other domesticated animals, the species of the genus Bos alone have yielded it in sufficient quantities greatly to affect the development of man. It is difficult to measure the importance of the addition to the diet, both of savage and civilized peoples, which milk affords. It is a fact well known to physiologists that in its simple form this substance is a complete food, capable when taken alone of sustaining life and insuring a full development of the body. It is indeed a natural contrivance exactly adapted to afford those materials which are required for the development and restoration of creatures essentially akin to our own species. Those races which avail themselves extensively of it in their dietary are the strongest and most enduring the world has known. The Aryan folk are indeed characteristically drinkers of milk and users of its products, cheese and butter. It may well be that their power is in some measure due to this resource.

Winnowing Grain in Egypt

In our horned cattle man won to domestication creatures which were admirably suited to promote his advancement from savagery to civilization. Indeed, the possession of these animals appears to have been a prime condition of his advancement. With them, however, as with the camel, there came little in the way of those sympathetic qualities which have made it possible for our race to establish affectionate relations with other captive forms. Long intercourse with man has, it is true, somewhat diminished the wildness of these creatures, though the males remain the most indomitably ferocious of all our servants. The truth seems to be that the bovine animals have but little intellectual capacity, and it has in no wise served the purposes of man to develop such powers of mind as they have. We have ever been given to asking little of them, save docility. This we have in a high measure won with our milch cows, which of all our domesticated creatures are perhaps the most absolutely submissive; the more highly developed of them being little more than passive producers of milk, almost without a trace of instincts or emotions except such as pertain to reproduction and to feeding. It is a noteworthy fact that in all the great literature of anecdote concerning our domesticated animals, there is hardly a trace of stories which tend to show the existence of sagacity in our common cattle.

It is evident that the variability of our domesticated bovines, as far as their bodies are concerned, is very great. Between the ancient aurochs and the more highly cultivated of its descendants, the difference is as great as that which separates any other of our captive animals from their wild ancestors. In size, shape, in flesh-and milk-giving qualities, the departure from the old form of the wilderness is remarkable. Moreover, at the present time these diverse breeds of horned cattle are rapidly being multiplied, the distinctive forms probably being twice as numerous as they were at the beginning of the present century. The process of selection has led to some very wide diversifications of the body. The horns, which in the wild state are invariably well developed, and which in the cattle of our Western plains attain very great size, have in certain breeds altogether disappeared, and in their place there sometimes comes a remarkable crest of bony matter which does not project beyond the skin which covers the head. If such differences occurred in the wild state, they would be regarded as separating the two types of animals widely from each other.

Egyptian Sheep

In treating the wool-bearing animals along with beasts of burden, we make a somewhat fanciful classification which yet is not quite without reason. By long training man has brought these species to the state where their covering of wool or hair, once a coating only sufficient to afford protection from the weather, has become a very serious load. In certain of our highly developed varieties the annual coat is so far increased that the creature loses a large part of its bulk after the shearer has done his work. Each year's fleece often amounts in weight to eight to twelve pounds, and in its lifetime the animal may yield a mass of wool far exceeding its weight of flesh and bones in any time of its life. When the fleece is mature the animal is often burdened with a load about as heavy in proportion to his size as is a horse by the weight of its rider and accoutrements.

As a flesh producer, particularly in sterile fields, sheep are more valuable than our horned cattle. They mature more rapidly, attaining their adult size and reproducing their kind in less than two years, so that in many parts of the world it is possible to obtain a larger quantity of flesh from poor pasturages with sheep than with any other of our domesticated animals. Their principal value, however, has been from the means they afforded whereby men in high latitudes have obtained warm clothing. Before the domestication of these creatures, peoples who had to endure the winter of high latitudes were forced to rely upon hides for covering—a form of clothing which is clumsy, uncleanly, and which the chase could not supply in any considerable quantity. Owing to its peculiar structure, the hair of the sheep makes the strongest and warmest covering, when rendered into cloth, which has ever been devised for the use of man. The value of this contribution is directly related to the conditions of climate. In the intertropical regions the sheep plays no part of importance. In high latitudes it is of the utmost value to man. No other of our domesticated creatures, except the camel, is so specially adapted to the needs which peculiarities of climate impose upon their possessors.

Bedouin Goat-Herd—Palestine

The relations of the goat to mankind are in certain ways peculiar. The creature has long been subjugated, probably having come into the human family before the dawn of history. It has been almost as widely disseminated, among barbarian and civilized peoples alike, as the sheep. It readily cleaves to the household, and exhibits much more intelligence than the other members of our flocks and herds. It yields good milk, the flesh is edible, though in the old animals not savory, and the hair can be made to vary in a larger measure than any of our animals which are shorn. Yet this creature has never obtained the place in relation to man to which it seems entitled. Only here and there is it kept in considerable numbers or made the basis of extensive industries. The reason for this seems to be that these animals cannot readily be kept in flocks in the manner of sheep. They are only partly gregarious, and tend to stray from the owner's keeping. There seems reason also to believe that they cannot easily be made to vary in other characteristics except their hairy covering at the will of the breeder, and so varieties cannot be formed, as is the case with sheep, to suit each peculiarity of soil and climate. Thus in Europe, where it would be easy to name a score of distinct breeds of sheep, each peculiarly well suited to the conditions of the country where it had been developed, the goats are singularly alike. The original stock of these creatures appears to have been adapted to feeding on the scant herbage which develops in rocky and mountainous countries. They do not seem able to make the perfect use of the resources of a pasture which sheep do. These inherited peculiarities in feeding enable them to pick up a subsistence where they may range over a considerable territory, even where it seems to afford no forms of food for the hungriest animal. Thus in that part of the city of New York known as "Shanty town," goats may be seen in fairly good condition, although the sole source of food, besides a few stray weeds, appears to be the paste of the paper advertisements which they pick from the rocks and fences.

Although goats appear to be characterized by invariable bodies, our sheep are, in physical characteristics, among the most flexible of our domesticated animals. They may by selection readily and rapidly be made to vary as regards the character of their wool, the size and proportion of their muscles, and the quantity and placing of the fat. In all these features they may be fairly blown to and fro by the wind of favor. Between the meagre-bodied merino, with its skeleton-like frame and heavily wrinkled skin bearing a vast burden of long wool, and the heavy Hampshire-downs or South-downs, there is really an immense difference in bodily quality; yet these variations represent only a century or two of careful experiment on the part of the breeders. It seems not improbable that in the present state of this developing art it would be possible, in a hundred years, to reverse the conditions of these two varieties.

Sheep and goats, like the other herbivorous species which are the common tenants of our fields and forests, belong to the great class of dull-witted mammals in which the intellectual processes appear to be almost altogether limited to ancient and simple emotions, such as are inspired by fear or hunger. They are characterized by little individuality of mind, and although the needs of men have not led to any experiment in developing their wits, as in the case of dogs, there is no reason to believe that they afford much foundation for such essays. The present rapid variations in the physical characteristics of our sheep which are induced by the breeder's skill, make it evident that we are far from having attained the maximum profit from these creatures. The goats also give promise, when selective work is carefully done upon them, of giving much more than they now afford to the uses of mankind; but from neither of these forms is there reason to hope, at least on our present lines of experiment, for any considerable gain in the intellectual qualities.

The Great Caravan Road—Central Asia

We have already noted the fact that the sheep is especially adapted to serve man in high latitudes, where he has to provide against the winter's cold. The camel is an even more striking instance in which the value of the creature depends upon climatal peculiarities. It is peculiarly fitted, by its ancestral training and development, for the use of men who dwell in arid countries. In the olden days of the later Tertiary epoch, creatures akin to the camels appear to have been widely distributed, and were probably adapted to considerable variations of environment. Within the time of which we know something by history, these forms have been limited to the arid districts of southwestern Asia and northern Africa. It is not certain that we know the originally wild form of either of the two species, the double-humped or single-humped camels. Wild members of each exist, but they may be the descendants of the domesticated forms. It seems probable that long before the building of the Pyramids the people of the deserts had learned how to profit from the very peculiar qualities of this strangely provided beast, which in several distinct ways is singularly fitted to serve the needs of man in arid lands. The large and well-padded foot of this creature is well adapted for treading a surface unsoftened by vegetation. Its peculiar stomach enables it to store water in such a manner that it can go for days without drink. In the humps upon its back, as in natural pack-saddles, it may harvest a share of the nutriment which it obtains from occasional good pasturages, the store being laid away in the form of fat which may return to the blood when the creature would otherwise starve. So important have these peculiarities been found by men who have domesticated the camel, that on them have rested many of the most interesting features of race development in the history of our kind. In the territories along the eastern and southern shores of the Mediterranean, and in a large part of southern and central Asia, the camel has done service to man which elsewhere has been performed by sheep, cattle, and horses. In those parts of the world the share which these domesticated animals have had in the development of man has been relatively small. The camel has given the strength for burdens, hair for clothing, and often flesh to the needy men of the desert.

The Halt in the Desert at Night—The Story Teller

Although long a captive, and for ages, perhaps, the most serviceable of all the creatures which man has won from the wilds, the camel is still only partly domesticated, having never acquired even the small measure of affection for his master which we find in the other herbivorous animals which have been won to the service of man. The obedience which he renders is but a dull submission to inevitable toil. The intelligence which he shows is very limited, and, so far as I can judge from the accounts of those who have observed him, there is but little variation in his mental qualities. As a whole, the creature appears to be innately the dullest and least improvable of all our servitors. The fact is, this animal belongs to an ancient and lowly type of mammals characterized by relatively small brains, and therefore of weak intelligence; but, for its singular serviceableness in drought-ridden countries, it would probably have been hunted off the earth by the early men, as have been many other remnants of the ancient life.

Camels Feeding

It is somewhat characteristic of the older forms of animals, those which took shape in the earlier Tertiary periods, that they are less variable than those which acquired their characteristics in times nearer our own. It is a fact well known to the students of paleontology, that species and genera which have been long on the earth are apt to become in a way rigid as regards their qualities of body and mind. It is an interesting fact that, although the camel can readily be transplanted to many other parts of the world, where the physiographic conditions are similar to those of the realm where he has served man so well, he has never been thoroughly successful except in the regions where he has been in use for ages. In the desert regions of the Cordilleras of America, in South Africa, and in Australia, various experiments go to show that the creature could be perfectly reconciled to its environment. Many years ago a lot of camels were brought to the valley of the Rio Grande with a view to their utilization in that region, which closely resembles the desert countries about the Mediterranean. These animals were thoroughly successful in meeting the climatal conditions of the region. They proved as strong and as fertile as in their natural realms. Although it is said they survive to the present day, they have never been of any service to the people.