mple
arithmetic, but I wish I could induce others to co-operate, for I feel
satisfied that the system would well repay more time and attention than
I am myself able to give.

JOHN LUBBOCK.

INSTINCT OF LOCALITY IN DOGS.

[_March 4, 1893._]

A cat carried a hundred miles in a basket, a dog taken, perhaps, five
hundred miles by rail, in a few days may have found their way back to
the starting-point. So we have often been told, and, no doubt, the thing
has happened. We have been astonished at the wonderful intelligence
displayed. Magic, I should call it. Last week I heard of a captain who
sailed from Aberdeen to Arbroath. He left behind him a dog which,
according to the story, had never been in Arbroath, but when he arrived
there the dog was waiting on the quay. I was expected to believe that
the dog had known his master's destination, and been able to inquire the
way overland to Arbroath. Truly marvellous! But, really, it is time to
inquire more carefully as to what these stories do mean; we must cease
to ascribe our intelligence to animals, and learn that it is we that
often possess their instinct. A cat on a farm will wander many miles in
search of prey, and will therefore be well acquainted with the country
for many miles round. It is taken fifty miles away. Again it wanders,
and comes across a bit of country it knew before. What more natural than
that it should go to its old home? Carrier-pigeons are taught "homing"
by taking them gradually longer flights from home, so that they may
learn the look of the country. We cannot always discover that a dog
actually was acquainted with the route by which it wanders home; but it
is quite absurd to imagine, as most people at once do, that it was a
perfect stranger to the lay of the land. To find our way a second time
over ground we have once trod is scarcely intelligence; we can only call
it instinct, though the word does not in the least explain the process.
Two years ago I first visited Douglas, in the Isle of Man. I reached the
station at 11 p.m.; I was guided to a house a mile through the town. I
scarcely paid any attention to the route, yet next morning I found my
way by the same route to the station, walking with my head bent, deeply
thinking all the time about other things than the way. I have the
instinct of locality. Most people going into a dark room that they know
are by muscular sense guided exactly to the very spot they wish; so
people wh