acts
had not from time to time confirmed it. But we may assume that, in
successful cases, the Cats made to lose their bearings were young and
unemancipated animals. With those neophytes, a drop of milk is enough
to dispel the grief of exile. They do not return home, whether they have
been whirled in a bag or not. People have thought it as well to subject
them to the whirling operation by way of an additional precaution; and
the method has received the credit of a success that has nothing to do
with it. In order to test the method properly, it should have been tried
on a full-grown Cat, a genuine Tom.

I did in the end get the evidence which I wanted on this point.
Intelligent and trustworthy people, not given to jumping to conclusions,
have told me that they have tried the trick of the swinging bag to keep
Cats from returning to their homes. None of them succeeded when the
animal was full-grown. Though carried to a great distance, into another
house, and subjected to a conscientious series of revolutions, the Cat
always came back. I have in mind more particularly a destroyer of the
Goldfish in a fountain, who, when transported from Serignan to Piolenc,
according to the time-honoured method, returned to his fish; who, when
carried into the mountain and left in the woods, returned once more. The
bag and the swinging round proved of no avail; and the miscreant had to
be put to death. I have verified a fair number of similar instances,
all under most favourable conditions. The evidence is unanimous: the
revolving motion never keeps the adult Cat from returning home. The
popular belief, which I found so seductive at first, is a country
prejudice, based upon imperfect observation. We must, therefore, abandon
Darwin's idea when trying to explain the homing of the Cat as well as of
the Mason-bee.

CHAPTER 6. THE RED ANTS.

The Pigeon transported for hundreds of miles is able to find his way
back to his Dove-cot; the Swallow, returning from his winter quarters in
Africa, crosses the sea and once more takes possession of the old nest.
What guides them on these long journeys? Is it sight? An observer
of supreme intelligence, one who, though surpassed by others in the
knowledge of the stuffed animal under a glass case, is almost unrivalled
in his knowledge of the live animal in its wild state, Toussenel
(Alphonse Toussenel (1803-1885), the author of a number of interesting
and valuable works on ornithology.--Translator's Not