at instinct
never taught the elephant to procure his food in this manner; and it
must, therefore, have been reason, or some intellectual faculty, which
enabled him to be so good a judge of cause and effect. Indeed, the
_reflecting_ power of some animals is quite extraordinary. I had a dog
who was much attached to me, and who, in consequence of his having been
tied up on a Sunday morning, to prevent his accompanying me to church,
would conceal himself in good time on that day, and I was sure to find
him either at the entrance of the church, or if he could get in, under
the place where I usually sat.

"I have been often much delighted with watching the manner in which some
of the old bucks in Bushy Park contrive to get the berries from the fine
thorn-trees there. They will raise themselves on their hind legs, give a
spring, entangle their horns in the lower branches of the tree, give
them one or two shakes, which make some of the berries full, and they
will then quietly pick them up.

"A strong proof of intellect was given in the case of Colonel O'Kelly's
parrot. When the colonel and his parrot were at Brighton, the bird was
asked to sing; he answered 'I can't,' Another time he left off in the
middle of a tune, and said, 'I have forgot.' Colonel O'Kelly continued
the tune for a few notes; the parrot took it up where the Colonel had
left off. The parrot took up the bottom of a lady's petticoat, and said
'What a pretty foot!' The parrot seeing the family at breakfast said,
'Won't you give some breakfast to Poll?' The company teazed and mopped
him a good deal; he said 'I don't like it.'--(From a Memorandum found
amongst the late Earl of Guildford's Papers.)"

Eels.

Several pages are devoted to the economy of these curious creatures, and
as many points of their history are warmly contested, Mr. Jesse's
experience is valuable.

"That they do wander[6] from one place to another is evident, as I am
assured that they have been found in ponds in Richmond Park, which had
been previously cleaned out and mudded, and into which no water could
run except from the springs which supplied it.[7] An annual migration of
young eels takes place in the River Thames in the month of May, and they
have generally made their appearance at Kingston, in their way upwards,
about the second week in that month, and accident has so determined it,
that, for several years together it was remarked that the 10th of May
was the day of what the fisher