have seen young birds, after some apparent hesitation, peck once or twice doubtfully at such insects. A young baboon with whom I experimented at the Cape seemed to have an undefined aversion to certain caterpillars, which he could not be induced to taste, though he smelt at them. Scorpions he darted at, twisted off the sting, and ate with greedy relish.

If nudibranchs and other marine invertebrates be protectively coloured, there must be corresponding perceptual powers in the fishes that are thus led to avoid them; for there seems to be definite avoidance, and not merely indifference. This, however, might be made the subject of further experiment, not only with fishes, but with other animals. I tried some chickens with currant-moth caterpillars, to each of which I tied with thread a large looper. Some of them would have nothing to do with the unwonted combination. But one persistently pecked at the looper, and tried to detach it from its fellow-prisoner. Though, on the whole, there was some tendency for aversion to the currant-moth caterpillar to overmaster the appetence for the looper, I was not altogether satisfied with the result of the experiment. But I think that if the protectively coloured larva had been regarded with mere indifference (i.e. neither aversion nor appetence), the appetence for the loopers should have made the chickens seize them at

once.

To return to fishes. It is probably difficult or impossible for us to imagine what their constructs are like; but that they, too, proceed to define them by examination seems to be a legitimate inference from some of their actions. Mr. Bateson says, "The rockling searches [for food] by setting its filamentous pelvic fins at right angles to the body, and then swimming about, feeling with them. If the fins touch a piece of fish or other soft body, the rockling turns its head round and snaps it up with great quickness. It will even turn round and examine uneatable substances, as glass, etc., which come in contact with its fins, and which presumably seem to it to require explana

tion." And, speaking of the sole, the same observer says, "In searching for food the sole creeps about on the bottom by means of the fringe of fin-rays with which its body is edged, and, thus slowly moving, it raises its head upwards and sideways, and gently pats the ground at intervals, feeling the objects in its path with the peculiar viliform papilla which cover the lower (left) side of its head and face. In this way it will examine the whole surface of the floor of the tank, stopping and going back to investigate pieces of stick, string, or other objects which it feels below its cheek."

If we admit the fact that carp come to be fed at the sound of a bell, we have evidence that some fishes can associate an arbitrary sound with the advent of things good to eat. But it is, perhaps, better at present to regard the fact as one requiring verification.

That some birds can associate arbitrary signs with their percepts will be admitted by all who have watched their habits. And from its peculiar and almost unique power of articulation, the parrot shows us that not only may the words suggest a construct, but that the sight of the construct may suggest the word that it has heard associated with the object by man. Mr. Romanes gives evidence which satisfies him that a parrot which had associated the word "bow-wow" with a particular dog, uttered this sound when another dog entered the room. The word was here suggested at sight, not of the same object, but of an object which the bird recognized as similar. A somewhat similar case is furnished by one of my own correspondents (Miss Mabel Westlake). "We left London," she says, "in December, 1888, and brought our grey parrot with us; but left behind with a friend our favourite cat, a dark tortoiseshell with a white breast, the forehead clearly marked with a division down the middle to the tip of the nose. This led to our calling her 'Demi.' For a week or two after

* Journal of Marine Biological Association, New Series, vol. i. No. 2, p. 214. I should not myself have used the word "explanation."

† Ibid. vol. i. No. 3, p. 240.

our arrival in Bristol, a black-and-white cat belonging to the people formerly living here frequented the house. The parrot seemed delighted to see this cat, which was larger than our old cat, and called it Dem, as she had been accustomed to do in London. From that time until the commencement of January (1890), which was over a year, the parrot had not seen a cat that we are aware of, nor had we heard her call it for a long time. About six weeks ago, as I was coming along Kingsdown Parade, a large black kitten followed me home. We took it in and fed it. The next day it came into the room where the parrot was, and she immediately said 'Puss! puss! puss! Hullo, dear!' and during the day called it by the same name, 'Dem! Dem! Dem!' that she had called our cat in London."

We may here notice that, in most of the tricks which animals are taught to perform, the action is suggested by a form of words (or the tone and manner in which they are uttered). Mr. John G. Naish, J.P., of Ilfracombe,* has taught his cockatoo the following trick (I quote Mr. Naish's own words): "I give him a shilling, which he puts into the slit of a money-box. This is enlisting.' After that, I say to him, ' Will you die for the queen, like a loyal soldier?' Then he lies on his back, with his paws together, for as long as I hold up my finger. Now live for your master!' He takes hold of my finger and resumes his erect posture. Last year I took him into the street near my house, and collected on our Hospital Saturday.' He worked for more than an hour before he became impatient. And then he would do no more, but flung the coins over his head or at the giver in the funniest way. He went to sleep for a long time after that performance; and when he awoke and I took him, he covered my face with kisses, as if he was glad to find his bad dream was over." The weariness and failure to perform the trick when tired, and the long sleep which succeeded, are interesting points.

* I have to thank this gentleman for a most interesting account of the intelligence of his favourite bird.

What I wish especially to notice is, however, that the actions are suggested by certain forms of words; but that there is no evidence that the form of words is in any sense understood. When the onlooker sees a bird lie on its back when asked if it will die for the queen, and get up again. when told to live for its master, he is apt to think that, since he understands the form of words, the bird must understand them too. But I am convinced that Mr. Naish's intelligent cockatoo could have been taught with equal ease to lie down at the command "Abracadabra," and to stand up again at "Hocus pocus." Tricks taught to animals involve the performing animal and the human onlooker. The form of words introduced is for the sake of the latter, not for the sake of the former.

So much has been written concerning the intelligence of the parrot, and so much has been said concerning its imitative power of speech, that I must say somewhat on this head. I have received from Miss Mildred Sturge, of Clifton, an interesting account of an African West Coast parrot which was possessed by Miss Tregelles, of Falmouth. This parrot used the phrases it had learnt appropriately in time and place. "At dinner, when he saw the vegetabledishes, he generally said, 'Polly wants potato;' at tea he would say, 'Polly wants cake,' or 'Polly's sop,' or 'Polly's toast.' Our grandmother's house was not far from the station, and almost before people could hear it, Polly would announce, 'Grandmamma, the train is coming,' and presently the train would quietly go by. Besides repeating much poetry, Polly made new editions by putting lines together from different authors; but the remarkable thing was that he always got the right rhyme. One of his favourite mixtures was, 'Sing a song of sixpence' and 'I love little pussy.' One day my mother overheard

Now, we must not underrate nor overrate the evidence

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afforded by parrot-talk. The rhyme-association is interesting; but since we cannot suppose that the poetry is more to the parrot than a linked series of sounds, there does not seem much evidence of intelligence here, though the evidence of memory is important. The correct association of words and phrases with appropriate objects and actions is of great interest. But the fact that they are words and phrases does not give them a higher value than that of imitative actions in the dog or other animal. What parrot-talk does give us evidence of is (1) remarkable powers of memory; (2) an almost unique power of articulation; (3) a great faculty of imitation; (4) and some intelligence in the association of certain linked sounds which we call phrases with certain objects or actions. The teaching of phrases to the parrot is certainly not more remarkable than the teaching of clever tricks to many birds. But the fact that word-sounds are articulated. throws a glamour over these special tricks, and leads some people to speak of the parrot's using language, instead of saying that the parrot can imitate some of the sounds made by man, and can associate these sounds with certain objects.

Coming now to the invertebrates, much has been written concerning the psychology and intelligence of ants and bees. What shall we say concerning their constructs? For reasons already given, I think we may suppose that they are analogous to ours; but it can scarcely be that they in any way closely resemble ours. Their sense-organs are constructed on a different plan from ours; they have probably senses of which we are wholly ignorant. `Is it conceivable, by any one who has grasped the principle of construction, that with these differently organized senses and these other senses than ours, the world they construct can much resemble the world we construct? Remember how largely our perceptual world is the product of our geometrical senses-of our delicate and accurate sense of touch, and of our binocular vision, with its delicate and