Hogs are not very intellectual animals, but, fortunately for the trainer, what they lack in intelligence is made up in appetite, and by appealing to their stomachs their education is accomplished. “Learned pigs” and “educated hogs” are more common in England than in this country, though, probably, like the opera, they will in time become an acclimated institution. We had the pleasure of seeing the performance of quite an excellent artist in the pork line, who was traveling through the eastern states under the title of “Wicked Will,” as a side show to a circus.

Will traveled in a cage very similar to those used in menageries, except that it was smaller. This cage at the exhibitions was placed upon a platform with the grated part facing toward the audience. It was rather higher than was necessary to accommodate the hog, the upper part containing a number of compartments about six inches in depth, in which were kept corn, curry-combs, and other toilet articles. The exhibitor lifts the lid which covers these receptacles, takes a few grains of corn in his hand and drops them quietly on the carpet; then he opens a door at one of the small ends of the cage and Will emerges, grunting and sniffing around. The cage door is now shut, and while Will hunts for kernels of corn that have been scattered around, the exhibitor gives a little dose of natural history, hog characteristics, etc.

The performance commences by the exhibitor placing ten cards, on which the numerals from one to naught are printed, in regular order across the front of the platform. Then he asks Will a number of questions, such as the number of days in a week, in a month, in a year—it is of no consequence what, so long as the answers can be given in numbers. The hog goes slowly from card to card, with his nose down, commencing at the figure 1. When he comes to the right number he takes it in his mouth and brings it to his master.

“Now,” says the exhibitor, “if any lady or gentleman will tell the hog the year they were born in, he’ll tell them their age.”

Somebody in the crowd gives the date of his birth, and at his master’s command Will selects the figures showing the man’s age. This is repeated a number of times for different individuals, to the wonder of the crowd. Then a watch is borrowed and the hog tells, in the same manner, the hour and minutes.

A suit of thirteen cards are substituted for the numbers, and the hog selects them as required to reply to various questions. After these have served their turn they are replaced by a number of cards on each of which is printed a single word in large type. Then the exhibitor continues in something like this manner:

“Now, Will, I suppose you are very much obliged to these ladies and gentlemen for their attendance this evening; [Will selects cards, on which is printed Yes; and now, Will, I want you to tell these ladies and gentlemen what day this is [hog dues so]; and what are you going to give the ladies that come to see you? [Kiss.] Well, that’s very gallant! And what reward do you want for amusing these people? [Corn.] And what induces me to exhibit you? [Money.] So you think I am fond of money, do you? [Yes.] And I wonder if there is anything else I’m fond of? [Rum.] And what happens when I get a little too much of that article? [Drunk.]”

And so on with a multitude of other questions which would be tiresome to repeat, but which it is quite amusing to see the hog answer. The card in each case would be brought to the exhibitor, who in all cases where the correct card was selected, dropped a few kernels of corn as a reward. Occasionally a wrong one would be brought, in which case a sly kick, or hit on the nose, was administered. Sometimes the hog seemed in doubt and would pick up a card and replace it, taking another; once or twice he stopped midway between two cards, turning his nose first toward one and then toward the other, squealing dismally, a very picture of perplexity. He had sense enough to know what he would get in case of a mistake. His mistakes, however, were very few.

The whole performance really consists in the hog selecting the card under the direction of his master. If the latter be watched narrowly, it will be seen that he changes his position from time to time, as the hog passes from one card to another. If the hog stops before he reaches the proper card the trainer moves his foot in the direction in which the hog should go; if he passes it the foot is moved in the other direction. When no movement is made the hog knows he is before the right card and picks it up. When the hog becomes confused and frightened this movement of the foot is quite obvious to a close observer, for at such times the hog does not so readily take the cue. This signaling is the secret of the performance; but before the hog can understand these signals, or will pick up the cards, a regular system of training must be pursued.

The pig—for the education begins when the animal is young—is first taught to come to the trainer when called. This is readily done by rewarding him when he obeys and thrashing him when he fails to do so. He is then taught to pick up articles in pretty much the same manner as in teaching dogs, and which we have already fully described. During the lessons the pig is rewarded with corn for obeying, and he is also fed immediately after his lesson, being kept a trifle hungry at other times. At first an ear of corn may be used in teaching him to pick up articles. He will naturally pick this up when placed on the ground. Instead of letting him keep it, however, call him to you, and on taking it away recompense him with some kernels of corn. He will soon learn that it pays better to bring you the ear over and over again, and be rewarded each time, than keep it himself. Then a cob without corn may be substituted. By-and-by cobs may be arranged in a row some foot or two apart, and the pig required to bring some one of them you have in mind. This is the difficult part; the pig will be inclined to pick up whichever comes handiest. This must be prevented by gently hitting his snout, and ordering him to “go on.” Always start him at the left of the line; you will be able thus to guide him better than when he goes hap-hazard. Keep on his left side, moving your foot toward him to keep him moving in the direction of the desired article. Avoid coming between him and the article. When he comes to it make no movement. If he picks it up, call him to you, take it from his mouth, reward him with corn, apple, or some other dainty, and replace the article in the row. If, however, he passes by it, change your position to his right side, and move your foot to urge him back.

These movements of the foot, during tuition, are, of course, more vigorous than those used at public exhibitions. At first they merely threaten him and drive him in the required direction, but by-and-by he learns to observe them and to understand and profit by them. It is possible sometimes during the lessons to help the pig’s selection by pointing out the card or article, but this is not desirable, as it is of course unavailable in public, and the trainer must compel the animal to do his duty so soon as he is out of the “rudiments,” with no more help than can be used in public.

Pigs are very fond of having their backs scratched, and this will often attach them to their instructor, make them more docile, and consequently more easily instructed. They are not very apt pupils, and though they may be taught several tricks performed by dogs, it is very seldom their education extends beyond what we have described. We have known an exhibitor advertise a hog who would “go through the multiplication table,” but this proved to be a catch; a hoop being covered with paper on which the multiplication table was printed, the hog was made to jump through it. The humor of the “sell” saved the exhibitor from the indignation his deception might otherwise have aroused.

In Holland, quite a number of years ago, a hog ran a race against a fast trotting horse. The training adopted to prepare the hog for this novel contest was a good illustration of “educating through the stomach,” and the performance sufficiently curious, we think, to warrant insertion here. Somewhat condensed the story is substantially this:

A member of a sporting club at the Hague was bragging of the speed of a certain horse possessed by him. Another member asserted that he had a hog which he should not fear to match against him, and this proposal, though at first laughed at as a jest, ended in a match of six English miles, for one thousand guilders; fourteen days being allowed the owner of Nero, the hog, for training; and the horse to carry two persons. The course selected was the avenue leading from the Hague to the sea shore at Scheveningen; the hour, eleven o’clock.

The first day’s training consisted in giving Nero nothing to eat. On the second day, at eleven o’clock, his master appeared, and fastening a rope securely to one of Nero’s hind trotters, drove him, with many a kick and forcible persuasion all the way over the course of Scheveningen. Here Nero received two herrings, which he ravenously devoured. It is said that hogs—or at least Dutch hogs—prefer fish to any other food. On this scanty meal Nero had to tramp home.

The third day the hog was ravenous, but had to bide his time till, at eleven o’clock, his master presented himself for another trip to the course. After a liberal and energetic application to the booted foot, and a little loud and angry discussion between the two parties, they arrived at their journey’s end, where Nero was regaled with three herrings, being one extra, which he dispatched voraciously in double quick time, looking for more, but in vain. He was then, with much coaxing and kicking, persuaded to resume the return trip homeward, and which was safely accomplished, although not without considerable opposition, accompanied by vigorous squealing and determined grunting on the part of Nero.

On the fourth day, when his master presented himself, Nero seemed to understand somewhat the object of his calling; he walked off, not only without compulsion, but with considerable alacrity, at a good round pace to get to his journey’s end, where his master regaled him not alone with his coveted dinner of three herrings, but, as a reward, yet another herring extra. On the fifth day Nero was fully up to the game, and his master experienced considerable difficulty to keep up with him. At Scheveningen the usual allowance—now of four herrings—was placed at his disposal, and disposed of by him in short meter.

On the days following, and up to the time of the race, his master had no farther difficulty with Nero, but to keep up with him, Nero invariably taking the lead, although on the return trips the same difficulties always recurred. A vigorous application of boots was in such cases the only convincing argument with Nero, who never could see the point nor comprehend the necessity, of this back-track movement, and ever obstreperously squealed or grunted his objections. On the ninth day Nero had become perfectly trained, and having grown extremely thin upon his scanty meals, he now ran like a race-horse, invariably distancing his master, who followed with a fast trotting horse in harness. Both exercise and spare diet were, however, strictly adhered to up to the day preceding the one on which the race was to come off. On that, the thirteenth day, as on the first day, poor Nero was again starved. At the usual hour of eleven his master appeared, but Nero was doomed to disappointment—no trot, no herrings on that day. With eager eye and impatient grunt he signified his desire to be released from his pen; but, alas, it was not to be.

On the fourteenth day both horse and hog appeared at the starting post, eager for the race. It was a beautiful day, and the road was lined the entire distance, on both sides, with anxious and delighted spectators eager to see the sport. Punctually at eleven o’clock, at tap of drum off they started, amidst the shouts and hurrahs of the multitude. The first two miles were closely contested—it was emphatically a neck and neck race; but Nero, light as feather, and having in his mind’s eye, probably, his delectable meal, now fairly flew over the course, gradually leaving the horse behind, keeping the lead the entire distance. Amidst shouts and hurrahs, the waving of handkerchiefs, and the wildest excitement, he reached the winning post, beating the horse by half a mile, and winning the race triumphantly.

For this extraordinary performance, Nero was rewarded with a pailful of herrings, which, having feasted upon to his heart’s content, he waddled back to the Hague, in the care of his master, “the admired of all admirers.” His master, pocketing the purse of one thousand guilders, generously spent one hundred guilders for Nero’s portrait, which is now preserved at the sportsman’s club at the Hague.

It is said that hogs may be taught to destroy thistles. The tuition consists only in trampling them down, mashing the buds, and sprinkling salt thereon. The hogs eat these at first on account of the salt, but in so doing they acquire a relish for the thistles themselves, and this taste once acquired the thistles are eagerly sought for and devoured. It is claimed that one hog that has been taught in this way will teach all others in the drove. Possibly seeing him eat they imagine they are losing a treat and so eat too. If this statement proves true, the hint may be useful to farmers.