In discussing the intelligence of animals I am aware that many persons, at the outset, would question the propriety of the term. Man has so long arrogated the exclusive possession of mind, or at least of a mind capable of rational reflection, that he is reluctant to concede the fact of its possession by the lower orders of animate life. Those acts which, in the brute creation, seem to proceed from the action of powers analagous to human intelligence, it has been usual to ascribe to an irrational faculty called instinct; a power invariable and despotic in its action, but in no degree the result of reflection; some metaphysicians even going so far as to assert that the action of animals is purely automatic, the difference in this respect between them and the automaton moved by wires and springs being that the former possesses a consciousness of their acts, while the latter does not. Facts in myriads, exist which challenge the correctness of such a theory, while in almost equal number they assert the existence, at least in its embryonic state, of a mind capable of thought, and, to a limited degree, of reflection and comparison, with the ability to deduce conclusions from the facts which it considers.

This intelligence varies greatly in the different animal races, in some species being barely perceptible, while in others it is too conspicuous to be ignored; and between individuals of the same species there exists a difference so marked that, in the more favored ones which come under our observation, the intelligence is so clear as to almost startle us by the feeling that behind the full, liquid eye of the horse, or prompting the fixed gaze bent on us by our trusty canine companion, there may be a mind kindred to our own and which lacks only the power of articulate expression to respond to our thoughts by answering sentiments. It is the absence of the power of speech in animals which leaves us in doubt as to the exact degree of intelligence possessed by them. If, when the farmer says, “Carlo! the cows are in the corn—turn them out!” the dog should turn his head and reply, “Yes, sir, I’ll have them out in a moment!” there could be no doubt of the intelligent interchange of thought. But the fact of his doing that which in the supposed case he would express, proves as conclusively his comprehension of the command and his purpose to obey. The horse or dog, however fully he may understand the directions he receives, can give no other response than by his acts, and to words of praise or censure he can reply only by signs; these are clearly understood by us and show that our meaning is comprehended by the animal, thus proving a real interchange of thought. A popular author has said: “A dog may bark, a horse may neigh, but it is not by these sounds that they express the delicate shades of ever-varying emotion; it is by a thousand varieties of gesture which few indeed of us can analyze but which all clearly understand. A dog converses with his master by means of his eyes and his ears and his tail, nay rather by every muscle of his body.”

To test the existence and extent of intelligence we must determine the capacity for comprehending thought. We recognize this capacity in a child long before it can express itself in language. Its dawn is seen as the infant learns to associate certain articulate sounds with certain persons, acts, or things, and to distinguish the meaning of tones which encourage, restrain or chide it. It is only after a twelve-month or more of constant tuition, lovingly and intelligently given, that our children begin to express in language the thoughts which are awakened by our words and acts, yet the comprehension is as evident and the response as apparent, the whole mental process being as perfect, long before. The same test which proves the intelligence of the child demonstrates its existence in animals there is a similar power of comprehending the wishes expressed, by associating certain articulate sounds with certain acts required, as well as an equal recognition of the tones of voice by which approval, reproof or anger are made known; but, lacking the organs of speech, they are debarred, and forever must be, from any except the most limited interchange of thought. For this reason, attentive study is needed in ascertaining the extent to which they comprehend and respond to the intelligence which addresses them.

In the case of wild or undomesticated animals there is little opportunity for investigating this interesting subject. We see the beaver build his dam, and we understand the object so admirably attained by his work. We know that the elephant, to be taken in the pitfall, must see on the earth that covers it the foot-prints of one of his fellows, and we surmise the process of reasoning by which he concludes that he is safe in venturing where another of his kind has trodden. We learn that the ostrich which in torrid regions trusts to the heat of the sand for the incubation of her eggs, will in a more temperate latitude supply the heat which would else be lacking by setting on her eggs during the cooler nights; but in none of these, nor in a score of other cases, in which there seems a rational foresight, can we determine how far the acts result from intelligent reflection. In domesticated animals, and especially in such as are trained for the service of man, the action of intelligence may be clearly traced; it is demonstrated by the ease and certainty with which they can be educated; it is seen in the readiness with which many receive and act upon ideas communicated to them; and in a multitude of instances the mental process is evident by which they have, independently, reached conclusions rationally deduced from facts of their previous knowledge. Mr. J. Hope relates a circumstance of a terrier who had been temporarily left by his master in the care of a Mrs. Langford at St. Albans. This lady owned a large house-dog which, disliking the presence of the stranger, quarreled with him, biting and severely wounding him, after which the terrier disappeared; but in a few days he returned again, accompanied by a powerful mastiff, when both together fell upon the original assailant, whom they nearly killed. The mastiff was the watch-dog at his master’s house, more than a day’s journey distant, and had been brought by the terrier for the sole purpose of avenging the injury he had received, after which they left in company and proceeded together to their home. Here was displayed a power of combining ideas and of communicating them to one of his own kind, when the two acted on the plan they had preconcerted.

In a work just issued, an anecdote is related of a dog who had lost his master and afterwards became old and blind, passing his time sadly in the same corner, which he rarely quitted. “One day came a step like that of his lost master, and he suddenly left his place. The man who had just entered wore ribbed stockings as his master had done. The old dog had lost his scent and referred at once to the stockings that he remembered, rubbing his face against them. Believing that his master had returned, he gave way to the most extravagant delight. The man spoke; the momentary illusion was dispelled, the dog went sadly back to his place, lay wearily down, and died.” Here was a double process of reasoning and even a balancing of testimony with a decision that the negative evidence of the strange voice outweighed the affirmative proof in the step and the stockings.

Much evidence favors the belief that animals not only become familiar with the words habitually addressed to them, but that they, to a certain extent, understand our language. A dog, belonging to a friend of the writer, would slink from the room with every indication of shame if a fault of which he had been guilty was spoken of in his presence. The author of “Chapters on Animals” describes a dog in his possession which clearly distinguishes between those visitors at the house who are favorites with his master and those whom he dislikes, and adds: “I know not how he discovers these differences in my feelings, except it be by overhearing remarks when the guests are gone.”

The elephant, though one of the clumsiest of animals, exhibits marks of high intelligence, and evidently understands the language in which he is addressed. He can be stimulated to unusual exertions by the promise of a reward. “I have seen,” says a French writer, “two occupied in beating down a wall which their keepers had desired them to do and encouraged them by a promise of fruits and brandy.” They were left alone and continued at the work, stimulated by the promised reward, until it was accomplished. “When a reward is promised to an elephant,” says the same author, “it is dangerous to disappoint him, as he never fails to revenge the insult.” Nothing of this could occur without an understanding of the language.

In India they were formerly employed to launch vessels, and it is related that one being directed to force a large ship into the water, the task proved beyond his strength; whereupon his master, in a sarcastic tone, ordered the keeper to take away this lazy beast and bring another; the poor animal, as if stung by emulation, instantly repeated his efforts, fractured his skull and died on the spot.

It may be said that the tones of the voice rather than the words are what the animal understands, yet a dog knows his name however spoken, and a horse understands a whole vocabulary of orders. But the intelligence which comprehends the meaning of a tone, is not less than that required to understand a word or sentence. Mr. Hamerton, the artist, widely known as a lover of animals, mentions a favorite dog which met an untimely death by drowning, and in his lament over his lost pet, says: “He was a dog of rare gifts, exceptionally intelligent, who would obey a look where another needed an order. He would sit studying his master’s face and had become from careful observation so acute a physiognomist that he read whatever thoughts of mine had any concern for him.”

The shrewd intelligence of our countrymen is nowhere more clearly seen than in the keen bargains the New Englander is famous for driving. But our domestic animals make bargains with us and sometimes resolutely keep us to them. On this point a pleasant writer relates an anecdote of a favorite mare who was so difficult to catch in the pasture as to often require six men to effect it; “but,” says he, “I carried corn to her for a long time, without trying to take her, leaving the corn on the ground. Next, I induced her to eat the corn while I held it, still leaving her free. Finally I persuaded her to follow me, and now she will come trotting half a mile at my whistle, leaping ditches, fording brooks, in the darkness and rain, or in impenetrable fog. She follows me like a dog to the stable and I administer the corn there. But it is a bargain; she knowingly sells her liberty for the corn. The experiment of reducing the reward to test her behavior having been tried, she ceased to obey the whistle and resumed her former habits; but the full and due quantity having been restored, she yielded her liberty again without resistance, and since then she is not to be cheated.”

A horse which is regularly used for attending church, will, from its own observation, learn to recognize the Sabbath and understand the meaning of the church bells. Two interesting illustrations of this fact I give on the authority of a recent number of the Hartford Post:

Here the horses plainly understood the distinction between that day and the six previous ones when they had been driven to Springfield, else they would have gone, after starting, to where they had been going through the week; they also evidently understood that at the ringing of the second bell it was time to start for church. The gentleman who communicated the foregoing adds an instance which occurred in his own family:

When we remember that such exhibitions of intelligence occur continually where the animals have received no training on the subjects to which they relate, it seems certain that they are the result of a mental process which strongly resembles thought, and we would expect, from patient culture, displays of intelligence greatly in advance of those ordinarily taking place. Such an expectation is justified by the results which have followed training when directed to this end. In a paper entitled “Canine Guests,” Philip Gilbert Hamerton gives an account of the trained dogs of M. du Rouil which, but for the unimpeachable veracity of the writer, would be almost incredible. M. du Rouil began to educate his first dog out of curiosity to see the effect of the sort of education which seemed to him best adapted for establishing a close understanding between the human and canine minds; the results astonished himself and were so gratifying that he subsequently educated two others on the same principles. Two of these dogs, “Blanche” and “Lyda,” with their master, were guests of Mr. Hamerton, and the intelligence they exhibited, and which he describes, is, by his own admission, “incredible,” yet may be so only because of our ignorance of the nature and extent of the mental powers belonging to the animal creation. Among the many feats performed by them were the spelling of words by lettered cards; the correction of words purposely misspelled; the working out of simple problems in arithmetic and the playing of cards and dominoes. Of the latter, Mr. Hamerton says: “Both the dogs played a game at dominoes. This was managed as follows: the dogs sat on chairs opposite each other, and took up the domino that was wanted; but the master placed it in its position and kept announcing the state of the game. Their distress when they could not go on without drawing from the bank was announced in piteous whines, and amused us all exceedingly. Lyda was the loser, and precipitately retreated to hide herself with an evident consciousness of defeat.”

An incident occurred in the course of the evening which showed some understanding of language. A little girl wanted Blanche to come to her, but the dog kept away, on which M. du Rouil said, “Blanche, go salute the little girl!” She immediately went up to the child and made a formal obeisance.

The owner of Blanche stated that he was going home one night accompanied by the dog and on his way saw a man who was searching for some object that he had lost. “What are you seeking?” he asked. The man answered that he had lost 280 francs. “Possibly my dog may be able to find them for you; have you any money left? If you have, show her a piece of gold.” It was done and the dog directed to search. She at once set out and soon returned, bringing first one piece of gold, then another, and then a bank-note, till the whole sum that had been lost was regained.

M. du Rouil said that Blanche really knew all the letters and the playing-cards by their names, and Lyda really knew all the figures. In addition to this Blanche had studied about one hundred and fifty words in different languages, something like twenty in each language. So it was with Lyda and the figures. She knew each one by its name, and would bring the one called for. In describing the earlier stages of training through which these dogs had passed, their owner said the first thing was to make the dog fetch an object, the next to make him discriminate between one of two very different objects placed together, and bring one or the other as it was mentioned by its name. In beginning the alphabet he put two most dissimilar letters side by side to begin with, such as an O and an I, avoiding the confusion of similar ones, such as O and Q or B and R. Gradually the dog became observant enough to discriminate between letters in which the difference was not so marked. M. du Rouil said he had found the greatest difficulty in teaching Blanche to distinguish between the knaves and kings in playing-cards, but that she learned the aces very promptly. When he was asked what, after his ten years’ experience, was his opinion of the intelligence of dogs, he answered, with great emphasis, “that it is infinite.”

In subsequent pages I shall set forth my method of educating both dogs and horses to perform a variety of feats, which will be described, and from the ideas thus imparted the reader may multiply the number of tricks to any desired amount.

FERREN’S PATENTED STEEL HORSESHOE.

One of the most valuable patents for Horseshoes was granted to H. B. Ferren, of Batavia, N. Y., for a Steel Horseshoe, which promises to come into general use, and will, to a very large extent, supersede an Iron Shoe, whether made by a machine or by hand, because its form is the best, the material is durable, and the manner of making is such as to secure economy, and its adoption will prevent many of the prevalent cruel malpractices upon a horse’s foot.