a general name for all animals except mankind.

Among brutes, the monkey kind bear the nearest resemblance to man, both in the external shape and internal structure, but more in the former than in the latter. In the monkey kind, the highest and nearest approach to the likeness of man is the orangutan, or Homo Sylvestris. The structure and economy of brutes make the objects of what is called Comparative Anatomy. See Anatomy Index.

Philosophers have been much puzzled about the essential characteristics of brutes, by which they may be distinguished from man. Some define a brute to be an animal not rifflable, or a living creature incapable of laughter; others call them mute animals. The peripatetics allowed them a sensitive power, but denied them a rational one. The Platonists allowed them reason and understanding, though in a degree less pure and refined than that of men. Laëntius allows every thing to brutes which men have, except a sense of religion; and even this has been ascribed to them by some sceptics. Descartes maintained, that brutes are mere inanimate machines, absolutely destitute not only of reason but of all thought and perception, and that all their actions are only consequences of the exquisite mechanism of their bodies. This system, however, is much older than Descartes; it was borrowed by him from Gomez Pereira, a Spanish physician, who employed 30 years in composing a treatise which he entitled Antoniana Margarita, from the Christian names of his father and mother. It was published in 1554; but his opinion had not the honour of gaining partizans, or even of being refuted; so that it died with him. Even Pereira seems not to have been the inventor of this notion; something like it having been held by some of the ancients, as we find from Plutarch and St Augustin. Others, who rejected the Cartesian hypothesis, have maintained that brutes are endowed with a soul essentially inferior to that of men; and to this soul some have allowed immortality, others not. And, lastly, in a treatise published by one Bougeant a Jesuit, entitled, A philosophical amusement on the language of beasts, he affirms that they are animated by evil spirits or devils.

The opinion of Descartes was probably invented, or at least adopted by him, to defeat two great objections: one against the immortality of the souls of brutes, if they were allowed to have any; the other against the goodness of God, in suffering creatures who had never sinned, to be subjected to so many miseries. The arguments in favour of it may be stated as follow: 1. It is certain, that a number of human actions are merely mechanical; because they are done imperceptibly to the agent, and without any direction from the will; which are to be ascribed to the impression of objects and the primordial disposition of the machine, wherein the influence of the soul has no share; of which number are all habits of the body acquired from the reiteration of certain actions. In all such circumstances, human beings are no better than automata. 2. There are some natural movements so involuntary, that we cannot restrain them; for example, that admirable mechanism ever on the watch to preserve an equilibrium, when we stoop, bend, or incline our bodies in any way, and when we walk upon a narrow plank. 3. The natural liking for, and antipathy against, certain objects, which in children precede the power of knowing and discriminating them, and which sometimes in grown persons triumph over all the efforts of reason; are all phenomena to be accounted for from the wonderful mechanism of the body, and are so many cogent proofs of that irresistible influence which objects have on the human frame. 4. Every one knows how much our passions depend on the degree of motion into which the blood is put, and the reciprocal impressions caused by the animal-spirits between the heart and brain, that are so closely connected. connected by their nerves; and if such effects may be produced by such simple mechanical means as the mere increase of motion in the blood, without any direction of the will, we are not to wonder at the actions of brutes being the effects only of a refined mechanism, without thought or perception. A further proof will arise from a consideration of the many wonderful effects which even the ingenuity of men has contrived to bring about by mechanical means; the androides, for instance, of Mr Kempell, which plays at chess. Now, it is not to be questioned, but that the mechanism of the body of the meanest animal infinitely surpasses that of Mr Kempell's machine; and what can be the consequence of this, but that the actions of that animal must be proportionably more surprising than those of the wooden chess-player? See ANDROIDES and AUTOMATON.

The above is a short abstract of all the arguments that are brought in favour of the Cartesian system; but they are evidently very far from being conclusive. They are deficient, in the first place, because, though we allow them in the utmost extent the Cartesians themselves can desire, they prove only the possibility of brutes being inanimate, and that the power of God actually could produce such and such actions from inanimate machines; but that he actually hath done so, they have not the least tendency to prove. In the second place, the Cartesian argument is insufficient, because it hath no limits, and knows not where to stop; as, by the same method of arguing, every man might prove his neighbour to be an inanimate machine: for though every individual be conscious of his own thoughts, he is not so of those of his neighbours; and it no more exceeds the power of God to cause an inanimate machine perform the actions of a man than those of a beast. Neither are the two objections which the hypothesis is calculated to answer, to be at all admitted as arguments in its favour. They are, 1. That if we allow brutes to have souls, they must be immaterial, and consequently immortal: and, 2. It seems a contradiction to the goodness of God to think that he should subject innocent creatures to such a multitude of evils as we see the brute creation endure in this world. The first of these is productive of no bad consequences to us, though it should be granted: and if it is supposed that the brute creatures are really immortal, the second objection vanishes; because, in the enjoyment of endless felicity, all temporary afflictions, however severe, must be swallowed up as though they had never been.

As to a positive proof on the other side, viz. that brutes are really endowed with sensation and consciousness, there is undoubtedly the same evidence for the sensibility of brutes that there is for that of mankind. We see brutes avoid pain as much as we do; and we likewise see them seek for pleasure and express their happiness in the enjoyment of certain things by signs not at all equivocal. Therefore, though we grant the possibility of all this being the effect of mere mechanism; yet, as we are conscious that in ourselves similar effects are produced by a sentient principle, we have all the reason in the world to conclude that in brutes they are likewise derived from a principle of sensation; especially seeing we know of no kind of mechanism in any other part of nature that produces anything like the effects just mentioned; and until we see that a mechanism of this kind does take place in some part of nature, we have no right to suppose it in any. As to those actions of the human body in which it seems to move spontaneously, like an automaton, without the direction of the mind or will, it is almost superfluous to observe, that they were not performed in this manner originally, but required very great exertions of the will and intellectual faculty before the body could be brought to perform them easily; so that from this nothing can be inferred. Add to this, that divine revelation sets forth to us in many places the brute creation as objects of mercy; which could not be done without the highest absurdity, if they were not really capable of feeling pleasure and pain as well as we.

The most rational opposers of the Cartesian scheme maintain, that brutes are endowed with a principle of sensation as well as we; though of an inferior nature to ours. Great disputes, however, have arisen on this subject; some maintaining, that the soul of brutes is merely sentient, and that they are altogether destitute of reflection and understanding; others, that they not only reason, but make a better use of it than men do. That the brutes are endowed only with sensation, and totally destitute of all power of reflection, or even reasoning, is what can by no means be maintained on good grounds: neither can it be affirmed that they act entirely from instinct, or a blind propensity to certain things, without knowing why or wherefore. In numberless instances, needlessly to be mentioned here, but which will readily occur to every reader, it is evident, that education will get the better of many of the natural instincts of brutes; which could never be the case were they absolutely incapable of reasoning. On the other hand, it is equally certain, that they are by no means capable of education in the same degree that men are; neither are the rational exertions of beasts at all to be compared even with those of the meanest savages. One remarkable instance of this is in the use of the element of fire. The most savage nations have known how to make this element subservient to their purposes; or if some have been found who have been entirely ignorant of its existence, they have quickly learned its uses on seeing it made use of by others: but though many of the brute creatures are delighted with warmth, and have opportunities every day of seeing how fire is supplied with fuel, and by that means preserved, it never was known that one of them attempted to preserve a fire by this means. This shows a strange defect of rationality, unaccountable upon any other supposition than that the foul or sentient principle of brutes is some how or other inferior in its nature to that of man; but still it is a sentient principle, capable of perceptions as quick, and in many instances much more so than our own.

Father Bougeant supports his opinion of the spirits of brute creatures being devils in the following manner: Having proved at large that beasts naturally have understandings, "Reason (says he) naturally inclines us to believe that beasts have a spiritual soul; and the only thing that opposes this sentiment is, the consequences that might be inferred from it. If brutes have a soul, that soul must be either matter or spirit; it must be one of the two, and yet you dare affirm neither. You dare not say it is matter, because you must then necessarily suppose matter to be capable of thinking; nor will you say that it is spirit, this opinion bringing with it consequences contrary to the principles of religion; and this, among others, that man would differ from beasts only by the degrees of plus and minus; which would demolish the very foundation of all religion. Therefore, if I can elude all these consequences; if I can affix to beasts a spiritual soul, without striking at the doctrines of religion; it is evident, that my system, being moreover the most agreeable to reason, is the only warrantable hypothesis. Now I shall, and can do it, with the greatest ease imaginable. I even have means, by the same method, to explain many very obscure passages in the Holy Scripture, and to resolve some very great difficulties which are not well confuted. This we shall unfold in a more particular manner.

"Religion teaches us, that the devils, from the very moment they had sinned, were reprobate, and that they were doomed to burn for ever in hell; but the church has not yet determined whether they do actually endure the torments to which they are condemned. It may then be thought that they do not yet suffer them, and that the execution of the verdict brought against them is reserved for the day of the final judgment.—Now what I pretend to infer from hence is, that, till doomsday comes, God, in order not to suffer so many legions of reprobate spirits to be of no use, has distributed them through the several spaces of the world, to serve the designs of his Providence, and make his omnipotence appear. Some, continuing in their natural state, busy themselves in tempting men, in seducing and tormenting them; either immediately, as Job's devil, and those that lay hold of human bodies; or by the ministry of sorcerers or phantoms. These wicked spirits are those whom the scripture calls the powers of darkness or the powers of the air. God, with the others, makes millions of beasts of all kinds, which serve for the uses of men, which fill the universe, and cause the wisdom and omnipotence of the Creator to be admired. By that means I can easily conceive, on the one hand, how the devils can tempt us; and on the other, how beasts can think, know, have sentiments, and a spiritual soul, without any way striking at the doctrines of religion. I am no longer surprized to see them have forecast, memory, and judgment. I should rather have occasion to wonder at their having no more, since their soul very likely is more perfect than ours. But I discover the reason of this: it is because, in beasts as well as in ourselves, the operations of the mind are dependent on the material organs of the machine to which it is united; and those organs being groser and less perfect than in us, it follows, that the knowledge, the thoughts, and the other spiritual operations of the beasts, must of course be less perfect than ours: And if these proud spirits know their own dismal state, what a humiliation must it be to them thus to feel themselves reduced to the condition of beasts! But, whether they know it or not, so shameful a degradation is still, with regard to them, the primary effect of the divine vengeance I just mentioned; it is an anticipated hell."

Having mentioned the prejudices against this hypothesis, such particularly as the pleasure which people of sense and religion take in beasts and birds, especially all sorts of domestic animals; he proceeds, "Do we love beasts for their own sakes? No. As they are altogether strangers to human society, they can have no other appointment but that of being useful and amusing. And what care we whether it be a devil or any other creature that amuses us? The thought of it, far from shocking, pleases me mightily. I with gratitude admire the goodness of the Creator, who gave me so many little devils to serve and amuse me. If I am told that these poor devils are doomed to suffer eternal tortures, I admire God's decrees, but I have no manner of share in that dreadful sentence; I leave the execution of it to the sovereign judge: and, notwithstanding this, I live with my little devils as I do with a multitude of people, of whom religion informs me that a great number shall be damned. But the cure of a prejudice is not to be effected in a moment: it is done by time and reflection: give me leave then lightly to touch upon this difficulty, in order to observe a very important thing to you.

"Persuaded as we are that beasts have intelligence, have we not all of us a thousand times pitied them for the execrable evils which the majority of them are exposed to, and in reality suffer? How unhappy is the condition of horses! we are apt to say upon seeing a horse whom an unmerciful carman is murdering with blows. How miserable is the dog whom they are breaking for hunting! How dismal is the fate of beasts living in woods! they are perpetually exposed to the injuries of the weather; always feigned with apprehensions of becoming the prey of hunters, or of some wilder animal; for ever obliged, after long fatigue, to look out for some poor infipid food; often suffering cruel hunger; and subject, moreover, to illness and death! If men are subject to a multitude of miseries that overwhelm them, religion acquaints us with the reason of it; viz. the being born sinners. But what crimes can beasts have committed by birth to be subject to evils so very cruel? What are we, then, to think of the horrible excesses of miseries undergone by beasts? Miseries, indeed, far greater than those endured by men. This is, in any other system, an incomprehensible mystery; whereas nothing is more easy to be conceived from the system I propose. The rebellious spirits deserve a punishment still more rigorous, and happy it is for them that their punishment is deferred. In a word, God's goodness is vindicated, man himself is justified: for what right can we have, without necessity, and often in the way of mere diversion, to take away the life of millions of beasts if God had not authorized us so to do? And beasts being as sensible as ourselves of pain and death, how could a just and merciful God have given man that privilege, if they were not so many guilty victims of the divine vengeance?

"But hear still something more convincing, and of greater consequence: beasts, by nature, are extremely vicious. We know well that they never sin, because they are not free; but this is the only condition wanting to make them sinners. The voracious birds and beasts of prey are cruel. Many insects of one and the same species devour one another. Cats are are perfidious and ungrateful; monkeys are mischievous; and dogs envious. All beasts in general are jealous and revengeful to excess; not to mention many other vices we observe in them: and at the same time that they are by nature so very vicious, they have, say we, neither the liberty nor any helps to resist the bias that hurries them into so many bad actions. They are, according to the schools, necessitated to do evil, to disconcert the general order, to commit whatever is most contrary to the notion we have of natural justice and to the principles of virtue. What monsters are these in a world originally created for order and justice to reign in? This is, in good part, what formerly persuaded the Manicheans, that there were of necessity two orders of things, one good, and the other bad; and that the beasts were not the work of the good principle: a monstrous error! But how then shall we believe that beasts came out of the hands of their Creator with qualities so very strange! If man is so very wicked and corrupt, it is because he has himself through sin perverted the happy nature that God had given him at his creation. Of two things, then, we must say one: either that God has taken delight in making beasts so vicious as they are, and of giving us in them models of what is most shameful in the world; or that they have, like man, original sin, which has perverted their primitive nature.

"The first of these propositions finds very difficult access to the mind, and is an express contradiction to the holy scriptures; which say, that whatever came out of God's hands, at the time of the creation of the world, was good, yea very good. What good can there be in a monkey's being so very mischievous, a dog so full of envy, a cat so malicious? But then many authors have pretended, that beasts, before man's fall, were different from what they are now; and that it was in order to punish man that they became so wicked. But this opinion is a mere supposition of which there is not the least footprint in holy Scripture. It is a pitiful subterfuge to elude a real difficulty: this at most might be said of the beasts with whom man has a sort of correspondence; but not at all of the birds, fishes, and insects, which have no manner of relation to him. We must then have recourse to the second proposition, That the nature of beasts has, like that of man, been corrupted by some original sin: Another hypothesis, void of foundation, and equally inconsistent with reason and religion, in all the systems which have been hitherto espoused concerning the souls of beasts. What party are we to take? Why, admit of my system, and all is explained. The souls of beasts are refractory spirits which have made themselves guilty towards God. The sin in beasts is no original sin; it is a personal crime, which has corrupted and perverted their nature in its whole substance; hence all the vices and corruption we observe in them, though they can be no longer criminal, because God, by irrevocably reproving them, has at the same time divested them of their liberty."

These quotations contain the strength of Father Bougeant's hypothesis, which also hath had its followers; but the reply to it is obvious. Beasts, though remarkably mischievous, are not completely so; they are in many instances capable of gratitude and love, which devils cannot possibly be. The very same passions that are in the brutes exist in the human nature; and if we choose to argue from the existence of those passions, and the alendency they have over mankind at some times, we may lay with as great justice, that the souls of men are devils, as that the souls of brutes are. All that can be reasonably inferred from the greater prevalence of the malignant passions among the brutes than among men, is, that the former have less rationality than men: and accordingly it is found, that among savages, who exercise their reason less than other men, every species of barbarity is practised, without being deemed a crime.

On the present subject there is a very ingenious treatise in German, published by the late Professor Bergman, under the title (as translated) of "Researches designed to show what the Brute animals certainly are not, and also what they probably are."—That they are not machines, he proves with more detail than seemed necessary for refuting a hypothesis which would equally tend to make us all machines. It is certain, that the half-reasoning elephant cannot be deemed a machine, by us, from any other consideration, than that he goes upon four feet, while we go upon two; and he might as well take us for mere machines because we go upon two feet, while he goes upon four.

But if animals are not mere machines, what are they? Manifestly sensitive beings, with an immaterial principle; and thinking or reasoning beings, to a certain degree. In certain classes of animals this appears evident to our author, who seems to have observed with great sagacity and attention their various operations and proceedings, their ways and means, &c. He thinks it impossible to deduce this variety of action, in any animals (if we except those of the lowest classes in the gradation of intelligence), from a general and uniform instinct. For they accommodate their operations to times and circumstances. They combine; they choose the favourable moment; they avail themselves of the occasion, and seem to receive instruction by experience. Many of their operations announce reflection: the bird repairs a shattered nest, instead of constructing instinctively a new one; the hen, who has been robbed of her eggs, changes her place in order to lay the remainder with more security; the cat discovers both care and artifice in concealing her kittens. Again, it is evident, that, on many occasions, animals know their faults and mistakes, and correct them; they sometimes contrive the most ingenious methods of obtaining their ends, and when one method fails have recourse to another; and they have, without doubt, a kind of language for the mutual communication of their ideas. How is all this to be accounted for (says our author), unless we suppose them endowed with the powers of perceiving, thinking, remembering, comparing, and judging? They have these powers, indeed, in a degree inferior to that in which they are possessed by the human species, and form classes below them in the graduated scale of intelligent beings. But still it seems to our author unreasonable to exclude them from the place which the principles of sound philosophy, and facts ascertained by constant observation, assign to them in the great and diversified sphere of life, sensation, and intelligence;—he does not, however, consider them as beings whose actions actions are directed to moral ends, nor consequently as accountable and proper subjects for reward or punishment in a future world.

That brute animals possess reflection and sentiment, and are susceptible of the kindly as well as the irascible passions, independently of sexual attachment and natural affection, is evident from the numerous instances of affection and gratitude daily observable in different animals, particularly the dog. Of those and other sentiments, such as pride, and even a sense of glory, the elephant exhibits proofs equally surprising and indubitable, as the reader may see under the article Elephas.

As to the natural affection of brutes, says an ingenious writer, "the more I reflect on it, the more I am astonished at its effects." Nor is the violence of this affection more wonderful than the shortness of its duration. Thus every hen is in her turn the virgin of the yard, in proportion to the helplessness of her brood; and will fly in the face of a dog or a fow in defense of those chickens which in a few weeks she will drive before her with relentless cruelty. This affection sublimes the passions, quickens the invention, and sharpens the sagacity of the brute creation. Thus a hen, just become a mother, is no longer that placid bird she used to be, but with feathers standing on end, wings hovering, and clocking note, she runs about like one possessed. Dams will throw themselves in the way of the greatest danger in order to avert it from their progeny. Thus a partridge will tumble along before a sportsman, in order to draw away the dogs from her helpless covey. In the time of nidification the most feeble birds will assault the most rapacious. All the hirundines of a village are up in arms at the sight of a hawk, whom they will persecute till he leaves that district. A very exact observer has often remarked, that a pair of ravens nestling in the rock of Gibraltar would suffer no vulture or eagle to rest near their habitation, but would drive them from the hill with amazing fury: even the blue thrush at the season of breeding would dart out from the clefts of the rocks to chase away the kestrel or the sparrow-hawk. If you stand near the nest of a bird that has young, she will not be induced to betray them by an inadvertent fondness, but will wait about at a distance with meat in her mouth for an hour together. The flycatcher builds every year in the vines that grow on the walls of my house. A pair of these little birds had one year inadvertently placed their nest on a naked bough, perhaps in a shady time, not being aware of the inconvenience that followed; but a hot sunny season coming on before the brood was half fledged, the reflection of the wall became insupportable, and must inevitably have destroyed the tender young, had not affection suggested an expedient, and prompted the parent-birds to hover over the nest all the hotter hours, while with wings expanded and mouths gaping for breath they screened off the heat from their suffering offspring. A farther instance I once saw of notable sagacity in a willow-wren, which had built in a bank in my fields. This bird, a friend and myself had observed as she sat in her nest; but were particularly careful not to disturb her, though we saw she eyed us with some degree of jealousy. Some days after, as we palled that way, we were desirous of remarking how this brood went on; but no nest could be found, till I happened to take up a large bundle of long green moss as it were carelessly thrown over the nest, in order to dodge the eye of any impertinent intruder."

A wonderful spirit of sociability in the brute creation, independent of sexual attachment, has been frequently remarked. Many horses, though quiet with company, will not stay one minute in a field by themselves: the strongest fences cannot restrain them. A horse has been known to leap out at a stable window through which dung was thrown after company; and yet in other respects is remarkably quiet. Oxen and cows will not fatten by themselves; but will neglect the finest pasture that is not recommended by society. It would be needless to instance in sheep, which constantly flock together. But this propensity seems not to be confined to animals of the same species. In the work last quoted, we are told of "a doe still alive, that was brought up from a little fawn with a dairy of cows; with them it goes a-field, and with them it returns to the yard. The dogs of the house take no notice of this deer, being used to her; but if strange dogs come by, a chase ensues; while the master smiles to see his favourite securely leading her pursuers over hedge, or gate, or stile, till she returns to the cows, who with fierce lowings and menacing horns drive the assailants quite out of the pasture."

Even great disparity of kind and size does not always prevent social advances and mutual fellowship. Of this the following remarkable instance is given in the same work: "A very intelligent and observant person has assured me, that in the former part of his life, keeping but one horse, he happened also on a time to have but one solitary hen. These two incongruous animals spent much of their time together in a lonely orchard, where they saw no creature but each other. By degrees an apparent regard began to take place between these two sequestered individuals. The fowl would approach the quadruped with notes of complacency rubbing herself gently against his legs; while the horse would look down with satisfaction, and move with the greatest caution and circumspection, lest he should trample on his diminutive companion. Thus by mutual good offices each seemed to console the vacant hours of the other; so that Milton, when he puts the following sentiment in the mouth of Adam, seems to be somewhat mistaken:

Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl, So well converse, nor with the ox the ape.

In the Gentleman's Magazine for March 1788 we have the following anecdotes of a raven, communicated by a correspondent who does not sign his name, but who says it is at the service of the doubtful. The raven alluded to "lives, or did live three years since, at the Red Lion at Hungerford; his name, I think, is Rafe. You must know then, that coming into that inn, my chair run over or bruised the leg of my Newfoundland dog; and while we were examining the injury done to the dog's foot, Rafe was evidently a concerned spectator; for the minute the dog was tied up under the manger with my horse, Rafe not only visited but fetched him bones, and attended upon him with particular and repeated marks of kindness. The bird's notice of the dog was so marked, that I observed it to the hollier;" hottler; for I had not heard a word before of the history of this benevolent creature. John then told me, that he had been bred from his pin-feather in intimacy with a dog; that the affection between them was mutual; and that all the neighbourhood had often been witnesses of the innumerable acts of kindness they had conferred upon each other. Rafe's poor dog, after a while, unfortunately broke his leg; and during the long time he was confined, Rafe waited upon him constantly, carried him his provisions daily, and never scarce left him alone! One night by accident the hotter had shut the stable door, and Rafe was deprived of the company of his friend the whole night; but the hotter found in the morning the bottom of the door so pecked away, that had it not been opened, Rafe would in another hour have made his own entrance-port. I then inquired of my landlady (a sensible woman), and heard what I have related confirmed by her, with several other singular traits of the kindnesses this bird shows to all dogs in general, but particularly to maimed or wounded ones. I hope, and believe, however, the bird is still living; and the traveller will find I have not over-rated this wonderful bird's merit."

To these instances of attachment between incongruous animals from a spirit of sociability or the feelings of sympathy, may be added the following instance of fondness from a different motive, recounted by Mr White, in the work already so frequently quoted. "My friend had a little helpless leveret brought to him, which the servants fed with milk in a spoon; and about the same time his cat kittened, and the young were dispatched and buried. The hare was soon lost, and supposed to be gone the way of most foundlings, or to be killed by some dog or cat. However, in about a fortnight, as the master was sitting in his garden in the dusk of the evening, he observed his cat, with tail erect, trotting towards him, and calling with little short inward notes of complacency, such as they use towards their kittens, and something gambling after, which proved to be the leveret which the cat had supported with her milk, and continued to support with great affection. Thus was a carnivorous animal nurtured by a carnivorous and predaceous one!

"Why so cruel and languidly a beast as a cat, of the ferocious genus of Felis, the murium leo, as Linnaeus calls it, should be affected with any tenderness towards an animal which is its natural prey, is not so easy to determine. This strange affection probably was occasioned by that diderium, those tender maternal feelings, which the loss of her kittens had awakened in her breast; and by the complacency and ease she derived to herself from the procuring her tents to be drawn, which were too much dilated with milk, till from habit she became as much delighted with this foundling as if it had been her real offspring.

"This incident is no bad solution of that strange circumstance which grave historians as well as the poets assert, of exposed children being sometimes nurtured by female wild beasts that probably had lost their young. For it is not one whit more marvellous that Romulus and Remus, in their infant state, should be nursed by a she-wolf, than that a poor little fucking leveret should be fostered and cherished by a bloody grimalkin.

Vol. IV. Part II.

But besides the different qualities enumerated, besides reflection and sagacity often in an astonishing degree, and besides the sentiments and actions prompted by social or natural attachments, certain brutes seem on many occasions inspired with a superior faculty, a kind of presentiment or second sight as it were, with regard to events and designs altogether unforeseen by the rational beings whom they concern. Of the faculty alluded to, various instances will probably confit with the knowledge or the recollection of most of our readers: We shall therefore only recite the following on account of its unquestionable authenticity. At the seat of the late earl of Lichfield, three miles from Blenheim, there is a portrait in the dining-room of Sir Henry Lee, by Johnston, with that of a mastiff-dog which saved his life. It seems a servant had formed the design of assassinating his master and robbing the house; but the night he had fixed on, the dog, which had never been much noticed by Sir Henry, for the first time followed him up stairs, got under his bed, and could not be got from thence by either master or man: in the dead of night, the same servant entered the room to execute his horrid design; but was instantly seized by the dog, and being secured confessed his intentions. There are ten quaint lines in one corner of the picture, which conclude thus:

But in my dog, whereof I made no store, I find more love than those I trusted more.

Upon what hypothesis can we account for a degree of foresight and penetration such as this? Or will it be suggested, as a solution of the difficulty, that a dog may possibly become capable in great measure of undertaking human discourse, and of reasoning and acting accordingly; and that, in the present instance, the villain had either uttered his design in soliloquy, or imparted it to an accomplice, in the hearing of the animal?

It has been much disputed whether the brutes have any language whereby they can express their minds to each other; or whether all the noise they make consists only of cries inarticulate, and unintelligible even to themselves. We are, however, too little acquainted with the intellectual faculties of these creatures to be able to determine this point. Certain it is, that their passions, when excited, are generally productive of some peculiar cry; but whether this be designed as an expression of the passion to others, or only a mechanical motion of the muscles of the larynx occasioned by the passion, is what we have no means of knowing. We may indeed, from analogy, conclude, with great reason, that some of the cries of beasts are really expressions of their sentiments; but whether one beast is capable of forming a design, and communicating that design by any kind of language to others, is what we submit to the judgment of the reader, after giving the following instance which among others is brought as a proof of it by Father Bougeant. "A sparrow finding a nest that a martin had just built, standing very conveniently..."