time with me; she shall run about in the woods and the meadows, and play with a lot of other animals, and not have to work too long; the professors shall be sent away when Lola is tired.' This evidently pleased him, and he became very friendly to me, and on my returning to my point and asking once more whether Lola might go with me, he rapped out his answer on my hand: it was 'Yes!'

"Then I told him about an ox, who, when he didn't want to work, pretended to be dead. Rolf now got very excited, and wanted to go on rapping—first on my hand, and then on the leather-covered sofa on which I was sitting. I became rather uneasy and got him to go and rap to Fräulein Moekel, for I could then follow the raps far better. And what he now had to say referred to the deceitful ox—it was: "Hat Recht: Lol immer sagen Bauchweh!" ( = Quite right of him! Lol always says he has a pain in his stomach!)

"After this I showed him another box of biscuits, with a picture of a little nigger-boy on the lid, and asked:

"'What do you see on this?'

"To which he eagerly replied:

"'Wüst schwarz Bub!' ( = A wild black boy!)

"Rolf then received his reward, and I took a grateful leave of the Moekels—accompanied by little Lola.

"This experience of coming into personal contact with Rolf's powers of self-expression made a deep and lasting impression on me. In spite of all the accounts I had read and heard this living proof was almost overpowering in its utter novelty, and in the feeling of emotion that came over me, I seemed to sense that 'Souls' Unrest' that a transition from the old conception of 'unreasoning' animals to this new cognition is bound to bring with it.

"My visit had been so short that I had not been able to put any questions as to the method of instruction pursued. I had not been able to experiment personally nor get any actual advice, for Frau Dr. Moekel had died in the autumn of 1915. Yet I was by no means displeased at my state of ignorance when I came to reflect on the matter, for it enabled me to 'blaze a trail,' as it were, according to my own way of thinking, perhaps even, enabling me to arrive accidentally at similar or, diametrically opposite results!"

LOLA

Lola is an Airedale terrier, born at Mannheim on 27 January, 1914, a daughter of Rolf, and of the equally thorough-bred Jela. Both these dogs were owned by the family of a barrister, Dr. Moekel. The Airedale terrier resembles the dog we call a "Schnauzer"; it is wire-haired and of medium growth; generally with a greyish-black coat and yellow feet. Its head is covered with silky curls beneath which two bright eyes are seen. These dogs are distinguished for their alert and attentive bearing, while their excellent constitution renders them specially suitable for being trained to useful pursuits; they are at the same time not an over-bred race. Professor Heck, writing on the subject of these dogs (see "Communications of the Society for Animal Psychology"),' says:

"We are indebted to Herr Gutbrod of Bradford for the fact that this dog has already become fairly well distributed among us. If I have been rightly informed regarding the Airedale's history it is a crossbreed between the otter-hound and the bull-terrier, this strain having been originally obtained by the factory hands of Airedale in the North of England, who thus sought to obtain a hardy dog—one not afraid of water, and that would prove a useful assistant when out poaching either water-fowl, hares or rabbits, occasions on which it is of importance to carry out the work with as little noise as possible.

"This breed provides a favourite 'house dog'; they have proved invaluable as Army Medical Service dogs, and are friendly with children. Jocularly they are called (in Germany) Petroleum dogs ( = a play on the name Airedale, as pronounced in German, i.e. 'Erd-oel'").

As already said, Lola's parents were the much spoken-of Rolf, the so-called "thinking" or "speaking" dog, and Jela, no longer owned by the Moekels. Jela seems to have been an unimportant little animal, not even very affectionate as a mother. The litter Lola was dropped at consisted of twelve pups; of these one died at once, and after the vicissitudes puppies are heirs to, those that remained and have become known to us, are Heinz, Harras, Ilse, and Lola. The first-named three all have their different owners by whom they are being taught with a certain amount of success—as indeed their reports have shown.

Previously to coming into my possession, Lola, had been removed from Mannheim at an early age, and had passed through many hands, undergoing, moreover, the most various attempts of instruction. Lack of time and also the war, had been answerable for these changes; twice, however, her own fidgetiness had resulted in her being deemed unsuitable, and it was felt that the attempt had proved a failure. Even Frau Dr. Moekel, into whose hands she had finally returned is said not to have thought much of her, having only been able to get her to learn "yes" ( = 2), and "no" ( = 3). I mention this, because it became clear to me later on that the success of such teaching does not depend solely on the patience, the love and the attention, nor even on the ability to, or the faculty for sensing the feelings of other creatures: not on the sympathy nor yet on the calm of individual persons, but rather on a particular person being suited to a particular dog.

No matter how great the ability of both the individual and the dog may be, should their temperaments not be in accord—every attempt will be fruitless. For instance, I feel very sure that I could not have taught Rolf; also that I shall never be able to get a sheep-dog (I still possess) to do more than answer "yes" and "no"; also that it would be the easiest thing for me to instruct Lola's daughter Ula—and so forth. There are, in short, "winners" and "blanks" and betwixt the two, every grade of differentiation. Yet, is this not equally true in the case of teaching children? The best of teachers need not prove equally suitable to all his pupils, while some other will turn out to be exactly the right person. And this only shows us the difficulties which so frequently obstruct the path of the best-intentioned people—where investigations are concerned; obstructions which they themselves oft-times do not notice, and to which no thought is given by prejudiced persons. For with animals we come up against a more acute degree of sensitiveness than we do in a child, which, owing to certain rudiments of common sense, is able to adapt itself more easily to either teacher or investigator.

Lola had remained with the Moekels for some time after the decease of that estimable lady; it was, however, ultimately found desirable to find other homes for some of the dogs. It was about that time that my inquiry as to the possibility of procuring a descendant of Rolf reached Professor Ziegler, and he at once seconded my application. Thus Lola was kindly placed at my disposal. At first I felt some misgivings owing to the fact that the dog was already two years old, and had also passed through numerous hands, yet I determined to go to Mannheim, and my visit took place as above narrated. Lola made a most delightful impression on me, and I put few tests to my choice, for I was in a state of some excitement after all that had taken place, and therefore took her away with me joyfully. It had seemed as if I must do this.

It was on 11 January, 1916. She sat in the railway carriage with me, and began to howl violently when she saw Mannheim disappearing from her gaze. I tried to console her, saying: "Don't cry! You shall be quite happy with me!" It was then that Lola looked at me for the first time attentively. She quieted down and our friendship seemed sealed. She was apparently resigned to her fate; she was also doubtless aware that she had played "second fiddle" at Mannheim, and that it would, therefore, be preferable to be somewhere "on her own." That something of the kind was passing through