that they are 'mindful of the approaching winter;' and he refers to their order, and division of labor. If inquiry should be directed to that industry which accumulates not only beyond present, but even future necessities, it could be accounted for on no other supposition, than as a consequence of reasoning upon the necessity of preparing for the day of need.

Let us turn for a moment to the fables of Æsop. It is remarkable that these first attempts at moral philosophy should have come down to us with such freshness as to be almost without the marks of antiquity; and yet one of their most interesting features is the correctness, so far as we know, with which animals have been invested with their natural characteristics. We still ask

'Astuta ingenuum vulpes imitata leonem?'

and are yet inclined to charge the raven with vanity for being cheated of her meat, as represented in the fable, by the flattery of the fox. We also admire the closing reproof: Εχεις χοραζ νους δε γε λειπει. The artifice of the creature, from his well-known habits, sits upon him with peculiar fitness; and there is nothing very incongruous in allowing him to speak it out. This incites an inquiry into the nature of cunning and artifice, by which animals evade their enemies or take their prey. The fox, for example, obtains a knowledge of external things by the same agencies that man does; and makes a ready and skilful use of such perceptions to obtain some end. When pursued, he frequently runs in the bed of some shallow creek, to conceal every trace of his scent and footsteps; or runs back upon his own track for some distance, and then branches off, to puzzle his pursuers. He evidently knows the means by which he is followed, namely, his scent or foot-prints, and he devises a plan to render them both useless. Much might be said of the artifices of different animals, to decoy and ensnare their prey. Without the aid of reason it would be utterly impossible to form such plans; and beside, from these very stratagems we infer intelligence, and intelligence is of course an intellectual emanation.

Much also might be said of the elephant: indeed, his history alone would furnish sufficient facts to elucidate the whole subject; but the unexpected length of this article prevents the insertion of only a few notices. It is said that if he has been ensnared and escapes, he is afterward very cautious while in the woods, and breaking a large branch from a tree with his trunk, he sounds the ground before he treads upon it, to discover if there are any pits in his passage.[2] He exhibits the same kind of deliberation while passing a bridge. The Indians make use of him to carry artillery over mountains. When the oxen, yoked two and two, endeavor to draw up the mountain the piece of artillery, the elephant pushes the breech of the gun with his forehead; and at every effort that he makes he supports the carriage with his knee, which he places near the wheel.[3] An analysis of these operations would result in the same inference, that such actions were in consequence of reason.

An anecdote of a bird appeared a few months since, bearing the marks of authenticity. She had built her nest by a stone quarry, and during incubation was frequently alarmed by the blasting. She soon learned that the ringing of a bell preceded an explosion, and like the laborers, at this signal she retreated to a place of security. This feat having been discovered, some spectators succeeded in deceiving her a number of times by false alarms. The imposition however was soon detected; and she did not afterward fly at the sound of the bell, unless the workmen also retired. If this incident be true, (and there is nothing improbable in it,) reasoning, and that too of no obtuse character, is as legibly stamped upon this conduct, as if the brain had been uncovered, and we had seen, were it possible, with our own eyes its secret work.

Let us proceed with this inquiry to another point. It is a well-established principle of philosophy, that all pain and pleasure are in the mind, including of course the emotions and passions. We know that animals experience not only physical pleasures and pains, but passions both pleasant and painful; as attachment, courage, fidelity; anger, cowardice, and jealousy. Their manifestation of these pleasant and painful feelings is analogous to the manifestation of the same feelings by the human species; and it proves that they are endowed with a principle corresponding to mind, which we have seen is susceptible, like mind, of such feelings.

Some of the endowments of animals are delicate, even beyond our comprehension. The bee, for instance, is never caught in a shower; but by what agencies it arrives at the knowledge of an approaching storm, we are unable to determine; and therefore we call it pure instinct, leaving the subject as blind as we found it. The solution, however, of this question, will probably be found in the superior acuteness of its senses. We are generally sensible ourselves of a coming rain, by a change in the atmosphere; then, on the supposition that the bee has the sense of touch to a very delicate degree, the apparent enigma will be unravelled. We know also that our own senses convey to us imperfect knowledge, and that our minds serve to correct and supply their deficiencies: on the other hand, animals having reasoning powers of an inferior degree, a superior delicacy of the senses supplies to some extent the difference. They undoubtedly possess a knowledge of lesser things beyond the utmost reach of human intellect; while man possesses knowledge of a higher character, and as far above their comprehension; leaving degrees of intelligence above us, and below them, equally remote from each; for there are yet as many subjects of knowledge in the infinitely small as in the infinitely great. Nature retains her perfection, whether we descend to the atom or ascend to the universe; and the analogies of nature go to prove that the animalcule whose dimensions are below the power of the microscope, has as perfect an organization, and lives as completely, as man.

Animals seem to be as amply endowed with capacities by the Creator, for their sphere of existence, as man appears to be for his; and the Deity as evidently designed their happiness, as man's. He has framed them after the same great outline, and with no greater difference in this respect than is consistent with difference of species. He has endued them with senses, and a principle to take knowledge of the impressions they were designed to convey; and He has placed the means of happiness within their reach, as well as given the power to reach them. This much is self-evident. As to the proof that the principle commonly known as instinct manifests memory and reason, the arguments employed may be obscure; but the facts themselves, on reflection, carry conviction to the mind. To account for these manifestations on any other hypothesis, would be impossible; and to draw any other inference from the facts would be equally impossible; and to pronounce all these phenomena the workings of instinct, a name without a tangible meaning; a designation that prohibits inquiry, because it pretends to furnish an explanation of itself; would be to rest for ever in profound ignorance of the whole subject, when truth might be reached by investigation.

All the intellectual manifestations of mind are treated under four general divisions. One of them is memory; and all we know of it is,