too large for him. Now, when I call to mind the expression of the dog when he showed me the bone without getting an answer from me, I could not help thinking that he must at that moment have had a very poor opinion of my understanding."
It is evident from this incident that Houston knew explicitly that the bone would be easier to manage if it was split, and that I alone had means of splitting it; and he had a clear and precise idea in anticipation of what he expected from me. Finally, he manifested his desire to me by the only means within his power. How much better could a deaf-mute do than he did?
But it is one thing to think by resemblances, and another thing to think by symbols. A story was recently published by M. Dubuc, of a pointer which had learned after a few years that its master went hunting every Sunday, while on the other days he went to business; and M. Dubuc concluded that the animal had learned to count up to seven.
This conclusion is not legitimate; it may even be said to be wrong. The dog distinguished Sunday by some features that were peculiar to it; by the movements about the house, the behavior and Sunday dress of the servants, the dress of the master, or any one or more of a number of things that make Sunday different from the other days of the week; but we may say without contradiction that it did not count seven. We ourselves, if we were restricted to a life absolutely uniform, would not be able to distinguish the seventh day without mnemotechnic aids, and as a rule we seldom recollect the day or the elate except by the assistance of intrinsic circumstances.
My dog, which was habitually on the watch, perfectly understood whether I was going out to my lectures or for a stroll. For some time, he went with me to the university, when I sent him back. But he very soon took in the signs characteristic of the days and hours when I went to my duty—the regularity, my breakfast habit, my dress, the books under my arm, the direction I took, and my thoughtful air. We all know how observing animals are, and every one who has a dog has remarked how readily they learn that they are to be invited to go with us.
My Mouston was a great vagabond. He would go off in the morning as soon as the door was opened, and would sometimes not return till evening; but if I said to him, "Mouston, we are going to take a walk," he would stay around the house and watch my every motion.
The fondness of dogs for going walking with their masters is worthy of remark. The three dogs I had had the freedom of the street, but it was a great treat to them all to go with me. Probably the pleasure of coming up every once in a while to smell their master's legs goes a great way to compensate them for the restraint of following a fixed road and the often-repeated annoyance of the sudden interruption of interesting conversations that have hardly been
