in its degree, quite analogous to the work of a human architect. "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests." How does the fox get its hole, or the bird its nest? They make them for their purposes, and this is certainly control over nature to that extent. How does the fox support his family if he has no control over nature? Do hens and chickens run into his hole and ask to be eaten? Dr. Hopkins does not seem ever to have heard of the way in which a tribe of monkeys prepare to rob a corn-field. Let us describe it. When they get ready to start on their expedition, an old monkey, the leader of the tribe, with a staff in his hand, so as to stand upright more easily, marches ahead on two legs, thus being more elevated than the others, so as to see signs of danger more readily. The rest follow him on all-fours. The leader advances slowly and cautiously, carefully reconnoitring in all directions, till the party arrives at the cornfield. He then assigns the sentinels to their respective posts. All being now in readiness, the rest of the tribe ravage and eat to their hearts' content. When they retire, each one carries two or three ears of corn along, and from this provision the sentinels are regaled on arrival at their lair. Here we see ability to rule and a willingness to submit to rule; a thoughtful preparation of means to the end in view; and a recognition of the rights of the sentinels to be suitably rewarded at the close of the expedition. Wherein does all this differ from a similar foray of a tribe of savage men? The only difference is in degree; otherwise, it is much the same. Dr. Hopkins's proposition that animals are not possessed of consciousness is mere assertion. He offers no proof whatever. A dog appears to be perfectly conscious of his existence. All his actions are in entire accordance with that view of his activity. Give him a bone, and he seems to be conscious of his rights, too, and is ready to defend them. Observe a dog of one or two years of age, and a child of four or five years, playing together; they understand each other perfectly well, and seem to get equal pleasure out of the sport. Their consciousness of existence is about the same. When the dog gets older, and accompanies his master to hunt, he understands his duties, and performs them about as well as the man performs his share. The dog hunts as truly as the man; takes a lively interest in all the proceedings; is joyous over success, and cast down in case of failure. To deny consciousness to such a being is absurd. It is quite true that the dog has not studied the Cartesian system of philosophy, and can not say to himself, cogito, ergo sum; but, neither can the boy who plays with him, nor, probably, the man who hunts with him. A power of analysis and metaphysical introspection is not possessed by young persons; nor, generally, by uncultivated men. They live in the present. They are satisfied with a consciousness of
