and bites them on the head, the flanks, seldom on the paws or tail. The large lizard in particular was the favorite object of his attacks. The good-humored animal paid no attention to this, till we were on the point of asking ourselves whether he did not regard these bitings as marks of friendship. This lasted some two or three months. But one fine day—we were present at the scene—the large lizard became impatient. He seized the Spaniard with his formidable mouth, shook it, let it go, and then set in chase of it. The other ran off as fast as he could, giving all the signs of terror. After this the large lizard became quiet, and even seemed to have forgotten the matter.
The Spaniard took no notice of the generosity of its antagonist. Only becoming more prudent, it devised other tactics. Pretending indifference, it approached the Hercules slyly and a step at a time, and when it was near enough to him struck him with its jaw and ran away. Finally, the large lizard concluded that the Spaniard was too provoking; he sprang upon it anew, caught it, and gave it a forcible blow. After that the Spaniard regarded itself as beaten, always fled at the approach of the large one, and let him alone. After that, too, it prepared to make its attacks and bitings on the smaller ones. Its bad character became the cause of its being given a privileged position. It was put in the cage only while the others were allowed to be at large. If it sees us playing with them, it comes and goes into its cage like a troubled soul, and vents its anger upon the trellis. It is exceedingly jealous, and its jealousy blinds it so much that it could not refrain from still taking its satisfaction out of the large one if it saw him running over me. The rest of the time it played freely, and did not abuse its liberty in any other way. It usually perches on its cage by the side of the chest furnished with rags, which serves as its sleeping-room. Toward three or four o'clock in the afternoon it regularly goes to bed, and comes from it habitually toward sunrise. Is not this a singular history; and does it not show that animals have passions, preferences, and antipathies, differences of character and changing moods which we have thought exclusively applied to men?
We now come to traits of intelligence. The cover of the Spanish lizard's chest slides. If it is pushed so as to leave a crack not large enough for him to go through, he works perseveringly, pushing his head into it till he has made it large enough. If the opening is too small for that, he scratches at it and makes a great noise with his paws, for the purpose, apparently, of making himself heard. In the same way sparrows knock on the windows of houses where they are accustomed to being fed. This reminds me of a story of a sparrow.
Several years ago I tamed one in the country. It was free in the
