ent sexes. It may be remarked that such females as deposit their eggs in the bark of trees, in the earth, in the substance of leaves, or in other insects, are furnished with a suitable tube for the accomplishment of their purpose. The male has no occasion for the tube, and he has it not. The provision exists where it is needed, but extends no farther.

CHAPTER V.

INSTINCT.

ON glancing at animated nature, a grand characteristic of man presents itself to our view; his capacity of reasoning, deliberating, planning, and varying the means which he employs for the accomplishment of his ends according to the exigencies of the case. The inferior animals almost always use the same means for the attainment of the same ends. They are either altogether incapable of reasoning, or possess the faculty in a very low degree: and, accordingly, if we meet with any improvement among them, it is that of a few individuals only, under the special instruction of man; not of the species, or of a society. But we see men in one age, or in one country, without knowledge and without curiosity, roaming singly or in little bands in the desert; without foresight or steady industry; rudely feeding on the spontaneous fruits of the earth, or on the precarious supplies of fishing and hunting; and lodging in a cave, under the projection of a rock, in the shelter of a thicket, or under a tent of stakes covered with bushes, bark, or skins; the erection of which is scarcely the labour of an hour. Their clothing is as rude and scanty as their other accommodations.

At another period, or in a different country, we find them comfortably clad; surrounded with flocks and herds, and removing from place to place for the conveniency of pasture; occasionally soliciting the earth by means of agriculture to contribute more liberally to their subsistence and comfort; living in movable habitations, and enjoying unpolished plenty. If we still follow the stream of human improvement, after passing different stages and through various scenes, we come to a busy multitude, pursuing with ambitious industry their several employments, under the protection of equal laws; building houses; clearing the forest; planting trees; applying all the powers of their labour and ingenuity to the cultiva

tion of the soil; plunging into the bowels of the earth in quest of minerals; draining marshes and lakes, and straightening the water-course; making roads and bridges; digging canals and deepening rivers; engaged in manufactures and commerce; exchanging the productions of one quarter of the globe for the superfluities of another; building and embellishing magnificent cities; forming literary and scientific establishments; impressing air, fire, and water, into their service; constructing machines for the abridgment of labour; exploring the different corners of the earth, and making themselves acquainted with the inhabitants and the productions of every country; investigating the physical laws of the universe; ascertaining the motions and magnitudes of the heavenly bodies; calculating the distances of the sun and planets, measuring the velocity of light, and observing the aberration of the fixed

stars.

Such is a sketch of the career of society from rudeness to civilization, agreeably to the different states in which mankind have been found.* The individual exhibits something of a similar progress in improvement. His first efforts are awkward; his productions rude and clumsy. He improves by observation and practice, and gradually advances from one stage of excellence to another. The observation applies not to his mechanical skill only, but to his moral and intellectual attainments also.

If we turn our eye to the inferior animals, a very different picture is presented to our view. Every species is stationary. With some minute modifications, depending on local circumstances, it is the same in every age, and in every country. In cases, indeed, where the inferior animals are trained to the service of man, their natural disposition and habits are, by subjugation and discipline, occasionally, in some respects, altered and improved. Any progressive attainment, however, is merely that of the individual. Societies never advance. In most instances, the individual also is altogether stationary. The bird builds its nest, and the bee constructs its cell, as perfectly on the first attempt, and without either instruction or experience, as at any future period. This, I apprehend, is instinct in the strictest sense of the word. I do not pretend to

* Nothing that has been here said is intended to apply to the original state of man; but merely to mark his progress from the lowest state of degradation in which he has been found to the highest degree of civilization.

draw a distinct line between reason and instinct, or in every instance to determine where the one ends and the other begins. But the general notion of instinct is, a propensity prior to experience, and independent on education. Some instincts, however, are capable of accommodation, or even of improvement. The creature is susceptible of some degree of education. But other instincts, particularly those of insects, are invariably the same.

In this chapter, I purpose to take notice of some of the instincts of the inferior animals relating to the preservation of the individual, and to the continuation of the species. In the last chapter, I made some observations on corporeal organization, and shall now attend to the corresponding instincts. These, at times, are so closely connected, and so run into each other, that it is not easy to treat of them altogether separately. As in the last chapter our attention was chiefly turned to organization, so in the present, instinct will be our main subject.

I. The different kinds of animals instinctively make use of the means of defence and safety with which they are provided. The calf pushes with its head, even before its horns appear; a proof that the instinct exists prior to the expansion of the parts for the employment of which it is implanted. The horse uses both his teeth and his heels, or treads down his adversary with his fore feet; although in a wild state his heels are the main instrument of defence; and it may be added, that, in that state, when horses sleep, one remains awake to give warning of approaching danger. The dog, in combating the enemy, employs his teeth, and the feline tribe uses both teeth and claws: The insect has recourse to its sting. The ox never attempts to bite, nor the dog to butt with his head: each of them instinctively feels that he possess more effectual means of defence. The hare has recourse to flight, and commonly betakes itself to high ground, as the length and mulcularity of its posterior extremities give it an advantage in ascending the hill. By its doublings, it often perplexes and eludes the enemy. The cunning of the fox, in providing his food and in making his escape from his pursuers, is proverbial.

The inferior animals instinctively know their enemies, and apprize each other of their common danger. The fox devours birds; and birds no sooner see him approach than they utter cries, which are understood by the whole flock, and put them instantly upon their guard. Every dam has a call for her young, and in every flock and herd there are expressions which

bring numbers together; expressions of enjoyment or suffering, of desire or aversion. By a particular sound the hen invites her chicks to partake of food, and they instantly comply with the invitation. By a different cry she apprizes them of danger on the approach of the hawk, and, although they have never heard the cry before, they hasten to her for concealment and shelter.

When marmots are gambling among the grass, they station one of their number as sentinel upon a rock. If the sentinel perceive a man, an eagle, a dog, or any other enemy, by a whistle he gives his companions notice of their danger, and he is the last to enter the hole leading to their habitation. Monkeys, and several other animals, employ similar precautions. In many instances, animals of the same kind combine their efforts in order to repel a common enemy. A single rook is no match for a kite; but whenever the kite appears the rooks that are within sight join in attacking him. The migration of birds discovers a wonderful instinct, and may be considered as a means of security. Several kinds of them, at stated seasons, quit their summer abodes, and, in great flocks, repair to the places where the temperature is most suited to their constitutions, or where their food is most abundant.

Many animals instinctively employ proper means for healing their wounds and curing their diseases. The Kamtschadales confess that they owe to the bears all their skill both in physic and surgery; that by observing the herbs with which those animals rub their wounds, and to which they have recourse when sick or languid, they have become acquainted with most of the simples in use among them, either in the way of internal medicine, or of external application. In short, as all animals possess some means of defence and safety, so they have corresponding instincts which prompt them to the due application of those means.

II. As the inferior animals are provided with instruments for procuring their food, so they are endued with an instinctive skill in the use of those instruments. Every animal instinctively knows the food that will nourish it. The chick, almost as soon as it escapes from the shell, runs to its food, and pecks with its bill. The lamb, when it drops from the ewe, uses its legs in walking, and hastens to the teat from which it is to draw nourishment. The principal food of the rein-deer, in winter, is a kind of white moss; and the animal digs with its feet under the snow in order to obtain it. Sheep act in a similar manner. The beaver lays up a stock of winter

provision: the squirrel does the same. Numbers of the crow kind hide food in holes, when they have it in plenty, and apply to their concealed stores in times of scarcity. When ravens find themselves unable to break the shells of muscles, and other testacea, they carry them to a great height in the air, and accomplish their purpose by letting them fall upon a rock. In some parts of the country, furze is occasionally, in seasons of scarcity, thrashed as food for horses: but the horse can perform the operation for himself. He tramples upon the branches and paws them with his fore feet, till the prickles are mashed together or rubbed off; and so completely does he perform the work, that the food thus prepared might be squeezed by the hand with impunity.

Gass informs us, that in the country towards the source of the Missouri, wolves, in packs, hunt the antelope, which is too swift to be run down by a single wolf. The wolves take their station; part of the pack begins the chase, and running in a circle, they at intervals relieve each other. From Le Page de Pratz, in his History of Louisiana, we learn that wolves discover a similar sagacity in hunting the buffalo. The arctic gull, which is somewhat larger than the common gull, often pursues it. The gull, after flying for some time, with loud screams and evident marks of terror, drops its dung, which its pursuer immediately darts at, and catches before it falls into the sea.* In insects that undergo several transformations, the instinctive propensity changes with the appearance of the animal. Some that in one stage feed on dung and putrid bodies, in another extract a delicious aliment from herbs and flowers. This instinctive sagacity appears throughout all animated nature.

III. Many animals live without any fixed habitation, and the dwelling which others frequent is of the simplest kind; as the form of the hare's. Some animals have no particular place of residence during winter, as many kinds of birds, but prepare a place in spring for bringing forth and rearing their young. Others, as the beaver, have no fixed residence in summer, but provide a comfortable habitation against the severity of winter. In the construction of their houses many animals display much sagacity; and as an example of this we may select the beaver. He is a native, chiefly of high latitudes, and, though not possessed of all that surprising sagacity and ingenuity which some distinguished naturalists have ascribed to him, is endued with wonderful instincts.

*Cook's Third Voyage, vol. iii. p. 239.