If we watch the progress of a bear over the surface of the ground, we readily perceive how lumbering is its gait and how poor the speed which it attains. Its slow and shambling movement is due to the fact that it has the tree-climbing foot, and is not well fitted for motion such as is required in running. To attain anything like speed in this exercise it is necessary to support the body on the tips of the toes. Every man who has gained any skill in this art knows full well how incompetent he is if he tries to run with rapidity in the flat-footed manner. The bear cannot essay this method of progression on the toe-tips because its loose-jointed feet cannot be made to support its heavy body. In this way arose the necessity of developing a peculiar kind of foot when that part had to serve for rapid locomotion. The experiments to this end have been numerous and varied. Thus in the elephants, which retain the originally numerous toes, the bones of these members are planted in an upright position and tied together with such strong muscles and sinews, that the foot parts have something like the solidity and strength of the upper portions of the legs. In the single-hoofed or horse-like forms, and in the cloven-footed animals, other series of experiments have been tried which in the end have proved most successful, giving us animals with the speediest movements of any animals except the creatures of the air.



The success which has been attained in our ordinary large herbivora, and which has made them competent to evade the chase of the beasts of prey, has been accomplished by reducing the number of the toes, giving the strength of the aborted parts to increase the power of those remaining. The result is the formation of two great groups, the double-hoofed forms, including the pigs, deer, cattle, sheep, and their kindred, and the single-toed species, of which our horse is the foremost example. In the reduction of the number of toes, different plans were followed in each of these groups. In the cloven-hoofed forms, a single toe first disappeared, leaving but four; then the two outer of these were aborted, leaving two nearly equal digits. In the series of the horse, where we can trace the change more clearly, we find the earliest form five-toed, but the outer and inner digit shrunken so as to become of little use. This condition of the creature in the early Tertiaries gives us the beginning of the equine series, and shows that far away as the creature is now from ourselves, it originated from the main stem of mammalian life, from which our own forms have sprung. In the next higher stage in time, and likewise in development, we find these lessened toes at their vanishing point, and two of the remaining digits, lying on either side of what corresponds to the middle finger in our own hands, beginning to shrink in length and volume, while the central toe becomes larger and stronger than before. Last in the series we come to our ordinary equine form, in which nothing is left but the single massive extremity, though the remnants of two of the toes can be traced in the form of slender bones known as splints, which are altogether enclosed within the skin which wraps the region about the fetlock joints.

As if it were to show to us the history of this marvellous organic achievement, nature now and then, though seldom—perhaps not oftener than one in ten million instances—sends forth a horse with three hoofs to each leg. Two of these are small and lie on either side of the functioning extremity. Each of these hoofs is connected with a splint-bone which has in some way suddenly become reminded of its ancient use, and develops in a manner to imitate the creatures which passed from the earth millions of years ago. In most cases the splint-bones have no function whatever to perform. They are indeed superfluous and injurious parts, and are likely from time to time to be worse than useless, becoming the seats of disease. In this beautiful instance, perhaps the fairest of all those showing how the highly developed forms of our time retain a memory of their ancestral life, we see how the advance in the series of the horse has been effected against the resistance ancient organic habit opposes to all gains. We can therefore the better understand how the building of the hoof represents the labor of geologic ages during which the slow-made gains were won.

In its present elaborate form, the hoof of a horse is the most perfect instrument of support which has been devised in the animal kingdom to uphold a large and swiftly moving animal in its passage over the ground. The original toe-nail, and the neighboring soft parts connected with it, have been modified into a structure which in an extraordinary manner combines solidity with elasticity, so that it may strike violent blows upon the hard surface of the earth without harm. The bones of the toe to which it is affixed have enlarged with the progressive loss of their neighbors of the extremity, until they fairly continue the dimensions of the bony parts of the leg. Moreover, they have lengthened out, so as to give the limb a great extension, and this, in turn, magnifies the stride which the creature can take in running. The result is that the horse can carry a greater weight at a swifter speed than any other animal approaching it in size.



The needs which led, in a slow accumulative way, to the invention of the admirable contrivance of the horse's foot, were doubtless founded on the necessities of swift movement in fleeing from the great predaceous animals. Incidentally, however, as this development has gone on, the peculiarities of the extremity have proved highly advantageous in defence, and the creatures have acquired certain peculiar ways of using their feet effectively to this end. The solid character of the hoof, its considerable weight, and the great power of the muscles of the hams, which are the principal agents in propelling the animal, make the hind feet capable of delivering a very powerful blow. The measure of its efficiency may be judged from the fact that a lion has been slain by a stroke from the foot of a donkey, and in their wild state a herd of horses with their heads together, can beat off the attack of the most powerful beasts of prey. In using the hind feet for assault or defence, horses have adopted an effective method of kicking which is unknown among other animals. Resting on their fore-legs, the hinder feet are thrown backward and upward, so that they may strike a blow six feet from the ground. Many of our cloven-footed animals have learned to strike cutting blows with the sharp hoofs of their fore-limbs—our bulls will stamp a fallen enemy with great force; but the backward kick of the horse is a peculiar movement, and is distinctly related to the peculiar structure of the animal's extremities.

It is an interesting fact that the development of a long and slowly elaborated series leading to the making of the horse appears to have taken place mainly, if not altogether, in the region about the headwaters of the Missouri River. In the olden days when this great work was done, that part of our continent was a well-watered country, much of its surface being occupied by great lakes which have long since disappeared. In the deposits accumulated in these bodies of fresh water are found the bones of the olden species telling the history of their series. It is not yet certain that the final step of the accomplishment which gave us our existing species was effected in this land. It seems indeed most likely that the ancestral form of our domesticated horses found their way to the continents of the Old World, and there underwent the last slight changes, before they were made captive by man. If there ever were perfect horses on this continent, they had passed away from its area before the coming of man to the land. The history of our aborigines would have been quite other than it has been, if they had had a chance to win the assistance of this noble helpmeet.

Central Asia appears to have been the domicile of the horse when he first began his acquaintance with our kind. We do not know the original form of the creature. The wild horses existing at the present day in that part of the world, and which plentifully occur in other regions whereunto they have been taken by man, appear to have been set free from captivity.



The first domestication of the horse appears to have been brought about, at an early time in the history of our race, in northern Asia. The time when this feat was accomplished antedates our records. The creature may first have come into possession of the Tartar tribes, but it quickly passed over Asia and Europe and shortly became the mainstay of the Aryan and Semitic folk. None other of our domesticated forms has been disseminated with like rapidity, or at the outset with as little change in its original features. From the first the horse seems to have been mainly used as a saddle and pack animal. It has never served in any considerable measure for food. The failure to make use of the flesh of this animal appears to be common to most of the savage or barbaric people who keep horses, and has been transmitted in a singularly definite way to all civilized folk. The origin of such a prejudice, despite the fact that the flesh of the horse is of excellent quality, can only be explained through the sympathetic motives common to all men. Their association with the horse, as with the dog, is so intimate as to make the use of these animals in the form of food more or less repugnant. In a small though unimportant way, mares have been used for milk, and there seems no reason to doubt that, if they had been carefully bred for this purpose, they might have been as serviceable as the cow. It may be that the failure to use the milk of the horse is to be accounted for on the same ground as the dislike to its flesh.

The horse was probably at first most valued for its use in war. The peoples which possessed it certainly had a great advantage over their less well provided neighbors. In fact the development of the military art, as distinguished from the mere fighting of savages, was made easy by the strength, endurance, fleetness, and measure of bravery characterizing this creature. In the wide range of species which have been domesticated or might be won to companionship with man, there is none other which so completely supplements the imperfect human body, making it fit for great deeds. If the horse had been much smaller or larger than he is, he would have been far less serviceable to man. It was a most fortunate accident that the creature came to us with the proportions which insured a high measure of utility in various lines of activity. The elephant has been found too large for agricultural uses, and too powerful to be controlled by the will and force of his master under conditions of excitement.



Those peoples which early acquired the resources in the way of strength and fleetness which the horse put at their disposition, became inevitably the conquerors of the folk who were denied these advantages. If we consider the conditions which have led to the domination of the world by the Aryan and Semitic people, and the races which they have affiliated with them, we readily discern the fact that they have, to a great extent, won by horse-power rather than by their own physical strength. Thus equipped by their able servants, they have pressed outward from their ancient realms and have in a way overridden the tribes which were unmounted.

So imposing is the effect of the horsed man on all peoples who are without previous knowledge of the united creatures, that it always carries fear to their hearts. To such folk the combination appears as a single terrible being. The ease with which the Spaniards conquered Mexico and Peru can, to a great extent, be attributed to the awe carried into the ranks of the savage footmen by their mail-clad horses. The Greeks, who were wont to represent the forces of nature and the accomplishments of man by skilfully constructed myths, have left a record showing their appreciation of the strength derived from the union of horse and man, in their fable of the Centaur, which possibly grew up in a time before their people had won the use of the animal, and when they only knew the creature by chance encounters with enemies who were mounted upon them. Although the naturalist of to-day perceives the impossibility of there ever having been on this earth a form uniting the trunk and fore-limbs of a quadruped to the upper part of a man's body, such scientific conceptions are a part of our modern, recently acquired store of knowledge. To the Greeks of the myth-making age the creature, half man, half horse, added but one more wonder to the vast store the world already contained. The currency of this fable shows us very clearly how great was the impression which the horse made upon primitive peoples.

To perceive the value of the horse in those ancient contests which opened the paths of civilization, we must note the fact that, until the invention of gunpowder, success in breaking the ranks of an enemy depended mainly on the charge. With a large body of vigorous horsemen it was generally possible to overwhelm an enemy's line of battle, either by direct assault or by an attack on its flank or rear. If the reader is curious to see the value of horsemen in ancient warfare, he should read the story of the campaigns of Hannibal against the Romans in Italy. The first successes of that great commander—victories which came near changing the history of the western world—were almost altogether due to the strength lying in his admirable Numidian cavalry. The Romans were already good soldiers, their footmen more trustworthy than those which the Carthagenian general could set against them; but with his horsemen, as at Cannae, he could wrap in the Roman line and reduce the most valiant legions to the confused herd which awaited the butcher.



Although the invention of firearms has somewhat changed the conditions under which cavalry may be used, making indeed the direct charge more costly to the assailant than the assailed, it has in no wise diminished, but rather increased, the value of horses in military campaigns. In the line of battle horses have become necessary for the conveyance of field officers and messengers, and the right arm of battle, the artillery, could not possibly be managed except by horse-power. The swift marches of modern armies, by hastening the issue of contests, have spared the world half the woes of its great campaigns, and are made possible by the ready movement of supply trains, which could not be effected except by the help of these creatures. The result is that a large part of the military strength of any state rests not only in the valor and training of its fighting men, but in the supply of horses that its fields may afford. In this connection it is instructive to compare the military strength of a country like China, where the horse is not a common element in the life of the people, with that of any of the western folk who may hereafter have to wrestle with that populous empire. Some writers, in their efforts to forecast the large politics of the future, have imagined that when the hardy and obedient Chinaman came to receive the European training in the military art, the armies of that country might prove from their numbers a menace to our own civilization. Such an issue seems in a high degree improbable, for the reason that the eastern realm could not provide the horses which would be necessary for the use of invading armies; nor is it at all likely that the rigid framework of their society will ever be so altered as to provide an abundance of these animals.



Although in the first instance the horse served mainly, if not altogether, as an ally of man in his contests with his neighbors, its most substantial use has been in the peaceful arts. As pack animal and drawer of the plough, the ox appears in general to have come into use before its swifter companion. The displacement of horned cattle has been due to the fact that their structure and habits make them much less fit for arduous and long-continued labor than the horse has been found to be. The cloven foot, because of its division, is weak. It cannot sustain a heavy burden. Even with the unincumbered weight of the body of the animal, the feet are apt to become sore in marches which the heavily mounted horse endures unharmed. Centuries of experience have shown that while the ox is an excellent animal for drawing a plough in a stubborn soil, and is well adapted to pulling carriages where the burden is heavy and the speed is not a matter of importance and the distance not great, the creature is too slow for the greater part of the work which the farmer needs to do. The pace which they can be made to take in walking is not more than half as great as that of a quick-footed horse moving in the same gait; and the ox is practically incapable, because of its weak feet, of keeping up a trot on any ordinary road. But for the fact that an aged ox may be used for beef, they would doubtless long since have ceased to serve us as draught animals. As it is, with the growing money value of the laborer's time, this slow-moving creature is steadily and rather rapidly disappearing from our farms. This change, indeed, is one of the most indicative of all those now occurring in our agriculture. It is an excellent example of the operations which the increase in the workman's pay is bringing into our civilization.

The natural advantages of the horse for the use of man consisted in its size, strength, and endurance to burden; form of the body, which enabled a skilful rider to maintain his position astride the trunk; and the peculiar shape of the mouth and disposition of the teeth which made it possible to use the bit. With these direct physical advantages there were others of a physiological and psychic sort, of equal value. The creature breeds as well under domestication as in the wilderness; the young are fit for some service in the third year of their life, and are, at least in the less elaborated breeds, in a mature condition when they are five years old. Experience shows that the animal can subsist on a great variety of diet, being in this regard surpassed only by its humbler kinsman the donkey, and by the goats. There are few fields so lean that they will not maintain serviceable horses. They do well alike in mountain pastures and amid the herbage of the moistest plainland.

The mental peculiarities of the horse are much less characteristic than its physical. It is indeed the common opinion, among those who do not know the animal well, that it is endowed with much sagacity, but no experienced and careful observer is likely to maintain this opinion. All such students find the intelligence of the horse to be very limited. It requires but little observation to show that the creature observes quickly, and in some way classifies the objects with which it comes in contact. The fear aroused in it by unknown things makes this feature of attention to the surrounding world very evident. Almost all these animals retain a tolerably distinct memory of the roads which they have traversed, even if they have passed over them but a few times. The studies which I have made on this point show me that the average horse will be able to return on a road which it has traversed a few hours before, with less risk of blundering than an ordinary driver. Some well-endowed animals can remember as many as a dozen turnings in a path over which they have journeyed three or four times. It seems almost certain that their guidance in these movements is not at all effected by the sense of smell, but is due to a distinct memory of the detailed features of the country.



Good as is the horse's memory, it is difficult to organize its actions on that basis. Only in rare cases and with much labor can he be taught to execute movements that are at all complicated. Fire-engine horses may be trained of their own will to step into the position where they are to be attached to the carriage. Some artillery horses will, as I have noticed, associate the sound of the bugle with the resulting movements of the guns and take the appropriate positions, where they may be out of danger in the rapid swinging of the teams and carriages. It is partly because of this training received by disciplined artillery horses, that it seems to many experienced officers not worth while to have militia companies in this arm, who have to manoeuvre with animals untrained for the service. Although some part of this mental defect in the horse, causing its actions to be widely contrasted with those of the dog, may be due to a lack of deliberate training and to breeding with reference to intellectual accomplishment, we see by comparing the creature with the elephant, which practically has never been bred in captivity, that the equine mind is, from the point of view of rationality, very feeble.

The emotional side of the horse's nature seems little more developed than its rational. Although they have a certain affection for the hand which feeds them, and in a mild way are disposed to form friendships with other animals, they are not really affectionate, and never, so far as I have been able to find, show any distinct signs of grief at separation from their masters or of pleasure when they return to them. Although there are many stories appearing to indicate a certain faithfulness in horses which have remained beside their fallen and wounded riders, the facts do not justify us in supposing that such actions are due to the affection a dog clearly feels.



We have been singularly led astray by a chance use of the epithet "horse," which has come to be applied to many organic forms and functions where strength is indicated. Thus, in the case of plants we speak of "horse-radish" or "horse-mint," denoting thereby spices which have strong qualities. Horse-chestnut is another instance of the application of the term to plants. It chanced that "horse-sense" came to be used to indicate a sound understanding, and in an obscure way, but in a manner common with words, this has led to a vague implication of mental capacity in the animals whence the term is derived. The fact is that our horses, as far as their mental powers are concerned, appear to be the least improvable of our great domesticated animals.



Little elastic as the horse appears to be on the psychic side of its nature, in its physical aspects it is one of the most plastic of all the forms subjected to the breeder's art. It requires no more than a glance at the streets of our large cities to see how great is the range in size, form, and carriage of these animals which may be found in any of our great centres of civilization. We readily perceive that these variations have a distinct relation to the several divisions of human activity in which this creature has a share. The massive cart-horse, weighing it may be as much as eighteen hundred or two thousand pounds, heavy limbed, big headed, unwilling to move at a pace faster than a slow trot, yet not without the measure of beauty seemingly inseparable from the species, contrasts very markedly with the alert saddle animal bred for speed and grace, and for the easy movement which makes it comfortable to the equestrian. Between these extremes we may note minor differences which, though they may not strike those persons who take only a commonplace view of the creatures, are most marked to the initiated. The trotter, the coach horse, the strong but nimble animals which are used in fire-engines and other heavy carriages which have to be swiftly moved, mark the results of breeding designed to insure particular qualities, and show how readily the physical features of the animal can be made to fit to our desires.

Although from an early day a certain amount of care has been given to breeding horses for saddle purposes, the careful and continuous choice which has led to the modern variations is a matter of only a few centuries of endeavor. So far as we can judge from the classic monuments, the olden varieties were mere varieties of the pony—the small, compact, agile creature which had not departed far from the parent wild form. It seems to me doubtful whether any of the horses possessed by the Greeks or Romans attained a weight much exceeding a thousand pounds, or had the peculiarities of our modern breeds. The first considerable departure from the original type appears to have been brought about when it became necessary to provide a creature which could serve as a mount for the heavy armored knights of the Middle Ages, where man and horse were weighted with from one to two hundred pounds of metal. To serve this need it was necessary to have a saddle animal of unusual strength, weighing about three-quarters of a ton, easily controllable and at once fairly speedy and nimble. To meet this necessity the Norman horse was gradually evolved, the form naturally taking shape in that part of Europe where the iron-clad warrior was most perfectly developed. In the tapestries and other illustrative work of that day, when the knight won tournaments and battle-fields, gaining victory by the weight and speed which he brought to bear upon his enemies, we can see this splendid animal, in physical form, at least, the finest product of man's care and skill in the development of the lower species.

With the advance in the use of firearms the value of the Norman horse in the art of war rapidly diminished. This breed, however, has, with slight modifications, survived, and is extensively used for draught purposes where strength at the sacrifice of speed is demanded. It is a curious fact that the creatures which now draw the beer wagons of London often afford the nearest living successors in form to the horses which bore the mediaeval knights. It is an ignoble change, but we must be grateful for any accident which has preserved to us, though in a somewhat degraded form, this noblest product of the breeder's art, which, even as much as the valor of our ancestors, won success for our Teutonic folk in their great struggle with Islam. A tincture of this Norman blood, perhaps the firmest fixed in the species of any variety, pervades many other strains most valuable in our arts. The best of our artillery horses, particularly those set next the wheels, are generally in part Norman. In the well-known American Morgan, the swiftest and strongest of our harnessed forms, the observant eye detects indications of this masterful blood.

The Norman strains of horses retain certain interesting indications of their ancient lineage and occupation. As appears to be common with old breeds, the stock is readily maintained. It breeds true to its ancestry, with little tendency to those aberrations so common in the newly instituted varieties. When crossed with other strains, the effect of the intermixture of this strong blood is distinctly traceable for many generations. In their mental habits these creatures still appear to show something of the effects of their old use in war; it is a valiant race, less given to insane fear than other strains, and, even under excitement, more controllable than the most of their kindred. So far as I have been able to learn, they seem singularly free from those wild panics which are so common among our ordinary horses. It does not seem to me fanciful to suppose that these qualities were bred in the stock during the centuries of experience with the confusion of battle-fields and tournaments.



The horse, in common with the other domesticated animals varying readily in the hands of the breeder, undergoes a certain spontaneous change which in a way corresponds to the physiography of the region in which it is bred. At first sight it may seem as if these alterations are due to the admixture of previously existing varieties, or to the institution of peculiarities by some process of selection. I am, however, well convinced that these variations are in good part due to a direct influence from the environment. Thus in our high northern lands there is a distinct and spontaneous reduction in size of the creatures, which attains its farthest point in the Shetland pony. Again, as we go toward the tropics, a like though less conspicuous decrease in bulk is observable. The largest animals of the species develop in the middle latitudes, the realm where the form appears to have acquired its characters. The speed with which these local variations are made is often great. Thus the horses of Kentucky have, in about a century, acquired a certain stamp of the soil which makes it possible, in most cases, for the observer to identify an individual as from that State, though he may find it in a field a thousand miles away. The defining indications are not limited altogether to bodily form, but are shown in what might seem trifling features of carriage and behavior. The difference between the horses of Great Britain and those of the United States seems to me, from repeated observations, to be quite as great as that separating the men of the two realms. I believe that if a lot of a thousand, taken in equal parts from either land, were put together, a person well accustomed to taking account of these animals could separate them into two herds, with less than ten per cent. of error. It is doubtful if a more perfect selection could be made if the same experiment were tried on an equal number of men, provided the indices to be derived from peculiarities of speech or dress could be excluded.



By some the Arabian horse is thought to be the most remarkable specialization of the kind which has been attained. In his native country and in his perfection, the Arab breed has been seen by but few persons who have been specially trained in noting the peculiarities of the animal. So far as I have been able to judge by pictures and a few specimens, said to be thoroughbreds of their stock, which I have had a chance to see, the Arabian form of the horse appears to have been led less far away from the primitive stock than many of our European and American varieties.



The very great, if not the preeminent, success of the horse in Arabia is the more remarkable from the fact that it has been attained under conditions which, from an a priori point of view, must be deemed most unfavorable. This variety has been bred in a land of scant herbage and deficient water-supply, where the creature has had from time to time, indeed we may say generally, to endure something of the dearth of food which stunts the Indian ponies and the other horses of the Cordilleran district. The ancestors of the horse appear to have attained their development in well-watered and fertile regions. All the varieties bred within the limits of civilization do best on rich pasturages such as Arabia does not afford. The success of the horse in that land shows how devoted must have been the care which has been given to its nurture. Fitting, as the Arabian horse does, exactly to the needs of nomadic people engaged in almost constant warfare, it has naturally been a far more important helper to the wild folk of the desert lands about the eastern Mediterranean and the Red Sea than to any other race. In those lands horses fell into the keeping of a very able folk. The contrast between the care devoted to the animals by them, and that which our Indians give to their ponies, is a fair measure of the difference in the ability of these very diverse races.

As a whole, the horse demands for his best nurture and keeping an amount of care required by no other animal which has been won to the uses of man, unless perhaps it be the silkworm. Kept in its best state, the horse has to be sedulously groomed. To be maintained in its very best condition some hours of human labor must each day be given to keeping his skin in order. The effect arising from a friction on the horse's hide is not confined to the beauty that comes from cleanliness, but in a curious way reacts upon the general nervous tone of the animal. All those who are familiar with horses will, I think, agree with me that much grooming distinctly increases the endurance and elasticity of their bodies. The influence of the grooming process appears to be somewhat like that obtained by massage and friction of the skin in the training of an athlete. More than once I have had occasion to observe the effect of this process on some ancient horse of good blood, which for years had been allowed in its old age to go uncared for as an idle tenant of the pastures. Two or three days of assiduous grooming will bring back the strength and suppleness to the aged limbs, and restore something of the olden spirit. The effect obtained from this care is the more remarkable for the reason that nothing similar to it was experienced by the wild ancestors of these creatures. It is as artificial as bathing in the case of man. The influence of the treatment shows how very unnatural is the state of our civilized horses.

The task of providing horses with food is more considerable than in the case of any of our other domesticated creatures. By nature the animal is a frequent feeder, and does not well endure long fasts. Its stomach is rather small for the size of the body, and the digestive process appears to be more than usually rapid. A mounted animal, when taxed to its utmost, should be fed four or five times a day, and with less than three good meals is apt to break down. No such care in the matter of provender is necessary in the case of the other members of man's animal family. The contrast between the physiological conditions of the camel and those of the horse are fully recognized by the Arabs, in their almost complete neglect of the individuals of the one species and their exceeding care of the other.



Perhaps the greatest element of care which man has had to devote to the horse is found in the matter of shoeing. In the state of nature the admirably constructed hoof sufficiently provided the animal against the excessive wearing of its horny extremity. Nature, however, rarely provides for more strength and endurance than the creature in its wild state demands; and so it comes about that when horses have to bear burdens or draw carriages, particularly on roadways, their unprotected feet will not withstand the strain which is put upon them, the rate of growth of the structure composing the hoof not being sufficiently rapid to make good the wearing which these unnatural conditions impose. For thousands of years, in the roadless stages of man's development, the difficulties arising from the wearing of the hoof were not serious, for the creatures trod either on turf-covered plains or on the soft ways of the desert. When the advance of culture made roads necessary, when carriages were invented and something like our modern conditions were instituted, it became imperatively necessary to provide additional protection for the feet. We find the Greeks, in the classic time, wrestling with this problem. Xenophon, in his treatise on the care of horses, advises that they be reared on stony ground, he having observed that, in a natural way, the hoof becomes somewhat adapted to the necessities of its conditions. The Romans found the difficulty from the tender foot of the horse yet more serious on their paved roads; but both these classic people showed, in their ways of dealing with the difficulty, that lack of inventive skill which so curiously separates the olden from the modern men. They devised soles of leather and bags as coverings for the horse's feet, but none of the contrivances could have been very serviceable. All such coverings must have been quickly worn out in active use.

So far as we can determine, it was not until about the fourth century of our era that the iron horseshoe was invented. This valuable contrivance appears to have originated in Greek or Roman lands, probably in the former realm, for it first bore the name of "selene," from its likeness to the crescent shape of the new moon. Although simple, the horseshoe was a most important invention, for it completely reconciled the animal to the conditions of our higher civilization by removing the one hinderance to its general use in the work of war and commerce. It is probable that with this invention began the great task of differentiating the several breeds of European horses for their use in various employments, as draught animals for packing purposes, as light saddle horses, and the bearing of armored men. Neither the draught nor the war horses of Europe could well have been specialized until their heavy bodies were separated from the ground by these metallic coverings of the hoof.



Much has depended on the specialization of the horse into different breeds, made possible by the iron shoe. By reconciling the creature to uses—agriculture, which depends on draught animals, and the commerce of importance, which can only be effected by means of wagons—the rapid economic development of our civilization was made possible. By developing a horse capable of bearing an armored man, Europe was brought into a condition in which organized armies took the place of mere forays, and so the development of centralized states was promoted. In the warfare between the Mohammedans and the Christian states of Europe, in the campaigns with the Turks and the Saracens, it is easy to see that the powerful breeds of horses reared in western and northern Europe were a mighty element in determining the issue of the contest. The battles of these momentous campaigns represented, not only a struggle between the Christian Aryans and the Semitic followers of Mahomet, but, in quite as great a degree, the war was waged between the light and agile steeds of the Orient and the massive and powerful animals that bore the mail-clad warriors of the West. On the field of Tours, when the fate of Christian Europe for hours hung in the balance, we may well believe that the strong and enduring horses of the northern cavalry did much to give victory to our race.

Along with our general account of the place of the horse in civilization, it is fit to give something to the story of his near, though inferior, kinsmen, the ass and the mule, both of which have played a subordinate, though important, part in the same field of endeavor in which the nobler species has done so much for man. The original progenitors of our donkeys differed from the ancestral form of the horse by variations of good specific value. So far as we can determine from visible features, these forms were more distinctly parted than the dog and the wolf, or either of these animals from the jackal. Nevertheless, these equine forms are clearly closely akin, for they may be bred together. Although the original stock of the ass may possibly have been lost, it seems most likely that the wild forms which exist in Asia have not wandered off from captivity, but are the remnants of the original wilderness form.

It appears likely that the two domesticated equine species have been under the care of man for about the same length of time; but the difference in their condition, and in the place which they hold in civilization, is very great. As we have seen, the horse has been made to vary in a singular measure, its form and other qualities changing to meet the need or fancy of its master. Its humbler kinsman has remained almost unchanged. Except small differences in size, the donkeys in different parts of the world are singularly alike. In part this lack of change may be explained by the relative neglect with which this species has been treated. From the point of view of the breeder it has perhaps been the least cared for of any of our completely domesticated animals. In some parts of the world, as for instance in Spain, where a long-continued effort has been made to develop the animal for interbreeding with the horse, the result shows that the form is relatively inelastic. It is doubtful if any conceivable amount of care would develop such variations as the horse now exhibits.

The principal hinderances to the general acceptation of the donkey as a help-meet to man are found in its small size and slow motion. These qualities make the creature unserviceable in active war or in agriculture, and they seem to be so fixed in the blood that they are not to any extent corrigible. So long as pack animals were in general use, and in those parts of the world where the conditions of culture cause this method of transportation to be retained, the qualities of the donkey have proved and are still found of value. The animal can carry a relatively heavy burden, being in such tasks, for its weight, more efficient than the horse. It is less liable to stampedes. It learns a round of duty much more effectively than that creature, and can subsist by browsing on coarse herbage, where a horse would be so far weakened as to become useless. Thus, in developing the mines in the unimproved wilderness of the Cordilleras, where ores of the precious metals have to be carried for considerable distances, trains of "burros" are often employed. The animals quickly learn the nature of their task, and will do their work with but little guidance from man.

In general we may say that the donkeys belong to a vanishing state of human culture, to the time before carriage-ways existed. Now that civilization goes on wheels, they seem likely to have an ever-decreasing value. A century ago they were almost everywhere in common use. At the present time there are probably millions of people in the United States to whom the animal is known only by description. In a word, the creature marks a stage in the development of our industries which is passing away as rapidly as that in which the spinning-wheel and the hand-loom played a part.

As the use of the ass in the economic arts began to decline, the mule or hybrid progeny of this creature and the horse has progressively increased. Although the value of this mongrel has been known, particularly in southern Europe, from very early days, its most extensive employment has been found in the old slave-holding States of the Federal union. The custom of using mules has been almost unknown in England, and has never been generally adopted in the northern part of the United States. It appears to have been introduced into southern regions by the Spaniards and the French, and there to have spread, because of the peculiar fitness of the creature to the climate and the employment it had to endure in that part of America. The mule has the peculiar advantage that it is on the average as large as the horse, is nearly as quick-footed when walking, and has at the same time a considerable share of the patient endurance to hard labor and scant fare which characterizes the donkeys. It matures somewhat more speedily than its nobler kinsman, being ready to meet severe strains perhaps a year earlier. Unless unconscionably abused, its period of fitness for hard work endures about one-third longer, often lasting for thirty years. It is singularly exempt from disease, its sturdy frame withstanding rude usage until the old age time.



The mule is especially interesting to the naturalist for the reason that it affords the only certain case in which a hybrid has proved decidedly serviceable to man. It is not unlikely that a similar mixture of the blood of two species occurs in our ordinary cats, and it may exist in the case of the dog and in some of the domestic birds; but so far as we know, there has been no other useful result from the hybridizing, if it has occurred. Moreover, the mule is unique for the fact that the animal is distinctly stronger for its weight, and more enduring than either species which his blood combines. In fact, there is no product of man's industry in relation to domesticated animals which is more interesting than this singular creature. At present, its use appears to be going out of vogue; the evidence goes to show that the hybrid has no place in the affections of mankind, and that it is only likely to be kept in its use in tropical countries, and particularly in regions where the beasts have to be under the care of slaves or other negligent folk. It is a singular fact in connection with this hybrid, that it is nearly absolutely sterile, there being only two or three cases on record in which they have proved fecund. It seems, however, possible that if these rare instances of continued breeding were to be duly used, an intermediate species might be permanently established. This is, indeed, one of the most important lines for experiment which could be undertaken by an institution devoted to the study of problems relating to domestication.

It is commonly thought that a mule is a stupider creature than the horse; but I have never found a person, who was well acquainted with both animals, who hesitated to place the mongrel in the intellectual grade above the pure-blood animal. There is, it is true, a decided difference in the mental qualities of the two creatures. The mule is relatively undemonstrative, its emotions being sufficiently expressed by an occasional bray—a mode of utterance which he has inherited from the humbler side of his house in a singularly unchanged way. Even in the best humor it appears sullen, and lacks those playful capers which give such expression to the well-bred horse, particularly in its youthful state. It is evident, however, that it discriminates men and things more clearly than does the horse. In going over difficult ground it studies its surface, and picks its way so as to secure a footing in an almost infallible manner. Even when loaded with a pack, it will consider the incumbrance and not so often try to pass where the burden will become entangled with fixed objects.

Mules soon learn the difference between those who have the care of them and strangers. It is a well-known fact that trouble awaits the wight who unwarily ventures to take from the stall a mule which has not the advantage of his acquaintance. On this account they are rarely stolen. Even in the daytime they are often dangerous for strangers to approach, and the most of the ill-usage which men receive from their heels arises where unwitting people venture to treat them as they would horses. Mules are much less liable to panic-fear than the most of our domesticated animals, yet, when kept in the herded way, they occasionally become stampeded. Many a soldier of our Civil War, where mules played a large part in the campaigns, doubtless remembers the mad outbreaks of these creatures from their corrals, when they went charging through the army with a fury which, if directed against an enemy, would have been almost as effective as a cavalry charge.

It is interesting to note that mules have a greater disposition to adopt a leader in their movements than we note in either of the species whence they come. In the old days when mules were plentifully bred in Kentucky, and taken thence for sale to the plantation States, they went forth in droves, commonly under the leadership of a bell horse, or, by preference, a mare, which it was quite the custom to choose of a white color. In the course of a few hours the creatures would learn to know their guide, and to follow the leader with so little trouble that two men could conduct a throng of several hundred. Nevertheless, if the foremost mule of the procession turned aside, all the others would blindly follow him in the manner of a flock of sheep.

I recall an amusing instance of this "follow-my-leader" motive which occurred many years ago in a way somewhat personal to myself, in southern Kentucky. Engaged in survey work, I was passing along a quiet road when in the distance I heard a thunder of hoofs, and in a moment saw a great drove of mules, the appointed leader of which, a man on a white horse, had fallen to the rear of the column. The creatures, thinking that it was their duty to overtake the missing master, were going on the full run. Heeding the shouts of the troubled herder, I turned my wagon across the road, which, being at that point very narrow, was effectually barricaded by the vehicle. Although the rush was so wild that the brutes nearly overset my "outfit," they were brought to a full stop. Unhappily, on one side of the road and one hundred feet or so from it, there was a comfortably built southern house, with a broad gallery extending along the front; while in the door of the mansion were some women who had been attracted by the tumult. No sooner had the mob of mules been brought to a state of surging quiet, than one of the creatures jumped the picket fence, and started for the open house-door, thinking, perhaps, that he would find some peace of life in what probably seemed to him his accustomed barn. In much less time than it takes to tell it, a hundred or more mules were on the gallery, the floor of which gave way beneath their weight; they quickly broke down the columns which supported the roof, so that the whole structure at once became a heap of wood and mules. The unhappy proprietor of the drove, in his consternation, forgot even to swear—an art which I have never known on any other occasion to pass from a mule-driver; and, sitting on his white horse, he lifted his hands like an oriental in prayer, and said to me meekly, "Did you ever in all your life?" I assured him that I had never, and went my way, leaving him to settle an interesting case of damages with the owner of the mansion.

In considering the general influence of the horse and its kindred forms on human culture, we clearly perceive that we are now attaining a time when the machinery of civilization is to depend in a much less degree than of old on the help which these creatures give to man. Even fifty years ago the horse was far more necessary to the work of our kind than it is at present. Going back a hundred years, we perceive that the population of the civilized world could not possibly have been maintained, if by some disease all the horses had been swept away. Such a calamity in the year 1800 would have led to the depopulation of almost all the cities of the interior country, famine would have ravaged our States, and the whole economic system of society would have had to be reconstructed. Now the greater part of the work which of old had to be done by horses, can, at a slight increase of cost, be effected by mechanical engines. Ploughing, except on steep hillsides and in very stony ground, can be cheaply and effectively done by steam. The same agent can propel the harvesters and work the threshing machines. Even farmers who till fields of no great extent find it desirable to do much of their work by steam-engines, for the reason that fuel is less costly than horse feed. An interesting instance to show how far mechanical inventions have taken the place of horsed wagons in the work of civilized communities was afforded by the horse distemper which swept over the country in 1872. During the week or more in which this epidemic was at the worst, the State of Massachusetts was practically unhorsed, yet the greater part of the necessary business, that required to bring provisions to the town, was effected by means of the railways. The same incident shows, however, in another way, how absolutely necessary this animal is, in certain parts of our work. For the great Boston fire, which occurred at that time, was doubtless due to the fact that, owing to the sickness of the horses, an effort was made to drag the engines by hand-power, with the result that they came upon the ground so slowly as to give the fire a chance to become an uncontrollable conflagration.

In the present state of our arts there is one great occupation which we cannot conceive to be carried on without the services of horses. This is war. It is hardly too much to say that all our highly elaborated military system has depended for its development, as it does for its maintenance, on the transportation value of horses. Much has been said of late as to the use of bicycles as adjuncts to armies, and in a certain limited way they will doubtless prove serviceable in future campaigns; but no one who has had any experience of military duty, with its work across tilled fields and through forests, can imagine a man on a wheel rendering any very effective service except under peculiar conditions. Moreover, no ordnance corps can do its appointed work in the rear of a line of battle without sending its wagons across country and over ground which no unhorsed vehicle could traverse.

The mark of the old utility of the animal in varied employment is retained in our use of the term horse-power in measuring the energy of engines. That gauge of strength of old determined what man could do in the severest taxes upon the forces at his command. In attaining the point where, owing to the possession of horses, he could use this standard, he won a great way beyond the station of his ancestors, who had but the strength of men at their command. Modern invention, by giving us heat-engines, has made the way for an advance. In another century, or even in another generation, the horse may, save for the uses of war, be confined to the position of a luxury and an ornament.



THE FLOCKS AND HERDS: BEASTS FOR BURDEN, FOOD, AND RAIMENT

Effect of this Group of Animals on Man.—First Subjugations.—Basis of Domesticability.—Horned Cattle.—Wool-bearing Animals.—Sheep and Goats.—Camels: their Limitation.—Elephants: Ancient History; Distribution; Intelligence; Use in the Arts; Need of True Domestication.—Pigs: their Peculiar Economic Value; Modern Varieties; Mental Qualities.—Relation of the Development of Domesticable Animals to the Time of Man's Appearance on the Earth.

It is not too much to say that the opportunity to go forward on the paths of culture, at least the chance to advance any considerable distance beyond the estate of primitive men, depends in a considerable measure upon what the wilderness may offer in the way of domesticable beasts of burden. Where such exist we find that the folk who dwell with them in any land are almost certain to have made great advances. Where the surrounding nature, however rich, denies this boon, we find that men, however great their natural abilities may appear to be, exhibit a retarded development. Thus in North America, where there was no domesticable beast of burden, the Indians, though an able folk, remain savages. So, too, in central and southern Africa, where the mammalian life, though rich, affords no large forms which tolerate captivity, the people have failed to attain any considerable culture. On the other hand, in the great continent of the Old World, where the horse, the ass, the buffalo, the camel, and the elephant existed in the primitive wilds, men rose swiftly toward the civilized station.



The immediate effect arising from the possession of beasts of burden is greatly to enlarge the scope and educative value of human labor. A primitive agriculture, sufficient to provide for the needs of a people, can be carried on by man's labor alone, though the resulting food-supply has generally to be supplemented by the chase. Rarely, if ever, are the products of the soil thus won sufficient in quantity to be made the basis of any commerce. Such conveyance as is necessary among the people who are served by their own hands alone, has to be accomplished by boat transportation or by the backs of men. The immediate effect of using beasts for burden is the introduction of some kind of plough, which spares the labor of men in delving the ground, and the use of pack animals, which, employed in the manner of caravans, greatly promotes the extension of trade. A great range of secondary influences is found in the development of the arts of war, by which people who have become provided with pack or saddle animals are able to prevail over their savage neighbors, and thus to extend the realm of a nascent civilization. Yet another influence, arising from the domestication of large beasts, arises from the fact that these creatures are important storehouses of food; their flesh spares men the labor of the chase, and so promotes those regularities of employment which lead men into civilized ways of life. In fact, by making these creatures captive, men unintentionally brought themselves out of their ancient savagery. They were led into systematic and forethoughtful courses, and thus found a training which they could in no other way have secured.



The first and simplest use made of the animals from which man derives strength appears to have been brought about by the subjugation of wild cattle—the bulls and buffaloes. Several wild varieties of the bovine tribe were originally widely disseminated in Europe and Asia, and these forms must have been frequent objects of chase by the ancient hunters. Although in their adult state these animals were doubtless originally intractable, the young were mild-mannered, and, as we can readily conceive, must often have been led captive to the abodes of the primitive people. As is common with all gregarious animals which have long acknowledged the authority of their natural herdsmen, the dominant males of their tribe, these creatures lent themselves to domestication. Even the first generation of the captives reared by hand probably showed a disposition to remain with their masters; and in a few generations this native impulse might well have been so far developed that the domestic herd was established, affording perhaps at first only flesh and hides, and leading the people who made them captives to a nomadic life—that constant search for fresh fields and pastures new which characterizes people who are supported by their flocks and herds.

It is a curious fact that the kindred of the buffaloes and bisons differ exceedingly in the measure of their domesticability. Thus, the ordinary buffalo of Asia, though a dull brute, is very subjugable, even in the literal sense, for he makes a tolerable beast for the plough and bears the yoke with due patience. His African kinsman, on the other hand, is perhaps the most unconquerable of all the large wild animals. The late Sir Samuel Baker, in answer to my question as to what wild form was the most to be feared in combat, unhesitatingly answered, "The African buffalo, the bulls of which charge home upon any aggressor with an immediate and determined fury, which often enables them to kill the hunter after they have been shot through the brain." Our American bison, though a much milder-spirited beast, seems also to be essentially undomesticable for the reason that he cannot be taught to subordinate his desires to the will of man. He can readily be brought to the point where he will tolerate captivity; but if, when engaged in ploughing, it occurs to him that he needs water, he will straightway go in search of it, not in a vicious, but in a perfectly obdurate manner. This quality of mind appears to be accountable for the failure of the many experiments which have been made to domesticate this interesting American form.

The limitations of the domesticating work, the fact that as between two kindred species the one has been chosen by man and the other left, indicate the truth—which is generally of much importance—that the intellectual qualities of animals commonly differ more than their frames. This is a part of the larger fact that with the advance in organization the individuality, as regards the whole spiritual field in persons and species alike, becomes greater. The culmination of the tendency is seen in man, where, with bodies which do not vary much, we have an almost infinite range in individual qualities.

This is perhaps a good place in which to make answer to the suggestion that the domesticability of the animal species is in inverse proportion to their native courage and independence of mind. The reader will see how fallacious is this common notion if he will consider the quality of the supremely domesticated creature, the dog. There is probably no beast which has a larger share of natural courage and of independent motive. When not under the control of their masters, they have perhaps as free a contact with nature as any creature in the world; the same thing may be said of the elephant, which, next to the dog, lends himself most obediently to the requirements of the master. Owing to the power of his huge body and to the ease with which he wins his food, he is in his native wilds the least dependent of land animals. Except from the assaults of man, he has nothing to fear; yet when enslaved he at once surrenders himself to his captors. In general, it may be said that the true gauge of domesticability is the sympathetic motive, that strange outgoing spirit which leads the mind to recognize the life about it and to accept that life as a part of its own. In other words, the domesticability of man is due to his willingness to enter into social relations and rests on the same foundation that supports his intercourse with the lower animals he has won to his use.



It is probable that the first use which was made of beasts of burden, in ways in which their strength became useful to man, was in packing the tents and other valuables of their masters as they moved from place to place. Even to this day in certain parts of the world bulls and oxen serve for such purposes. In fact the nomadic life, a fashion of society which is enforced wherever people subsist from their cattle alone, leads inevitably to such use of the beasts. In the southern Appalachian district of this country there remain traces of this service rendered by bulls and oxen. These creatures, provided with a kind of pack saddle, are occasionally used in conveying the dried roots of the ginseng, beeswax, feathers, and the peltries which are gathered by the inhabitants of remote districts, not accessible to carriages, to the markets of the outer world. All the varieties of ordinary cattle could be made to serve as burden-carriers, and they doubtless would be continued to be used for saddle purposes in one way or another but for the wide use of the horse, a creature very much better adapted for carrying weight. The cloven foot of the bulls and buffaloes gives a weakness to the extremities which will quickly lead to disease in case they are forced to carry heavy loads such as the horse or ass may safely bear.



The help which our bovine servants afford us by the power which they exert in traction, as in drawing ploughs, sleds, or wagons, appears to have been first rendered long after their introduction to the ways of man. The first of these uses in which the drawing strength of these animals was made serviceable appears to have been in the work of ploughing. In primitive days and with primitive tools, hand delving was a sore task. The inventive genius who first contrived to overturn the earth by means of the forked limb of a tree, shaped in the semblance of a plough and drawn by oxen, began a great revolution in the art of agriculture. To this unknown genius we may award a place among the benefactors of mankind, quite as distinguished as that which is occupied by the equally unknown inventors of the arts of making fire or of smelting ores. After the experience with the strength of oxen had been won from the work of ploughing, it was easy to pass to the other grades of their employment, where they were made to draw carriages.

Next after the contribution which the kindred of the bulls, have made by their strength, we must set that which has come from their milk. Although this substance can be obtained in small quantities from several other domesticated animals, the species of the genus Bos alone have yielded it in sufficient quantities greatly to affect the development of man. It is difficult to measure the importance of the addition to the diet, both of savage and civilized peoples, which milk affords. It is a fact well known to physiologists that in its simple form this substance is a complete food, capable when taken alone of sustaining life and insuring a full development of the body. It is indeed a natural contrivance exactly adapted to afford those materials which are required for the development and restoration of creatures essentially akin to our own species. Those races which avail themselves extensively of it in their dietary are the strongest and most enduring the world has known. The Aryan folk are indeed characteristically drinkers of milk and users of its products, cheese and butter. It may well be that their power is in some measure due to this resource.



In our horned cattle man won to domestication creatures which were admirably suited to promote his advancement from savagery to civilization. Indeed, the possession of these animals appears to have been a prime condition of his advancement. With them, however, as with the camel, there came little in the way of those sympathetic qualities which have made it possible for our race to establish affectionate relations with other captive forms. Long intercourse with man has, it is true, somewhat diminished the wildness of these creatures, though the males remain the most indomitably ferocious of all our servants. The truth seems to be that the bovine animals have but little intellectual capacity, and it has in no wise served the purposes of man to develop such powers of mind as they have. We have ever been given to asking little of them, save docility. This we have in a high measure won with our milch cows, which of all our domesticated creatures are perhaps the most absolutely submissive; the more highly developed of them being little more than passive producers of milk, almost without a trace of instincts or emotions except such as pertain to reproduction and to feeding. It is a noteworthy fact that in all the great literature of anecdote concerning our domesticated animals, there is hardly a trace of stories which tend to show the existence of sagacity in our common cattle.

It is evident that the variability of our domesticated bovines, as far as their bodies are concerned, is very great. Between the ancient aurochs and the more highly cultivated of its descendants, the difference is as great as that which separates any other of our captive animals from their wild ancestors. In size, shape, in flesh-and milk-giving qualities, the departure from the old form of the wilderness is remarkable. Moreover, at the present time these diverse breeds of horned cattle are rapidly being multiplied, the distinctive forms probably being twice as numerous as they were at the beginning of the present century. The process of selection has led to some very wide diversifications of the body. The horns, which in the wild state are invariably well developed, and which in the cattle of our Western plains attain very great size, have in certain breeds altogether disappeared, and in their place there sometimes comes a remarkable crest of bony matter which does not project beyond the skin which covers the head. If such differences occurred in the wild state, they would be regarded as separating the two types of animals widely from each other.



In treating the wool-bearing animals along with beasts of burden, we make a somewhat fanciful classification which yet is not quite without reason. By long training man has brought these species to the state where their covering of wool or hair, once a coating only sufficient to afford protection from the weather, has become a very serious load. In certain of our highly developed varieties the annual coat is so far increased that the creature loses a large part of its bulk after the shearer has done his work. Each year's fleece often amounts in weight to eight to twelve pounds, and in its lifetime the animal may yield a mass of wool far exceeding its weight of flesh and bones in any time of its life. When the fleece is mature the animal is often burdened with a load about as heavy in proportion to his size as is a horse by the weight of its rider and accoutrements.

As a flesh producer, particularly in sterile fields, sheep are more valuable than our horned cattle. They mature more rapidly, attaining their adult size and reproducing their kind in less than two years, so that in many parts of the world it is possible to obtain a larger quantity of flesh from poor pasturages with sheep than with any other of our domesticated animals. Their principal value, however, has been from the means they afforded whereby men in high latitudes have obtained warm clothing. Before the domestication of these creatures, peoples who had to endure the winter of high latitudes were forced to rely upon hides for covering—a form of clothing which is clumsy, uncleanly, and which the chase could not supply in any considerable quantity. Owing to its peculiar structure, the hair of the sheep makes the strongest and warmest covering, when rendered into cloth, which has ever been devised for the use of man. The value of this contribution is directly related to the conditions of climate. In the intertropical regions the sheep plays no part of importance. In high latitudes it is of the utmost value to man. No other of our domesticated creatures, except the camel, is so specially adapted to the needs which peculiarities of climate impose upon their possessors.



The relations of the goat to mankind are in certain ways peculiar. The creature has long been subjugated, probably having come into the human family before the dawn of history. It has been almost as widely disseminated, among barbarian and civilized peoples alike, as the sheep. It readily cleaves to the household, and exhibits much more intelligence than the other members of our flocks and herds. It yields good milk, the flesh is edible, though in the old animals not savory, and the hair can be made to vary in a larger measure than any of our animals which are shorn. Yet this creature has never obtained the place in relation to man to which it seems entitled. Only here and there is it kept in considerable numbers or made the basis of extensive industries. The reason for this seems to be that these animals cannot readily be kept in flocks in the manner of sheep. They are only partly gregarious, and tend to stray from the owner's keeping. There seems reason also to believe that they cannot easily be made to vary in other characteristics except their hairy covering at the will of the breeder, and so varieties cannot be formed, as is the case with sheep, to suit each peculiarity of soil and climate. Thus in Europe, where it would be easy to name a score of distinct breeds of sheep, each peculiarly well suited to the conditions of the country where it had been developed, the goats are singularly alike. The original stock of these creatures appears to have been adapted to feeding on the scant herbage which develops in rocky and mountainous countries. They do not seem able to make the perfect use of the resources of a pasture which sheep do. These inherited peculiarities in feeding enable them to pick up a subsistence where they may range over a considerable territory, even where it seems to afford no forms of food for the hungriest animal. Thus in that part of the city of New York known as "Shanty town," goats may be seen in fairly good condition, although the sole source of food, besides a few stray weeds, appears to be the paste of the paper advertisements which they pick from the rocks and fences.

Although goats appear to be characterized by invariable bodies, our sheep are, in physical characteristics, among the most flexible of our domesticated animals. They may by selection readily and rapidly be made to vary as regards the character of their wool, the size and proportion of their muscles, and the quantity and placing of the fat. In all these features they may be fairly blown to and fro by the wind of favor. Between the meagre-bodied merino, with its skeleton-like frame and heavily wrinkled skin bearing a vast burden of long wool, and the heavy Hampshire-downs or South-downs, there is really an immense difference in bodily quality; yet these variations represent only a century or two of careful experiment on the part of the breeders. It seems not improbable that in the present state of this developing art it would be possible, in a hundred years, to reverse the conditions of these two varieties.

Sheep and goats, like the other herbivorous species which are the common tenants of our fields and forests, belong to the great class of dull-witted mammals in which the intellectual processes appear to be almost altogether limited to ancient and simple emotions, such as are inspired by fear or hunger. They are characterized by little individuality of mind, and although the needs of men have not led to any experiment in developing their wits, as in the case of dogs, there is no reason to believe that they afford much foundation for such essays. The present rapid variations in the physical characteristics of our sheep which are induced by the breeder's skill, make it evident that we are far from having attained the maximum profit from these creatures. The goats also give promise, when selective work is carefully done upon them, of giving much more than they now afford to the uses of mankind; but from neither of these forms is there reason to hope, at least on our present lines of experiment, for any considerable gain in the intellectual qualities.



We have already noted the fact that the sheep is especially adapted to serve man in high latitudes, where he has to provide against the winter's cold. The camel is an even more striking instance in which the value of the creature depends upon climatal peculiarities. It is peculiarly fitted, by its ancestral training and development, for the use of men who dwell in arid countries. In the olden days of the later Tertiary epoch, creatures akin to the camels appear to have been widely distributed, and were probably adapted to considerable variations of environment. Within the time of which we know something by history, these forms have been limited to the arid districts of southwestern Asia and northern Africa. It is not certain that we know the originally wild form of either of the two species, the double-humped or single-humped camels. Wild members of each exist, but they may be the descendants of the domesticated forms. It seems probable that long before the building of the Pyramids the people of the deserts had learned how to profit from the very peculiar qualities of this strangely provided beast, which in several distinct ways is singularly fitted to serve the needs of man in arid lands. The large and well-padded foot of this creature is well adapted for treading a surface unsoftened by vegetation. Its peculiar stomach enables it to store water in such a manner that it can go for days without drink. In the humps upon its back, as in natural pack-saddles, it may harvest a share of the nutriment which it obtains from occasional good pasturages, the store being laid away in the form of fat which may return to the blood when the creature would otherwise starve. So important have these peculiarities been found by men who have domesticated the camel, that on them have rested many of the most interesting features of race development in the history of our kind. In the territories along the eastern and southern shores of the Mediterranean, and in a large part of southern and central Asia, the camel has done service to man which elsewhere has been performed by sheep, cattle, and horses. In those parts of the world the share which these domesticated animals have had in the development of man has been relatively small. The camel has given the strength for burdens, hair for clothing, and often flesh to the needy men of the desert.



Although long a captive, and for ages, perhaps, the most serviceable of all the creatures which man has won from the wilds, the camel is still only partly domesticated, having never acquired even the small measure of affection for his master which we find in the other herbivorous animals which have been won to the service of man. The obedience which he renders is but a dull submission to inevitable toil. The intelligence which he shows is very limited, and, so far as I can judge from the accounts of those who have observed him, there is but little variation in his mental qualities. As a whole, the creature appears to be innately the dullest and least improvable of all our servitors. The fact is, this animal belongs to an ancient and lowly type of mammals characterized by relatively small brains, and therefore of weak intelligence; but, for its singular serviceableness in drought-ridden countries, it would probably have been hunted off the earth by the early men, as have been many other remnants of the ancient life.



It is somewhat characteristic of the older forms of animals, those which took shape in the earlier Tertiary periods, that they are less variable than those which acquired their characteristics in times nearer our own. It is a fact well known to the students of paleontology, that species and genera which have been long on the earth are apt to become in a way rigid as regards their qualities of body and mind. It is an interesting fact that, although the camel can readily be transplanted to many other parts of the world, where the physiographic conditions are similar to those of the realm where he has served man so well, he has never been thoroughly successful except in the regions where he has been in use for ages. In the desert regions of the Cordilleras of America, in South Africa, and in Australia, various experiments go to show that the creature could be perfectly reconciled to its environment. Many years ago a lot of camels were brought to the valley of the Rio Grande with a view to their utilization in that region, which closely resembles the desert countries about the Mediterranean. These animals were thoroughly successful in meeting the climatal conditions of the region. They proved as strong and as fertile as in their natural realms. Although it is said they survive to the present day, they have never been of any service to the people.



Although, as before noted, the camel has a certain value for other purposes than conveying burdens, these subsidiary uses are so far limited that the creature is not likely to retain a place in the world after his service in caravans is no longer called for. The rapid recivilization of northern Africa, leading as it does to the development of a railway system in that region, promises to displace this creature from his most trodden ways. It seems likely that the other portions of the desert lands in the old world will soon be brought under the same civilizing influences, the nomadic tribes reduced to a stationary habit of life, and the commerce effected in the modern manner. When this change is brought about, this old-time animal, which but for the care of man would have probably long since passed away, will be likely, save so far as it may be preserved through motives of scientific interest, to join the great array of vanished species.



It affords a pleasant contrast to turn from the consideration of the camels to a study of the elephants. The difference in the measure of attractiveness of the two forms is very great, and depends upon facts of remarkable interest. Unlike the camel—which, as we have seen, is the last survivor of an ancient lineage, represented by but two species, and these limited to a small part of the world—the elephant, at the time when man appears to have taken shape, seems to have existed on all the continental lands except Australia, and to have been in a state of singular prosperity. As is often the case with other vigorous genera of mammals, the species were adapted to a very great variety of climates, and were fitted to endure tropic heat as well as arctic cold.

The group of elephants is first known to us in the early part of Tertiary time. From its first appearance on our stage it seems to have been successful in a high measure, and this probably by reason of its possession of the remarkable invention of the trunk—a prolonged and marvellously flexible nose which serves in the manner of an arm and hand for gathering food.

When we first find traces of mankind in the records of the rocks, in what appears to be an age just anterior to the Glacial epoch, the elephant had passed the experimental stages of its development and was firmly established as the king of beasts. In his adult form he had nothing to fear from any of the lower animals, and by the organization of herds it is probable that even the young were tolerably safe from assault. Until the early races of men had attained a considerable skill in the use of weapons, the great beasts were probably safe from human attack. We may well believe that primitive savages shunned them as unconquerable. As early, perhaps, as the closing stages of the Glacial epoch in Europe, we find evidences which pretty clearly show that the folk of that land, probably belonging to some race other than our own, had attained a state of the warlike arts in which they could venture to hunt this creature.

The species of elephant which was hunted by the early men of Europe, and perhaps also by those in Asia and America as well, was a greater and, at least in appearance, a more formidable monster than the living species of Asia or Africa. He was on the average taller and probably bulkier than any of his living kindred. The tusks were large and curved in a curious scimitar form. Adding to the might of its aspect was a vast covering of hair, which on the neck appears to have had the form of a mane. This covering must have greatly increased the apparent size of the creature, which no doubt appeared about twice as large as any of our modern elephants which are nearly hairless. Although the perils of this ancient chase must have been great, the triumphs were equally so, and to a people who lived by hunting, most profitable; a single animal would furnish more food than scores of the lesser beasts such as the reindeer.

It seems probable that the ancient northern elephant continued in existence in North America down to the time when this continent was inhabited by man. It can hardly be doubted that the very ancient human beings, whose remains are preserved to us beneath the lava streams of California, dwelt on the continent along with the mammoth. In excavations which I have made at Big Bone Lick in Kentucky, where a group of saline springs emerges at the bottom of a valley, there were disclosed a very great number of skeletons of this great elephant, commingled with the bones of one or two smaller forms of the related genus, the mastodon. At a slightly higher level was the multitude of remains belonging to an extinct species of bison which came just before our so-called buffalo, while near the surface of the ground was found the waste of the creatures which were in the field when it was first seen by the white men. A very careful search failed to reveal any trace of man until the uppermost level was attained. The facts, which cannot well be discussed here, have led me to the conclusion that only a few thousand years can have elapsed since the mammoth and the mastodon plentifully abounded in North America; but I am forced to doubt whether our savages were here in time to make acquaintance with these animals.

It is not certain that the extermination of the great northern elephant or mammoth even in the Old World came about through the action of man. It is possible that the death was due to more natural causes, such as the change of climate which attended the decline of the Glacial period, or to the attacks of some insect enemy like the tsetze fly of South Africa, which occasionally brings destruction to cattle in that part of the world. On the whole, however, it seems most probable that the extermination of this noble beast is to be accounted among the brutal triumphs of mankind, perhaps as the first of the long tale of destructions which he has inflicted upon his fellow-creatures. However this may be, it is clear that at the dawn of civilization the species of the genus elephas had become limited to that part of the African continent which lies south of the Sahara, and to the portion of Asia east of the Persian Gulf and south of China. The remnant consisted of two species: the African form, on the average the larger of the two, a fierce and scarcely domesticable creature; and the Asiatic, a milder-natured species which alone has been to any extent brought into the service of man.

It is not certain when or where elephants were first reduced to domestication. In the dawn of history we find them used to enhance the state of princes and for the purposes of war. It seems possible that in this early day the African as well as the Asiatic species was tamed, at least to the point where they could be made to serve in battle. We can hardly believe that all these animals which were at the command of Hannibal and the other generals of North Africa, came from the Asiatic realm. The fact that in modern times the species which dwells south of the Sahara has not been turned to the uses of man, may be accounted for by the lowly estate of the native people in that part of the world, and the lack of need for such creatures in the economic conditions of the Aryan folk who have settled along the shores and in the southern part of that continent.

The relations of man to the elephant are more peculiar than those which he has formed with any other domesticated animal. Although the creature will breed in captivity, its reproduction in that state is exceptional, and it is many years before the offspring are fit for any service. It is indeed about thirty years before the creature is sufficiently adult to attain a good measure of strength and endurance. It has therefore been the habit of the people who avail themselves of this admirable beast to use the captures which they make in the wilderness. It is a most interesting and exceptional fact that these captive elephants, though bred in perfect freedom and provided with none of those inherited instincts so essentially a part of the value of our other domesticated quadrupeds, become helpful to man and attached to him in a way which is characteristic of none other of our ancient companions except the dog. It is safe to say that the Asiatic elephant is the most innately domesticable, and the best fitted by nature for companionship with man, of all our great quadrupeds. The qualities of mind which in our other domesticated quadrupeds have been slowly developed by thousands of years of selection and intercourse with our kind, are in this creature a part of its wild estate.

It appears from trustworthy anecdotes that the Asiatic elephants in a few months of captivity acquire the rules of conduct which it is necessary to impose upon them. The speediness of this intellectual subjugation may be judged from the fact that, after a short term of domestication, they will take a willing and intelligent part in capturing their kindred of the wilderness, showing in this work little or no disposition to rejoin the wild herds. In the case of no other animal do we find anything like such an immediate adhesion to the ways of civilization. We have to account for this eminent peculiarity of the elephant on the supposition, which appears to be thoroughly justified, that the creature has, even in its wild state, a type of intelligence and instincts more nearly like those of men than is the case with any other wild mammal, an affinity with human quality which is, perhaps, only approached by certain species of birds. It appears from the observations of naturalists that the family or tribe of wild elephants is a distinct and highly sympathetic community. The grade and value of the friendly feeling which prevails among them may be judged by the fact that, when one of the males becomes lost or is driven away from its associates, it does not seem to be able to join any other tribe, but becomes a "rogue," or solitary individual, and in this state develops a morose and furious temper.

There are many well-attested stories which serve to show that wild elephants have a kind of intelligence which indicates a certain constructive capacity. Of these, perhaps the best are the instances in which the creatures have been caught in pitfalls, made by digging a hole in the paths of the wilderness which they are accustomed to follow, the surface being covered with a frail platform so arranged as to conceal the excavation. When one of a tribe is caught in the trap, the others, if time allows before the hunters come to the ground, will in an ingenious way release him. I doubt if the most practicable manner of effecting this will occur at once to the reader. The easiest plan may seem to drag the captive from the pit by sheer strength, but as the hole is deep and has vertical sides, the elephants contrive a better way. They bring bits of timber, which they throw into the pitfall, the captive treads them down until he is elevated to a position whence he can escape from his prison.

The intelligence of the wild elephant is probably in good part to be accounted for by the fact that the creature possesses in its trunk an instrument which is admirably contrived to execute the behests of an intelligent will. It is easy for us to see how, in the case of man, the hands have served to develop the intelligence by providing him with means whereby he could do a great variety of things which demanded thought and afforded education. The elephant is the only large mammal which has ever acquired a serviceable addition to the body such as the trunk affords. In their ordinary life the trunk does almost as varied work as the human arm. With it they can express emotions in a remarkable way; they caress their young, gather their food by a great variety of movements, or defend themselves from assailants. To the naturalist who has come to perceive the close relations between bodily structure and mental endowments, it is not surprising to find that these creatures have attained a quality of mind which is found nowhere else among the mammals except in man and in some of his kindred, the apes.

The most peculiar mental quality of the elephant, a feature which separates him even from the dog, is the rational way in which he will do certain kinds of mechanical work. He appears to have an immediate sense as to the effects of his actions, which we find elsewhere only among human beings. From a great body of well-attested observations, showing what may be called the logical quality of the mind of these creatures, I may be allowed to select a few stories which have a singular denotative value. An acquaintance of mine, a British officer who had served long in India, told me that in taking artillery over very difficult roads, certain of the abler elephants could be trusted to walk behind each piece, where they would in a fashion control its movements, steadying or lifting it as the occasion demanded without any directions from the driver.



Elephants can be trained to pile up sticks of timber, such as railway ties, placing the layers alternately in opposite directions, as is the custom in such work. There is an excellent and well-attested story of an elephant who, without a driver, was bearing a stick of timber through a narrow wood path. Meeting a man on horseback, and perceiving that the way was not wide enough for both himself and the oncomer, the sagacious animal deliberately backed his huge body into the chaparral so as to clear the way, and then trumpeted as if to signal the horseman that the path was free.

The emotions as well as the intelligence of elephants are singularly like those of human kind. It is said by those who know them well that if when in their stubborn fits they are brutally overborne, they are apt to die of what seems to be pure chagrin. Their states of grief, despair, and rage much resemble those which are exhibited by violent children or men unaccustomed to control. Their affections and animosities have also a curious human cast. They readily form attachments which appear to be quite as enduring as those exhibited by dogs, and their memory of injuries remains quick for years after they have received the harm. Well-verified anecdotes showing the likeness of these emotional qualities to our own exist in such numbers that it would be easy to fill a volume with them. They are, however, not necessary to show the likeness of the creature to ourselves. This is sufficiently exhibited by their daily behavior under domestication. In noting this we should remember that the male elephant is the only large mammal the males of which it has proved safe to use in the ordinary work of life. Even our bulls and stallions, though they belong to species which have been domesticated for thousands of years, are so violent and untrustworthy as to be of little value except for breeding purposes. Bulls, even of the tamer breeds, are a constant menace to the lives of their masters; yet an adult male elephant recently made captive may, except when seriously diseased, be trusted to obey the mere signals of the driver, who has no such control over him as the bit affords in the case of horses. The creature has the strength to overcome all control save that of a moral nature. To this he submits in a way which is only equalled by our well-bred dogs.