Small as are the lessons which we may read from our experience with the honey-bee and the silkworm, they appear clearly to indicate that, while we may expect to do little with the intelligences of insects, we may fairly reckon on a great field for accomplishment in the way of changes in their bodily constitution. In the case of the bees the facts show us that in particular conditions of climate or other surroundings a certain amount of variation takes place, and by proper selection either of queens or swarms it may be possible considerably to extend the value of these animals. The task is beset with difficulties for the reason that, while in ordinary selective breeding we deal with individuals, we have, as before remarked, in this species to regard the hive or colony as the unit and to make our selection with reference to the qualities of that colony as a whole. Nevertheless, with the constant advances in the skill of our economic selectionists, there is reason to expect that our bees may be progressively improved. On the other hand, there is the chance that the progress of chemical discovery may enable us at any time to manufacture honey in the artificial way and of a quality indistinguishable from that produced by domesticated bees; in which case these captives, at best troublesome, though most interesting, will probably disappear from the human association.

With the silkworms, variations can be more readily brought about; for, as is the case with other animals, the individuals can be paired. The efforts at selection already made show that valuable characters can be thus accumulated, though not with the success which attends the efforts of a like nature made in the case of our domesticated mammals and birds. In common with other animals—indeed, we may say, with all organic life—the silkworms vary perceptibly in different parts of the world to which they may be taken. Thus, when reared in California it is said that this insect develops more strength than it exhibits in Europe; and the eggs which it lays there produce stronger insects, which in turn yield larger cocoons than the individuals born in Italy or France. With such a basis for the selective art as the variations of this insect afford, there seems no reason why it should not afford a good field for the work of the breeder's art.



THE RIGHTS OF ANIMALS

Recent Understanding as to the Rights of Animals; Nature of these Rights; their Origin in Sympathy.—Early State of Sympathetic Emotions.—Place of Statutes concerning Animal Rights.—Present and Future of Animal Rights.—Question of Vivisection.—Rights of Domesticated Animals to Proper Care; to Enjoyment.—Ends of the Breeder's Art.—Moral Position of the Hunter.—Probable Development of the Protecting Motive as applied to Animals.

It is well to note the fact that, in considering the rights of the creatures below the level of man, we are dealing with a question which does not seem to have entered into the minds of the ancients. Such old phrases as "the merciful man is merciful to his beast" indicate that cruelty to the domesticated creatures was, in a way, reprobated by the ancients; but not until well on in the present century do we find any indication that reason had come to the help of pity in an effort to frame rules having the weight of law and the support of sanctions, either those of public opinion or the more direct penalties of the courts, to limit the conduct of men towards the lower animals. The great tide of mercy and justice which marks our modern civilization had first to break down the grievous and strongly founded evils of human slavery. Having effected that great work, the sympathetic motives are moving on to a similar conflict with the moral ills which arise from an improper treatment of those slaves of a lower estate, the domesticated animals.

It is impossible to see our position in relation to the matter of the rights of animals without looking somewhat carefully into the intellectual and moral steps which have at length brought us to the consideration of the question. First let us note that while the rights of their fellows have been impressed on men by the precepts of religions, particularly by those of Christianity, the rules of conduct which guide us in our contacts with beings below the level of our species have never been determined by the canons of our faith, for the reason that they are the product of very modern conditions; they are the thought of our own time. New as are these tenets, however, they may fairly be received as but the last though not the final expression of that most interesting of all natural series—the succession in the development of sympathy which, step by step in the progress of organic life, has led from the original dull insensitiveness of the lower animals upwards to the outgoing spirit of man.

In the lower stages of animal life we find no traces of appreciation of the neighbor except those which necessarily relate to the selection and capture of food and perhaps to the selection of mates. Further on in the process of development we note the love of offspring, and, as a consequence of that love, the growth of the family sense, which rarely is maintained beyond the time when the young can shift for themselves. Among the species of the higher groups—certain insects, the greater part of the birds, and the nobler of the mammals—the instinct of the family is extended until it includes the tribe, or perhaps goes yet further and leads to a certain kindliness to all the individuals of the race. Thus it comes about that the individuals of many species below the level of man will respond to the cries of their kindred though they may never have had a chance to know them. There is in these cases a sympathetic bond that binds the kind together. It is with this condition of the sympathies that the task of their further evolution is transferred to man. Inheriting as he does the essential motives of the lower beings through which he came to his present estate, man proceeds to deal with them in a manner which is determined by the peculiar rational power which belongs to him. In place of the blind following of the emotions which characterizes the sympathetic movements of the lower animals, we find that even among the most primitive and lowly savages rules of conduct are instituted which serve to direct the ways in which the individual shall act with regard to his fellows. In almost all cases these rules are much intermingled with the religion of the people; usually they rest upon a body of advancing public opinion which amplifies the motives and, in turn, is enlarged by their growth. As time goes on and the folk attain the stage of records, these rules of conduct become definite laws which at first are based on religious ordinances; but in time they are, in the latest stage of social growth, brought into the state of ordinary statutes which, while they may have some religious sanction, are supported by the machinery of the secular government.

After the first rude work of shaping the body of ancient experience into law was done, there remained the larger and more difficult task of continuing the development of the sympathetic motives with a corresponding amplification of customs and statutes so that the steps of advance should be duly embodied in these rules of conduct. The stages of this purely human attainment have been slowly taken, the onward way has been effectively won but by few peoples. A part of the slowness in advance in the enlargement of the sympathetic motives beyond the stage which has been attained in the life below the human grade is to be accounted for in the fact that no sooner are laws formed than they become in a way sacred. If they be cast in the religious mould their sanctity may be such that they are almost beyond the reach of modification; even when they are secular the reverence for the wisdom of the forefathers naturally leads men to regard them as the ark of safety. Thus it has come about that the codification of the ancient sympathies, won by experience in the pre-human time and in the early life of man, has led to the institution of a barrier which makes further advance a matter of difficulty—one which, in the case of most peoples, binds them firmly to the past, arresting their sympathetic development at a point which it had attained when their laws were framed. This is, indeed, the position of nearly all the peoples except those of our own Aryan race.

When the conditions of a people are fortunately such that they may continue their sympathetic growth, they proceed to carry onward the process of sympathetic enlargement, modifying their laws to suit the gains in understanding which come with this growth. It may be noticed that the development takes place most readily where the rules of conduct are embodied in statute law; for this law, being the evident result of human action, is manifestly alterable in a way that cannot be taken when the prescriptions are supposed to rest on divine commands. Under such conditions of statute law men are freer to advance than they can possibly be where the rules of action are in the form of revered precepts, such as guide the peoples who are accustomed to base their action on the books which they esteem as sacred. Endowed with this element of freedom, the peoples of our own Aryan race—and, fortunately, the most advanced of all its varieties, the English-speaking part of the folk—have, by the divine impulse towards moral advancement, been led to make a great extension of the sympathetic motives. The first step in this direction seems to have been towards the mitigation of the horrors of war, which of old meant the slavery or slaughter of the prisoners. Under the dictates of the developing spirit of mercy and without written law, these brutal actions have been limited until the dogs of war are allowed to rend only in the hour of battle. In this day the man who slays the wounded or robs the dead is esteemed an outlaw. The same beneficent motive was next extended towards human slaves. In this matter English people led; and to them it was almost altogether due that this evil has come nearly to an end except among the Mohammedans, who are bound as in chains to their sacred books and cannot win their way to progress through statutes. In a like manner, in the care of the poor, of prisoners for debt, and even of malefactors, our English folk on both sides of the Atlantic have led in the ongoing towards a higher moral estate.

The last great excursion of sympathy which has characterized the English Aryans—one dating its beginning to this century—is that relating to the rights of our domesticated animals. This has come about, like the other movements, in a way unconsciously. Prophetic spirits have seen beyond the vision of their fellows; they have given their messages, which have found an echo in the souls of men. The motive originated in the recognition of the essential likeness of the minds of the lower animals to our own. But it has been greatly reenforced by the teachings of the naturalists to the effect that all the life of this sphere is akin in its origin and that our subjects are not very far away from our own ancestral line.

It is characteristic of sympathetic movements that, while they are slowly prepared for, their final development is very rapid. Thus it has come about that within one hundred years the conception of the rights of animals has advanced with almost startling rapidity. No other moral gain has been made with such speed or has so rapidly become a part of the property of civilized man. The steps are those which have been taken in all the other great moral advances: at first there were but a few who, in the manner of the skirmishers of armies, set the standards far on in the new ground; gradually the less ardent win their way to them, only to be led the further by their natural guides. As the great advance is still making, it is difficult to see how far it may attain; it is, however, easy to recognize some of the important gains and to foretell the path if not the field of full accomplishment of the conquest. A century ago a man, so far as the law was concerned, owned his living chattels as he did the inanimate things of his property. He could torture or slay them as whim or malice might dictate; there were no limitations by statute, and public opinion, where it might reprobate, was too weak to influence his conduct. Now the statute books of all countries which are moving in the path of moral advance show that public opinion has attained the point where it begins to formulate itself in statutes which restrict the relations of men to their domesticated animals—or, in other words, endow them with definite rights. He may, of course, force them to do him their fit service; he may at his need slay them; but he must exercise his authority without brutality; he must, in form at least, be merciful unto his beasts. With this limitation the rights of domesticated animals began to exist.

At first sight it may seem unreasonable to found the rights of dumb beasts on the embodiment of public opinion in the law, and this for the reasons that many persons have held, that rights have an establishment in the ultimate moral constitution of the world. It may be granted that even before man or even life existed in the universe there were certain logical moral principles which were destined to take shape when the creatures to which they were adapted came to be; but such speculations are fanciful and do not much concern those who are dealing with the problems of the barnyard. We may, to bring the matter nearer, say that the slave of half a century ago had a right to be free; but this right, in all practical senses, meant only that certain people very much disliked to see him enthralled.

So far, by successive stages, first by accumulated public opinion and then by its embodiment in statutes, we have won a measure of protection to subjugated animals which tends to save them from the extremer forms of cruelty. The question now is as to the advances which may be made in the time to come. It is evident that these advances, so far as the domesticated species are concerned, will have to be limited by the needs of man. We cannot ever expect to have the reverence of the Hindoo for the lower animals, for the reason that his state of mind is based on the preposterous supposition that the beast contains the spirit of a man on its way through the cycles towards perfection. We must continue to burthen, tax, and slay; but we may fairly be required to inflict no unnecessary suffering. In this process of amendment we shall undoubtedly before long come to the point where we shall demand that these animals shall be lodged in a wholesome manner and so fed that they may be fit for their tasks. We may, in a word, consider their well being so far as it is consistent with the well being of mankind, and in so doing we shall demand some personal sacrifice from the owner where such is clearly demanded to maintain the principle of the law.

As in all other great sympathetic movements, the leaders of the advance in the matter of the humane treatment of animals are occasionally unreasonable in their demands—it may well be held that the prophet has to be unreasonable in order to attain his goal; hence it has come about that the demands of these admirable people are often beyond the bounds of things that are practicable. Fire-horses, however ill, should be made to do their duty, even if it costs them any amount of suffering; even as the artillerymen should, if the occasion calls for it, rush their teams, though they know that the poor beasts are to die at the goal. In a word, the only and supreme test of our relations to these subjects is the well being of man considered from the higher point of view. This principle we apply to our own kind; we are justified in like action in case of the brutes. In this consideration, the offence to the feelings of man which is caused by any act of cruelty, however necessary, deserves its due weight.

The most serious matter connected with the question of the rights of animals which is now under discussion relates to the use of these creatures in the investigative work of the naturalist, or in the repetition of the processes and results of those inquiries before students. Although all judicious people are likely to welcome the exceeding reprobation with which many philanthropists visit the vivisectionists, and this for the reason that the state of mind shows a rapid advance of the sympathetic motive, they are likely to question the sound foundation of the objections that are raised to experiments with animals, made for the purpose of discovering of displaying the truths of nature.

So far as the work of research into the phenomena of life is concerned, there can be no question as to its importance or as to the fitness of sacrificing the lives of the lowlier creatures in any way that may be necessary for the advancement of knowledge. In the last half century there has been an improvement in the treatment and prevention of diseases so great as almost to defy adequate description. To take only the last of these precious gains, that in relation to the treatment of diphtheria, the gain has been such that although the process is not past its experimental stage the reduction of the mortality in hospitals where the remedy is used has lowered the death rate from above fifty to about fifteen per cent. of the cases. Yet this result rests upon a vast amount of experiment which has cost suffering and life to the lower animals; and to produce the remedy which is used, horses have to be innoculated with the disease, and thereby much pain is inflicted upon them. Weighed as against the life of a human being, a host of the lower creatures must count as nothing. As all human advancement depends upon the dissemination of knowledge, it is difficult to see any objection, from the point of view of justice, to the use of the lower creatures to accomplish this end. The only real point in the matter is as to the effect of such scenes on the minds of young people; yet they have to be accustomed to behold the processes of destruction of life which are everywhere going on about them. The gardener maintains his work by endless slaying. Our tables bear the products of the slaughter-houses. While the anatomist's work may be revolting, it is only so because his tasks are done deliberately and for a purpose that is not yet properly appreciated.

It is a curious fact that many a person who enjoys hunting or fishing, and who slays or maims with much pleasure and to no substantial profit, is horrified to see a student dissecting a living frog, guinea-pig, or cat, in order that he may learn new truths or himself behold what others have discovered. Of the two aims, momentary pleasure or intellectual profit, which is the nobler? In which work is the mind the most likely to become careless as to the rights of the dumb beast? To my understanding, the present turn of sympathetic people against vivisection indicates that the movement of the emotions has, as is often the case, been diverted from the fittest path. So far from natural science tending in any way towards cruelty, it has been the very guide in the development of the modern affection for living beings. By showing something of the marvels of their structure and history, it has increased in a way no other influence has ever done the conception which we form as to their dignity and the wonderful nature of their history. It is in the true interest of mercy to disseminate in every way we can knowledge as to the real nature of animals, leaving this knowledge to bring forth the good fruit which it ever bears. In this connection it should moreover be said that the naturalist, like the surgeon, instinctively seeks to make his work as little painful as may be to the subjects of his experiments. In almost all cases, the animal is made unconscious. Moreover, all we know of the life of the lower animals leads us to suppose that while they suffer much as we do, their pains are of a physical sort, and unassociated to any great extent with the large fears and anticipations which in the case of man form so considerable a part of his torment when in face of death.

The question of vivisection is but a part, indeed a very small part, of the much larger problem as to the relation of men to the lower life which is about them in their fields and in the wilderness. An approximate census of the species now on the earth shows that the number is between two and three million. In the presence of this host, we have to recognize that each of the innumerable individuals in its lifetime is a record of toil and pain the history of which extends backward to the beginnings of life. In this wonderful living world man has trodden ruthlessly, for the reason that he has no sense as to the dignity of the field. In the manner of a vandal, he has slain for profit or sport. He has been so effectual a destroyer that species, genera, and even families of animals have been ruthlessly swept away. The revelation of natural science, of the men of the knife who are so hated by some well-meaning but misdirected people, have now and only in our day brought us to a point where the sense of nature in its organic aspect begins to penetrate the minds of men. The revelation is so vast in its contents and its imports, the conceptions which rest upon it are so greatly enlarging to the human soul, that we may be sure of the wide and swift extension of the new light. It cannot be questioned that the clearer insight will rapidly change the attitude of men toward all living beings. We can in a way discern some of the conceptions as to the rights of the other life which will be enforced on mankind.

It is likely that the first step into the new field of human duty, due to our better understanding as to our place in nature, will be in the direction of a greater care as to our domesticated forms. While we must continue to make their lives subserve our own, we may well insist that they should be properly housed, and have what it may be possible to afford them in the way of their primitive joys, which come from the sun, the air, and their natural food. No one who has seen a long-stabled horse made free of a field can have failed to note the intense pleasure which he takes in returning to something like his natural conditions. Many a cow stable with its foul conditions inflicts more and more enduring torments than all the vivisectionists that some misguided philanthropists are fighting; yet because of the novelty of the naturalist's work these attend to the new scene and neglect the ancient abuse. Among these evils which are to be corrected we may also account that which arises from the unguided development of what are called fancy breeds. Thus among our horned cattle, the Jerseys have been brought to a point where, from the iniquitous inbreeding, which is against what may be called the morality of nature, they are fearfully subjected to tuberculosis. The punishment for this insensate performance comes back upon mankind in the dissemination of consumption; but unhappily it does not visit the people who are responsible for the development of this breed. A like, though less considerable, evil is shown in the fancy breeds of dogs, pigeons, and some other petted animals, where for amusement and as an indication of his power man has raised up many decrepit and sickly varieties, which are not likely to have a fair share in the pleasure of life which their natural breeding insured them.

The observant naturalist of the field has the sense—at least he has it if he be endowed with a little imagination—of the immense pleasure which life gives to most wild animals. That instinctive, and in its foundations utterly irrational and animal joy which men have, or should have, in their day, is part of the birthright of all sentient beings. As yet we have not recognized that this privilege of enjoyment should be confessed. We do not hesitate to slay or maim for mere sport. It is true that some of the ancient forms of this sport, such as bull-baiting and cock-fighting, have been condemned, but the best of men go afield with the gun to slay for pleasure. In a measure they keep up the pretence that they are in some way contributing to the needs of the larder, but so far as needs are concerned the pretence is mostly idle. It seems to me clear that in shaping our sympathetic relations towards animals in the light of our present knowledge, the huntsman will soon become unknown in civilized life. So long as men looked upon animals in the childish, ignorant way, viewing them as utterly commonplace things, hunting or fishing, for the reason that they rested on a foundation of ancient emotions, might well be indulged in. But to the man who knows what science has to teach him, and who discerns the marvels which the animal form enfolds, the destruction of such objects, except for need's sake, is sure to be painful. I judge this from my individual experience. In my youth I was very fond of hunting, and could even wring the necks of wounded birds without trouble of mind. A better sense of what life means, a sense which is no better than that to which all educated men are soon to attain, has made such work very repulsive to me.

When the knowledge of our time is so brought down among the masses of men that it may afford the foundations for appropriate enlargement of the sympathies, the result will doubtless be a great movement towards enlargement in public opinion which credits the lower life with what we term rights. The most important result of this movement will be the creation of a sense of duty by this life. It is said of Mohammedans that they hesitate to tread upon a bit of paper lest it bear the name of God. We know now full well that every living creature in this world bears the stamp of a Providence which has acted from all time, and that we, so far as our own advancement will permit, are morally bound to allow this life to go forward on the appointed way.



THE PROBLEM OF DOMESTICATION

The Conditions of Domestication; Effects on Society; Share of the Races of Men in the Work.—Evils of Non-Intercourse with Domesticated Animals as in Cities; Remedies.—Scientific Position of Domestication; Future of the Art.—List of Species which may Advantageously be Domesticated.—Peculiar Value of the Birds and Mammals.—Importance of Groups which tenant High Latitudes.—Plan for Wilderness Reservations; Relation to National Parks.—Project for International System of Reservations.—Nature of Organic Provinces; Harm done to them by Civilized Men.—Way in which Reservations would Serve to Maintain Types of the Life of the Earth; how they may be Founded.—Summary and Conclusions.

The advance of mankind from the primitive savagery has been accomplished in many ways. Among the various paths of onward and upward going, however, we trace three which have served greatly to secure the elevation of our estate. First of all, culture came through the use of the hands in the development of the simpler arts. Next, these arts led men to search the stores of the wilderness and of the under earth for materials which could serve them in their advancing crafts. The third important stage in their ongoing was attained when they began to subjugate the animals and plants of the wilds, bringing the creatures to abide in and about the households. Although in general this was the last great step to be taken in the beginnings of civilization, it was on many accounts the most important.

Until men began to domesticate the forms of the wilderness, it was impossible for them to rise above the grade of savages. Their supply of food was necessarily in such a measure limited that their societies had to remain small and they were given to much wandering to and fro over the earth. Moreover, they had only the strength of their own hands for all the work of life. It was not until our kind began to form a society of other species about their homes that the foundations of civilizations were firmly established. The home, indeed, may fairly be said to be the product of the conditions which the process of domestication brought about. As distinguished from the temporary hut of primitive men, it represented the stability which was induced by the care of the plants and animals which man had domiciled about him.

With every step upward in the organization of society we find that the number and efficiency of these subjugated creatures increases. Our American aborigines in their primitive state commanded only the dog and three or four plants, yet with this scant help they had already won beyond the lowest savagery and were at the threshold of barbarism. In our more civilized societies of to-day we find the products of near a hundred animals and about a thousand plants as elements of commerce, and each year sees some gain in the number of creatures which we make tributary to our desires.

So far as we can discern, the relations of primitive savages to the animal life about them is on the whole more friendly than is that of cultivated men. It is true that the savage looks to the creatures of the wilderness for the greater part of his needs. He slays them, not at all in sport, but for the profit they may afford. Moreover, in most cases, his imagination endows these wild creatures with a spirit like his own. He often adopts them, in his religious worship, placing his tribe under the protection of one or another, as some of our own people do themselves under the protection of particular saints. The effect of domestication when man comes to have his own separate estate in animal life is to separate men from the creatures of the wilderness. "Wild" and "tame" come to be terms having a meaning which the savage does not recognize, and this meaning has with the advance of culture become intensified, until to most men the only creatures entitled to protection are those which have been made subject to man.

At first the process of domestication concerned only useful animals or plants, those which would take a part in our industries. Rapidly, however, these creatures have been adopted with the view to the aesthetic satisfaction which they might afford. Quite half of the number of species which have come under human control have been tamed mainly if not altogether because of the charms which they possess. If we reckon flowering plants in the category, by far the greater number of our captives have been brought to us because of their beauty.

The work of domestication has in the main been effected by our own Aryan race. Out of the total number of animals and plants which have been made captives, probably more than two-thirds have been brought into subjection by the European Aryans or by the folk whom they have profoundly affected with their civilizing motives. The disposition to win goods from the wilderness is in effect a fair test of those qualities in a people which give them dominance: we may indeed roughly measure the qualities of diverse folk by a variety of conquests of this kind, which they have made. The reason for this relation is plain. Success, whether it be of the individual or of the race, depends in large measure upon forethoughtfulness, on a disposition to study as to where profit may be had, and intelligently to seek accessions of strength by experiments in domestication. Each of these winnings from the wilderness represented by our domesticated animals or plants has been painfully and laboriously gained. The men who did the tasks were not creatures of the day, but foresightful beyond the average of mortals.

In a large way the work of domestication represents one of the modes of action of that sympathetic motive which more than any other has been the basis of the highest development of mankind. Ordinary men of the low grade are content to slay, or otherwise rudely gain what value they find in the wild creatures. Only the higher grades of men perceive much of the charm in the inhabitants of the wilderness, or desire to win them to their homes. If our conquests from the wilds were limited to the grossly profitable life alone, we might say that interest only had determined the work of subjugation; but as soon as men escape from their primitive state, even while in their general motives they are still essentially barbarians, they cultivate flowers and derive a keen pleasure from their company. They domesticate birds which are valuable only for the pleasures which their presence lends to human abodes. This action clearly shows that the element of sympathy, that love for the other life which in any way fixes the attention, has had much to do with this work of bringing other beings into association with our own lives.

Not only is the motive which has led our race to such extensive conquests over the wild nature in itself sympathetic, but the process of winning these creatures from the wilderness has served effectively to extend and amplify this same impulse. One of the best features of agricultural life consists in the great amount of care-taking which it imposes upon its followers. The ordinary farmer has to enter into more or less sympathetic relations with half a score of animal species and many kinds of plants. His life, indeed, is devoted to ceaseless friendly relations with these creatures which live or die at his will. In this task his ancient savage impulses are slowly worn away, and in their place comes the enduring kindliness of cultivated men. When we compare the state of mind of the hunter with that of the care-taking soil-tiller, we see the vast scope and influence which this work of domestication has effected in our kind. To it perhaps more than to any other cause we must attribute the civilizable and the civilized state of mind.

Although no discreet person will venture to determine the relative weight which should be given to the influences which have made for civilization, there can be no doubt that the care of domesticated animals has been one of the most potent of these agents. Not only has this employment served to develop the motives of care-taking that result in the postponement of the momentary satisfaction of indolence or of hunger for the prospect of security or wealth to come, but it has served to arouse and broaden the sympathies given men, that humane spirit without which the best of our higher culture cannot be attained. If this view be correct, we may find in it a good reason for regretting the increasing development of cities, a reason which is more definite than the most of those which have been urged against the growth of great towns. Statistics seem to indicate that people are as healthy, as long lived, and on the whole no more given to vice and crime in a well-ordered urban life than they are on the farms. It is certainly easier to give them the formal education of the schools in the dense than in the scattered condition. There can be no doubt, however, that the practically complete separation of the most of our cities from all educative contact with the ancient companions and helpers of men brings about an omission of an element in culture that may entail serious consequences.

The question arises as to what can be done to diminish the evils which come from the total separation of a large part of our people from the humanizing influences due to the care of animals. How general this separation is may be judged from the fact that so far as I have been able to find in the manufacturing towns of Massachusetts not one child in thirty ever knew what it is to care for any creature, save those of its kind. And even in a well-conditioned place like Cambridge, the proportion of those who have any educative contact with animals probably does not exceed one in fifteen. I do not reckon the mere chance playing with a dog or cat as serving the need; the real service is when the person has a sense of responsibility for the life of the animal. To bring about this relation in the ordinary conditions of a town is usually impossible. Something can, however, be accomplished by various expedients.

In the lowest state of townspeople it is out of the question to give the children any pets whatever. Even caged birds cannot or should not be accommodated in the cheaper grade of lodging-houses. Wherever the animals are in separate houses it is often possible for children to have some contact with sympathetic animal life. In these conditions, our cocks and hens are the best creatures to rear. They are the most attractive of all our domesticated birds; they do better than any other forms of economic value in narrow conditions, and, what is of importance for the end in view, they contribute a share of food, so that a boy may have from them some experience with the economic relation of animals to men.

Some persons who have observed the advancing process of destruction of the natural world may have been brought to consider the change as in the necessary and inevitable order which comes with the higher development of man. They may welcome—indeed, some evidently do welcome—the chance that the ancient system may utterly disappear, and all the earth become fields and garden places tenanted only by those forms that man may have chosen to be his companions. To many people who have a keen impression as to the importance of man in the great economy, and no clear sense of his relation to the natural order, this possibility is doubtless attractive. It is not so to those who have gained a clear idea of the place of man and the conditions of his ongoing.

There is reason to expect that the modern gains in the cheapness and speed of transportation may before long bring about a material change in the housing of the laboring classes of our cities, so that they may be able to dwell in somewhat rural conditions. In this way we may hope to see these people once again brought where they may receive a fuller share of the influences which have served so well to lift our race to its elevated moral station. Working to the same end is the spirit which is leading many manufacturers to place their establishments in the country, where they can control the mode of life of the employees and their families. Against the growth of the factory towns with their sordid conditions, we may with pleasure set these rural workshops where the capitalists are doing the best they can to better the mode of living of the people who are under their charge. In this good work it may well be possible to include a share of contact with the soil and with domesticated animals. In this system of isolated factories we may perhaps hope to find the way out of the perplexities which the present condition of our industries have imposed on our civilization.

Up to our present half-century the process of winning animals and plants to domestication, and of improving them after they had been thus won, has been in its nature a matter of haphazard. Here and there, as men have seen creatures which promised in captivity to afford either pleasure or profit, they have endeavored to convert them to use. In some cases the effort has been made with some patience and steadfastness of purpose. If the creature yielded quickly to the needs of a new life which it was sought to impose upon him, he became a member of man's family. If its wilderness motives were strong, the effort to domesticate was soon abandoned. The greater part of these efforts to win animals and plants into alliance with our race have been made with the creatures which were native in the wildernesses about our ancestral dwelling-places. Occasionally from distant lands important gains have been made, especially among the food-giving plants; but all the animals of any importance which have been adopted by the Aryan people were originally natives of the lands in which that race has dwelt.

It is a remarkable fact that no sooner does a wild animal or plant become intimately associated with man, than it at once departs more or less widely from its ancient type. Our conquests from the vegetable world have to a great extent so far lost their original character that we can no longer determine the species from which they sprang. Botanists cannot find the wild forms which have given us the cabbage, wheat, and most other small grains, and a host of other important varieties. So, too, the origin of our dogs is as yet unsolved and bids fair ever to remain a mystery. In addition to this changed character which we observe in the forms of domesticated animals and plants alike, we note that the mental characteristics of the former undergo vast alterations. The creatures, in a way, take the tone of civilization, and to a great extent abandon those ancient habits of fear and rage which were essential to their life in the wilderness. The intellectual condition of our dogs shows us that the creatures may be progressively educated—in a word, that man may put into them something of his human quality. In the case of the dog, the longest possessed and most familiar to our households of all our captives, the mental change which has come, partly by selection, from association with man has gone so far that the species may be fairly said to have replaced its pristine motives with those which it has derived from ourselves. In many cases it has become, so far as its ways are concerned, even more man than dog.

Although the physical and mental educability of animals when brought into companionship with man is an old subject of remark, and one of the most interesting features which they exhibit, it was not until the doctrine of descent by variation of species from other related forms became established, that we had a chance to see the vast possibilities of accomplishment which are presented to us by our domesticated creatures. It is true that the breeder's art is old and that men have felt the subjugated animals to be almost like clay in the potter's hands, but except in a small and rather careless way with the dogs, little attention has been given to the development of the intelligence of these captives. The success which we have obtained with this animal has been accomplished by a selective process, but one which has been almost as blind in its operation as the choice which acts in the natural world. For thousands of years men have preferred the dogs which manifested a sympathy with them, and the result is a creature which, though derived from a very brutal ancestry, has in its way as intense affections as human beings. Now and then they have chosen deliberately to develop some mental peculiarity of the animal which would be of service in hunting, and the effect of this care is to be noted in the considerable variety and perfection of mental development which the sporting dogs exhibit. In the main, however, the interest of our dog fanciers has been limited to the physical features of the species; nothing like a deliberate effort to ascertain how far the development of their mental parts could be carried has ever been essayed. In no other field of human endeavor of anything like equal importance has there been so little understanding applied to the tasks.

Now that we are beginning to know something of the laws of inheritance, it is high time for us deliberately to consider what our relations to the organic world are hereafter to be, and how we can guide ourselves in these relations by the light of modern learning. It is in the first place clear that the subjugation of the earth which necessarily accompanies the development of civilization, inevitably tends to sweep away a large part of the organic life which is not adopted and protected by man. Already, with the mere beginnings of this culture, we find that several of the large beasts and birds and a number of plants have been destroyed. New as civilization is on this continent, it has already brought the moose and the buffalo to a point where they are on the verge of extinction, and in the Old World the wild ancestors of the horse and the bull have quite disappeared from the wildernesses. Within a few centuries the greater birds, the Dinornis and Epiornis, as well as the interesting Dodo, have vanished from the southern isles which they inhabited. In the century to come we can foresee that this process of effacement of the ancient life will go on with accelerated velocity.

It seems inevitable that man should play the part of a destroyer. It is his place to break down the ancient order determined by what we call natural forces and in its stead to set a new accord in which the economy of the earth will be in a great measure controlled by his intelligence. Even those who most keenly sympathize with the wilderness life, are not likely to object to the changes which are necessary to open the way for this new dispensation. They may fairly ask, however, that hereafter the displacement of the ancient life shall be brought about with foresight and with the exercise of the utmost care in minimizing the sacrifices which we are called on to make. Naturalists may fairly ask men to remember that each of these species which we are forced to destroy represents the toil and pains of unimaginable ages, and that when these creatures are swept away they can never be recovered. Whatever new species may come, by processes of evolution from the life which remains after we have done our will with the wilderness, we shall never see again the forms which have passed away.

It is the worst feature of the destruction which man is bringing upon the organic species that the assault is most effective on those varieties which are most interesting both from an intellectual and an economic point of view. To take only the case of the great birds which have recently been swept from the earth, we see clearly that we have with them lost precious opportunities for enlarging our understanding of nature and have at the same time been deprived of the chance to domesticate creatures which would most likely have proved of much economic value. With each of these species which disappears we lose what may be a precious chance of adding to the small store of animals or plants which may contribute to the well being of our kind. These considerations make it plain that it is our duty by our civilization, to do all in our power to save these species and at the same time to essay their domestication, for only when under the protection of man can they be regarded as insured from destruction.

The task of bringing wild creatures into our domestic fold is one of very varied difficulty. Many plants are easily reconciled to the conditions of our fields and gardens: they may be said to welcome the care of man which insures them some protection from the fierce contention with other life or with the elements to which they are exposed in their natural conditions. Only here and there is it necessary by careful breeding to develop domesticated habits to the point where the forms will endure culture. Where the task is, however, to make avail of some natural peculiarity which promises to be useful, but is not yet of economic value, it may require a hundred generations of careful selection to develop and fix desirable features. We are, however, in all cases sure in these half-animate species, the plants, that they will prove perfectly obedient to our will. It is otherwise, however, with wild animals. Here we have to deal with intelligences in which the most striking characteristic is an abiding fear of the master, and a general indisposition to submit to any other control than that of their native wild instincts. The measure in which this wilderness habit, bred of long contention with enemies, prevails in animals varies greatly. Some, as for instance the elephant, at once reconcile themselves to human association, and directly on being made slaves accept the mastery of their captors. Others, such as the zebra, remain for a lifetime possessed of their original savage nature. A large part of the labor which has been given to the work of domesticating by the breeder's art the score of mammalian species which man has won to his use has been devoted to this task of expelling the wilderness motives from these forms. The cases in which he has failed to accomplish this end are those in which the savage humor has persisted for so long a time that he has been forced to abandon his effort to subdue the stock.

It seems likely that at the present time we have acquired from the wilderness nearly all the animals which are capable of adoption by such brief and individual experiments as have won to us the species which constitute our flocks and herds. Our future gains will have to be made by far more deliberate and continuous endeavors. These tasks of the hereafter will have to be undertaken in a way which will insure a continuity of effort such as can only be attained by permanently organized associations which may continue their essays if needs be for centuries. The work should be done with two distinct ends in view: first, to determine what members of the wilderness life may be made to contribute to the needs of man; and, second, how far it is possible so to develop the intelligence of the lower animals in general as to make them better fitted for companionship with our kind. This last-named line of experiments needs to be undertaken not only with reference to varieties now wild, but also upon our most domesticated forms, for, as before remarked, we have not begun to explore the possibilities of intellectual gain, even in those species which have been the longest associated with us.

In considering a list of the creatures which might well be made the subjects of trial with a view to their domestication, we find ourselves at once embarrassed by the exceeding wealth of our opportunities. It is impossible within the limits of this article to treat, even in the catalogue way, a vast number of forms which commend themselves for experiment. Something of the richness of the field, however, may be judged by noting some of the more conspicuous forms, as we shall now proceed to do. Beginning with the insects, the lowest forms in the animal series which have proved in any sense domesticable, we note that wide as is this realm of life it offers but few opportunities such as the domesticator seeks. Of the million or more species in the group, only two, the honey-bee and the silkworm, have been won to man's use, and there is not another wild form which the naturalist can suggest as likely to prove a valuable captive. The only use which we are probably to find for these creatures is where, by some form of culture, we may induce predatory or parasitic species more effectively to do their destructive work on noxious forms of the class. So well fitted is this group for purposes of self-defence that however much man may interfere with the course of nature, he is not likely to sweep any of their multitudinous kinds from the earth, though experience clearly shows that by the methods above mentioned they may be greatly reduced.

It is among the vertebrate forms alone that we find animals which by their characteristics of body or of mind are well fitted to have an economic or social value. There alone are the qualities of flesh or of the external covering such as to make them in a high measure valuable, and the instincts of a nature to fit them for association in man's work. Even among these back-boned animals we find that the lower groups—the fishes, the amphibians, and the reptiles—promise little in the way of gains as compared with the higher groups, the birds and mammals; yet even among these inferior creatures we find certain forms which give promise of improvement under the care of man. Some of the fishes readily learn to come to any one from whom they may expect food, and they indicate in other ways that they are capable of a certain intellectual advance. The frogs and toads readily learn to recognize a master. Several of the larger members of the first-named forms could advantageously be bred so as to be very useful as food. The common hop toad of our gardens is an admirable helper in restraining the excessive development of certain slugs and insects. The tortoises and turtles contain a number of species which are edible, and many of the forms invite the breeder's care. It is, however, when we ascend in the type of vertebrates to the level of the birds that we find the great array of creatures which are worth considering as members of our civilization.

Nearly all the birds except those of prey and those which haunt the seas can easily be accustomed to man. A few of these species which have been reduced to captivity have not become sufficiently reconciled to the unnatural conditions to maintain their breeding habits. Even in these cases, however, it seems likely that in spacious aviaries, at least in climates to which they are accustomed, it will be possible to secure the continuous reproduction of the kind, on which all development by the breeder's art depends.

The ease with which most birds, except those of prey, may be reduced to domestication is due to the remarkable intensity of their sympathetic motives. In this regard the class is much more advanced than that of the mammalia to which we ourselves belong. Accustomed as they are to ceaseless and active intercourse with each other by means of their varied calls, largely endowed with the faculty of attention, and provided with fairly retentive memories, the birds are, on the average, nearer in the qualities of their intelligence to man than are many of the species in his own class. It was long ago remarked that the birds of remote islands, such as the Galapagos, which had never seen man, were at first not in the least afraid of him. It required, however, but a few generations of experience to show these creatures that the unfeathered biped was a singularly dangerous animal, and they at once and permanently adopted the habit of avoiding him. This incident of itself shows how quick birds are to learn certain large and important lessons. We see also the reverse of this education in fear in the rapid way in which birds become tame when they are secured from persecution. Wherever shooting is stopped over a considerable territory the birds rapidly become more tolerant of man's presence. Even among migratory species the individuals appear to learn that certain places where they are protected may be resorted to with safety.

Because of their freedom of flight it is in all cases difficult to bring our perching birds into such relations with the domiciles of man that they can be truly domesticated. The success, however, which has been attained in the case of the pigeons, which have been so far made captive by the change of their instincts that they never depart far from their cotes, seems to indicate that this tendency again to go wild is by no means ineradicable. In other instances it will probably disappear as it has in this by long-continued care in breeding. Our successes with the geese, ducks, and swans, all of which belong to genera characterized by the migratory habit, show how readily in the course of time the old native instincts may be subordinated to the will of man. Although the degree of the difficulty which will be encountered in taming many wild forms may be far greater than that which has been met in those which we have domesticated, there is no reason whatever to believe that in any case it will be insuperable.

While all the creatures of the wilderness may by the breeder's art be induced to vary in the conditions of captivity, the birds have shown themselves more plastic in our hands than any other animals. In almost every brood we find individuals possessing marked peculiarities of form or plumage. In their mental qualities also there is a like range of variation. Seizing upon these, the fancier can guide the quick succeeding generations so as to cause the form to depart in the course of a few years very far from its original aspect. With each step in this succession of changes the readiness with which the species responds to selective care increases. The results which have been attained in our barnyard fowl and with the pigeons show how admirably these creatures are fitted to obey the will of man when he has a mind to take charge of their destiny.

Perhaps the greatest conquests which we have yet to make among the birds will be won from the species which have the habit of dwelling mainly or altogether upon the ground. These, as experience shows, can be more readily brought to the uses of man than the species which are free by their strong wings to wander through the realms of air. There are very many of these ground birds the domestication of which has never been fairly essayed. There are perhaps a hundred species which in one part of the world or another might afford valuable additions to our resources, those of ornament or of economy, and yet within three centuries only one of these, the turkey, has been brought to the domesticated state. The greater part of our game birds, such as the quail, pheasants, and partridges, though they appear on slight experiments to be untamable, could probably by continuous effort be reduced to perfect domestication. For ages they have been harried by man in a manner which has insured a great fear of his presence. We have indeed through our hunting instituted a very thorough-going and continuous system of selection which has tended to affirm in these creatures an intense fear of our kind. Only the more timorous have escaped us, and year after year we proceed to remove with the gun the individuals which by chance are born with any considerable share of the primitive tolerance of man's presence. It is not to be expected that the chicks of these species will at once accept relations with our kind. The domestication of many of these forms is to be desired, not only on account of the excellent quality of their flesh, but because of their beauty and the charm which their quick intelligences afford them. Whoever has watched them in their care of their young or their other social habits has observed features which indicate a possible development under domestication perhaps greater than that which we have attained in any other of our feathered captives.

It seems most important that experiments in the further domestication of birds should be first addressed to certain, large ground forms which are now in more or less danger of extinction. The newly instituted industry of ostrich farming has probably insured this the noblest remnant of the old avian life from destruction; but the emu and the cassowary are still among the diminishing and endangered forms which unless taken into the human fold are likely soon to pass away. The brush turkey and the bower bird of Australia, two of the most curious inhabitants of that realm of strange life, appear to have qualities of mind and body which would make them readily domesticable and which would cause them to be among the most interesting of our feathered captives.

Among the aquatic birds there are many species which are as promising subjects for domestication as any which have been made captive; these if subjugated would prove great additions to our resources of ornament and use. Thus the eider duck, so well known for its wonderful soft down which is plucked from the breast to make a covering for the eggs, though a marine species, would prove domesticable at least on the seashore of high latitudes. There are many other varieties of the family, such as the canvas-back which is so highly esteemed for its flesh, that would likewise afford very interesting subjects for experiment.

The wading birds are characteristically very wild and range over a wide field; yet the flamingoes, the herons, and their kindred could probably be brought into at least as near an approach to reconciliation with man as their relations the storks. The comfortable relations which have been established between the last-named species and humankind in northern Europe is probably in nowise due to the peculiarly tamable nature of the bird, but rather to the fact that certain superstitious fancies on the part of the featherless biped led him to protect the feathered visitor of his roofs and chimneys. Should it be desirable to break up the habit of migration in these or other birds which are now accustomed to range up and down the meridians, there seems no reason to doubt that the change could be accomplished with the same ease that it has been in the case of the tamed geese and swans. Experience has shown that with these forms, which probably have not been associated with men for more than three or four thousand years, the migratory instinct, which appears one of the strongest of motives, has utterly disappeared. Not only do they no longer heed the cries of the wild birds of their kind as they fly away on their annual journeys, but they have, through the changes in form induced by their quiet life, lost the power to rise far above the earth. They are even more effectively tamed than are their captors.

Owing to their singularly perfect protection against the cold, and also perhaps to the quickness of their wits, birds are more readily transferable from one clime to another than are any other animals. The feathered tenants of our barnyards are, except perhaps the aquatic species and the turkey, all from the tropical realm. Experiments with various other wild forms go to show that there are very many other tropical species which will prove to have an equal tolerance of high latitudes. If this be true we may fairly look to the domestication of the varied bird life of the equatorial regions for the enrichment of our northern lands. Even when it may not be desirable to bring these species to the state of complete subjugation they may be introduced on something like the terms which have been given and accepted in the case of the so-called English pheasant, which has brought to the high north of Britain and some parts of this country an element of grace which is afforded by no indigenous form of North America or Europe. There are hundreds of beautiful tropical species which await reconciliation with men; they have that quality of sympathy which affords the natural foundations for the contract, but this has in no case been availed of except when the creatures, in addition to their aesthetic charm, have possessed some economic value. There as elsewhere in the matter of domestication the commercial motive has controlled our action.

In forming our societies as we are in time to do, account must be taken of the sympathetic value of its elements, reckoning among these the animals which the system brings in contact with men. Much of the culture which has served to lift our race above its ancient savagery has been derived from the influence of domesticated animals; in proportion as these creatures have sympathetically responded to our care we have been thereby educated and our spiritual development advanced. So far as in our further choice of animals which are to be associated with ourselves we are guided by a desire to extend this work, we may well turn our attention towards the birds, for in that group we may find a greater number of species which have attained the physical beauty which attracts and the mental qualities which may endear them to mankind. They can give us nothing that can ever come so close to us as the dog—the unique gift of the wilderness—but they may afford a host of forms to enrich our lives.

The mammals, because they are, in qualities of body and mind, nearer to us than the members of any other class of animals, afford the most promising field from which to make selections for future domestication. In an economic sense it seems unlikely that any very great profit can be attained by the subjugation of any of the mammalian species which are still wild. Civilized people have been so long in contact with the life of all the continents, and have ever been so hungry for gain, that they have already essayed about every experiment in subjugating the larger wild beasts which appears to be very promising. Still there are certain cases where there have been no trials and others where the failure to tame particular species has been due to hindrances which systematic labor may possibly overcome. It will therefore be well to glance at the array of the wild forms which afford some prospect of success in the hereafter, including under the title of successes those kinds which may contribute not only to immediately measurable wealth, but the aesthetic satisfactions as well.

Beginning with the lowlier group of mammals we find in the base of the series the ornithorhynchus and its allies, creatures which have nothing to recommend them but their exceeding organic peculiarities that render them attractive to the naturalist, but which are not likely to win them a place in the affections of men in general. As these species are most inoffensive as well as interesting, and as they are now confined to a portion of Australia, they might well be made the subject of some human care which would stop short of domestication. They might be transplanted to other continents and thereby given a larger field for variation as well as a chance to exhibit their features in a wider field. Among the pouched mammals, especially in the species of kangaroo, there are forms which commend themselves as very fair subjects for taming. They are of considerable size, their flesh is palatable, and their hides useful for leather; they breed rapidly, live on a poor herbage, and are, for wild animals of like strength, very inoffensive. Moreover, though relatively invariable both in mind and body, they exhibit sufficient individual peculiarities to indicate that the breeder's art could, in a short time, bring about considerable changes such as have been effected in other species, changes that would increase the value of these animals. As far as aesthetic or sympathetic relations are concerned, the pouched mammals have nothing to give us; they are, as befits their lowly estate, among the least graceful of their class; they are also little interesting in their mental qualities, being about the stupidest of our kindred.

Among the ordinary herbivorous mammals there are several which should be domesticable which have not yet been properly subjected to experiment looking to that end. The American bison, commonly but improperly termed the buffalo, is a strong creature, one which is easily nourished. In its present condition, it is about as promising a subject for the breeder's care as were the ancestors of our horned cattle. Although there have been sundry trials of this animal as a beast of burthen, they have been of a rude as well as a brief kind, no care having been taken by selection to improve the qualities which evidently commend themselves to our use. The flesh of this species is quite as good as that of the wild bulls of the genus Bos, and the hides have a peculiar value on account of their somewhat woolly character. There is reason to believe that, bred in the region of the high north, about Lake Saskatchewan for instance, with proper selection this hairy covering could be developed much as has the wool on the sheep. This is indicated by the considerable variations in the quality of the coat which go to show that the feature is still in a very plastic state, a state that may be said to invite the assistance of man in order to bring it to the full measure of its possibilities. If this covering could be developed, the result would be to give us a domesticated beast of large size with a hairy covering having the character of a fur; such would be a great addition to our resources.

As there is a large extent of country in the high latitudes of North America, Asia, and South America, where the climate is too severe and the herbage too scanty to serve the needs of our ordinary cattle, in which a hardy feeder with a well-clad body such as the buffalo might do well, it seems most desirable to essay the experiment of domesticating the bison before it is too late, before the brutal instincts of our kind have quite made an end of the noblest animal which is native in the Americas.

There is another inhabitant of the high north of this continent which deserves the notice of those who are disposed to attend to the questions concerning the extension of man's control over nature; this is the ovibos or musk-ox. Like the buffalo, only in much higher measure, this singular creature is fit for very cold countries; his fitness being in part assured by his admirable covering of long hair as well as by his capacity for taking on fat during the short summer in sufficient store to last him through the trials of the winter season. The kinship of the musk-ox to the group of the sheep is near enough to warrant the belief that the hair could be improved by selection, and that from the process we would be likely to obtain an animal much larger than our largest sheep and yielding fleeces of peculiar value in the arts.

Among the northern carnivora there are several species which deserve attention for the reason that they may be brought to some degree of domestication which may enable us to make better use of their hairy coverings. Among these we may mention the foxes, the polar bears, and the seals. The first-named group affords at present about the dearest furs of our markets. The silver-gray variety, which at present seems to be a frequent individual variation, could doubtless be affirmed by selection, and probably could be brought to a higher state of perfection than it has as yet attained. The animals are, if we may judge from their kindred, not untamable; at least they could be brought to live in a sufficient state of captivity to permit selection. In time they might be quite domesticated. Many of the islands of the high north and south are well fitted for such experiments.

As is well known, the polar bears have a wonderfully developed hairy covering; their coats, indeed, are among the richest that exist. These animals subsist mainly on what they capture from the sea, so that it might be possible to keep them at a small expense. They are, however, of all their kindred the most indomitable; it would probably require a long and costly effort to reduce them to anything like domestication. Moreover, being strong, free swimmers, it would not be easy to maintain them in captivity. Still, selecting such a well-inundated place as Bear Island of the North Atlantic, it would be most interesting to make the experiment, first of accustoming them to some human control, and then to a selection which might serve to lift the quality of the kind. It would be less difficult and perhaps more advisable at first to make a trial of a similar sort with the black bear, which in less arctic conditions flourishes and carries a fine pelt. The only difficulty would be in finding a sufficient supply of food for such captives, for although they will eat fish they have no skill in capturing them such as is possessed by their more degraded, or perhaps we should say their less advanced kindred, the polar bears. Still, as the form is even more omnivorous than man, it might be practicable to feed them.

By far the most important of the carnivora in an economic sense are the seals which dwell in the high northern waters. These creatures afford the most interesting subjects for experiments in domestication from an economic point of view that remain to be made. Of all the predatory animals the seals seem to have the largest share of intelligence and the greatest amount of sympathetic motives. No other wild animals, except perhaps the monkeys, appear to be so human-like in their qualities of mind as these creatures of the sea. So far, except when they have been captured and kept for purposes of show in menageries, man's relations to the seals have been purely destructive; he has incessantly hunted them. Yet certain species of them remain singularly willing, we may say desirous, of claiming friendship with their persecutors. As elsewhere noted, wounded seals behave in a curiously appealing way towards their assailants. When in captivity certain of the species show a remarkable friendliness and a capacity to receive training. No other wild animals, except perhaps the elephants, exhibit so great a fitness for profiting from contact with man.

Although our knowledge as to the habits of seals is still very imperfect, it appears likely that the greater part of the species have the habit of resorting to certain places during the breeding season, and that the individuals after the manner of certain fishes return at that time to their native shore. If this be true, as there is good reason to believe it is, it should not be a matter of grave difficulty, provided the maritime nations would abet the experiment, to establish seal colonies composed of the several promising forms at fit points in the circumpolar seas. There is reason to suppose that with ordinary decent treatment the animals would become to a great degree accustomed to men, and that it might be possible to accomplish selection enough of the individuals which were left to breed, to develop the already valuable characteristics of the fur. In the present disgraceful condition of our relations to these animals it will be but a few years before we shall have to lament the extirpation of several species, including the most interesting members of the group.

Looking upon the questions of man's future on the earth in a large way, we see that there are reasons why the animals of the high north, particularly those which obtain their food from the sea, should be protected from extermination. There is a great area of country in that part of the world which is not adapted to the occupation of any of the species which have as yet been domesticated. If this portion of the world is ever to prove fruitful in other ways than through its mineral stores, it will be by the creatures which are adapted to its climate and other conditions. At the present rate of increase in numbers, the population of the world will, in the course of two or three centuries, begin seriously to press upon the resources in the way of food which the fields of the tropical and temperate zones can supply; the chances of the arctic regions may then have much importance to our successors. Moreover, in the case of the seals we find the peculiar advantage that the animals are fed entirely from the sea, so that the domestication of these forms would give to man a means, the like of which he has never possessed, whereby he would be enabled to harvest the food resources of the deep.

The beaver, particularly the North American form, offers a most attractive opportunity for a great and far-reaching experiment in domestication. On this continent, at least, the creature exhibits a range of attractive qualities which is exceeded by none other in the whole range of the lower mammalian life. No other mammal below man shows anything like the same constructive skill in the contrivance of its habitations, or is able so to modify its habits of building to meet the varied needs of its life. When this country was first visited by man near one half of its area was occupied by this species. It built its dams and dwelling-places and, when necessary, excavated its canals along all the lesser streams in the timbered regions of the northern districts. As the destructive effects of civilization increased, the animal has gradually, to a great extent, been driven away from its old haunts, and where it remains it has, as the price of life, given up its architectural habits and betaken itself to the older and simpler mode of living in a chance manner much as is now the habit of the European variety. As an illustration of this I may note, in passing, that before the civil war, when all the recesses of the forests in the region about Richmond, Virginia, had for more than a century been industriously explored by hunters, the beaver was supposed to be extinct in the district; yet during the civil war, as I am credibly informed, a colony of these creatures became established near the town of Suffolk, and there, amid the roar of a great conflict in which men ceased to seek the lesser game, they recovered their habit of building dams, which we must believe to have been discontinued for many generations. This capacity to vary action with reference to changing needs is the best possible index of the mental power of animals. Guided by the exhibition that has been given us by the beavers, we are justified in considering them to be the one group of mammals which has gained a distinct, rational constructive power. This feature makes them decidedly the most interesting group for investigations which may be expected to throw light on the problems of animal intelligence. From the economic point of view the species has a certain importance for the reason that it affords one of the most valuable kinds of fur that has ever been marketed.

The domestication of the beavers to the point where they would tolerate the presence of man should not, provided they could be protected against the depredations of poachers, be a matter of any difficulty. The colonies of these animals require only what is afforded by vast realms of our wildernesses—flowing streams of moderate fall with timber upon their banks. They are not particular as to the species, so that swift-growing kinds of trees such as the poplars may be made to serve their needs. The natural growth on a hundred acres of otherwise worthless land would probably be sufficient to maintain a colony of average size containing say twenty-five individuals. In the region about the great lakes and for some distance to the northward and to the east and west there are great areas amounting in the aggregate to some hundred thousand square miles that would apparently be well suited to the nurture of this form, and which in the present condition of the country, as well as for the immediate future, cannot be turned to better use. It may be remarked that the domestication of the beavers would afford yet another means, in addition to those above noted, whereby we might be able to win some profit from the great wilderness of the north, which is, so far as our existing means of appropriating its resources, of little use to mankind. The only evident way by which we may hope to win profit from this part of our continent is by using it as a field for rearing animals that have yet to be subjugated; none of our captive varieties are fit for the service.

In the tropical parts of the world there are many mammalian species which are worthy subjects for essays in domestication. This is particularly the case in the continent of Africa where, except in the lands about the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, the native peoples have never attained the stage of culture in which men become strongly inclined to subjugate wild animals. Africa is richer in large herbivorous species than any other of the great lands; many of these forms are of large size and have qualities of flesh, of hide, or other peculiar features which promise to make them valuable in an economic way. Others, especially the antelopes, have a beauty of form and a grace of movement which render them among the most attractive creatures of their class. Even the hippopotamus, one of the grossest beasts of this realm, affords in its teeth a valuable ivory, and its hides, if supplied in sufficient quantity, would probably find a considerable use. It is evident that in this "dark continent," where the influences which make for human advancement have been so slight, we have the best field for the selection of species that may hereafter be brought to the use of man. There is evidently danger, in the advance in the civilizing process, that the native forms which, owing to their fitness to the physical conditions of the country, might be made useful to its people, may be utterly destroyed by hunters.

Perhaps the most interesting of the tropical beasts from the point of view which we occupy is the elephant: This animal in its relations to men is eminently peculiar, in that while it has been in an individual way long and completely subjugated, it has never been systematically reared in captivity. Owing, it may be, to the slow growth of these great beasts, as well as to the immediate manner in which they submit to their captors, it has ever been the custom to take them when adult from the wilderness. The result is that the supply of the Asiatic species, which alone is serviceable—the African form being apparently too fierce for use—is now dependent on a relatively small number of wild herds. Certain of these herds are protected by the governments of India, but it seems as if the species were already dangerously near the vanishing point—in a position where the invasion of some disease or some insect enemy might deprive the world of what is, all things considered, the most interesting of the brutes. Moreover, the failure to rear elephants in captivity has made it impossible to essay any of those experiments in breeding which have done so much to improve the utility and the beauty of most subjugated forms.

If the elephants could be reared in captivity there is little reason to doubt that with a few centuries of selection they might be made to vary in many important ways. It is evident that the form and mental quality of these creatures is as plastic as those features in the other domesticated animals have been proved to be. Moreover, the group, though it is now represented by but two recognized species, was in comparatively recent times quite rich in varieties, a fact which raises the presumption that the existing kinds are open to modification by the selective process. As the elephant is not mature until it is near thirty years old, probably not reproducing until about that age, there is little inducement for any person to undertake the process of breeding them in the selective way; if the task is ever done it will have to be accomplished by government action or by that of a society which is pledged to such tasks. If the effort to bring the elephants into a more permanent relation with man is not made and the race is allowed to perish, we may be sure that in the time to come people will gravely censure us for any such neglect of the opportunities which this world affords as would be involved in the loss of this noble brute. It is clearly our duty to see that all such resources are preserved for the inquirers of the future.

Among the other tropical mammals which, because they have not as yet proved of economic value, are on account of their size and their attractiveness to sportsmen in danger of extinction, we may note the various species of rhinoceros, the giraffe, and the several African forms which are akin to the horse. None of these forms have been turned to use, none of them appear likely to be adopted by man for the service they can do; but they are, in common with all the host which cannot be mentioned here, of great interest to the naturalists of our time. Their importance in the inquiries which are hereafter to be made by our ever expanding science of life cannot be estimated. It certainly will not be possible to overreckon it in this very practical age. This plea for the sparing of the mammalian species in no case needs to be made so strongly, and in no other instance is so well entitled to a hearing, as when it is raised for the life of the monkeys. These interesting animals because of their collateral kinship with man afford precious evidence as to the stages of intellectual development which is likely to be of exceeding value to students in that field of inquiry. There is unfortunately little chance that any of the monkeys will ever prove useful; their habits are such that they are generally troublesome neighbors; moreover, their weakness makes it easy to exterminate them. The result is that some species have probably already been destroyed, and others are in conditions where during the next century they are likely to vanish. In the animate realm it is hard to choose the forms which are to be the most important for the naturalists of the time to come, but it is certain that these students will deplore the loss of the simian life and charge us sorely if we neglect due effort for its preservation.

Although the matter before us concerns the domestication of animals, it may be well to devote a little attention to the question of the wild plants which need protection or which promise to afford unwon values. It may be said that plants in general are much less likely than animals to be disturbed by the process of bringing a country under the conditions of civilization. With rare exceptions the individuals of each species are so numerous that, like the insects, they escape by their numbers the risk of the extinction of their kinds. Moreover, the ease with which nearly all the kinds can be brought under cultivation, and the fact that they present no self-will to be dominated, makes the task of dealing with them, in a protective way, infinitely easier than in the case of animals. So far as we know, there has not been an instance in which a continental species of plant has been exterminated by man, while there are a number of the larger animals which have been swept away apparently by human agency, and there are many more which are on the verge of extinction. Therefore, so far as the plant world is concerned, we may for the present at least trust the species to their own powers to maintain them against the rude assaults of civilization. If here and there one is overrun by the wheels of our economic engines, something of value to the student is lost, but the loss does not include the element of mind which is hereafter to be the subject of so much study.