Locke says, "The power of abstracting is not at all in brutes; and the having of general ideas is that which puts a perfect distinction between man and brutes. For it is evident we observe no footsteps in these of making use of general signs for universal ideas; from which we have reason to imagine that they have not the faculty of abstracting or making general ideas, since they have no use of words or of other general signs." Are not these philosophers

a little too confident?

We know that there are many creatures on the earth which are utterly unconscious of the existence of man; and we might, if we were not too proud, ask ourselves, in like manner, if there may not be many things in the animal creation of which man is necessarily unconscious. If I walk through the woods on a bright summer's day, or sit under the oaken or beechen shadows, I am conscious of a tide and tremor of life around me. I hear the birds singing, twittering, and chattering, each species with its own peculiar note. I hear the bees and the flies. buzzing with more or less vigour, pertinacity, and volume of sound; while a faint echo comes from the distant pastures of the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle, the barking of shepherds' dogs, and the lusty crowing of the cocks in the farm-yard. I ask myself whether all these various sounds may not be as many languages, perfectly intelligible to the

creatures which speak them to each other, though unintelligible to me. I know that some animals-the dog especially-understand many words that I employ, if I speak emphatically, and that my own dog will do what I tell him; but, if I do not understand what one dog says to another, whose fault is it, mine or the dog's? Man may doubtless claim that he has a larger vocabulary than the inferior creation. He has wants more numerous, ideas more abundant; hopes, fears, recollections, and aspirations, unknown perhaps to their limited intelligence, and must consequently have a language more copious than theirs. Language keeps pace with knowledge, intelligence, and imagination. A Shakespeare may require fourteen thousand words to express all his thoughts, and tell all his marvellous stories; a scientific writer, obliged to be accurate, may require a few thousand more; a modern gentleman, of average education, may manage to express all his wants, wishes, and emotions, and carry on the usual intercourse of life and society, with four thousand ; while an ordinary peasant in some of our rural districts sometimes gets on satisfactorily to himself, his family, and his associates, with about five hundred, and can manage to transact all his business with his horse in half-a-dozen. And as it does not follow that we can truly call such a peasant a man without a language, even when speaking to his horse, neither

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does it follow in the case of a quadruped, that may have but four or five, or even but one word or sound to express its meaning, that such quadruped is without a language which its fellow-quadrupeds may understand? A single sound, with a rising or a falling accent, or a stronger or weaker emphasis, may express different meanings; and the same sound, repeated, twice, thrice, or four times, with the rising or the falling accent at the first, second, third, or fourth repetition, may contain a whole vocabulary for the simple creatures who emit and understand the sound, and whose wants and emotions are as circumscribed as their speech.

Professor Max Müller supplies us with an illustration in point. He says that in the Chinese, the Annamitic, and likewise in the Siamese and Burmese languages, one single sound does duty in this way for a great variety of meanings. "Thus," he says, "in Annamitic, ba,' pronounced with the grave accent, means a lady or an ancestor; pronounced with a sharp accent, it means the favourite of a prince; pronounced with the semi-grave accent, it means what has been thrown away; pronounced with the grave circumflex, it means what is left of a fruit after the juice has been squeezed out; pronounced with no accent, it means three; pronounced with the ascending or interrogative accent, it means a box on the ear. Thus, “Ba, Bà, Bà, Bá” is

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said to mean, if properly pronounced, 'Three ladies gave a box on the ear to the favourite of the prince."

In our own and in several European languages identical sounds have various meanings; the English "box" being one example, and the French "sang," "s'en," 99.66 99 66 sans,' sent," ""cent" another. If we consider this subject without a prejudice, may we not see reason to think that the "Bow! wow! wow!" of our estimable friend the dog, may be susceptible of a great variety of meanings, according to the tone and accentuation he gives to those fundamental words or syllables of his language, or the number of repetitions either of the "bow” or the "wow?" Sometimes, when a dog barks, he will omit the "bow" altogether, and say, "wow! wow! wow!" very sharply and rapidly; and it can be scarcely supposed that so very intelligent a creature has no reason for this little change in its customary phraseology. Mr. Max Müller positively states that "no animal thinks, and no animal speaks, except man." Every one who has made a friend of an animal and there are few who have not-must When a

dispute the first part of this assertion. dog is presented with a bone after he has had his dinner and satisfied his hunger, he thinks the bone is too good to be rejected, and it would be wise in him to put it into a place of safety, to be ready

when required, just as a man puts his money in the bank. Accordingly, he takes his opportunity to go into the garden and bury it; and, if watched in' the process, will dig it up again with his nose, and carry it off to a safer spot. Is not this thinking? When I put on my hat and overcoat, and take my walking stick from its accustomed place in the hall, my dog thinks, and speedily knows, that I am going out; and very plainly asks me, not only by the sudden sparkling of his expressive eyes and the wagging of his equally expressive tail, but by a succession of joyous barks and yelps, whether I mean to take him along with me; and, if I refuse the request, very plainly expresses his sorrow for my decision.

Mr. Max Müller says elsewhere in his lecture, that " language and thought are inseparable." If this statement be correct, it follows from his own showing, that if we can prove the possession of a faculty for thinking in the members of the inferior creation, we must admit that they may possess a language which they may thoroughly understand, and which may be quite sufficient for the expression of their limited ideas. It is difficult to believe that the crow has not two or three, and the nightingale at least a dozen notes in its voice, and that these notes may not, in their interchange, reiteration, and succession, express ideas with which