excite in other monkeys similar emotions. (48. Rengger, ibid. s. 45.)
The movements of the features and gestures of monkeys are understood by
us, and they partly understand ours, as Rengger and others declare. It
is a more remarkable fact that the dog, since being domesticated, has
learnt to bark (49. See my Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication, vol. i. p. 27.) in at least four or five distinct
tones. Although barking is a new art, no doubt the wild parent-species
of the dog expressed their feelings by cries of various kinds. With the
domesticated dog we have the bark of eagerness, as in the chase; that
of anger, as well as growling; the yelp or howl of despair, as when
shut up; the baying at night; the bark of joy, as when starting on a
walk with his master; and the very distinct one of demand or
supplication, as when wishing for a door or window to be opened.
According to Houzeau, who paid particular attention to the subject, the
domestic fowl utters at least a dozen significant sounds. (50.
Facultes Mentales des Animaux, tom. ii. 1872, p. 346-349.)
The habitual use of articulate language is, however, peculiar to man;
but he uses, in common with the lower animals, inarticulate cries to
express his meaning, aided by gestures and the movements of the muscles
of the face. (51. See a discussion on this subject in Mr. E.B. Tylor s
very interesting work, Researches into the Early History of Mankind,
1865, chaps. ii. to iv.) This especially holds good with the more
simple and vivid feelings, which are but little connected with our
higher intelligence. Our cries of pain, fear, surprise, anger, together
with their appropriate actions, and the murmur of a mother to her
beloved child are more expressive than any words. That which
distinguishes man from the lower animals is not the understanding of
articulate sounds, for, as every one knows, dogs understand many words
and sentences. In this respect they are at the same stage of
development as infants, between the ages of ten and twelve months, who
understand many words and short sentences, but cannot yet utter a
single word. It is not the mere articulation which is our
distinguishing character, for parrots and other birds possess this
power. Nor is it the mere capacity of connecting definite sounds with
definite ideas; for it is certain that some parrots, which have been
taught to speak, connect unerringly words with things, and persons with
events. (52. I have received several detailed accounts to this effect.
Admiral Sir B.J. Sulivan, whom I know to be a careful observer, assures
me that an African parrot, long kept in his father s house, invariably
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