her　master　or　mistress　will　interpret？　　Once；　in　company　with　a
  friend；　I　watched　a　cat　playing　with　a　house…fly　in　the　window　of　a
  ground…floor　room。　　We　were　in　the　street；　while　the　cat　was　inside。
  When　we　came　up　to　the　window　she　gave　us　one　searching　look；　and；
  having　satisfied　herself　that　we　had　nothing　for　her；　went　on　with
  her　game。　　She　knew　all　about　the　glass　in　the　window；　and　was　sure
  we　could　do　nothing　to　molest　her；　so　she　treated　us　with　absolute
  contempt；　never　even　looking　at　us　again。
  The　game　was　this。　　She　was　to　catch　the　fly　and　roll　it　round　and
  round　under　her　paw　along　the　window…sill；　but　so　gently　as　not　to
  injure　it　nor　prevent　it　from　being　able　to　fly　again　when　she　had
  done　rolling　it。　　It　was　very　early　spring；　and　flies　were　scarce；
  in　fact　there　was　not　another　in　the　whole　window。　　She　knew　that　if
  she　crippled　this　one；　it　would　not　be　able　to　amuse　her　further；
  and　that　she　would　not　readily　get　another　instead；　and　she　liked
  the　feel　of　it　under　her　paw。　　It　was　soft　and　living；　and　the
  quivering　of　its　wings　tickled　the　ball　of　her　foot　in　a　manner　that
  she　found　particularly　grateful；　so　she　rolled　it　gently　along　the
  whole　length　of　the　window…sill。　　It　then　became　the　fly's　turn。　　He
  was　to　get　up　and　fly　about　in　the　window；　so　as　to　recover　himself
  a　little；　then　she　was　to　catch　him　again；　and　roll　him　softly　all
  along　the　window…sill；　as　she　had　done　before。
  It　was　plain　that　the　cat　knew　the　rules　of　her　game　perfectly　well；
  and　enjoyed　it　keenly。　　It　was　equally　plain　that　the　fly　could　not
  make　head　or　tail　of　what　it　was　all　about。　　If　it　had　been　able　to
  do　so　it　would　have　gone　to　play　in　the　upper　part　of　the　window；
  where　the　cat　could　not　reach　it。　　Perhaps　it　was　always　hoping　to
  get　through　the　glass；　and　escape　that　way；　anyhow；　it　kept　pretty
  much　to　the　same　pane；　no　matter　how　often　it　was　rolled。　　At　last；
  however；　the　fly；　for　some　reason　or　another；　did　not　reappear　on
  the　pane；　and　the　cat　began　looking　everywhere　to　find　it。　　Her
  annoyance　when　she　failed　to　do　so　was　extreme。　　It　was　not　only
  that　she　had　lost　her　fly；　but　that　she　could　not　conceive　how　she
  should　have　ever　come　to　do　so。　　Presently　she　noted　a　small　knot　in
  the　woodwork　of　the　sill；　and　it　flashed　upon　her　that　she　had
  accidentally　killed　the　fly；　and　that　this　was　its　dead　body。　　She
  tried　to　move　it　gently　with　her　paw；　but　it　was　no　use；　and　for　the
  time　she　satisfied　herself　that　the　knot　and　the　fly　had　nothing　to
  do　with　one　another。　　Every　now　and　then；　however；　she　returned　to
  it　as　though　it　were　the　only　thing　she　could　think　of；　and　she
  would　try　it　again。　　She　seemed　to　say　she　was　certain　there　had
  been　no　knot　there　beforeshe　must　have　seen　it　if　there　had　been；
  and　yet；　the　fly　could　hardly　have　got　jammed　so　firmly　into　the
  wood。　　She　was　puzzled　and　irritated　beyond　measure；　and　kept
  looking　in　the　same　place　again　and　again；　just　as　we　do　when　we
  have　mislaid　something。　　She　was　rapidly　losing　temper　and　dignity
  when　suddenly　we　saw　the　fly　reappear　from　under　the　cat's　stomach
  and　make　for　the　window…pane；　at　the　very　moment　when　the　cat
  herself　was　exclaiming　for　the　fiftieth　time　that　she　wondered　where
  that　stupid　fly　ever　could　have　got　to。　　No　man　who　has　been　hunting
  twenty　minutes　for　his　spectacles　could　be　more　delighted　when　he
  suddenly　finds　them　on　his　own　forehead。　　〃So　that's　where　you
  were；〃　we　seemed　to　hear　her　say；　as　she　proceeded　to　catch　it；　and
  again　began　rolling　it　very　softly　without　hurting　it；　under　her
  paw。　　My　friend　and　I　both　noticed　that　the　cat；　in　spite　of　her
  perplexity；　never　so　much　as　hinted　that　we　were　the　culprits。　　The
  question　whether　anything　outside　the　window　could　do　her　good　or
  harm　had　long　since　been　settled　by　her　in　the　negative；　and　she　was
  not　going　to　reopen　it；　she　simply　cut　us　dead；　and　though　her
  annoyance　was　so　great　that　she　was　manifestly　ready　to　lay　the
  blame　on　anybody　or　anything　with　or　without　reason；　and　though　she
  must　have　perfectly　well　known　that　we　were　watching　the　whole
  affair　with　amusement；　she　never　either　asked　us　if　we　had　happened
  to　see　such　a　thing　as　a　fly　go　down　our　way　lately；　or　accused　us
  of　having　taken　it　from　herboth　of　which　ideas　she　would；　I　am
  confident；　have　been　very　well　able　to　convey　to　us　if　she　had　been
  so　minded。
  Now　what　are　thought　and　reason　if　the　processes　that　were　going
  through　this　cat's　mind　were　not　both　one　and　the　other？　　It　would
  be　childish　to　suppose　that　the　cat　thought　in　words　of　its　own；　or
  in　anything　like　words。　　Its　thinking　was　probably　conducted　through
  the　instrumentality　of　a　series　of　mental　images。　　We　so　habitually
  think　in　words　ourselves　that　we　find　it　difficult　to　realise
  thought　without　words　at　all；　our　difficulty；　however；　in　imagining
  the　particular　manner　in　which　the　cat　thinks　has　nothing　to　do　with
  the　matter。　　We　must　answer　the　question　whether　she　thinks　or　no；
  not　according　to　our　own　ease　or　difficulty　in　understanding　the
  particular　manner　of　her　thinking；　but　according　as　her　action　does
  or　does　not　appear　to　be　of　the　same　character　as　other　action　that
  we　commonly　call　thoughtful。　　To　say　that　the　cat　is　not
  intelligent；　merely　on　the　ground　that　we　cannot　ourselves　fathom
  her　intelligencethis；　as　I　have　elsewhere　said；　is　to　make
  intelligence　mean　the　power　of　being　understood；　rather　than　the
  power　of　understanding。　　This　nevertheless　is　what；　for　all　our
  boasted　intelligence；　we　generally　do。　　The　more　we　can　understand
  an　animal's　ways；　the　more　intelligent　we　call　it；　and　the　less　we
  can　understand　these；　the　more　stupid　do　we　declare　it　to　be。　　As
  for　plantswhose　punctuality　and　attention　to　all　the　details　and
  routine　of　their　somewhat　restricted　lines　of　business　is　as　obvious
  as　it　is　beyond　all　praisewe　understand　the　working　of　their　minds
  so　little　that　by　common　consent　we　declare　them　to　have　no
  intelligence　at　all。
  Before　concluding　I　should　wish　to　deal　a　little　more　fully　with
  Professor　Max　Muller's　contention　that　there　can　be　no　reason
  without　language；　and　no　language　without　reason。　　Surely　when　two
  practised　pugilists　are　fighting；　parrying　each　other's　blows；　and
  watching　keenly　for　an　unguarded　point；　they　are　thinking　and
  reasoning　very　subtly　the　whole　time；　without　doing　so　in　words。
  The　machination　of　their　thoughts；　as　well　as　its　expression；　is
  actualI　mean；　effectuated　and　expressed　by　action　and　deed；　not
  words。　　They　are　unaware　of　any　logical　sequence　of　thought　that
  they　could　follow　in　words　as　passing　through　their　minds　at　all。
  They　may　perhaps　think　consciously　in　words　now　and　again；　but　such
  thought　will　be　intermittent；　and　the　main　part　of　the　fighting　will
  be　done　without　any　internal　concomitance　of　articulated　phrases。
  Yet　we　cannot　doubt　that　their　action；　however　much　we　may
  disapprove　of　it；　is　guided　by　intelligence　and　reason；　nor　should
  we　doubt　that　a　reasoning　process　of　the　same　character　goes　on　in
  the　minds　of　two　dogs　or　fighting…cocks　when　they　are　striving　to
  master　their　opponents。
  Do　we　think　in　words；　again；　when　we　wind　up　our　watches；　put　on　our
  clothes；　or　eat　our　breakfasts？　　If　we　do；　it　is　generally　about
  something　else。　　We　do　these　things　almost　as　much　without　the　help
  of　words　as　we　wink　or　yawn；　or　perform　any　of　those　other　actions
  that　we　call　reflex；　as　it　would　almost　seem　because　they　are　done
  without　reflection。　　They　are　not；　however；　the　less　reasonable
  because　wordless。
  Even　when　we　think　we　are　thinking　in　words；　we　do　so　only　in　half
  measure。　　A　running　accompaniment　of　words　no　doubt　frequently
  attends　our　thoughts；　but；　unless　we　are　writing　or　speaking；　this
  accompaniment　is　of　the　vaguest　and　most　fitful　kind；　as　we　often
  find　out　when　we　try　to　write　down　or　say　what　we　are　thinking
  about；　though　we　have　a　fairly　definite　notion　of　it；　or　fancy　that
  we　have　one；　all　the　time。　　The　thought　is　not　steadily　and
  coherently　governed　by　and　moulded　in　words；　nor　does　it　steadily
  govern　them。　　Words　and　thought　interact　upon　and　help　one　another；
  as　any　other　mechanical　appliances　interact　on　and　help　the
  invention　that　first　hit　upon　them；　but　reason　or　thought；　for　the
  most　part；　flies　along　over　the　heads　of　words；　working　its　own
  mysterious　way　in　paths　that　are　beyond　our　ken；　though　whether　some
  of　our　departmental　personalities　are　as　unconscious　of　what　is
  passing；　as　that　central　government　is　which　we　alone　dub　with　the
  name　of　〃we〃　or　〃us；〃　is　a　point　on　which　I　will　not　now　touch。
  I　cannot　think；　then；　that　Professor　Max　Muller's　contention　that
  thought　and　language　are　identicaland　he　has　repeatedly　affirmed
  thiswill　ever　be　generally　accepted。　　Thought　is　no　more　identical
  with　language　than　feeling　is　identical　with　the　nervous　system。
  True；　we　can　no　more　feel　without　a　nervous　system　than　we　can
  discern　certain　minute　organisms　without　a　microscope。　　Destroy　the
  nervous　system；　and　we　destroy　feeling。　　Destroy　the　microscope；　and
  we　can　no　longer　see　the　animalcules；　but　our　sight　of　the
  animalcules　is　not　the　microscope；　though　it　is　effectuated　by　means
  of　the　microscope；　and