he dogs, showing most conclusively that he
understands the theory of scent, and the dogs' power of perceiving it;
and also that he has been able to devise the very best plans to elude
his pursuers.

Not only do stags reflect in this general manner in regard to their
most common and greatest danger, but they make particular
reflections, suited to particular places and occasions. The tricks
and manoeuvres which would be very successful in one forest and in one
season would not answer at all in another place and at another time,
and so they reflect on the subject and lay their plans to suit the
occasion.

There are many animals which possess great acuteness in eluding their
hunters, but the tricks of the stag are sufficient to show us to what
an extent some animals are capable of reflection.

WHEN WE MUST NOT BELIEVE OUR EYES.

There are a great number of marvellous things told us of phantom forms
and ghostly apparitions--of spectres that flit about lonely roads on
moonlight nights, or haunt peaceful people in their own homes; of
funeral processions, with long trains of mourners, watched from a
distance, but which, on nearer approach, melt into a line of mist; of
wild witch-dances in deserted houses, and balls of fire bounding out
of doors and windows--stories which cause the flesh of children to
creep upon their bones, and make cowards of them where there is no
reason for fear. For you may lay it down as a fact, established beyond
dispute, that not one of these things is a _reality_. The person who
tells these marvels has always what seems the best of reasons for his
belief. He either saw these things himself or knew somebody, strictly
truthful, who had seen them. He did not know, what I am going to prove
to you, that a thing may be _true_ and yet not be _real_. In other
words, that there are times when we do actually see marvels that seem
supernatural, but that, on such occasions, _we must not believe our
own eyes_, but search for a natural cause, and, if we look faithfully,
we are sure to find one.

Once a vessel was sailing over a northern ocean in the midst of the
short, Arctic summer. The sun was hot, the air was still, and a group
of sailors lying lazily upon the deck were almost asleep, when an
exclamation of fear from one of them made them all spring to their
feet. The one who had uttered the cry pointed into the air at a little
distance, and there the awe-stricken sailors saw a large ship, with
all