the moment to reason a little, to discover the
cause of the hitch and to attack the difficulty at its source. For the
Tachytes the matter was of the simplest. She had but to grab the body
by the skin of the abdomen immediately above the spot caught by the glue
and to pull it towards her, instead of persevering in her flight without
releasing the neck. Simple though this mechanical problem was, the
insect was unable to solve it, because she was not able to trace the
effect back to the cause, because she did not even suspect that the
stoppage had a cause.

Ants doting on sugar and accustomed to cross a foot-bridge in order
to reach the warehouse are absolutely prevented from doing so when the
bridge is interrupted by a slight gap. They would only need a few grains
of sand to fill the void and restore the causeway. They do not for a
moment dream of it, plucky navvies though they be, capable of raising
miniature mountains of excavated soil. We can get them to give us an
enormous cone of earth, an instinctive piece of work, but we shall never
obtain the juxtaposition of three grains of sand, a reasoned piece of
work. The Ant does not reason, any more than the Tachytes.

If you bring up a tame Fox and set his platter of food before him, this
creature of a thousand tricks confines himself to tugging with all his
might at the leash which keeps him a step or two from his dinner. He
pulls as the Tachytes pulls, exhausts himself in futile efforts and then
lies down, with his little eyes leering fixedly at the dish. Why does he
not turn round? This would increase his radius; and he could reach then
the food with his hind-foot and pull it towards him. The idea never
occurs to him. Yet another animal deprived of reason.

Friend Bull, my Dog, is no better-endowed, despite his quality as a
candidate for humanity. In our excursions through the woods, he happens
to get caught by the paw in a wire snare set for rabbits. Like the
Tachytes, he tugs at it obstinately and only pulls the noose tighter.
I have to release him when he does not himself succeed in snapping the
wire by his hard pulling. When he tries to leave the room, if the two
leaves of the door are just ajar, he contents himself with pushing his
muzzle, like a wedge, into the too narrow aperture. He moves forward,
pushing in the direction which he wishes to take. His simple, dog-like
method has one unfailing result: the two leaves of the door, when
pushed, merely shut still cl