that the cat, with
her three small kittens, at one time slept in a box prepared for her in
the kitchen. But one night when it was particularly cold, some one left
the kitchen window open, and late in the night the cat went to her
mistress's bed and mewed continuously until her mistress arose and went
to the kitchen and closed the window. The cat was perfectly satisfied,
as she had made her great need understood.

The ability that animals have to make their own language understood by
man is not the only linguistic power they possess; as already mentioned,
they are also capable of understanding something of human speech. There
is no doubt that all domesticated animals understand the human language;
the horse, dog, ox, and sheep comprehend a large part of what is said to
them, though of course they may not understand the precise words used.

I once owned a rabbit dog, "Nimrod," and if he never understood another
word of the English language, there is no doubt that he knew what the
word "rabbit" meant. No matter in what manner or way I used the word,
Nimrod was ready for a hunt, and yelped with glee at the thought of the
chase that he was to have. I tested him over and over again by saying
"rabbit hunt" gently; it thrilled him with delight, and while he was not
very well educated in other things, he always lived up to his name.

The Rev. J. G. Wood speaks of the great individuality of character which
he has observed in dogs, and that they unquestionably understand the
human language. "There was in my pet greyhound 'Brenda,' there was in my
dear lurcher 'Smoker,' and there is now in my dear lurcher 'Bar,' and in
my three setters 'Chance,' 'Quail,' and 'Quince,' a refinement of
feeling and sagacity infinitely beyond that existing in multitudes of
the human race, whether inhabiting the deserts or the realms of
civilisation.

"I cannot better define it than by saying that, if I give these dogs a
hastily angered word in my room, though they have never been beaten,
they will, with an expression of the most dejected sorrow, go into a
corner behind some chair, sofa, or table, and lie there. Perhaps I may
have been guilty of a hasty rebuke to them for jogging my table or elbow
while I was writing, and then continued to write on. Some time after,
not having seen my companions lying on the rug before the fire, I have
remembered the circumstance, and, in a tone of voice to which they are
used, I have said, 'There, you are forgiven.'