ng these methods
of parental care as examples of intelligence; but perhaps they correct
the impression of amphibians as a rather humdrum race. Whatever be the
mental aspect of the facts, there has certainly been some kind of
experimenting, and the increase of parental care, so marked in many
amphibians, with associated reduction of the number of offspring is a
finger-post on the path of progress.

Sec. 4

The Reptilian Mind

We speak of the wisdom of the serpent; but it is not very easy to
justify the phrase. Among all the multitude of reptiles--snakes,
lizards, turtles, and crocodiles, a motley crowd--we cannot see much
more than occasional traces of intelligence. The inner life remains a
tiny rill.

No doubt many reptiles are very effective; but it is an instinctive
rather than an intelligent efficiency. The well-known "soft-shell"
tortoise of the United States swims with powerful strokes and runs so
quickly that it can hardly be overtaken. It hunts vigorously for
crayfish and insect larvae in the rivers. It buries itself in the mud
when cold weather comes. It may lie on a floating log ready to slip into
the water at a moment's notice; it may bask on a sunny bank or in the
warm shallows. Great wariness is shown in choosing times and places for
egg-laying. The mother tramps the earth down upon the buried eggs. All
is effective. Similar statements might be made in regard to scores of
other reptiles; but what we see is almost wholly of the nature of
instinctive routine, and we get little glimpse of more than efficiency
and endeavour.

In a few cases there is proof of reptiles finding their way back to
their homes from a considerable distance, and recognition of persons is
indubitable. Gilbert White remarks of his tortoise: "Whenever the good
old lady came in sight who had waited on it for more than thirty years,
it always hobbled with awkward alacrity towards its benefactress, while
to strangers it was altogether inattentive." Of definite learning there
are a few records. Thus Professor Yerkes studied a sluggish turtle of
retiring disposition, taking advantage of its strong desire to efface
itself. On the path of the darkened nest of damp grass he interposed a
simple maze in the form of a partitioned box. After wandering about
constantly for thirty-five minutes the turtle found its way through the
maze by chance. Two hours afterwards it reached the nest in fifteen
minutes; and after another interval of two hours