LETTERS TO THE EDITOR.•
AN AUTHENTIC ANECDOTE OF AN AUTOMATON.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "Specr.tros."] SIR,—Some time ago, a machine of the cat species was received into our house under distressing circumstances, and adopted by oui household. We have all rendered ourselves ridiculous in scientific eyes by becoming much attached to this rescued found- ling, and he has assumed, under the name of Bruin, a position of importance which becomes his size, intelligence, and estimate of his own merits. Under the second of these heads, I could furnish you with several interesting particulars ; I content myself, how- ever, with one, which relates to our machine of the cat species, and to another machine called a gas-stove. We had one of the latter articles put up in a study beyond the dining-room at the beginning of winter, and Bruin speedily selected it as his own particular fire- place, in preference to the dining-room grate, no doubt because it was less frequented and the heat was more uniform. When the severe cold set in, it struck Bruin's master that it would be comfortable for him to have the stove to sleep by, and might tend to modify his erratic habits. Accordingly the stove was left alight (at half-strength), and Bruin signified his approbation by curling himself up in front of it early in the evening, and sleep- ing soundly until he was roused, under protest, and yawning widely, to a late breakfast, during all the nights and mornings which have since elapsed. On Thursday night—Christmas Eve— his master left home, and it occurred to me to test Bruin's in- telligence concerning that event. I left the stove unlighted, and watched his proceedings when the hour at which he usually re- tires to rest arrived. He marched into the room with the air of important business to be immediately attended to which strongly characterises him, looked at the blank coppery space, uttered an angry cry, and ran out of the room to the coat-and-umbrella stand in the hall. He sniffed at a couple of waterproofs and an interloping en tout cas, but detected the absence of the familiar great-coat and the sturdy umbrella which he associates with his master. Then he rushed upstairs, evidently with a strong sense of injury upon him, and I followed, to find him crying" at the door of his master's bedroom, which I opened for him. He jumped on the bed, sniffed about the pillow, jumped down again, once more cried angrily, and ran downstairs. I followed, and took my seat in the dining-room, pretending not to notice him. He sat for two or three minutes in front of the stove, then came into the dining-room and put his paws upon my knees, and gazed into my face with a gasp,—not a cry, but a mode of speech which this machine has made us understand. I pretended to be puzzled ; he scratched my gown and gasped again. "You are not thirsty, Bruin," I remarked ; "what do you want? lain to get up, am I, and you will show me ?" I suited the action to the word, and he preceded me into the study, stepped inside the fender, put up his paws on the front of the stove, and turned his head towards me over his shoulder with a look of content that I had been clever enough to interpret his meaning, which gave me very sincere satisfaction. As I know that you, Sir, are an advocate for the study of animals otherwise than by the torture of them, I venture to send you this anecdote of an automaton who really seems, to my ignorant mind, to have something like what we fancy we mean by " consciousness."—I am, Sir, &c., A CONSTANT READER AND DISCIPLE.
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