All the foregoing are but examples of sound-language. The gesture-language of animals, however, is wonderfully extensive and expressive. A cat, could it say in plain words, “Please open the door for me,” could not convey its ideas more intelligently than it does by going to the door, uttering a plaintive mew to show that it wants help, and then patting the door. Dogs, or, in fact, all animals that are accustomed to live in the house, will act after a similar fashion. There, then, we perceive that the lower animals can form connected ideas, and can convey them to man, so that the same ideas are passing at the same moment through the minds of man and beast, evidencing that they possess the same faculties, though of different extent. [Illustration: PAPIER-MACHÉ PALACE OF THE HORNET. Sentinel Guarding the Entrance to the Palace.] Some few examples must suffice to show the power of gesture-language in the lower animals. I once owned a dog, a variety of hound, which was as companionable as any animal could possibly be. He was never happy unless he was on the go. So fond was he of travel and sight-seeing, that I gave him the name of Rover. My occupation calling me from home every day of the week, except Saturday and Sunday, but giving me a few hours of each day before the shadows began to settle round, Rover was forced to spend his time during my absence as best he could. He was no ordinary dog. Little he cared for the dogs of the neighborhood. His was a superior nature, and rather than associate with his neighbors when my companionship could not be had, he would perform his journeys alone, sometimes being gone nearly the entire day. But he managed to keep a pretty fair record of the time, for he was always on hand to greet me on my return home. His joy at my coming knew no bounds. He would rub up against my side, caper around me, assuming a hundred different attitudes, leap up into my face, which he would caress with his tongue. I shall never forget the barks of delight, nor the smile, as I would call it, for it verily seemed a smile to me, which lit up his intelligent face. Then he would slowly meander his way to the gate. Reaching it, he would place his right front paw upon the latch, spring it, and, taking hold of the top with his mouth, fling it wide open. He was then a very happy fellow. That he appreciated the favor I was about to show him, there could be no question, as he plainly showed it in his look, gesture and speech. Sometimes it was not convenient for me to take a walk with him, or I was not in the physical or mental condition to do so. It was not necessary for me to tell him in so many words that the pleasure would have to be foregone for the present, for his keen, discerning mind could read it in my looks. I never liked to disappoint him, for the grief which he manifested was piteous in the extreme. He would prostrate himself to the ground, place his head between his front paws, and look the very picture of inconsolable distress.