I had a new jacket trimmed with fur--a variety unknown to me, it was grey and slightly woolly. Lola could simply not tear herself away from it--the smell was so fascinating. I said to her: "Tell me what is delighting you so to-day?" She replied--"_mederesf_." Unable to make any sense of the letters I set them down in writing before her and asked her if any of them were wrong; to this she replied: "yes:" "Which?" asked I--she said: "2." (_the second_) "What should it be?" I queried; she rapped "n." "How many of these letters belong to the first word?" I continued. "2." "And to the second?" She gave a wavering six--(though it may have been _five_). So the words purported to be "ne deresf." I could make nothing of it and asked her again--"What _is_ deresf?" to which she gave the explanation: "ein tir." (tier = animal) "_An animal_? but I don't know the name! have you heard of it?" "Yes!" "Have we seen this animal?" "Yes!" "Where did we see it?" "Maulburg."[16] "In the house?" "No." "In the woods?" "Yes!" "Spell the name again!" "d r e s f." "And what is n e?" "dran" (a contraction of daran = on it). "On the jacket?" "Yes!" "Then you want to say that 'dresf' is on the jacket?" "Yes...." And Lola looked at me with the most imploring eyes as though I _ought to see that she was right_--as though _I ought to know it_. [16] Maulburg, near Schopfheim, in Baden, where Lola had visited relations of mine. "Are you _sure_ of the name?" I persisted--and she replied: "mittel."[17] Here we ended--and unfortunately I have not been able to ascertain so far what this particular variety of fur is! [17] Mittel = unbestimmt (uncertain; from Mitte = middle.) There have been more recent tests of this nature, about which I do not as yet feel in a position to give a definite opinion. They may possibly come into line with the theories held by Professor Gustav Jaegar, M.D., of Stuttgart and, if so, would place the subject in a new perspective. I will now only add what has so far come to my notice accidentally: On 4 October, 1916, I said: "Lola, do you like to smell people?" "Yes!" "All people?" "No!" "How do I smell to-day?" "Tired." "Lola," I said, "do I sometimes smell horrid?" "Arger Eifersucht!" ( = great, or strong jealousy) "So you smell what I feel and when it changes?" "Yes." "With every one?" "Yes." "With horses too?" "No." "With dogs?" "Yes! yes!!" On 5 October I asked: "Lola, do I smell the same?" "No!" "How do I smell?" "Angst" ( = fear, or anxiety). She evidently meant that I was uneasy on account of the amount of work. "Lola," I continued, "how does Betty smell?" "Nach Angst" ( = of anxiety) "And anything more?" "Auch mued" ( = also tired). [N.B. Betty had held out the palms of her hands to the dog.] "And anything more?" "Ja--traurig" ( = yes--sad.) And I found later that this had been the true state of Betty's feelings at the time. Lola was bright and fresh and this encouraged me to continue: