The attachment of the dog to its master and to Man generally has often been cited as a proof of the origin of a new instinct by the inheritance of acquired habitude; but the dog is a sociable animal even in a wild state, and by living in co-operative association with Man it has transferred its sociable affections to him. We find exactly the same thing in the elephant which has been caught wild and tamed. It is particularly emphasized by those who have accompanied animal transports in Africa that the young elephants are wild and malicious towards the blacks who teased and maltreated them, but complaisant and harmless towards the whites who treated them kindly. The attachment of elephants to their keepers and to every one who shows them kindness is familiar enough; it does not depend on a newly acquired impulse, but on the sociable impulse inherent in the species, which, in the wild state, causes them to live in fairly large companies, and on their inoffensive, timid, and, we may almost say, affectionate disposition. Of course it is easy enough to give an imaginative theoretical interpretation of the origin of a new instinct from a newly acquired habit. We have often heard that sailors have found the birds in distant uninhabited islands quite free from fear; they let themselves be struck down with cudgels without attempting to escape. The extermination of the Dodo three centuries ago is a well-known example of this. Chun, in his magnificent work on the German Deep Sea Expedition of 1898, has recently communicated numerous interesting examples of the indifference of birds towards Man when they have not learned what his presence means: thus the sea-birds of Kerguelen, penguins, cormorants, gulls, 'kelp-pigeons' (_Chionis_), and others, behaved towards Man very much like the tame geese of our poultry yards. Even enormous mammals like the 'sea-elephant,' a seal with a proboscis-like prolongation of the nose, neither attempted to escape nor showed any hostility to man, but quietly let itself be caught. Similar tales were told by Steller in 1799, after he had been obliged to pass a winter with his sailors on an island in the Behring Straits. The numerous gigantic sea-cows (_Rhytina stelleri_) which lived there were so confiding that they allowed the boat to come quite up to them, and the sailors were able to kill many of them from time to time, using their flesh for food. But towards the end of the winter the animals began to be shy, and, in the following winter, when other sailors to the polar regions endeavoured to hunt them too, it was very difficult to secure them; they had recognized man as an enemy, and fled from him when they saw him from afar. Thus the same individuals which had earlier carelessly allowed man to come up to them now avoided him as an enemy. _This was not instinct, it was a behaviour controlled by the will and founded on experience._ But it would soon become 'instinctive' if the meeting with the enemy were