As for the dog, its domestication has been the creation of a new species.  The material was perhaps the wolf, more likely the jackal, but possibly a blend of more than one species.  But a dog is now a dog and neither a wolf nor a jackal.  A mastiff, a pug, a collie, a greyhound, a pariah all recognise each other and observe the same rules of etiquette when they meet.

We must admit, however, that, whatever pliability of disposition, or other inherent suitability, led to the first domestication of certain species of animals, the changes induced in their natures by many generations of domesticity have made them amenable to man’s control to a degree which puts a wide difference between them and their wild relations.  A wild ass, though brought up from its birth in a stable, would make a very intractable costermonger’s moke.  We may infer from this that the first subjugation of each of our common domestic animals was the achievement of some genius, or of some tribe favourably situated, and that they spread from that centre by sale or barter, rather than that they were separately domesticated in many places.  This would partly explain why a few species of widely different families are so universally kept in all countries to the exclusion of hundreds of species nearly allied and apparently as suitable.  When a want could be supplied by obtaining from another country an animal bred to live with man and serve him, the long and difficult task of softening down the wild instincts of a beast taken from the forests or the hills and acclimatising its constitution to a domestic life was not likely to be attempted.

But there have been a few recent additions to our list of domestic animals.  The turkey and the guinea fowl are examples, and perhaps within another generation we may be able to add the zebra.  And there may be many other animals fitted to enrich and adorn human life which would make no insuperable resistance to domestication if wisely and patiently handled.  Here is a noble opening for carrying out in its kindest sense the command, “Multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it:  and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the face of the earth.”

IX

SNAKES

I have met persons, otherwise quite sane, who told me that they would like to visit India if it were not for the snakes.  Now there is something very depressing in the thought that this state of mind is extant in England, for it is calculated, on occasion, to have results of a most melancholy nature.  By way of example, let us picture the case of a broken-hearted maiden forced to reject an ardent lover because duty calls him to a land where there are snakes.  Think of his happiness blighted for ever and her doomed to a “perpetual maidenhood,” harrowed with remorseful dreams of the hourly perils and horrors