As soon as they had carried up the whole of the cargo, they secured the boat, and went up to the house to sleep. Just as they went in, Remus came bounding up to them with a letter round his neck.
"Here's the dog, William," said Ready; "he won't go home after all."
"How provoking! I made sure he would go back; I really am disappointed.
We will give him nothing to eat, and then he will; but, dear me, Ready! this is not the paper I tied round his neck. I think not. Let me see."
William took the paper, opened it, and read--
"Dear William:--Your letter arrived safe, and we are glad you are well.
Write every day, and God bless you; it was very clever of you and Remus. Your affectionate mother, SELINA SEAGRAVE."
"Well, it is clever," said Ready; "I'm sure I had no idea he had gone; and his coming back again, too, when he was ordered."
"Dear Remus, good dog," said William, caressing it: "now I'll give you a good supper, for you deserve it."
"So he does, sir. Well, you've established a post on the island, which is a great improvement. Seriously, William, it may prove very useful."
"At all events it will be a great comfort to my mother."
"Yes, especially as we shall be obliged all three to be here when we fit up the storehouse, and make the proposed alterations. Now I think we had better go to bed, for we must be up with the lark to-morrow."
"Here I suppose we ought to say, up with the parrots; for they are the only land birds on the island."
"You forget the pigeons; I saw one of them in the wood the other day.
Good night!"
The next morning, they were off before breakfast. The boat was soon loaded, and they returned under sail. They then breakfasted, and having left the things they had brought on the beach, that they might lose no time, they set off again, and returned with another cargo two hours before dusk; this they landed, and then secured the boat. As soon as they were in the house, William wrote on a piece of paper:--
"Dear Mamma:-- We have brought round two cargoes to-day. All well, and very tired. Yours, WILLIAM."
Remus did not require any teaching this time. William patted him, and said, "Good dog. Now, Remus, go back - go home, sir;" and the dog wagged his tail, and set off immediately.
Before they were in bed, the dog returned with the answer.
"How fast he must run, Ready! he has not been away more than two hours."
"No. So, now, Remus, you shall have plenty of supper, and plenty of patting and coaxing, for you are a clever, good little dog."
The next day, as they had to take the two cargoes up to the house, they could only make one trip to the cove. On Saturday they only made one trip, as they had to return to the tents, which they did by water, having first put a turtle into the boat; on their arrival, they found them all at the little harbour, waiting to receive them.
"Well, William, you did keep your promise and send me a letter by post," said Mrs. Seagrave. "How very delightful it is! I shall have no fear now when you are all away."
"I must teach Romulus and Vixen to do the same, mamma."
"And I'll teach the puppies," said Tommy.
"Yes, Tommy; by the time you can write a letter, the puppies will be old enough to carry it," said Ready. "Come, Albert, I'll carry you up; you and I haven't had a game of play for a long while. How does the ditch and hedge get on, Mr. Seagrave?"
"Pretty well, Ready," replied Mr. Seagrave; "I have nearly finished two sides. I think by the end of next week I shall have pretty well inclosed it."
"Well, sir, you must not work too hard, there is no great hurry;
William and I can get through a great deal together."
"It is my duty to work, Ready; and I may add, it is a pleasure."
As they were at supper the conversation turned upon the cleverness shown by the dog Remus.
Mr. Seagrave narrated many instances of the sagacity of animals, when William asked the question of his father: "What is the difference then between reason and instinct?"
"The difference is very great, William, as I will explain to you; but I must first observe, that it has been the custom to say that man is governed by reason, and animals by instinct, alone. This is an error.
Man has instinct as well as reason; and animals, although chiefly governed by instinct, have reasoning powers."
"In what points does man show that he is led by instinct?"
"When a child is first born, William, it acts by instinct only: the reasoning powers are not yet developed; as we grow up, our reason becomes every day more matured, and gains the mastery over our instinct, which decreases in proportion."
"Then when we have grown to a good old age, I suppose we have no instinct left in us?"
"Not so, my dear boy; there is one and a most powerful instinct implanted in man which never deserts him on this side of the grave. It is the fear, not of death, but of utter annihilation, that of becoming nothing after death. This instinctive feeling could not have been so deeply implanted in us, but as an assurance that we shall not be annihilated after death, but that our souls shall still exist, although our bodies shall have perished. It may be termed the instinctive evidence of a future existence."
"That is very true, Mr. Seagrave," observed Ready.
"Instinct in animals, William," continued Mr. Seagrave, "is a feeling which compels them to perform certain acts without previous thought or reflection; this instinct is in full force at the moment of their birth; it was therefore perfect in the beginning, and has never varied.
The swallow built her nest, the spider its web, the bee formed its comb, precisely in the same way four thousand years ago, as they do now. I may here observe, that one of the greatest wonders of instinct is the mathematical form of the honeycomb of the bee, which has been proved by demonstration to be that by which is given the greatest possible saving of time and labour."
"But that is all pure instinct, papa; now you said that animals had reasoning powers. Will you point out to me how they show that they have?"
"I will, my dear boy; but we had better defer it till another evening.
It is now time to go to bed."
