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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 48844 ***</div>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:350px;height:auto;'/>
</div>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/signature.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>With Cordial greeting,<br/> George Wharton James</p>
</div>
<div class='lgc' style=' margin-top: 2em; '> <!-- rend=';fs:1.2em;' -->
<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.2em;'>THE STORY OF CAPTAIN</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.2em;'>THE HORSE WITH THE HUMAN BRAIN</p>
</div> <!-- end rend -->
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/illo-frontis.jpg' alt='' id='illo-frontis' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Captain W. A. Sigsbee on his Educated Horse, Captain; and Jasper, his Groom</span></p>
</div>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' -->
<p class='line0' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:.9em;'>THE STORY OF</p>
<p class='line0' style='margin-bottom:.3em;font-size:2.25em;'>CAPTAIN</p>
<p class='line0'>THE HORSE WITH THE HUMAN BRAIN</p>
<p class='line0' style='margin-top:.5em;margin-bottom:.5em;font-size:.9em;'><span class='it'>By</span> GEORGE WHARTON JAMES</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.9em;'>Author of The Story of Scraggles; California, Romantic and Beautiful;</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.9em;'>Living the Radiant Life; Quit Your Worrying; Indian Basketry;</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.9em;'>In and Out of the Old Missions of California, etc., etc.</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/title.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:120px;height:auto;'/>
</div>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.9em;'>1917</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.9em;'><span class='sc'>The Radiant Life Press</span></p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.9em;'>Pasadena, California</p>
</div> <!-- end rend -->
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:.6em;' -->
<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;font-size:1em;'>BOOKS BY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES</p>
<hr class='tbk100'/>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>QUIT YOUR WORRYING</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>LIVING THE RADIANT LIFE</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>ARIZONA, THE WONDERLAND</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>CALIFORNIA, THE ROMANTIC AND BEAUTIFUL</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>PICTURESQUE PALA</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>ROSE HARTWICK THORPE AND THE STORY OF “CURFEW MUST NOT RING TONIGHT”</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>WINTER SPORTS IN THE HIGH SIERRAS</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>OVER THE APACHE TRAIL IN ARIZONA</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>IN AND AROUND THE GRAND CANYON</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>IN AND OUT OF THE OLD MISSIONS</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>INDIAN BASKETRY</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>PRACTICAL BASKET MAKING</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE INDIANS OF THE PAINTED DESERT REGION</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE STORY OF SCRAGGLES</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THROUGH RAMONA’S COUNTRY</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO DESERT</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE INDIANS’ SECRETS OF HEALTH</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE HEROES OF CALIFORNIA</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE CALIFORNIA BIRTHDAY BOOK</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE HOUSE BLESSING CEREMONY AND GUEST BOOK</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>EXPOSITION MEMORIES</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>CHARLES WARREN STODDARD—AN APPRECIATION</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE LAKE OF THE SKY—LAKE TAHOE</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>OUR AMERICAN WONDERLANDS</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>RECLAIMING THE ARID DESERTS</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>LITTLE JOURNEYS TO STRANGE PLACES AND PEOPLES</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE FRANCISCAN MISSIONS OF CALIFORNIA</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>THE GRAND CANYON OF ARIZONA—HOW TO SEE IT</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.6em;'>INDIAN BLANKETS AND THEIR MAKERS</p>
</div></div> <!-- end rend -->
<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:.5em;font-size:.6em;'>Further particulars of these books may be had by addressing the Radiant Life Press,</p>
<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;font-size:.6em;'>1098 North Raymond Avenue, Pasadena, California</p>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:10em;'>DEDICATION</p>
<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';fs:.8em;' -->
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>TO ALL HORSES PATIENTLY SERVING MAN,</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>TO ALL MANKIND HUMAN ENOUGH TO LOVE HORSES;</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>WHO GRATEFULLY CARE FOR THEM IN RETURN FOR THEIR SERVICES,</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>AND WHO EARNESTLY STRIVE TO GAIN A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF THEM,</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>THESE PAPERS ARE CORDIALLY DEDICATED</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>BY ONE WHO AIMS TO BE</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'><span class='it'>The Friend of All Living Things</span>.</p>
</div> <!-- end rend -->
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div class='lgc' style=' margin-top: 15em; '> <!-- rend=';fs:.8em;' -->
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>Copyright, 1917</p>
<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'><span class='it'>By</span> <span class='sc'>Edith E. Farnsworth</span></p>
</div> <!-- end rend -->
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div><h1>CONTENTS</h1></div>
<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Introduction</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>Chapter I. <span class='sc'>Captain’s Own Story</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>Chapter II. <span class='sc'>How I Bought and Trained Captain</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_30'>30</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>Chapter III. <span class='sc'>A Scientific Investigation</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_42'>42</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle2'>(By Dr. G. V. Hamilton)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>Chapter IV. <span class='sc'>Captain’s Prayer of Thanksgiving</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#Page_47'>47</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle2'>ILLUSTRATIONS</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Captain Sigsbee, Captain, and His Groom</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#illo-frontis'>2</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Captain on the Stage</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#illo-8a'>8</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Madame Ellis Giving Her Performance</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#illo-8b'>9</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Ellen Beach Yaw Singing to Captain</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#illo-40a'>40</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Captain Awakening His Groom</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#illo-40b'>41</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Captain and His Friends at San Diego</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#illo-49'>49</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='sc'>Captain and George Wharton James with the Pigeons</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><a href='#illo-50'>50</a></td></tr>
</table>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:2em;font-size:2.5em;'>The Story of Captain: The Horse with the Human Brain</p>
<div><span class='pageno' title='7' id='Page_7'></span><h1 class='nobreak'>INTRODUCTION</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>Early in the year 1915 I was called to lecture on California
and the West in the beautiful Sunset Theater of the Southern
Pacific Building at the San Francisco Exposition. In taking
a survey of the <span class='it'>Zone</span> I was soon attracted to a gigantic horse
in process of manufacture out of wood and plaster, and a
placard before it indicated that a trained horse would soon be
shown here. Being fond of animals, naturally, and having
seen and read considerably of trained horses, I was ready for
the first opening of this show, and there was introduced to
CAPTAIN, the educated horse, or, as he has been termed,
“the horse with the human brain.” My opinions as to the
quality of Captain’s intelligence I have recorded later, but his
first performance was a delight to me. His appearance was
pleasing. He looked well cared for, contented, happy and willing
to go through his exhibition. There was none of the holding
back, the whipping, the sharp orders, the ugly looks one so
generally sees on the faces of “trained animals” when they are
being put through their tricks. Most of these poor creatures
show so manifestly that they are trapped, are made to do what
they do not like, and that they resent it, that I seldom can tolerate
the sight of their anger and humiliation—for that is clearly
what nearly every animal reveals to me at these exhibitions.
Here, on the other hand, was an animal that enjoyed his work.
He treated it as fun; just as my own Arab colt treats a free run
and then being led into his corral and being petted. After a
little pleasantry his master asked him to count the number of
ladies on the front row. Captain’s eyes at once began at one
end, followed the row, down to the other end, and, by pawing,
he told the number. Several similar questions were asked, as,
for instance, how many gentlemen in the second row; how
many women along the aisle; how many girls, or boys, in the
second or third rows, etc., and in every case Captain gave the
answer correctly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then a standard was brought forward containing numbers,
to which were attached leather lugs or holders. These were
held in the standard, or rack, and placed without any relative
order, and scores of later observations, have convinced me
that there is no order in which they can be placed that makes
any difference to Captain. Here he showed his familiarity with
numbers, bringing from the rack any one called for. Then
tests in arithmetic were applied, such as the addition of numbers
as 9 plus 6 plus 7. Captain at once picked out the figure
2 and then after dropping it, picked it up and showed it again.
Subtraction was equally well performed, and multiplication
up to 12 times 12, and the answers given were invariably
correct.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In giving the answers he pawed with one of his front feet,
but at the request of his master would give a portion of the
answer with one foot, and the remainder with another, even
alternating in his use of his hind feet.</p>
<p class='pindent'>A number of simple commands were now given, and questions
asked to which the horse responded with a shake of the
head for No, or a nod for Yes. He would take a seat when
requested, scratch his head with right or left hindfoot, show
either right or left foot when required, or stamp with right or
left foot when required, or stamp with right or left hindfoot
as asked. When told to pump water he would swing his head
up and down continuously, and he would swing his head to
right and left as commanded. When asked to laugh he opened
his mouth and showed his teeth, and he wiggled his ears with
equal readiness. When told to put out his tongue it came out
immediately, and when commanded to make a hobby-horse of
himself he planted his hindfeet firmly and then proceeded to
stretch himself by planting his forefeet as far ahead as he
could.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He was then required to make a corkscrew of himself, and
placing all four feet together, moved around in corkscrew
motion. At the command: “Reverse!” he immediately went
in the opposite direction.</p>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/illo-8a.jpg' alt='' id='illo-8a' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Captain on the stage with his trainer and owner,<br/> Captain W. A. Sigsbee. Cash register and colored cloth rack to the<br/> left; number rack and chimes to the right.</span></p>
</div>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/illo-8b.jpg' alt='' id='illo-8b' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Madame Ellis in one of her wonderful mind reading<br/> performances at the San Diego Exposition, where she exhibited<br/> daily with Captain.</span></p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>Then came an exhibition of Captain’s recognition of colors.
A rack containing ten or fifteen colored cloths was placed
before the audience. The horse was asked to go and pick out,
say, the third lady in the second row, look at the color of her
hat (or shawl, dress, gloves or other article of apparel), and
then take up the cloth from the rack which corresponded to
the color of the article worn. In this he seldom made mistakes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now a blindfold exhibition was given. As his master explained,
this fully precluded the possibility of any collusion—at
least as far as Captain’s <span class='it'>seeing</span> any signal was concerned.
The blindfold was a leather mask, held in place by the ears and
a supporting and fastening strap, the leather completely covering
the eyes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>All the various commands of “Pump,” “Wiggle your ears,”
“Laugh,” “Put out your tongue,” “Corkscrew,” “Say Yes!”
“No!” were given and immediately and correctly responded to.
Then Captain was asked to bite his right knee, lift up his left
foot, scratch his head with his rear left, or right foot, etc.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Numbers were now called for, addition, subtraction and
multiplication required, and the answers beaten out, or pawed,
with whatever foot was suggested.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then his memory was tested. A red cloth was tied to his
right foreknee, and a white one on his left hind leg. As the
tying was done his master carefully cautioned him not to forget.
Now for a few minutes, he was kept occupied with numbers,
and then was asked for the white cloth, afterwards for
the red one. In both cases he gave whichever was called for.
But it should be noted that in neither case did Mr. Sigsbee
give him the command. Someone in the audience was asked
to call for whichever colored cloth he desired, and on several
occasions I made the request myself. The blindfold was now
removed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The exhibition with the Cash Register then followed, Captain
being asked to get a paper dollar, then change it for small
silver, when he brought out half a dollar and two quarters.
There were many variations of the use of money to all of
which requests he responded with accuracy.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then he was called to the chimes and the audience was informed
that Captain could play “Nearer, My God to Thee,”
or “The Suwanee River,” and it could make its choice. The
former tune was called for and Captain played it correctly, as
far as the notes were concerned, though the time was not,
indeed could not have been, followed, as the clapper was moved
by an upward thrust of the horse’s nose upon a lever.</p>
<p class='pindent'>These, in the main, were his achievements. They delighted,
yet, at the same time, puzzled me. How did he accomplish
them? By the kindness of his owner, Mr. W. A. Sigsbee, I
was permitted to visit Captain in his stall as often as I chose.
As I got to know him better my interest increased, until I
decided that I should like to write his story. After talking the
matter over with Mr. Sigsbee, he was quite willing, but, somehow,
my year in San Francisco was so crowded that the great
Exposition closed without this pleasing task being accomplished.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The following year we met again, however, at the Panama-California
International Exposition, in San Diego, and there
I seized the time necessary to write the following story.</p>
<p class='pindent'>While I cannot say with Homer Davenport that I have been
so profoundly interested in horses that at three years and nine
months old I drew illustrations of Arab horses, I can say with
truth that I have always been interested in any animal that
showed any approach to what is generally regarded as human
intelligence. I was born and brought up as a good Methodist.
God, to me, was the Creator of all things, and however my
belief in other matters of religion may have been modified or
altered, in that particular I believe as I have ever believed.
If, then, God is the Creator of all things, animate and inanimate,
every creature high or low, is a manifestation of His
thought, His care, His love, <span class='it'>and all are born—created—of the
same Spirit, and therefore, are akin</span>. To me this is a truth
more powerful than mere logic can ever make it. There is a
Spirit within me—of the Creator, undoubtedly—that bears
witness to this truth. Hence I know no difference between the
spirit in the horse and that in the man, except in the degree
of its outward manifestation. However, my good friend, John
Burroughs, writes:</p>
<div class='blockquoter9'>
<p class='pindent'>We know that the animals do not think in any proper sense as we
do, or have concepts and ideas, because they have no language. Thinking
in any proper sense is impossible without language; the language is
the concept. Our ideas are as inseparable from the words as form is
from substance. We may have impressions, perceptions, emotions,
without language, but not ideas. The child perceives things, discriminates
things, knows its mother from a stranger, is angry, or glad, or
afraid, long before it has any language or any proper concepts. Animals
know only things through their senses, and this “Knowledge is
restricted to things present in time and space.” Reflection, or a return
upon themselves in thought,—of this they are not capable. Their only
language consists of various cries and calls, expressions of pain, alarm,
joy, love, anger. They communicate with each other and come to share
each other’s mental or emotional states, through these cries and calls.
A dog barks in various tones also, each of which expresses a different
feeling in the dog. . . . The lowing and bellowing of horned cattle
are expressions of several different things. The crow has many caws,
that no doubt convey various meanings. The cries of alarm and distress
of the birds are understood by all the wild creatures that hear
them; a feeling of alarm is conveyed to them—an emotion, not an idea.
We evolve ideas from our emotions, and emotions are often begotten
by our ideas. A fine spring morning or a prospect from a mountain
top makes one glad, and this gladness may take an intellectual form.
But without language this gladness could not take form in ideal concepts. . . .
We have only to think of the animals as habitually in
a condition analogous to or identical with the unthinking and involuntary
character of much of our lives. They are creatures of routine.
They are wholly immersed in the unconscious, involuntary nature out
of which we rise, and above which our higher lives go on.<a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a></p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>This logic seems complete and unassailable. Yet, nevertheless,
there is within me something that is not satisfied. I grant
Burroughs the argument, and then fall back upon my own
inner consciousness with reasoning somewhat after this line:
We do not now know the language of the animals; we do not
know whether they have one or not. Their lives <span class='it'>seem</span> imprisoned
within the dark pent-house of brute-life where no
gleam of our kind of intellectual light reaches them. But may
it not be that they feel this imprisonment and are striving to
escape from it. The Indians have many legends that speak
of a time when gods, men, animals and all nature had a common
tongue. May this not be true, or if not true of the past,
a vision of the natural outgrowth of the future? If God be
the Creator He must comprehend all His creation. As we
approximate nearer to Him—and Browning asserts we are all
gods, though in the germ—may we not begin to understand
more fully the languageless animals?</p>
<p class='pindent'>Our acceptance of the Hebraic Law as set forth in the Old
Testament has made us look upon the animals as created
solely for our benefit, ours to use just as we choose. Unfortunately
this power to <span class='it'>use</span> has given to those with small modicum
of kindness in their disposition the feeling that they are also
within their manly rights to <span class='it'>misuse</span> the animals. Considering
the greatness of the Universe and the finiteness of man as
compared with the whole, does not this idea seem preposterous?</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Buddhist and Hindu religions teach that all life is <span class='it'>One</span>—that
on its journey from unconsciousness to self-consciousness
it passes through all the kingdoms of nature,—mineral, vegetable,
molluscar, reptilian, bird, animal, human, up to superhuman.
They say about this <span class='it'>life</span> that “it <span class='it'>sleeps</span> in the mineral,
<span class='it'>dreams</span> in the flowers, <span class='it'>awakens</span> in the animal, and <span class='it'>becomes
active</span> in the human.” Hence the Hindu treats the animals as
his <span class='it'>younger brothers</span>, and the slaughter and abuse of them
tolerated and practiced in the West is practically unknown in
the East, except where the so-called Western civilization has
intruded. This view, too, would transcend the arguments and
logic of Burroughs.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then, too, may it not be our privilege to <span class='it'>help</span> the animals
escape from their dark prison cell into the light of mental exercise?
I see no reason why animals should not evolve, ascend
in the scale, and develop language, reason, concepts, ideas, as
well as man. It is certainly going to do no harm to believe it
possible, to hope for it, and to <span class='it'>work for it</span>. Love is a great
revelator in many ways, and the love of man, intelligently exercised
in relationship to animals, may be of wonderful help in
opening the door of their brute prison-houses.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Hence, I hail every effort, whether of child with its pet, shepherd
with his dog, woman with her parrot, or educated scholar
with his horses, to <span class='it'>find the way</span> that shall help the animal know
his kinship with the human. Too long have we assumed that
there was no crossing the gulf between the animal and the
human. Man’s <span class='it'>assumptions</span> have shut knowledge away from
him. Instead of “assuming” that the horse had no intelligence
why did he not go to work scientifically to find out what
he did have? Just as Sir John Lubbock experimented with
all kinds of creatures as to their powers of taste, smell, touch,
etc., only in a larger and higher way, man might have tested
the intelligence of horses, and then sought to improve it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There is too much assumption in human beings about most
things,—animal instinct and human reason not excluded.
What I wish to protest against, with emphasis and vigor, is
the assumption that we know all there is to know about intelligence—that
we know the limits Nature herself has placed upon
its development, and that all efforts to foster further development
are useless. I affirm that we do <span class='it'>not</span> know; that we have
never, as yet, even tried to know; and that until men with
loving, devoted, sympathetic singleness of heart and purpose
seek to develop <span class='it'>all there is</span> in the mentality of all the lower
animals,—dogs, cats, deer, as well as horses,—shall we begin
to have a <span class='it'>real</span> foundation for our assumptions upon the subject.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I am still simple enough to believe implicitly in the Spiritual
Controller of the Universe we call God. I am still enamoured
of the belief that as Browning says in “Saul”</p>
<div class='blockquote'>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<p class='line0'>God made all the creatures and gave them our love and our fear,</p>
<p class='line0'>To give sign, we and they are His children, one family here.</p>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
</div>
<p class='pindent'>Romanes claims for the horse an intelligence less than that
of the larger carnivora, the elephant, or even the ass. Yet he
asserts that the emotional life of the horse is remarkable, and
that working through the emotions wonderful results of training
have been secured. He says it is an affectionate animal,
pleased at being petted, jealous of companions receiving favor,
greatly enjoying play with others of its kind, and thoroughly
entering into the sport of the hunting-field. Horses also exhibit
pride in a marked degree, as also do mules, being unmistakably
pleased with gay trappings.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now is it inconceivable that these animals might some day,
somehow, find a door open whereby they could enter into the
realm of speech. To <span class='it'>feel</span> is certainly a large step towards
<span class='it'>expression</span>, and to my mind, the possession of the one power
suggests the <span class='it'>close proximity</span> of the other.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I read with great interest the arguments—as different from
the mere assumptions—of those who assert that the instinct of
animals, and the reason of human beings, are two separate
and distinct things; there is a deep gulf between them which
can never be passed by the lower order. I do not believe this.
Rather do I hold with Romanes that:</p>
<div class='blockquoter9'>
<p class='pindent'>No distinct line can be drawn between instinct and reason. Whether
we look to the growing child or to the ascending scale of animal life, we
find that instinct shades into reason by imperceptible degrees.</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>Instinct certainly involves some kind of mental operations,
and by this feature it is clearly distinguished and differentiated
from reflex action. One bold difference between instinct
and reason, I contend, is that the actions of instinct are uniform,
though performed by different individuals of the same
species, while reason—however limited in its operations—leads
to the performance of individualistic actions, limited to single
personalities. Instinct implies “mental action directed towards
the accomplishment of adaptive movement, antecedent to individual
experience, without necessary knowledge of the relation
between the means employed and the ends attained, but similarly
performed under the same appropriate circumstances by
all the individuals of the same species.”<a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a></p>
<p class='pindent'>In all these particulars instinct differs from reason, in that
it, “besides involving a mental constituent, and besides being
concerned in adaptive action, is always <span class='it'>subsequent</span> to individual
experience, never acts but upon a definite and often laboriously
acquired knowledge of the relation between means and ends,
and is very far from being always similarly performed under
the same appropriate circumstances by all the individuals of
the same species.”<a id='r3'/><a href='#f3' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[3]</span></sup></a></p>
<p class='pindent'>Where there is an intentional adaptation of means to ends
there is clear indication of reason. This adaptation I claim
Captain possesses, as distinctively, though of course on a much
lower plane than I myself possess it. For instance: When
Captain, <span class='it'>of his own volition</span>, after finding his groom asleep
after being awakened, went to him again and pulled the covers
from his bed, that may have been accident the first time. It
led to the groom’s awakening, arising and feeding the horse.
Now was it not conscious adaptation of means to that end
when, the next morning, on the groom, failing to arise and
feed him, Captain deliberately went and pulled the bed clothes
from him, and has done it ever since?</p>
<p class='pindent'>Romanes, in his <span class='it'>Animal Intelligence</span>, clearly suggests the
processes by which we may study or investigate the operations
of animal intelligence. Says he:</p>
<div class='blockquoter9'>
<p class='pindent'>If we contemplate our own mind, we have an immediate cognizance
of a certain flow of thoughts or feelings, which are the most ultimate
things, and indeed the only things, of which we are cognizant. . . .
But in our objective analysis of other or foreign minds we have no
such immediate cognizance; all our knowledge of their operations is
derived, as it were, through the medium of ambassadors—these ambassadors
being the activities of the organism. . . . Starting from
what I know subjectively of the operation of my own individual mind,
and the activities which in my own organism they prompt, I proceed
by analogy to infer from the observable activities of other organisms
what are the mental operations that underlie them.<a id='r4'/><a href='#f4' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[4]</span></sup></a></p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>Upon any hypothesis of the development of human or animal
intelligence it is evident that mentality is of a wonderfully
varied quality. There is a distinct, though by no means clearly
defined, sliding scale of intelligence. It is universal knowledge
that a dog shows more intelligence than a frog, and a horse
than a turtle; and human intelligences are as widely separated
as the Igorrote and a Hottentot and a Gladstone or a Tagore.
Where the horse’s place is, in the sliding scale of general
intelligence, I do not know; nor can I tell exactly where Captain
should be located in the varying scale of the intelligence of
horses in general. But this I do know. He has intelligence,
and it is much superior to that commonly shown by the majority
of horses. And I firmly believe with Captain Sigsbee
that training and discipline have their effect in bringing up the
intelligence of the higher order of horses to the intelligence of
the lower class, or child, level of humans.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I am decidedly opposed to the assumption that the intelligence
of horses is a fixed and immovable mental quantity; that
no amount of kindly, sympathetic, and understanding training
by thoughtful men, will add to, or develop what they already
possess. I believe, beyond the power of any logical formula
to shake my belief, that any constant contact of the soul of
man with whatever there is in horses that corresponds to the
soul must produce a resulting awakening, quickening, deepening
of that soul—something in both man and animal.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It is in this light, therefore, that what I write of Captain’s
“human intelligence” must be understood. He is developing.
He has awakened, so far. He has begun the upward journey.
The more he is “educated” the nearer the true resemblance to
human intelligence will he display.</p>
<p class='pindent'>If, in any way, these pages help forward the day of closer
sympathy between man and his lesser or younger brothers and
sisters, I shall be amply repaid for the labor of writing them.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>George Wharton James.</span></p>
<p class='noindent'> The Exposition, San Diego, Christmas, 1916.</p>
<hr class='footnotemark'/>
<table style='margin:0 4em 0 0;' summary='footnote_1'>
<colgroup>
<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/>
<col span='1'/>
</colgroup>
<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'>
<div id='f1'><a href='#r1'>[1]</a></div>
</td><td>
<p class='pindent'>“Do Animals Think,” Harper’s Monthly, Vol. 110, p. 358.</p>
</td></tr>
</table>
<table style='margin:0 4em 0 0;' summary='footnote_2'>
<colgroup>
<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/>
<col span='1'/>
</colgroup>
<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'>
<div id='f2'><a href='#r2'>[2]</a></div>
</td><td>
<p class='pindent'>Romanes, pp. 5, 16.</p>
</td></tr>
</table>
<table style='margin:0 4em 0 0;' summary='footnote_3'>
<colgroup>
<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/>
<col span='1'/>
</colgroup>
<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'>
<div id='f3'><a href='#r3'>[3]</a></div>
</td><td>
<p class='pindent'>Romanes, p. 16.</p>
</td></tr>
</table>
<table style='margin:0 4em 0 0;' summary='footnote_4'>
<colgroup>
<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/>
<col span='1'/>
</colgroup>
<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'>
<div id='f4'><a href='#r4'>[4]</a></div>
</td><td>
<p class='pindent'>Animal Intelligence, by J. G. Romanes, p. 1. D. Appleton & Co., 1888.</p>
</td></tr>
</table>
<div><span class='pageno' title='15' id='Page_15'></span><h1>CAPTAIN’S OWN STORY</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>I was born on June 8, 1905, on the farm of Judge J. H.
Cartwright, in Oregon, Ill. My mother’s name was <span class='it'>Robey</span>,
and my father’s, <span class='it'>Sidney</span>. While I was a little colt the Judge
called me <span class='it'>Sid Bell</span>. He used to come to the barn and look me
over and recount what he called my “points” to his friends,
and when I was in the pasture running to and fro, kicking up
my heels, and thoroughly enjoying myself, he would stand
looking on, apparently thinking very hard. One day the groom
tied me to my mother’s side, and the Judge drove her out over
the road, and he seemed very pleased at the way I trotted along.
Day after day he did this, for a long time, making me go
faster and faster until I heard him, and other people, say that
I was going to be a very fast pacer. My lungs expanded with
the exercise; my muscles grew strong and firm; my eyes were
bright and clear; I had a hearty appetite and enjoyed every
mouthful I ate, and every day when they turned me loose in
the pasture, I raced up and down just as proud and happy
and full of life and exuberant spirits as ever possessed a young
horse in all the wide world.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day the Judge took me out on what was called a “track.”
It was a smooth oval place, not very wide, arranged solely for
the purpose of driving horses. They fastened a light little cart
behind me, hardly big enough for my groom to sit in, and then
he made me go around that track as hard as I could go. Of
course he let me go easy at first, until I—what he called—“warmed
up,” and then he would say, “Now, Sid Bell. Go to
it!” and would give that peculiar clicking sound that men make
when they want a horse to hurry up, and I paced ahead as
fast as I knew how.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Judge used to come and watch proceedings nearly every
day, and give suggestions to my groom. Some days he would
be very proud and boastful about me, and other times, not
quite so well satisfied. But one day, when I was feeling particularly
good, and had gone around the track at a lively clip,
I heard him say “He’ll do! He made it that time in 2:16,”
which I afterwards learned meant that I had paced a mile in
two minutes and sixteen seconds, and that was accounted
pretty fast for a two-year-old colt.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When I was nearly three years old the Judge sold me to Mr.
W. A. Sigsbee of Chicago. My mother had told me, one day
when Mr. Sigsbee came to the track to watch me pace, that he
was a great animal trainer, known all over the country as Captain
Sigsbee. I heard the Captain say “He’s a beauty. His
action is fine,” and when I was brought up to where he and
the Judge were standing he repeated these and many other
comments, all of a nature to make a young horse like me think
a good deal of himself, so that I looked at him and let him
know by my eyes that I liked him to speak in that way about
me. Then he began to talk about my “intelligent look” and
all at once he exclaimed, quite emphatically: “Judge, I’ve got
to have that colt. I want to train him and make him the best
known horse in the world.” The Judge didn’t seem to like this
idea very much, at first. He said he had trained me for the
track, and he didn’t intend to part with me, but Captain Sigsbee
urged so strongly that it would be far better for me, to
keep me away from the track, and let me be especially trained
and then sent out through the country as an educated horse,
that finally he consented to sell me.</p>
<p class='pindent'>My mother was very sorry to have me go away from her,
and I was sorry to go, but she seemed to find a great deal of
comfort in the fact that I should no longer be on the track;
I should have a much less strenuous life than racing, and that
the education my new owner wished to give me would also be
much to my advantage in other ways.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So Captain Sigsbee took me to Chicago. And my! what a
noisy, bustling city it was. How different from the quiet country
where I was born and so far had spent my life. And the
smells! Why, I smelled more horrible smells in one day there,
I think, than I had smelled in all my life before. The same
with the noises. People think horses don’t care about smells
and noises. Don’t they? I was jumping and nervous all the
time with the new and awful noises that seemed to rush at me
from every direction. Street cars, roaring, rushing and their
bell clanging; automobiles honking right in my ears; wagons
rumbling over the stones; men shouting; women and girls talking
with high-pitched voices; babies squalling; policemen whistling
at the street crossings; newsboys shouting their papers;
beggars grinding away on their pitiful little organs; and a
thousand other noises, many of which I had never before heard.
As we were crossing one of the streets or avenues a new noise
came rushing at me, as fast as an automobile travels, but it
was over my head. I looked up, but could see nothing but
trestle-work above me, and the noise was loud enough to be
felt. Nearer it came, until with a rush and a roar, it seemed
to fall on me, and I reared and struggled and even screamed
in my terror. Then in a moment the fierce noise of it was
gone, and it gradually grew less and less. But in another
street I had the same experience. Captain spoke quietingly and
soothingly to me and told me I needn’t be scared as it was
“only the elevated railway,” but I didn’t know then what he
meant. Of course, I learned all about it later, and then I was
no longer scared.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At the training-barn I had a fine large box-stall, the floor
covered with clean, sweet-smelling hay, where I could lie down
and rest whenever I felt like it. My new owner was very kind
to me. He came to see me several times a day, and brought
his friends, and told them how proud he was of me. He always
brought me an apple, a carrot, a lump of sugar or something I
liked, and I soon watched for his coming. I learned to love
him. But I did not like being left alone in that strange place,
and with so many disagreeable smells and noises around me.
When he went away I tried to beg him not to go. I would
“nose up” to him and even try to hold him, but he only called
me “a cunning rascal,” and broke away. Then I would
whinny and paw and paw so that I was sure if he had any
real horse-sense he would surely know what I meant, and that
I was telling him so clearly that even a mule or a donkey would
understand <span class='it'>that I did not want him to leave me alone</span>. But
poor creature, he was only a man, and didn’t have <span class='it'>horse-sense</span>,
so I was left. When he came again I showed him by my gladness
and the reality of my welcome how glad I was he had
come.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day while he was away some rude and noisy men got
into a quarrel outside the stable, and they fought, and swore,
and made an awful noise. One of them fired a gun or a revolver
at the other, and the hubbub was terrible. I was dreadfully
alarmed, and when the Captain came, a little while after,
I was lathered all over with the sweat that had poured out
of me because I was so afraid.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“My, my!” he exclaimed, as soon as he saw me, “this will
never do. The poor little fellow’s scared almost to death.
I’ll never leave him alone again.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>How glad I was to hear that. I kissed him, just as I had
learned to kiss my mother, and tried to show him my gratitude.
He kept his word, and that very night he brought a
groom to me, whom he called Chili. He told Chili he was
never to leave me, day or night. He was to be my companion
and caretaker. He must not try to teach me, or anything of
that kind, but just simply see that I had plenty of hay and
water and my oats regularly, and an abundance of litter to
sleep on, that I was kept perfectly clean, my stable also clean
and sweet, and be with me all the time. That was a great
comfort to me. Few people can know how much, for I really
believe, now that I am older, that horses are far more fearful
and timid even than women and colts than babies. We are an
awfully scary lot. It’s too bad, but it is so!</p>
<p class='pindent'>By this time Captain Sigsbee had decided that I was going
to suit his purpose perfectly, so he gave me his own name, that
everybody might know I was his horse. He was known all
over the country as Captain Sigsbee, and if I bore his name,
hundreds of thousands of people would know, as soon as they
heard it, who had trained me.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But he never called me “Captain” while he was visiting me
in the stable; nor did he ever allow Chili to call me “Captain.”
I was always “Boy!” except when he was teaching me. You
see there was a reason for that. When he said “Captain,” I
soon learned that we were at school and I must attend strictly
to business; at other times I used to do as I liked, but when
we began “work,” I found out I had to take everything seriously,
do just as I was told, and stick to my lessons, trying
hard to learn what I was being taught. If I didn’t I failed
to get the carrots, apples, sugar or candy that I expected.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Chili used to sleep in the stall next to mine, and I was generally
left free, and as there were no doors or bars I could go
and see if he was there at any time, if I felt nervous or afraid.
One morning he didn’t get up to feed me at the usual time—6
a. m.—and I waited until I was pretty hungry. Then I
decided to go and see what was the matter. He was still
sound asleep, so I leaned my head over him and rubbed his
face with my nose. That woke him up, right away, and he
jumped up and fed me. He laughed and patted me and called
me a cute fellow, and said I was a smart horse, so, when he
failed to get up and feed me the next time, I didn’t wait but
went right up to his cot and did it again. I did this several
times, and always got my feed right away, but one morning,
after I woke Chili he must have dropped off to sleep again.
When he didn’t come with my oats I went around to see what
the matter was and there he was sound asleep again, with the
covers pulled up over his head. I felt a little bit angry with
him for neglecting me like that, so I just took hold of the bed-clothes,
gave them a yank, and pulled them right down nearly
to the foot of the cot.</p>
<p class='pindent'>My! my! how he jumped! He was out of that cot in a
flash,—but he laughed and said there was no beating me, he’d
have to give up. I hardly knew just what he meant at the
time, but I had learned a good lesson, for ever since then I
don’t waste any time in waking my groom, and if he doesn’t
bring me my feed on time I go and pull off the bed-clothes from
him, and I get my oats without further delay, even though
sometimes, after giving me my breakfast he goes back again
to bed and takes another snooze. Chili and I soon became
good friends, but that did not take away my affection for my
master. I was always glad to see him. He used to come and
talk to me—man talk, of course—but I soon learned to know
a great deal of what he said, and I always paid attention—well,
perhaps, to be strictly truthful I would better say nearly
always—for he never failed, when I did so, to give me some
tidbit or other that I much enjoyed. Of all these I liked sugar
the best, but he says too much sugar isn’t good for me, so I
never get quite as much as I would like.</p>
<p class='pindent'>During all this time I was being educated. I was taught to
count with my feet, to pick out numbers and colors, and to
know the difference between men, women, boys and girls. I
learned to add numbers together, to say Yes and No, to kiss
my master, sit on a chair, even on his lap, without hurting
him, make change on a cash register, play tunes on the chimes,
and lots of other things.</p>
<p class='pindent'>My master was always good and kind to me while teaching
me. He never got impatient, and he would stop every once
in a while and let me rest, and he always gave me something
nice to eat when I did well. So I used to look out of the window
of my stable and see other horses dragging heavy loads,
sometimes being driven fast by delivery-boys, in hot weather,
until they were dripping with perspiration, or in winter-time,
out in the snow or where the streets were so slippery that they
fell down. I often heard their drivers shouting roughly at
them and using foul language, and I have seen them whip their
poor animals cruelly, and then I knew how much better off
I was than they, and it made me feel very thankful and grateful
to my good master.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He always talked nicely while he was training me; told me
that if I was good and learned my lessons, people would come
to see me, and they would love me, and he and my mistress and
Chili would be very proud of me. He told me about some of
the boys and girls who went to school, but who refused to
learn their lessons, and the misery and wretchedness that often
came to them as the result. So I grew more and more anxious
to learn, for although I was only a horse, I wanted people to
love me and think well of me, and say nice things about me.</p>
<p class='pindent'>For <span class='it'>five whole years</span> my master kept me at school. Every
day he came to my stable, or took me out into the yard, to
give me my lessons. I guess I was a slow learner, and it took
a great deal of patience to make me remember, for I was only
a horse—not a boy or a girl, with human intelligence. We
had to go over the same lessons scores, hundreds of times,
until I knew them by heart. But my master was kind all the
time, seldom spoke angrily to me, and never whipped me,
though he kept a small switch in his hand with which he gave
me a gentle reminder, once in a while, when I was inclined to
be a little more frolicsome than usual.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day he came to me and said: “Now, Captain, you and
I are going to travel and see the world. Do you know what
I have been educating you for? I am going to let people all
over this country see you, and what you can do, so that they
will no longer be able truthfully to say that a horse has no
intelligence. Chili will go along with us. When we are on
the trains he will remain in your stall and travel with you, and
when we stop anywhere to ‘show’ he will spend his nights with
you as he has done all the time.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Just think what news this was for a horse! How I pricked
up my ears! How I looked forward for the day to come
when we should start!</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last the eventful day arrived. Quite a number of people
came to see us go. Chili led me from my stable to what he
called a box-car at the railway station. It had padded ends
and sides so that, when the train bumped while the cars were
being switched, or at the starting or stopping of the train, I
could not get hurt. I am free to confess I didn’t like the idea
of going into the car at first and both my master and Chili had
to persuade me before I went in.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the train started I didn’t like it at all, and I was uneasy
for a few days whenever we were on the train, but Chili
was always there, and he kept telling me there was nothing to
be afraid of, so as I had learned to trust him, I soon stopped
worrying, and <span class='it'>I have never worried since</span>. Some people tell me
that in that regard I learned to be wiser than a great many
humans, who ought to know that worrying does no good and
yet they still go on doing it. How I pity such people that they
don’t have a little bit of simple <span class='it'>horse-sense</span>.</p>
<p class='pindent'>By and by I learned, as we traveled, to look out of the window
and see what there was outside. What a lot of wonderful
things I saw. Of course we kept stopping, sometimes for a
week, then for only a day or two, and we gave exhibitions all
the time, the people coming in large numbers to see me. They
all wondered how my good master had succeeded in training
and educating me so well. Then sometimes they came up and
petted me, and the girls and women, and even the boys and
men, kissed me on the nose, and said such nice and flattering
things to me. I enjoyed it ever so much, for I like people to
like me. And of course, my master never forgot to give me
a carrot, or an apple, or a cookie, when I did well, so that he
said I grew “fatter and saucier every day.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>My very first public appearance and performance was in the
lobby of the Sherman House, in Chicago, in August, 1913,
at the Engineers’ Convention. I went from there to the Great
Northern Hippodrome, where I stayed for a whole week.
Then we started and took the complete circuit of the Miles
Theaters, starting from Chicago and going to New York one
way, and returning to Chicago another way. I enjoyed it very
much, and made lots of friends on that first trip.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When we got back to Chicago it was late in the fall of 1914,
and my master told me we were not going to work any more
publicly for several months, as he wanted to get me ready for
the Panama-Pacific International Exposition at San Francisco,
that was to open on the 20th of February, 1915. That great
big long name made me nervous at first—I wondered what it
meant. But by listening to my master and Chili talking I soon
learned that it was a great and wonderful “show,” in honor
of the completing of the Panama Canal that united the Atlantic
and the Pacific Oceans, and they called it “International” because
all the nations of the earth were invited to take part in it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Later I learned that there were to be magnificent buildings,
bigger than any I had ever seen, even in Chicago and New
York, Palaces of Music, and Education, and Fine Arts, and
Mining, and Domestic Industries, and Foreign Industries, of
Liberal Arts, and Electricity, and Engineering, and Food
Products, and that, besides, all the countries that took part,
would have their own buildings. Then there were to be magnificent
courts and fountains and arches and columns and
domes and statues and bas-reliefs and pools and flower-gardens
and trees, and at night-time searchlights and fireworks,
and steam-works and illuminations more beautiful than anything
of the kind men had ever seen before. So, even though
I was only a horse, I was anxious to go and see it all.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then Chili told me there was to be one whole long street
devoted to pleasures and amusements, that they were to call
the ZONE, and we were to appear there. There was to be a
wonderful exhibit showing the appearance and working of the
Panama Canal, villages of strange people from all over the
world, Cowboy shows, Mining Camps, a representation of the
seven days of Creation, and the Battle of Gettysburg, Capt.
Scott’s Trip to the South Pole, the fight of the Dreadnoughts
and Submarines, an Incubator for babies—human babies, mind,
the tiniest little humans you ever saw,—the Grand Canyon,
the Pueblo Indian village, the Yellowstone National Park, the
Streets of Cairo, Toyland, the Japanese town, and lots of
others that I do not now recall. We were to have our show
right on the Zone, and be one of these many marvelous and
wonderful attractions. The more I heard about these things
the more anxious I was to go, and yet I wondered a good
deal as to whether I should be as attractive to the crowd
among so many other interesting things as I had been where
there were not so many. But my master and Chili seemed
satisfied, so I stuck to my motto and “Quit Worrying.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Day after day we rehearsed my performance and went over
my lessons, until my master said I was “sure perfect.” That
made me feel good. Then one day I heard master tell Chili
to go and see that his orders were carried out about the car,
and I learned then that the car was ordered that was to take
me to San Francisco, and that the workmen were busy at work
upon it, padding it and making it comfortable for me as well as
Chili. When everything was ready and lots of hay and grain
put in the car, Chili took me aboard, and that night we
started. Over the plains of Illinois and Iowa, into Nebraska
and Wyoming, through Utah and Nevada we rode. What a lot
of different country I saw from any I had ever seen before.
When we reached the mountains I thought they were wonderful,
and how I enjoyed the ride, as we raced down from
Summit to Cheyenne. At Reno we began the climb over the
Sierras and Chili said we were in California. I had heard it
was a land of sunshine and flowers and birds and fruit, but
we were in a region of rocks and mountains, precipices and
canyons, snow and ice, and while there were plenty of beautiful
trees I couldn’t see a single flower. When Chili brought,
from one of the streams, several times a day, a bucket of
water for me to drink, it was colder than any well-water I
had ever been given in my life. My! how it made my teeth
ache. But it was so sweet and tasted so good, as if the winds
of God had blown over it for months, bringing freshness and
sweetness and filling it full of their deliciousness.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As soon as we reached the summit we began to go down,
down, down, to lower levels, and long before we left the snow
I could smell the sweet growing timothy and clover and alfalfa,
and even the blossoms on the fruit-trees, and when we reached
Auburn and Newcastle and lots of other towns up there, we
were in the real California I had always pictured. Larks and
thrushes, linnets and mocking-birds, song-sparrows and warblers
were there by the thousands, singing such songs as I had
never heard, and flowers! There were flowers of a thousand
kinds, all new to me, pushing their way up through the green
grass; and as for the fruit-trees, although it was early in February,
there were thousands of them already in bloom and as
sweet and fragrant and beautiful as a Garden of Eden.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was the fourteenth of February, 1915, when we reached
San Francisco. There Chili took me to a comfortable livery
barn, where I remained until March 17. This was owing to the
fact that the theater my master was having built for our performances,
was not completed until that time. At the rear of
it was a fine barn and stable for my use, where Chili could
also sleep.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Though we began a month late we soon made up for lost
time. The people came by the hundreds and then by the
thousands. They petted me, and laughed at my tricks, especially
when I felt good and came running onto the platform,
kicking up my heels and having a general good time. The
women called me a “dear,” and a “darling,” and the men said
I was “remarkable,” “a marvel,” and “a wonder,” and the boys
said I was “a corker,” and “a jim-dandy.” Anyhow those who
saw me pick out the good-looking ladies, and the fine-looking
men, sort out colors, add, subtract, multiply, give change on
the cash register, pump, corkscrew, hobby-horse, sit on my
master’s lap, play the chimes and do my various exhibitions
of thought, memory and reason, went away and spread my
fame. My master, of course, felt very happy over it, for each
day the receipts grew larger. But, as more people came, I had
to give performances more often, and I soon began to think
I was overworked. My master didn’t think so, but he didn’t
realize how tired I got. I tried to tell him, as well as I knew
how, but he didn’t seem to pay any attention, and I was beginning
to feel that he loved money better than he loved me.
But all this time he was watching me very closely, and one
day, when I was quite tired, he did not let me give so many
performances. Then, too, there was another thing that was
bothering me. While I loved Chili very dearly, as he was
always good to me, somehow he was not so careful and attentive
to my needs in San Francisco as he had been hitherto.
I began to watch him and found he came in late, very often,
and I soon saw that he was getting into bad company. As
soon as my master found this out, he let him go, and secured
for me a new groom. He is a “cullud genman,”—a real negro
gentleman, from the South, who thoroughly understands fine
horses, and whose name is Jasper, and we soon became very
much attached to each other.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Just about this time a beautiful little woman came right up
to my stall and said, as she gave me some sugar: “You beautiful
creature. I’ve been watching your performance. You
are wonderful. I’m afraid they’re working you too hard.
You should have some one to help you. I’m going to ask
Captain Sigsbee if he won’t let me come and relieve you.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>I pricked up my ears at this and watched and listened very
intently when she went to my master. I then learned that
her name was Madame Ellis, and she said she was a mind-reader
and telepathist. She explained that she had watched
me give the blindfold part of my entertainment with the
greatest interest, and was well satisfied that I understood every
word that was said to me. Then came the words that almost
made me dance for joy, for she said: “Captain Sigsbee, I
give a blindfold entertainment that would go wonderfully well
with your Captain’s exhibition, and at the same time give him
plenty of opportunity to rest and take a good breathing spell
between performances.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>My good master seemed as pleased as I was, for he immediately
made the arrangement with Mr. Ellis, and the very
next day Madame Ellis appeared on my platform. No one
will ever know how much I was interested at this first performance
of hers. I watched her every move, for when they
wanted me to go to my stable and rest while she performed, I
clearly showed them I did not want or intend to go. I stood
and saw the whole performance, and I can only say that if
Madame Ellis is as pleased with what I do, as I am with what
she does, then she is a very pleased woman.</p>
<p class='pindent'>We became the best and dearest of friends and have so
remained ever since, for when a horse gives his friendship he
is not like some human beings I have seen, fickle and faithless,
but is constant and faithful. We have never had the sign of
a quarrel, and there is not the slightest jealousy between us.
She is as proud of my triumphs and success as I am of hers.
And they tell me that as far as earning money is concerned
Madame Ellis and I earned more than any other show on the
Zone, not even excepting the wonderful Panama Canal and the
picture of Stella.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There were a great many very noted people came to see us
while we were in San Francisco. Mr. C. C. Moore, president
of the Exposition, and Mrs. Moore, together with Mayor and
Mrs. Rolfe, and thousands of others from all over the world,
as well as those who lived in San Francisco became my good
friends. After I had gone away President Moore wrote the
following letter to my master, which I am proud to have people
read:</p>
<div class='blockquoter9'>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>PANAMA-PACIFIC INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION, 1915</p>
<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<p class='line'>San Francisco, California</p>
<p class='line'><span class='sc'>Office of the President</span></p>
</div></div> <!-- end rend -->
<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'>Oct. 6, 1916.</p>
<p class='noindent'><span class='sc'>Captain W. A. Sigsbee.</span></p>
<p class='noindent'> Dear Sir: It is a pleasure to me to inform you how much I enjoyed
the performance of your horse “Captain” at the Panama-Pacific International
Exposition, which I saw a number of times. The performance
of this highly intelligent animal was a great attraction to visitors to the
Exposition.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;'>Very truly yours,</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Chas. C. Moore</span>, <span class='it'>President</span>.</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>When the Exposition closed in San Francisco, my master
and Jasper took me down to Venice, in Southern California,
where we stayed until March 18, 1916, when we moved to the
Panama-California International Exposition at San Diego. Of
course, there was nothing like the large number of people here
that there were in San Francisco, but we made many good
friends and had some large audiences. Among those I esteem
most highly were President and Mrs. G. Aubrey Davidson and
their children; Mr. H. J. Penfold, the secretary, and all the
officials. They all used to come and pet me whenever opportunity
arose, and many of the leading men and women of the
city seemed glad to call themselves my friend. But I am free
to confess that I have a few very special friends, and one of
these is the great singer, Ellen Beach Yaw. While singing in
the San Francisco Exposition she used to come to see me often,
and became much attached to me, as I to her, and both there
and in San Diego she would sing to me. Some people think I
don’t understand music, in spite of my playing accurately different
tunes on the chimes, but my master and Jasper both
know that when I am nervous and tired, on the other hand,
frolicsome and frisky, I am always glad to stand with perfect
quietude and restfulness when my dear Miss Yaw comes to
sing to me. As soon as she holds up her hand and looks at
me I know she is going to pour out a sweet song that will
delight me, so I listen with all my attention. And she never
has to wait for my appreciation. I go right up to her and kiss
her my thanks for her song as soon as she has done singing.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Another thing I enjoy amazingly. Quite as well as I like
music, I like to go out and stand in the sun. I think one of my
far-away ancestors must have lived in, and loved, a desert
country where the sun shone all the time, for I am never so
happy as when Jasper allows me to go out and stand where
the beams of the sun come straight down upon my back. It
feels so good, and it soothes me so that I like to enjoy it and
go to sleep enjoying it. And if they would allow me to, I
would go out and roll in the sunshine, and then lie down, as
a cat does before the fire, reveling in the warmth and going to
sleep under its influence.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Sometimes people wonder how I make my wants known,
seeing that I can’t speak. With my master and Jasper I seldom
have any trouble, for by pawing or whinneying I arrest
their attention, and then there are many things I need that they
quickly ask about. If they think I want water, they ask:
“Water?” If I want it, I nod; if not, I shake my head. And
so with going out, untying me, giving me more air—for I like
plenty of fresh air—or anything else I may desire.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There are some people who think I don’t like to give performances.
I’m sure I don’t know why, except that I do get
tired a little once in a while, and sometimes my master wants
me to be quiet and good when I feel frisky and frolicsome and
want to kick up my heels. I always feel better the busier I am,
and I remember one day in San Francisco, when we gave
nineteen performances, I was so full of fun and spirits when
we got through that Jasper had to be pretty stern with me
before I would quieten down.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Another thing that amuses me. People often ask if I ever
eat anything besides oats and hay, and things of that kind.
It amuses me because I like everything, just as most healthy
boys and girls do. I eat bread and butter—and I like it with
jam on or sugar or honey—and hard boiled eggs, and nuts,
and every kind of fruit, raw, cooked or preserved. Candies
I just dote on, and vegetables come as a welcome change. I
can eat them raw or cooked, hot or cold, and I don’t object to
lettuce put in sandwiches.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Sandwiches? Of course I eat them: ham, beef, chicken or
tongue, with mustard or without. And nothing I like better,
at times, than a ham bone to gnaw on. Sometimes Prince—Jasper’s
pet dog—brings one in and shares it with me, and I
enjoy it amazingly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But one of my special delicacies is cake. My dear mistress,
Mrs. Sigsbee, long ago found that out, and whenever she wants
to make me feel extra good she makes a cake for me. My!
My! She is a fine cake-maker. One day she had made a large
cake for a party. I think it was Master’s birthday, and they
had invited a lot of friends. That day Master loosed me from
the stable and sent me up to the house to see Mistress. Sometimes
he does this, and trusts me to go directly there. I did
so this time, and when I got into the yard I went right to the
kitchen window, which was open, and through which a delicious
odor came. Right there on the table was the cake. It was
this that smelled so good. I put my nose close to it and it
made my mouth water. There was no one there to tell me
not to do it, so I just bit right into the middle of it, took a
large mouthful, and it—what do the boys say—“went to the
right spot.” The trouble was that first mouthful whetted my
appetite for more, and I had made a pretty big hole in that
cake before Mistress came in and found what I had done. She
drove me away, but began to laugh so heartily that when
Master came running, in answer to her call, she could scarcely
speak. She could just point to the cake and to me. There
I was, with cake crumbs and jam or jelly all over my nose
and in my whiskers, and Mistress at last managed to gasp out,
between laughs, “Captain’s celebrating your birthday. He likes
cake, too!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At first Master was inclined to be mad, but Mistress laughed
him out of it, and said why shouldn’t I like birthday cake as
well as he. She’d make another, and even if she couldn’t, she
would buy one. Then she put the rest of the cake away, and
every day for another week I had a chance again to celebrate
Master’s birthday.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Do I ever get ugly-tempered?</p>
<p class='pindent'>I think I can truthfully answer that I do not show temper
very often. I must confess, however, that now and again I
am not as well-dispositioned as I generally am. Sometimes I
feel a little out of sorts, and then I act up just as a naughty
boy or girl does. I want my Master to hurry up my performance
and let me get away, and I bungle and stumble and do
the very thing I ought not to do. When I feel like this and
have to pick out the colors, I grab the cloth viciously, and
sometimes deliberately take the wrong one, or slam the drawer
of the cash-register, and when it comes to playing the chimes
it is too funny the way I find myself acting. When I reach the
last few notes I hit them one after another as fast as I can,
and then run around the stage to show Master I am impatient
to get away. I suppose boys and girls get that way in school
sometimes. Anyhow that is what Master and some of the
people who come to see me say, and I can well believe it, for
there is not so much difference between my actions and those
of boys and girls, if people could only understand them aright.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day Jasper brought a pigeon into the stable. I heard
him say a lady had given it to him. We soon became the best
of friends. The pigeon would coo to me and come onto my
feeding rack, and I would nuzzle up to her and whinney. She
flies about me and lights on my head and struts up and down
my neck and back, and I just enjoy it. We often go to sleep
together, I with my head close up against the pigeon, she snuggling
close to my soft nose. I feel so much better now that
I have so nice a companion. I am not so nervous when I hear
strange footsteps, or just before we are going to have a show.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Sometimes I am so full of fun and frolic that my Master
lets me play awhile. Then I just enjoy running about the
stage, kicking up my heels, showing my teeth at people, and
making believe I am very savage, hitting a note on the chimes,
and dashing across to the cash register, opening the drawer and
ringing the bell, and then picking up a colored cloth in my
teeth and shaking it as if I were angry. But as soon as I have
had enough of this I quieted down, and we go ahead with a
“show” as steadily as can be. You see, my Master understands
me, and doesn’t all the time feel that he has to hold me
in to make me “behave”—as people call it. I’d like to know
why I shouldn’t have high spirits and be happy and jolly, if
any horse on earth should. I’m well cared for day and night;
I have all I want to eat of the very best that money can buy;
I am housed in the most comfortable stable that can be hired,
with plenty of good, clean bedding, and a rug to keep me warm
at night; I have my companions, the pigeon, and Prince, the
fox terrier, and Jasper is on hand all the time, so why shouldn’t
I be full of frolic. That comes from being happy and healthy,
and any one with sense can see that I am both, for my eyes
are clear, my breath is sweet, my skin is clean and I am full of
life and spirits.</p>
<p class='pindent'>My Master is good to me and I love him very dearly, but I
am free to confess I have a special affection for Madame Ellis’s
little girl. She is about ten years old, and we are real chums.
Her name is Margaret. She comes nearly every day to see
me, and she pets me, and I pet her. She brings me sugar and
apples, and then after I have eaten them she sits on my back,
and after a while we play circus. She takes her shoes off—so
that she won’t hurt me—and stands on me, walks from my
shoulders to my tail, standing either looking frontwards or
backwards, and I walk around carefully so as not to make her
fall. And when we get through she hugs and kisses me, and
I like it amazingly and kiss her back, and would hug her if I
knew just how to do it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And now I have told my story. Now that the San Diego
Exposition is over my master, I expect, will take me all over
the country, so that more people may see me and become interested
in my education. He feels that the performances I give
will interest children and those who have to handle horses
and thus lead them to treat all horses with more respect and
kindness. When human beings feel that horses have intelligence,—no
matter how small in quantity, or good in quality
it may be,—they will act differently towards them. It will
lead them to be more tolerant, patient and kind.</p>
<p class='pindent'>We hope to work with all the Humane Associations and
Societies for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, for my
master knows, as I also well know, that when children and
teamsters see me and watch what I can do, their hearts become
more gentle towards all animals, and thus the day is hastened
when kindness and love shall reign supreme upon the earth.</p>
<div><span class='pageno' title='30' id='Page_30'></span><h1>HOW I BOUGHT AND TRAINED CAPTAIN<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='it'>By His Owner</span>, <span class='sc'>W. A. Sigsbee</span></span></h1></div>
<div class='blockquoter8'>
<p class='pindent'>(<span class='it'>EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION.</span> To render the story of Captain
complete it was essential that the reader should know something of his
trainer, his educator, the man to whose enthusiasm and ability we owe
the pleasure the horse has afforded us. Consequently I have questioned
Capt. Sigsbee, again and again, as to his methods and the story which
here follows contains his answers to these many questionings which I
have put into consecutive and readable form, but, as nearly as is possible,
in his own words.)</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>I was brought up in the horse business. My father and
uncles were horsemen before I was born. They lived in Dane
County, Wisconsin, twelve miles from Madison, and there I
first saw the light. One of my uncles had trotting horses, and
almost as soon as I could do anything I used to go and help
him. When I was fourteen years old I was regularly employed
by him during my vacations, to help on the farm, in the stables,
and to accompany him to the trotting track. I soon learned to
ride, as a jockey, and up to the time I was eighteen years old
that was my occupation. Then I began to work for myself.
I bought, educated or trained, and then sold horses and dogs.
I was much interested in them, and always seemed to have fair
success in their management.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As I grew older I used to go with my own horses to the
County and State Fairs, the latter being held at Madison.
When I was twenty-four years old I married, settled down on
a farm, and as horse-trading seemed to be the business I was
especially adapted for, naturally I followed it. Whenever my
neighbors wanted a horse that was extra well trained they
would come to me, and if I showed them one that could do a
few tricks, they liked it none the less, and were not unwilling
to pay a little extra for the pains I had taken.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The year after I was married I moved to Humboldt, Iowa,
where I bought another farm and for four more years continued
my work as farmer and horse-trader. Then I bought
the Park Hotel, in the town of Humboldt, which I ran for
eleven years, never, however, for one moment losing my interest
in horses. In fact, it was one of the most profitable parts
of my business. Many farmers, show-men, circus-men and
others came to the town and stopped at my hotel, so I was
never away from the atmosphere of the horse ring. Many a
time, when they were in a tight place, the show or circus men
would come and ask me to help them out, for my reputation
as a trainer had spread, and it was pretty generally understood
that I was an exceptional hand for teaching horses and dogs
rather unusual and interesting tricks.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In time the great circus-masters, like Barnum and Bailey, Al
Ringland and others, came to me and asked me to train horses
for them, so that my horse business grew, and with it my reputation.
Naturally I was always on the look out for colts that
promised well, or horses that seemed extra intelligent, and my
eyes were keen for mares that showed a superior order of
intelligence that were soon to have colts.</p>
<p class='pindent'>About this time my eyes were attracted to a beautiful mare,
evidently with foal. No sooner did I see her than I wanted
her. I found on inquiry that she had been bred to a spotted
Arabian, as fine and beautiful a creature as she herself was.
Satisfied that she was what I wanted, I purchased her. Already
I had begun to speculate as to what I should do with her colt.
If it was a prettily shaped animal, was as intelligent as the
father and mother, I decided it should receive the best education
I was capable of giving. As the days of the mare’s time passed
I grew more and more anxious. My hopes were raised high,
and I was correspondingly expectant and at the same time
afraid. What if the colt should prove stupid? I awaited the
birth of that colt as eagerly as a royal family awaits the birth
of the child of a king, hence you can understand my delight
and satisfaction, when the little lady came, that I found her
faultless in appearance, neat, trim, dainty and beautiful, with
intelligent eyes and face and every indication of being a most
superior animal.</p>
<p class='pindent'>From the hour of her birth I watched her far more closely
than many a child is watched. I was in and out of the stable
a score of times a day. While she appeared intelligent, I wanted
to know with certainty as soon as I could. I was not long in
discovering, and this was how it was done. My barn had
double doors—one on each side. As it was warm weather I
had both doors open to allow a current of air through the
building. When the colt was four or five days old, I wished
to hitch up the mare and drive her, but did not think it wise
to let so small and young a colt go along. So I closed the
doors and left her inside. She became much excited at being
separated from her mother; ran around wildly, whinnied, and
generally fretted. But I felt she would have to learn to lose
her mother, so I drove away and left her to fight it out as best
she could.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The next day I went into the barn and groomed down the
mare, the colt apparently paying no attention, but the moment
I took the harness from its peg and began to put it upon the
mother the little miss ran out of doors. I thought I had
scared her in some way and paid no particular attention, but
when I was ready to drive away and tried to get her back into
the barn she positively refused to go or be driven. She was
as resolved to stay out as I was to have her go in, and it was
only when I secured additional help that I was able to get her
inside.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The same thing occurred on the following day, and then I
began to suspect that the colt knew as well as I did what was
going on, and was resolved not to be left behind. So I called
to my wife to come and watch with me, while we experimented.
So long as I merely fussed around with the mare, cleaning
her, etc., it was all right, but the moment I touched the harness
and made it appear I was going to hitch up, out shot the colt
from the barn in a moment. We tried this out a dozen times
and always with the same result. This occurred when she was
nine days old, and with conviction I turned to my wife and
exclaimed: “She’ll do, the little Trixy; she’s got brains, and
I’ll begin to train her right away.” Thus she got her name,
and I started upon her education.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In my past experience I had taught many horses to respond
to questions with a Yes or No, to paw out numbers, to kiss me,
to sit down, lie down, roll over, and other similar simple tricks.
I would ask if they would like a drink, a feed of oats, a lump
of sugar, etc., and teach them how to answer with a nod of
the head, and with a shake when I asked: “Shall I whip you?”
or “I guess you don’t want any feed today,” but with Trixey
I determined to go further than this and see if she really could
be trained, or, better still, <span class='it'>educated</span> in any degree.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Thus began Trixey’s education, which continued persistently
for eighteen months. Every day I kept at it, and it might be
interesting here to state that while I was educating Trixey,
she was educating me. I learned a great deal about horses
and horse nature in those eighteen months. In due time I had
trained her so that she could pick out numbers on call, colors,
could add, subtract, multiply and divide; could count with her
feet, sit in a chair, on my lap, and answer questions.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I then decided to take her out on the road and give exhibitions
with her. But first of all I decided to give a test exhibition
at our County Fair, at Humboldt, my own town. Of
course I was well known, and my horse-training proclivities
were the subject of conversation all throughout the country,
but few knew how much I had accomplished with Trixey.
Hence that first appearance was a great surprise to my neighbors.
Needless to say, it was also a wonderful success. Every
one was delighted with the exhibition and marveled at the
intelligence the beautiful little creature displayed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I now started to go throughout the country with confidence.
I knew what Trixey could do and what the effect of the exhibition
would be upon an audience. In those days an educated
horse was unknown. There were a few trained circus horses,
but a horse like mine excited great wonder and interest. My
method was to go to County and other Fairs, explain what
Trixey could do, and I would undertake to exhibit her before
the grand stand between races. The Fair Associations would
engage me, and thus I would earn a good financial return.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Soon after we began to travel I changed the colt’s name to
<span class='it'>Princess Trixey</span>, and this was the name by which she was ever
afterwards known. About this time I came in contact with
William Harrison Barnes, of Sioux City. He had been a newspaper
reporter, but was naturally a showman, and shortly
before I met him he had drifted into the show business. He
was exhibiting such horses as “The Pacing Wonder,” “Johnny,
the Guideless Wonder,” and when he saw the Princess there
was nothing for it but that he should become my partner and
go along with us. For four years we traveled together, Barnes
making the business arrangements for our appearance at Carnivals,
State Fairs, Amusement Parks, and under the auspices
of various organizations. Then I sold Princess Trixey to him,
continuing to travel with him for four years, after which I
returned to Humboldt, bought another farm and for two or
three years did a little desultory training of horses, as before.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Let me here, in parenthesis, tell of Princess Trixey’s unfortunate
end. Barnes showed her all over the country to the
great delight of all who ever saw her, until about ten years
ago, when she was killed in a railway wreck at Baltimore.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Soon after my return to Humboldt I was urged by Dode
Fisk, of Wonewoc, Wis., to plan and organize for him a show
of trained horses, dogs, monkeys, etc., with a one-ringed circus.
I did so, doing all the training of the animals myself. When
we were ready to travel we had a sixteen-wagon show and I
was appointed the arenic director. For four years I occupied
this position, helping build up the show all the time, and at the
end of three years we ceased traveling in wagons and became
an eleven-car railway show. It was my regular duty to keep
the animals in good condition, see that they were healthy and
kept up to their work, and to train any new stock we might buy.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Four years of this life tired my wife, and she expressed the
desire to get away from a large show. She wanted a rest at
home, she said, and then, if I desired to travel she suggested I
buy a young horse or a colt, train or educate it, and we would
travel with that, without all the hard work, flurry and daily
excitement attendant upon a large show.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In the main I agreed with my wife and, anyhow, I felt that
she ought to be considered as much as myself, so I began looking
out for such a horse as I had in mind. I wanted another
Trixey or, better, but scarcely hoped to find one very soon, or
very easily. I was nearer to the end of my search, however,
than I supposed, for almost immediately I heard of just such a
colt as I was looking for at Oregon, Ill. Right away I went
to see him, and there, to my unspeakable delight, I found
Captain. His owner was Judge Cartwright, a great lover of
and breeder of good horses. Captain was of standard bred
trotting stock, and was half brother to the famous Sydney
Dillon. His sire was the well-known horse Syed and his dam
was the almost equally well known Robey. At first sight he
pleased me immensely, and I sought to gain all the information
possible about him. I learned that as a colt he was very
friendly and playful, showing keen intelligence. He also possessed
great speed, sometimes pacing in the pasture as fast as
his mother could run. This had led his owner, as soon as he
was two years old, to train him for ninety days for the development
of speed, so that he was able to step his mile in 2:16.
He undoubtedly would have made a fast pacing horse with
further training. But fate had another destiny in store for
him. I resolved to buy him. Naturally Judge Cartwright
hated to part with so promising an animal, but I candidly laid
my heart’s desire before him. I showed him the influence it
would have upon the rising generation if I could demonstrate
that animals can reason, that they are capable of thought.
Then I expatiated upon the easier life Captain himself would
live than if he were to become a regular race-horse, and I
appealed to the feeling of pride he—the judge—would possess
were I successful—as I knew I should be—at having introduced
so world-famous a horse as Captain would become, that he had
bred and reared. And, finally, to clinch the matter, I produced
a certified check for a thousand dollars, which I placed in his
hand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Thus the purchase was made, with the express understanding
that Judge Cartwright should always be given the credit for
the raising of Captain.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Perhaps here I ought to state that the colt’s name up to this
time had been Sid Bell. As I felt my whole future life’s work
and fame were going to center on this beautiful, young and
intelligent creature, I renamed him, calling him by the name
by which I was known to all my professional associates, Captain
Sigsbee.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was not long before we became intimately acquainted. He
was a handsome fellow, a dappled chestnut, fifteen and one-half
hands high, with broad forehead, large, intelligent eyes,
well-shaped ears, deep, sensitive nostrils, mobile mouth, strong
nose, a most pleasing face, and perfectly formed in every way.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I was satisfied from the first that in Captain I had a great
subject for education. Already I began to plan what I would
teach him. I was assured I could go far beyond anything I
had hitherto done, even with the clever Trixey. One day in
conversation with a group of horsemen, among whom was A1
Ringland, the great circus master, I stated some of my expectations.
Ringland laughed at me, especially when I declared
my intention of so educating a horse that he could do things
blindfolded. He freely declared that he had no faith in horse
education. He believed that horses could be trained only under
the whip and spur. Said he: “I know you’ve done some
wonderful things with Trixey, but animals are animals, and
I don’t believe that you can <span class='it'>educate</span> them. Let me give you
some advice. Don’t waste your time. Many a man has gone
crazy by allowing a fool idea like this of yours to take possession
of him.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>I defended my ideas, however, and argued that my years
of study of the horse had revealed things of horse-nature and
character few even dreamed of. I was sure they could think
and reason. Everybody knew that they had memory, and I
was satisfied that I could educate this, or any other intelligent
horse, to use his reason, no matter how small it was—in other
words to think.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Ringland listened with interest, but made no pretense to
hide his doubts, and again said I was going crazy when I
affirmed my positive conviction that I could, and would, train
Captain to take and obey orders <span class='it'>blindfolded</span>. He was certain
it never could be done.</p>
<p class='pindent'>How well I have succeeded the hundreds of thousands who
have seen Captain can best tell. It may also be interesting to
recount Mr. Ringland’s expressions when he saw Captain
sometime after I began to give exhibitions with him. He
said: “I confess myself beaten, Sigsbee, I take off my hat
to you. What you have accomplished will be a revelation to
the world, as it has been to me. In spite of my years of association
with horses I never dreamed they had such powers in
them. You have opened my eyes, and as others begin to see
they will treat their animals with greater consideration, they
will think more favorably of them, and no longer treat them
as if they were mere brute instruments of their will or pleasure,
without feeling or intelligence.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Mr. Ringland well stated what it has been one of my constant
endeavors to bring about. I have always loved horses.
I wanted to see them better treated, and it is with great satisfaction
that I am learning every day that my exhibitions with
Princess Trixey and now with Captain are bearing this kind
of fruit.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When my purchase of the colt was completed, I took him
to my training barn in Chicago and there began his education.
The first thing to do was to get well acquainted and gain his
affection. This was done by giving him plenty to eat, the
best of care, speaking gently and kindly to him, petting him,
and giving him dainties now and again, such as carrots, apples
and sugar. My friends and acquaintances often laughed at
me, and said I should never accomplish what I was after,
but I persevered. They knew I was wasting time, money and
energy for nothing, but “I know” that what “they knew”
wasn’t so.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It did not take Captain long to learn that I was kind to
him; that I was his true and wise friend; and was to be relied
upon. These are three things, the importance of which I
cannot over-estimate. Many people try to be kind to animals,
but they are not wise in their treatment, and they are
not to be relied upon. I knew that Captain trusted me for
the little extra dainties he enjoyed. I never disappointed him.
I never lied to him—that is promised him anything I did not
intend to perform, and thus he soon learned I was to be
trusted.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When left alone he became very uneasy. Like children he
wanted companionship of some kind, so I hired a groom, Chili
by name, whose duty was to remain with Captain, day and
night. He was never to attempt to teach the horse anything,
as that would lead to confusion, but was to care for him and
be his companion at all times. Chili remained with him for
several years and they became very fond of each other. I
should never have parted with him, but when we came to
San Francisco, he got careless and I had to let him go. Then
I was fortunate enough to secure an equally good man in his
present groom, Jasper. Jasper is a natural-born horseman.
He has ridden, broken, and owned some very famous horses,
and has been on the track for years, hence he thoroughly
understands horse-nature, and he and Captain get along
famously.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As I have before explained Captain likes company. He
strongly resents being left alone. Every night-time before
he goes to sleep he listens for the footsteps of his groom and
if he is not there he signifies his disapproval by pawing, whinneying,
etc., and generally keeps it up until Jasper returns and
talks to him. Then, content and restful, he goes to sleep.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Once, when he was being brought south by rail, Jasper had
to leave him in the Los Angeles freight yards—still in his car—to
see that their tickets were properly endorsed, and he was
gone for a half an hour or more. When he returned poor
Captain was in a complete lather of perspiration. The unusual
noises of the railroad yard in a large city, as he was shut
up in a car so that he could not see, had fretted him into a
frenzy. As soon as the groom returned he signified his satisfaction
with whinneyings and nose-rubbings and in a very
short time was cool again.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Every night before he lies down and goes to sleep, he peeks
out to see if Jasper is there. If not, he awaits his return, and
then stretches out with his head towards the place where Jasper
sleeps.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Soon after we arrived in San Diego a lady presented Jasper
with a pigeon. The bird was taken to the stable, and Captain
became much interested in her. As the pigeon perched on the
partition he reached up and nuzzled it in the most affectionate
manner. Not only did the pigeon not resent it, but she
seemed actually to enjoy it, showing no fear or desire to get
away. Now they are almost inseparable friends, and Captain
spends hours with his head upon the partition, snuggling close
up to the bird. Prior to its coming, Captain often showed
considerable nervousness when he heard strange footsteps
approaching his stable, or just before a performance, but the
presence of the pigeon has changed this. Its mere presence is
a soothing influence, and when the show is over he goes back
to the stable and greets his bird friend with evident pleasure
and affection.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One of my experiences with Captain demonstrated his
superior intelligence over most horses. My training barn was
two stories high, and a wide pair of stairs led from the ground
to the second floor. When my grandson was born Captain
took a great liking for him. He loved to “kiss” him and
nuzzle him while he was in the cradle, or baby-buggy, or even
in his nurse’s arms. As the child grew older we used to place
him on Captain’s back and Captain would march back and
forth, as proudly as a king, apparently conscious of the trust
we placed in him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day while I was working with Captain the child was
in the barn, and he kept going up and down the stairs. I
noticed that Captain’s attention was more often fixed upon the
child than upon me and he seemed much interested. Someone
called me away for a few moments, and when I returned
there was no Captain to be seen. Then I heard a peculiar
noise from above, and looking up, what should I see but
Captain following the child up the stairs. I am free to confess
I got scared, for I couldn’t see how I could get him down.
But I went up, controlled my fears, and then quietly talked
to Captain and told him he’d come up the stairs and now he’d
have to go down them. And I backed him down, a step at a
time, as easily and as safely as could be. And, strange to say,
ever after that, whenever he wanted to go upstairs I let him,
and he came down alone. I never had to back him down
again. He comes down that way of his own volition.</p>
<p class='pindent'>People often ask me how I train an animal. Personally I
would not use the word “train,” in speaking of such a horse
as Captain, not because it is the wrong word, but because it
conveys a wrong idea. I would say “educate,” for I firmly
believe that horses and dogs and elephants and other animals
possess the power of reason, though, of course, in a limited
degree. And I believe that by patient and kindly treatment
we can “draw out,”—educate—the intelligence possessed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I have no set rules or fixed system by which I work. There
are a few principles that control me. First of all I study the
animal’s nature and disposition. No two animals are alike,
any more than any two children are alike. Some animals are
very nervous, are easily excited, while others are placid and
docile and nothing seems to disturb them. But whatever the
natural disposition nothing can be done without gaining the
animal’s complete confidence. This I do by uniformly kind
treatment. I always speak gently, mildly, never angrily or
impatiently. Then I pet the animal at every opportunity,
though with some, one must approach them at first, cautiously.
As soon as possible get an animal accustomed to the feel of
your hands, and to know that they always come gently, and
with soothing effect. Find out what they particularly like to
eat, and every once in a while, give this to them as a relish, a
luxury, a reward for something well done. As I have explained
elsewhere horses like carrots, apples and sugar. Too
much of any of these, however, is not good, as their natural
food is grass, hay, cereals, and the like. Yet it should never
be overlooked that a horse, like a man, can more easily be
reached through his stomach than any other way.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Though you must be kind you must also be firm. Many
people confound and confuse kindness with mushiness. No
animal must be allowed to have his own way, when that way
conflicts with his master’s will. (Yet a caution, here, is necessary.
One who is training either a horse or a child should
remember his natural proclivities and tendencies. There should
be no attempt to “break the will.” It is to be trained, disciplined,
brought under control. Hence, never set your will
against the will of your animal unless it is in a matter where
you know you are right.) For instance, if a horse wants to
cut up and frolic when you wish him to attend to business,
there are two ways of doing. One is to leave him alone for
awhile and then firmly bring him to attention, even though he
still desires to continue his fun. Another is to crush the spirit
of fun and frolic and not allow him to play at all. This latter
method is unnatural, unreasonable, and cruel, and therefore
not to be thought of for one moment by any rational or kind
man. The former is both kind and <span class='it'>disciplinary</span>. The horse
is allowed to follow his natural instincts, but is also taught to
control them at his master’s word. This is training and education.
A third method is to allow the horse to frolic to his
heart’s content and then get him to do what you desire. Here
there is no discipline whatever. This is the way of “mushiness,”
and it is often followed by parents and others in handling
their children. It is about as bad as the cruel method of
suppressing the natural instincts, for an uncontrolled will or
appetite soon becomes the child’s, animal’s, or man’s master,
and nothing is more disastrous than such a bondage.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Hence be firm in control. It is not necessary to whip to
punish. A horse, as well as a child, will learn self-control
through appetite, or the giving of something that is a pleasure.
Where you have trouble in gaining control, or where the animal
is lazy, hold back on the tidbit, or the free run, or something
of the kind the horse enjoys. He will soon learn to
associate the loss with his disobedience. Equally so be prompt
and certain in rewarding his good conduct. It is a good thing
in dealing with a stubborn or refractory animal (or child) to
let him get “good and hungry.” It does not take him long
to learn to associate obedience with food, or disobedience with
hunger.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then it is most important that you never lie to an animal.
Be strictly truthful. When you promise anything—or by
forming a habit imply a promise—do not fail to keep that
promise. If your animal expects an apple, a carrot, a piece
of sugar or a frolic at the close of his hour’s training, <span class='it'>do not
disappoint him</span>. A horse, a child, instinctively hates a liar.
One soon loses confidence, and where there is no confidence
there can be no pleasure in working together, and as soon as
pleasure goes, the work becomes a burden, a labor, a penalty,
and a curse, to be dreaded, shunned, avoided. So win your
animal’s confidence and then be sure to keep it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When it comes to actual teaching always be very patient,
never excited, always talk gently and keep your voice pitched
low, and remember that all animals are curious, possess more
or less of the imitative faculty, and have good memories. To
remember these things is of great importance. Never lose
sight of them. Talk to your animal as you would to a child.
Whether you think or believe he understands you, or not, act
and talk as if he did. Then <span class='it'>show</span> him what you want him to
do. Do it before him, again and again. Thus you will excite
his imitative faculties and at the same time, train his memory.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Occasionally you may be able to give him extra aid. For
instance, you want to teach your horse to shake his head to
express the idea No! When you say No! tickle the horse’s
ear, and he will shake his head. Then you also shake your
head, and say with emphasis, No! Repeat this several times,
and you will find that when you say No! the horse will shake
his head without your having to tickle his ear. As soon as
he responds to your question with a shake of the head be
sure to pet and reward him with a lump of sugar, at the same
time talking encouragingly to him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then repeat the process, again and again, until it is well
fixed in his memory.</p>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/illo-40a.jpg' alt='' id='illo-40a' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Ellen Beach Yaw, “Lark Ellen” of California, Singing to Captain at the San Diego Exposition.</span></p>
</div>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/illo-40b.jpg' alt='' id='illo-40b' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Captain awakening his groom by pulling off his bed<br/> clothes. This is a regular trick of Captain’s, when<br/> Jasper fails to get up and give him his breakfast at the proper time.</span></p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>Every day go over this same thing; for, if you neglect what
he learns today for a week or two, it is very possible he will
forget and you will have to begin afresh. Review perpetually,
until you know that <span class='it'>he knows</span>.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In assisting him to nod his head when you want him to signify
Yes! when you use the word tap him under the chin.
This leads him to throw his head up and down. Soon he will
nod at the mere saying of Yes! and later, he will respond with
a nod when you ask him a question to which he should reply
with the affirmative.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Remember always, in all you do, that you are dealing with
an animal whose brain power is far less than that of an ordinary
child, and be <span class='it'>patient, kind and persevering</span>. Never allow
yourself to believe the animal does not possess intelligence.
<span class='it'>Believe</span> he has it, <span class='it'>hope</span> he has it, <span class='it'>trust God</span> that he has it and
work in that belief, hope, trust, and you will accomplish wonders.
Faith, hope and love are the abiding and moving powers
of life. With them there is no limit to what can be done, for
they belong to the infinite.</p>
<div><span class='pageno' title='42' id='Page_42'></span><h1>A SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATION</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>It is natural that, to those who are skeptical as to a horse’s
brain capacity, there should be some doubt as to the reality of
Captain’s performances. Suggestions of trickery, of Captain’s
being controlled by visual or aural cues that are unobserved
and generally unobservable by the public, arise in the mind.
The skeptic denies, positively and unquestionably, any assertion
of the animal’s intelligence. He laughs and scoffs at the
idea that the horse really thinks, adds, subtracts, multiplies
or counts; that he knows colors; that he has any idea whatever
of tone values, or, indeed, can tell one note from another. He
believes in suggestions, or cues, or even that, unconsciously,
Mr. Sigsbee hypnotizes the horse and thus personally directs
all his actions, and he does not seem to see that these involve
the explanation of mysteries as deep as the one of animal
intelligence.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The first thing, however, is to be assured that the horse
actually does the things it is asserted he does, and that, as far
as the trained and scientific observer can detect, there is no
conscious deception. In the case of Captain this has been done
by Dr. G. V. Hamilton, a veterinarian, whom the <span class='it'>Santa Barbara</span>
(Calif.) <span class='it'>Press</span> asserts is “nationally recognized as an expert in
these avenues of investigation.” After witnessing a public
performance he conducted a series of private tests and from
the <span class='it'>Press</span> of February 27, 1916, I quote the following account
from Dr. Hamilton’s pen:</p>
<div class='blockquoter9'>
<p class='pindent'>Several days elapsed between the visit at which I took the notes
recorded above and my private interview with Captain and Mr. Sigsbee.
This enabled me to plan various tests which might enable me to
check up on the following possibilities:</p>
<p class='pindent'>In performances of this kind it is at least possible for a confederate
to conceal himself behind the curtains, under the stage or elsewhere,
and to direct the activities of the animal.</p>
<p class='pindent'>A short whip or stick might easily carry a long, thin, black wire,
which would be invisible from the front of the stage.</p>
<p class='pindent'>My experience with laboratory animals leads me to believe that it
would be possible for a shrewd animal trainer to direct a dog’s or a
horse’s activities by means of eye, facial muscle and bodily movements
which are of a too slight excursus to be apparent to ordinary human
observation. It is not to be forgotten, in this connection, that some
dogs are notoriously dependent on their masters for directive cues, and
that this may be characteristic of horses of a certain type.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It is conceivable that repetition of a given routine over a period of
years might enable a horse to stereotype a highly complex set of habits.</p>
<p class='pindent'>On the morning of my appointment with Mr. Sigsbee I found the
horse in his stall, unattended. A colored groom, who seems to be the
only person, other than Mr. Sigsbee, to have any responsibility for
Captain, shortly appeared. He discussed the horse with me without
manifesting either suspiciousness or constraint. A little later Mr. Sigsbee
came to the stall and asked me to decide how and where to make
the tests. He seemed to be wholly unaware of the possibility that my
tests might seriously impair the “show” value of his animal. I decided
to work with the horse on the stage, and to have Mr. Sigsbee with me.
Captain is a nervous, highly excitable animal, and I had previously seen
him make a poor showing when not in good condition, hence my desire
to have the familiar presence of the master.</p>
<p class='pindent'>A careful examination of the stage revealed no evidence of provision
for the concealment of a confederate, so I had Captain led upon the
stage and began my tests, which were given in the following order:</p>
<p class='pindent'>1. I asked him, “How do you walk when you go to see your girl?”
Captain gave an appropriate response, although his master was not
within the horse’s field of vision, and did not carry his whip. Mr. Sigsbee
who seems to have a great affection for his horse, now interpolated,
“What do you give me for sugar?” Captain “kissed” him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>2. At my request Mr. Sigsbee asked Captain to play “Nearer My
God to Thee.” I stood between horse and master while the former
played the chimes with but one mistake. He received no direction for
this after the initial command. Mr. Sigsbee then told me that Captain
knew how to run the scale, so I asked for that. The horse made one
mistake, due to his failure to strike the trip hammer opposite one of
the metal tubes with sufficient force. When he had passed from the
low to the high end of the chimes his master commanded him to “come
right back,” and this was promptly obeyed. Still no visual cues. As
a matter of fact, the horse seemed to pay almost no attention to Mr.
Sigsbee with its eyes, as it were, but kept its ears in almost constant
movement.</p>
<p class='pindent'>3. The leather blindfold was now applied. There is not the slightest
doubt in my mind as to the entire adequacy of Captain’s blindfold for
purposes of excluding visual stimuli. At my request Mr. Sigsbee stood
facing me and called for 2, 9, 3, 1, and 7 separately and in the order
given. The horse stood where I had previously decided to have him
stand, and I made sure that no directive stimuli were reaching him
either from the stage or from the rear and sides.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He stamped twice for “2,” nine for “9,” etc., until this test was completed.
The only mistake occurred when, in response to the command
to “give us three” he stamped three times and struck his toe on returning
his foot to the standing position. His master accused him of this
mistake and Captain gave us three clean-cut taps.</p>
<p class='pindent'>4. I gave the command, “Give me your right foot,” “Give me your
left foot,” “Put your head down and bite your right knee,” and “Scratch
your head.” He responded appropriately, although it was necessary
for me to repeat these commands to satisfy the inquiry contained in
Captain’s wiggling ears. Mr. Sigsbee stood by my side, a wholly
negligible factor for the moment. I am thoroughly satisfied that Captain’s
activities were solely directed by my commands.</p>
<p class='pindent'>5. Captain, still blindfolded, was given the following problems by
his master, from whom I had concealed my program. It seemed to be
difficult for the horse to follow my unfamiliar voice, and since Mr.
Sigsbee was invisible to the horse and wholly under my control I
decided to employ him as interlocutor:</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Divide ten equally between your two feet, the first half with your
right foot, the second half with your left foot.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Captain stamped five times with his right foot, then pawed tentatively,
apparently in doubt as to the correctness of his answer, and awaiting
a cue. He received no cue, and soon withdrew his right foot to the
standing position and tapped five times with the left foot. His master
accused him of inaccuracy, telling him that he “got one too many” with
his right foot. Captain corrected his mistake by giving us a clean-cut
and accurate response.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Divide twelve equally between your two feet, the first half with the
right foot, the second half with your left foot.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>This command elicited a perfect response.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“How much is three times three?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>A perfect response was again obtained. Captain gave nine taps with
his right forefoot.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“How much is two times two?” I gave this command.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Captain tapped four times, stopped, and began to paw in a doubtful
manner. His master scolded him for this, and he tried it again, but
again at the end of four taps, hesitated and pawed. Mr. Sigbsee told
him he knew better than that, and commanded him to try again. I gave
the problem clearly, and obtained a correct and clean-cut response.</p>
<p class='pindent'>6. Mr. Sigsbee was instructed to give the following commands:</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Pump.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Reverse.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Laugh.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Say ‘Yes’.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Wiggle your ears.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Scratch your head.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Stick out your tongue.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Stretch out like a hobby horse.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>I showed this list of written commands to Mr. Sigsbee, but instead of
following my instructions he urged me to give them myself. It is still
a source of surprise to me that this horse, while blindfolded and with
no directive cues from his master (Mr. Sigsbee stood beside me and
neither moved nor spoke), responded appropriately to these commands.
It was necessary for me to repeat only one command—the last one.</p>
<p class='pindent'>7. At my direction Mr. Sigsbee tied the white strip of cloth to the
blindfolded horse’s left hind leg, and the red cloth to his right foreleg.
At the end of this performance he cautioned Captain again and again
not to forget that the “white rag is on your hind leg—here (patting
the left hind leg), and the red rag is on your foreleg.” After much
patting of both legs and many warnings against forgetting, Mr. Sigsbee
withdrew and allowed me to decide upon the command. I called for
the red strip, and Captain obeyed without displaying the least hesitation.
It will be remembered that on a previous occasion he found the red
strip on his hind leg.</p>
<p class='pindent'>8. The blindfold was now removed, and was not reapplied. Correct
responses were obtained to the commands, “Bring me a silver dollar”
and “Bring me a quarter.” Mr. Sigsbee stood where it was impossible
for him to direct Captain’s choice by pointing with eyes, facial muscles
or body.</p>
<p class='pindent'>9. I arranged the numerals in the number rack in the following
order: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0. Mr. Sigsbee stood behind the horse
and gave the following command:</p>
<p class='pindent'>“How many people are there in the front row?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Hamilton was the only “audience” for the performance, and
sat in the front row from the moment when Captain was brought upon
the stage. The horse responded to the command by advancing to the
railing over the footlights, extending his head and neck far forward
and examining the front row of seats. He followed this by backing
vigorously and pulling number “1” from the rack. In a flash of
inspiration I asked, “How many people are there in the second row?”
Captain walked forward again, looked into the second row and shook
his head. I am glad that I have Mrs. Hamilton and my note book
to remind me that this occurred when I was wide awake and in a very
critical frame of mind. Mr. Sigsbee was standing to my left and the
horse was to my right and several feet in front of us when this occurred.
I expressed my unwillingness to believe my own senses, and
Mr. Sigsbee quite seriously expressed the opinion that the horse had
been influenced by the master’s mind to shake his head.</p>
<p class='pindent'>10. I eliminated Mr. Sigsbee by placing him where I could keep my
eye on him, but where he was outside the horse’s field of vision. Then
I commanded Captain to bring me number “6” from the rack. He
obeyed and followed this by bringing me “4,” “9,” and “7.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>11. I exchanged “1” and “4” and commanded Captain to tell me how
many people were in the front row. He brought me number “1.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>12. Mr. Sigsbee, at my direction, gave Captain the number, “30,724.”
The numbers in the rack were in the unfamiliar order, “1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
6, 7, 8, 9, 0.” By obstructing Captain’s view of his master I was able
to eliminate the possibility of directing gaze-cues from master to horse.
Long experience with my quadruple choice method has enabled me to
control the movements of my ocular muscles, and to depend a good
deal on peripheral vision, so that I am sure that I did not involuntarily
direct the horse during this test.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Captain promptly pulled “3” from the rack, pulled “8” part way out
and let go before he had fully withdrawn it, then withdrew “0,” “7,”
“2,” and “4” in rapid succession.</p>
<p class='pindent'>13. I put “4,” “1,” and “8” on the floor, sent Mr. Sigsbee to the
rear of the stage and gave the following commands:</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Two times nine.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Seven times twelve.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Nine times nine.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The horse took up “1” and “8” in the response to the first command,
and dropped them. I arranged the three numbers in the same order in
which they lay on the floor before the first command was given (“4”
was at the left end, “1” in the middle and “8” at the right end.) The
second command was given, and answered correctly, without hesitation.
I now reversed the positions of “4” and “8” and gave the third command,
which was also answered correctly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>14. After I had rearranged the colored strips on the color rack so
that black and white were near the middle (it will be remembered that
they were end strips during the public performance), directed Mr. Sigsbee
to command Captain to match Mrs. Hamilton’s garments.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Captain went as far forward on the stage as he could go, craned his
neck forward, and closely scrutinized Mrs. Hamilton. At the command,
“Match the color of the lady’s hat” (Mr. Sigsbee gave these commands),
Captain went to the color rack, which was close to and near
the middle of the right wing, and took the black strip in his teeth.
(Correct.) His master stood behind him, facing Mrs. Hamilton, who
sat in the first row as “audience.” Following this the horse matched
the white waist, tan gloves and black pocketbook.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I now engaged Mr. Sigsbee in a conversation as to how he had
trained his horse to match colors, when Mrs. Hamilton called to Captain,
“Can you match this?” Captain nodded his head and came up
to the rack and took the yellow strip in his teeth. Neither Mr. Sigsbee
nor I saw the pencil, and even when Mrs. Hamilton told us that it was
a pencil I could not tell its colors from where Mr. Sigsbee and I stood,
since the audience room was dimly lighted. On our way to the exposition
that morning Mrs. Hamilton and I jested about my pencil-stealing
proclivities, and I had reminded her that I had returned her red-white-and-blue
pencil. This accounts for the certainty with which I declared
that Captain had taken the wrong color until Mrs. Hamilton showed
me that her pencil was really a yellow one.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Captain had grown friendly toward me, and as he stood facing me,
apparently inviting attention, I said, “Match my necktie” and pointed
to my red tie. He promptly pulled the red strip from the rack. Mr.
Sigsbee was definitely behind Captain when this occurred.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Although my examination of Captain was too brief to justify me in
presenting this as more than a preliminary report, there are a few
tentative conclusions which I have drawn from it, and which I wish
to present for the consideration of persons who may be interested in
the training feats of men like von Osten, Krall, and Sigsbee.</p>
<p class='pindent'>1. The inquiring liveliness of Captain’s ears and the freedom with
which Mr. Sigsbee employs verbal directions when the horse is tired
and inattentive suggests the possibility that this animal may receive
auditory cues that are given involuntarily by his master. It is not only
conceivable but even likely that Captain is sensitive to changes in his
master’s respiratory sounds. A spasmodic inspiration, a faint sigh or
a sudden quickening of respiration might easily serve as cues for
Captain. One need only translate Rendlich’s and Pfungst’s explanation
of Hans’ behavior from visual into auditory terms to arrive at a
fairly satisfying guess as to how it is possible for Captain to perform
his wonderful feats.</p>
<p class='pindent'>2. My observations, although incomplete and inconclusive in many
respects, have convinced me that Captain can give correct answers in
entire independence of directive visual stimuli. There was no trickery
about his blindfold: Captain wore a leather mask which so well excluded
the light that he had to be led from place to place on the stage.
Even when he was not blindfolded, and seemed to be keen to understand
and to obey them correctly, he attended only with his ears.</p>
<p class='pindent'>3. I am convinced that Mr. Sigsbee is sincere in his belief that
Captain is capable of abstract thought, and that he resorts to no trickery
in his public performances. It is also gratifying to know that he
is of the hard-headed type to whom a scientifically established explanation
would be acceptable, even though it might run counter to his own
presuppositions. If it proves to be the case that his horse is accessible
to stimuli to which human ears are obtuse, and that master as well as
public has been literally “taken in” by horse-cleverness the humorous
aspect of the situation will appeal to him. From a purely commercial
standpoint he need have no fear as to the “show” value of a horse
which can beat a crafty old trainer at his own game by training the
master to give such exquisitely delicate cues that the master himself is
not aware of giving them. It is not surprising that Mr. Sigsbee had
to fall back upon telepathic explanations.</p>
</div>
<div><span class='pageno' title='47' id='Page_47'></span><h1>CAPTAIN’S PRAYER OF THANKSGIVING</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>Prayer assumes two forms, the one of petition that blessings
may be bestowed upon the petitioner, the other of thanksgiving
for the blessings so bestowed. Several years ago a “Horse’s
Prayer” was published in the newspapers. It was a prayer of
petition. But—presupposing the possession by the horse of
intelligence and power to formulate prayer—Captain has never
had to ask for most of the things set forth in this prayer. His
kind master has freely accorded them to him, so Captain’s
prayer is one of thankfulness. But every owner of a horse
can convert this prayer into one of petition by applying it to
his own horse and seeing whether he is treating his animal as
Captain is being treated:</p>
<div class='blockquoter9'>
<p class='pindent'><span class='bold'>My Dear Master, I thank thee for all thy goodness to
me all the days of my life. Thou hast given me good,
clean, nutritious food, plenty of water, perfect shelter, clean
dry bedding, and a stall wide enough for me to lie down in
with comfort. Every day my hair and skin have been
brushed and cleaned, my nostrils washed out, and my mane
and tail kept free from burrs, tangles and dirt.</span></p>
<p class='pindent'><span class='bold'>You and the men you have employed to attend me have
always been kind to me. You have talked gently to, and
not shouted at, me. You have soothed me many times by
the kind and assuring tones of your voice. When I have
been nervous and afraid, instead of shouting at me, or
whipping me, your gentle words have quieted and encouraged
me. You have petted and caressed me and made me
feel the joy of serving you because I love you. While you
have been firm with me and made me do my work, you
have never demanded more than I was able to give. You
have never jerked my reins, and thus made my mouth sore,
or cruelly whipped me as I have seen drivers do when their
horses were pulling heavy loads up hill. You have always
endeavored to explain what you have wanted me to do, and
have not whipped, kicked, beaten, or cursed me when I did
not understand. You have been kind in teaching me, gentle
in bearing with my ignorance and mistakes, and patient
when I have been slow to learn. When I did not obey you
instantly, you have looked over my harness, my bridle, or
my hoofs to see that nothing was amiss.</span></p>
<p class='pindent'><span class='bold'>You have never checked up my head so that my neck
was stiff and unable to move with freedom, and you have
never cursed me with blinders that rubbed my eyelashes,
were too close to my eyes, and that prevented me from
looking behind me, as the great Creator intended I should
do.</span></p>
<p class='pindent'><span class='bold'>You have never overloaded, or overworked me; never
hitched me where water could drop on me, or where I had
to stand too long in the wet, and if it was cold weather
you have always covered me with a blanket. My feet have
always been well shod; you have always examined my teeth
to see that they were kept in good condition, and never
allowed “fox tails” to pierce my gums and make my mouth
sore. You have never been so wicked and cruel as to cut
away my tail so that I could not defend myself from flies
and mosquitoes, and at night or day time, you have never
tied my head up so tightly that it was in an unnatural
position and prevented me from moving it easily, or lying
down to sleep.</span></p>
<p class='pindent'><span class='bold'>You have always seen that I had plenty of clean and
cool water to drink, day and night, and you have watched
me with care so that I should not get sick. While I love
the warm sun you have not tied me where, when it was
very hot, I could get no shelter. In winter time you have
never allowed a frosty bit to be put in my mouth.</span></p>
<p class='pindent'><span class='bold'>And though I am still young and healthy and apparently
not likely to become feeble and useless for many years to
come, the kindness you have already shown me assures me
that when I do lose my strength and ability you will not
turn me out into some poor pasture where I may starve or
freeze, or sell me to some human brute who will whip
and torture me to get the last fragment of work out of me,
while he slowly starves me to death with poor and insufficient
food. If it is impossible to put me where I shall
have proper food and shelter I know you will mercifully,
kindly, and swiftly take my life, and thus, even in the hour
of death, I shall thank you with my whole heart.</span></p>
<p class='pindent'><span class='bold'>And, though I am a horse, I am sure you have remembered
that God is my Father and Creator as well as yours,
or I should not be here, and that His Son said that His
Heavenly Father cared even for the sparrows, two of which
were sold for a farthing, and that He himself ever sanctified
a stable by the fact that He was born in one and cradled
in the manger at Bethlehem. So, In His Name, I give you
thanks for all your kindness to me, recalling to your memory
His words that “inasmuch as ye have done it unto the
least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.”</span></p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='bold'>—Amen.</span></p>
</div>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/illo-49.jpg' alt='' id='illo-49' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Captain and a group of his admiring friends<br/> at the Panama-California International Exposition, San Diego.<br/> Captain W. A. Sigsbee (his owner and trainer) and President<br/> G. A. Davidson of the Exposition at his head.</span></p>
</div>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/illo-50.jpg' alt='' id='illo-50' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Captain and George Wharton James with the pigeons<br/> at the San Diego Exposition, 1916.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div><h1>TRANSCRIBER NOTES</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Some illustrations moved to facilitate page layout.</p>
<p class='pindent'>A cover was created for this eBook.</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='noindent'>[The end of <span class='it'>The Story of Captain: The Horse with the Human Brain</span>,
by George Wharton James.]</p>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 48844 ***</div>
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