Still my father had one for thirty years. The oldest performer in the present troupe is a blue-faced mandrill, whom I have had for twelve years. He is very good-tempered and will not reject any attentions you may feel inclined to show him. As a general rule, when a monkey holds out his hand encouragingly it is safest to give him a wide berth, and one who is chattering to himself is nearly always in a bad temper.”
“How often do you feed them, and what, is their favorite food?”
“When they are performing twice they get four light meals a day, milk, fruit, and potatoes being their principal diet. We keep their cages very clean, but they look after their own toilets and we do not wash them.”
“What animals do you find possess the most intelligence, monkeys, dogs or horses?”
“There are clever and stupid specimens of each, but I don't think there is any great difference in general intelligence. The great difficulty with all of them is to get undivided attention.”
“What is the difference between a mandrill and an ordinary monkey?” queried Harry as he paused at the end of his reading.
“The mandrill,” said Mr. Graham, “is one of the many members of the monkey family, and belongs among the apes or the baboons. He is a native of the coast of Guinea in Africa, and has a very short tail or no tail at all; his face is furrowed, and so much resembles that of a dog, that he is often spoken of as a dog-faced monkey. A full grown mandrill is about, five feet high when standing erect, and his head is very large in proportion to his body. He is not the best looking of his race, and would never be chosen as a contestant for a prize for beauty.
“There are monkeys with tails,” continued Mr. Graham, “and monkeys without tails, and the list of each kind is so long that you couldn't remember a quarter of it if it were repeated. Generally speaking the apes, or the tailless monkeys, are more quiet in disposition than the others, and hence they are the easiest to teach and control. At best the monkey is a restless animal, and his attention cannot be kept at any one thing for more than a few moments. Mr. Brockmann justly says that the work of securing the monkey's attention is the most difficult part of his education.”
“I have read about a variety of monkey that the settlers at the Cape of Good Hope train to serve as watch-dogs,” said Harry. “Are they of the same kind as the mandrills?”
“Not exactly.” was the reply, “but they are closely related to them. They are known as chaemas, and when full grown are as large as an English mastiff and excel him in strength and agility. The chaema has a tail about half as long as his body and with a tuft of hair at the end. Like most other monkeys he is a great thief, and cannot be trusted in the presence of provisions of which he is fond. He has such a keen scent that it is very difficult to poison him, and he can find water when the most experienced traveler or bushman is unable to discover it. The Hottentots in traveling carry a tame chaema with them, and when unable to find water they turn him loose and follow him. After carefully surveying the ground, he selects a spot and begins to dig; the Hottentots dig where he directs, and almost invariably succeed in finding the water that they want.”
“But how about his serving as a watch-dog?”
“He can hear sounds that are inaudible even to the dogs; in a camp he will always give the alarm when danger approaches, and so much do the dogs rely on him, that they go to sleep in the fullest confidence that he will call them in case their services are wanted. When he gives the alarm, they are on the alert and rush in the direction he indicates.
“He generally lives on good terms with the dogs, and one traveler who carried a chaema tells how the beast used to jump on the backs of the dogs when he was tired. Some of them used to carry him without objection, but others did not like to be employed as pack animals. One in particular always stopped when the chaema mounted his shoulders, and allowed the caravan to pass on out of sight. The monkey did not like to be separated from the caravan, and as it disappeared over the plain or among the hills he would dismount and follow it. The cunning dog then joined him in running to overtake the caravan, but always managed to keep the chaema a little in advance, so that he would not be likely to jump again on the dog's shoulders.”
“Which shows that the intellect of the dog was superior to that of the chaema,” George remarked.
“The dog's reasoning powers are superior to those of the monkey.” said Mr. Graham, “but the latter has the greater faculty for pure imitation.—Ah! there goes the curtain and the performance is about to commence.”
Here is the account which Harry wrote after his return from the theater:
“The opening scene is entitled 'African Friends Meet—A dinner at Delmonico's.' Seated at a table on the stage when the curtain rises, are three monkeys, dressed in the height of fashion. They are Mr. Blackberry, a dude: Colonel Axletree, a retired army officer, and Miss Terrini, from the Darwinian Theater. Mr. Blackberry rings a bell which summons a waitress. The waitress hands the diners a bill of fare and each gives an order. Presently. M. Pouillon, the cook, comes in to consult the feasters, who explain just how they want everything served. The monkey cook bows in inimitable French style and departs. In a moment or two the dinner is served, the only unusual thing in the act being the fact that each monkey steals a portion of his neighbor's food. While his master's back is turned the cook takes a sly drink from a bottle, and also helps himself to the contents of a basket which he has been ordered to place on the table. The monkeys at the table appear to be in conversation, and the by-play among them is very amusing. The pantomine is excellent and the apes do almost everything but speak.
“The adventures of Robert Macaire are illustrated by two monkeys known as Cadieux and Ravennes, while another called Robinson does several clever acts as a circus rider. He rides upright upon a pony's back, jumps through rings and over hurdles.
Other monkeys stand on their heads, walk tight-ropes with balancing rods, turn somersaults, and do acts on the flying trapeze.”
On the way home from the theater the conversation about monkeys was continued, and the youths made mental note of several matters on which they desired information. Harry expressed his disappointment at the absence of tails on the performing monkeys, a circumstance which has already been explained. The youth said he had expected to see the creatures suspending themselves by the tail from the ropes where they were to walk or balance themselves; he thought it would have added materially to the interest of the performance, and wondered if the monkey trainers of Asia or Africa could not do better in this line than did Mr. Brockmann.
“As to that,” replied Mr. Graham, “I am in very great doubt or rather in no doubt at all. No Asiatic or African monkey can suspend himself by the tail, no matter how long that appendage may be.”
“Do you mean,” said Harry, “that none of the old world monkeys have prehensile tails?”
“Exactly so,” was the reply. “The only monkeys that can use the tail as a fifth hand, or for clinging to branches of trees, are found in America, and never in the old world unless they have been carried there from this country. But do not understand that all the American monkeys have prehensile tails; some of them have the tail wonderfully developed and useful, while others cannot hold on with it, and several varieties have almost no tails at all. A naturalist who lived four years in South America says that in that time he saw twenty-one varieties of monkey, seven of them having prehensile and fourteen of them non-prehensile tails. The Asiatic monkey does not seem to be aware that the tail can be made of any use, but the liveliest of the American monkeys employ it for picking up objects and for support while swinging among the trees. And we may further say that the monkeys of the old world are unlike those of the new, none of the varieties that exist on one side of the Atlantic being found on the other.
“The largest of the American monkeys is far below the largest of his Asiatic or African cousins in the matter of size. While several members of the baboon family are five feet in height, and a large gorilla is said to be six feet or very nearly when standing erect, the largest of the American monkeys, if we leave his long tail out of calculation, does not exceed three feet. He belongs in South America, and is known as the Howler, and he can howl louder than twenty men if the stories of travelers are to be believed. The noise he makes is so terrific, that many a traveler has been frightened by it and has thought that all the wild beasts of the woods had assembled close at hand, and were about to devour everybody and everything within their neighborhood. One monkey gives a howl, and when he is tired he signals to the rest tried to ascertain accurately how far the sound could be heard. Judging the distance by the time it took him to reach the tree where the monkeys were, he thought two miles not an over estimate; when the sound came across a lake unimpeded by trees it was easily audible a good three miles.”
George asked if these animals kept up their howling when in captivity?
“They all shout in chorus. After a while they stop, and then the solitary one starts up again. And in this way the unearthly chorus is kept up from midnight till sunrise; sometimes they begin at the close of day and keep it up all night, making it quite impossible for a traveler to sleep within a mile of them.”
“Can they really be heard at the distance of a mile?” one of the boys asked.
“Yes, and farther still,” was the reply.
Mr Graham explained that they were active enough in the woods, but as soon as they became prisoners they lost all their spirit, displayed surly dispositions, refused to make friends with anybody, and soon died of grief.
Other varieties of South American monkeys were more tractable, Mr Graham further explained, and he specially mentioned the little spider monkey and a sapajou as amusing and affectionate.
“Some of these American monkeys,” Mr Graham continued, “show a great deal of intelligence, bordering upon reason. A naturalist who studied them in Brazil says that when one of them received an egg for the first time he broke it clumsily and lost half the contents, but so, he handled it with the greatest care. Lumps of sugar were occasionally given to him wrapped in paper; one day a live wasp was put in the paper with the sugar, so that when the monkey tore it open he was stung. After that he always held the paper to his ear and listened intently to detect any movement within.”
“Haven't I read,” said Harry, “about monkeys organizing raids upon orchards and gardens in a very systematic manner, just as boys or men might do?”
“Quite likely you have,” was the reply, “for such things are by no means uncommon. Monkeys are gregarious animals and hunt in the second time he only broke the top and lost nothing. Ever after that when he received an egg he gently broke the top by hitting it against a hard substance, and then picked off the fragments of the shell with his fingers. After cutting himself once with a sharp tool he would not for some time touch it again, and when he finally did troops; these troops generally have their chiefs, whom they obey implicity, and there would seem to be some mode of communication among them by which orders are issued and understood.
“The monkeys of Northern Africa come down from their places of concealment in the forest and rob the gardens of the people, carrying off the fruit by wholesale. Sentinels are posted to give warning in case of danger, then one of the troop climbs over the fence followed by another and another. They form a line from the wall to the tree which is to be robbed, and as fast as the fruit is plucked it is passed from one to another with the greatest rapidity. Those at the farther end of the line and outside of the garden wall, load themselves with all they can carry and then move away; as soon as the fruit has been stripped from the tree, or at the slightest note of alarm, the whole line scrambles off and is out of reach in a moment.”
“How do they divide their spoil?” one of the youths asked.
“We don't know that,” was the reply, “but it is certain they have some form of division or they would not pass the fruit from one to another as they do. It is quite possible that the chief takes the best for himself and either assigns the others their shares or lets them quarrel over what he does not want.”
“Another instance of their close imitation of human customs,” said George with a laugh.
“Captain Mayne Reid gives an interesting account,” said Mr. Graham, “of how monkeys in the tropical forest of America cross a stream. It is an excellent illustration of the subject we have under consideration.”
When they reached home Mr. Graham found the book containing the story and handed it to Harry, who read aloud as follows:
“The half-human voices now sounded nearer, and we could perceive that the animals were approaching the spot where we lay. Presently they appeared upon the opposite bank, headed by an old gray chieftain, and officered like so many soldiers. They were of the comadreja or ring-tailed tribe.
“One—an aide-de-camp, or chief pioneer, perhaps—ran out upon a projecting rock, and after looking across the stream, as if calculating the distance, scampered back, and appeared to communicate with the leader. This produced a movement in the troops. Commands were issued, and fatigue parties were detailed and marched to the front.
Meanwhile several of the comadrejas—engineers, no doubt—ran along the bank, examining the trees on both sides.
“At length they all collected around a tall cotton-wood tree that grew over the narrowest part of the stream, and twenty or thirty of them scampered up its trunk.
“On reaching a high point, the foremost, a strong fellow, ran out upon a limb, and taking several turns of his tail around it, slipped off and hung head downwards. The next on the limb, also a stout one, climbed down the body of the first, and whipping his tail tightly round the neck and forearm of the latter, dropped off in his turn, and hung, head down. The third repeated the maneuver upon the second, and the fourth upon the third, and so on, until the last one upon the string rested his forepaws upon the ground.
“The living chain now commenced swinging backward and forward, like the pendulum of a clock. The motion was slight at first, but gradually increased, the lowermost monkey striking his hands violently on the earth as he passed the tangent of the oscillating curve. Several others upon the limbs above aided the movement.
“This continued until the monkey at the end of the chain was thrown among the branches of a tree on the opposite bank. Here, after two or three vibrations, he clutched a limb and held fast. This movement was executed adroitly, just at the culminating point of the oscillation, in order to save the intermediate links from the violence of a too sudden jerk.
“The chain was fast at both ends, forming a complete suspension bridge, over which the whole troop, to the number of four or five hundred, passed with the rapidity of thought.
“The troop was now on the other side, but how were the animals forming the bridge to get themselves over? This was the question which suggested itself. Manifestly by number one letting go his tail. But then the point d'appui on the other side was much lower down, and number one, with half a dozen of his neighbors, would be dashed against the opposite bank, or soused into the water.
“Here, then, was a problem, and we waited with some curiosity for its solution. It was soon solved. A monkey was now seen attaching his tail to the lowest on the bridge, another girded him in a similar manner, and another and so on until a dozen more were added to the string. These last were all powerful fellows, and running up a high limb, they lifted the bridge into a position almost horizontal.
“Then a scream from the last monkey of the new formation warned the tail-end that all was ready, and the next moment the whole chain was swung over, and landed safely on the opposite bank. The lowermost links now dropped off like a melting candle, while the higher ones leaped on the branches and came down by the trunk. The whole troop then scampered off into the chapparal and disappeared.”
A Famous Chimpanzee—Mr. Crowley of Central Park—His Origin and History—Details of his Early Life—His Training and Accomplishments—Elating at Table with Knife, Fork, and Spoon—Furniture of his Apartment—Drinking from a Cup—What he Eats and Drinks—His appreciation of Music—Refusal to wear Clothes—Ill of Pneumonia and Recovery—A bad Temper—The Gorilla and his near Relatives—The Gorilla at Home—Du Chaillu's Experiences—Friendship between a Dog and a Gorilla—The Orang-outang—His Home and Habits—Performances of a Baby Orang—The Gibbon—Gentlest of the Monkey Family—Mr. Newmian's Pet—Long-nosed Monkeys—Monkeys catching Crabs with their Tails—How the Traveler Lost and Recovered his Red Caps—The Monkey and the Mirror—The Orang that Saved the Child.
The afternoon of the day following the visit to the monkey theater was devoted to a visit to the collection of wild animals in Central Park. The special object of the visit was a famous chimpanzee known as Mr. Crowley, who was the wonder and admiration of many children and grown people on account of his intelligence and accomplishments.
Unfortunately for the interest of science and the amusement of the public, Mr. Crowley met the fate that befalls most monkeys who are brought from their tropical homes to colder climates; he died of pneumonia and pleurisy after having been several times dangerously ill.
Monkeys rarely live long in northern countries; they die of pneumonia or consumption, generally in a few months, in spite of the greatest care in shielding them from the effects of draughts or chills. The tailless monkeys are more hardy than the tailed ones, but even they are not proof against the rigors of the north.
From his own observations, aided by free quotations from a little book entitled “Mr. Crowley of Central Park,” by Henry S. Fuller, George prepared the following description of this remarkable animal:
“Crowley was captured when very young in the forests of Africa, not far from Monrovia, Liberia. He was presented to the Central Park Museum by the Hon. Mr. Smythe, U. S. Minister to Liberia, and became a resident of New York in May 1884. He was then thought to be about six months old and weighed not far from twenty-five pounds; he was very active, and soon after his arrival a trapeze was fitted up for him on which he took great pleasure in swinging.
A pair of ninepins were obtained for him, in shape like small Indian clubs, and several wooden balls sufficiently large not to be slipped through the grating. He took great pleasure in making targets of the pins, and would hurl the balls at them with all his strength and chatter with delight when the targets were struck. Tiring of this, he would seize the pins, one in each hand, and exercise with these, not entirely according to the written rules of club exercise, but with a zest that was of equal benefit to the muscles; although, when he abandoned this practice and used them as drumsticks to batter the sides of his apartment, the uproar sometimes became too great to be endured.
“His meals were usually taken outside of his apartment. Seated in one of the office chairs about six o'clock, after his morning toilet had been made, he was handed a plate of boiled rice, sweetened with a little sugar, which he ate in genteel fashion with a spoon, and with apparent relish, often looking up at his benefactor with one eye in apparent gratitude, and only pausing an instant to wipe his spacious chin of little rivulets of rice that would trickle at times from the convex corners of his mouth.
A cup of milk would then be given him to aid the digestion of more solid food.”
“These meals were prepared punctually four times a day, a custom which has become of a second nature to the chimpanzee and continues to the present time. The first meal was in the morning, and a lunch followed about ten o'clock; between one and two he was given his dinner, and his supper hour was at five, after which he invariably indicated a desire to retire to his blanket and dispose of himself for the night. The lunch in the morning and the supper were often varied with fruit, an orange or a banana, which was first carefully prepared by peeling. Otherwise his diet was quite plain; all sweetmeats, candies and dainties being positively prohibited.
“During the fall of 1884, his weight, increasing at more than a pound a month, reached forty pounds. His height and strength developed proportionately. The coat of hair that had begun to appear upon his body was black and glossy. It was brushed daily, an operation which he seemed to enjoy; about the head, where it grew longer, a natural inclination was discovered to part in the center, and for better effect the hair was brushed down over his forehead and kept trimmed and banged, imparting a more civilized appearance when he was presented to visitors.
“On being permitted to view himself in a glass, Crowley expressed his entire approbation of this fashion. He displayed much vanity and did not soon tire of admiring himself. When he grasped a policeman's club that was in the room and paraded up and down with it for a cane, his appearance was striking. The natural stoop of his shoulders became profoundly English, and taken in conjunction with the cane, so thick and heavy in proportion to Crowley's figure, the resemblance was most perfect.
“He was quite conscious of his increasing importance, and took great pleasure in receiving visitors. He submitted to the cleaning of his nails and the scrubbing of his teeth, but the washing of his hands and face was always extremely distasteful to him. He never became entirely reconciled to that practice, and after he became older he discarded it almost entirely.
“A small chair and a table of solid oak were made for him, both articles being sufficiently heavy to withstand an outburst of animal spirits that he sometimes indulged in after a meal. For the same reason his dishes were of the heavy ware used in down-town restaurants. He had previously learned to drink from a cup and sip his milk with a spoon. Now he was instructed in the use of knife and fork, and in the absence of meat or other solid food, he carved into slices the bananas and other fruits given him, and conveyed these slices to his mouth on the fork.
“One admirer sent him a napkin enclosed in a plated silver ring. The ring was engraved, 'Remus Crowley, Esq.,' and a corner of the napkin had also the name embroidered on it. After inspecting both with grave deliberation, he grunted his appreciation, and proceeded to thrust the napkin into his mouth. Much patient persevering was required to impress upon him the importance of laying the napkin on one knee, or of folding it over his chest while eating, and that its function was to keep his mouth and chin clean, but repeated instructions at last instilled these precepts on his mind.
“The chimpanzees are keen, observant animals, and Crowley inherited the full gifts of his race. Little that transpired around him escaped his attention, while his understanding was not less ready and intelligent. In a few days he learned to lock and unlock the doors of the room in which he lived, and to hide the key which was used to lock him in the apartment. More care was needed with him than for a child of live years. If he could not express himself intelligently in speech. He was neither deaf nor dumb, and he had a vocabulary of his own made up of gutteral monosyllables, which his attendant professes to understand quite well, though to the uninitiated it is more than Greek or Sanscrit.”
“'Shall I wash your face, Crowley?' asked his keeper.
“'Ooh! ooh! ooh!' exclaimed Crowley, moving away disgusted. 'That means no,' explains the attendant.
“'Here's an orange, baby.'
“'Ut, oot, oot, oot!' and Crowley thrust out a fist eagerly. His other expressions are more complex, except with regard to pain or pleasure. With the first he utters a yell that would startle a Sioux Indian; when pleased, the ends of his mouth stretch to each ear, while he dances and mumbles with enjoyment.
“By the summer of 1885 Crowley weighed fifty pounds and was very vigorous. A new cage was made for him in the west end of the monkey house; it was about ten feet long, six feet high, and of the same width, open on all sides, and protected by a grating of iron wire, the thickness of a lady's little finger. One of the new features introduced in it was a swing or trapeze; a wooden bar suspended at one end of the cage by two stout ropes from the ceiling. At the other end of the cage was a spring board, to enable him to indulge to his full bent in his propensity for leaping. When placed in his new quarters he made a dignified circuit of his room, walking as erect as possible, only resting on the knuckles of his hands, or supporting himself by holding to the grating, He inspected the spring-board as if accustomed to spring-boards of various patterns, and passed on without testing its elasticity. The trapeze he eyed with some curiosity, but did not deign to try it.
“At the close of his second summer, it was decided that many changes would be needed another year, to fit that place for his growth. When standing erect, and flat on his feet, Crowley was now nearly four feet in height. He had outgrown the baby chair provided for him the first year, and it was succeeded by one better suited to a person of his size and importance. A bedstead of oak was procured, so that instead of stretching himself on the hard floor, he could sleep like other people. The bedstead was five feet long and three feet wide, giving him ample room to turn around without rolling out; but for greater security it was attached to the floor with iron braces, which defied, for the time, Mr. Crowley's ingenuity to unscrew, and his strength to remove from their places.
“Crowley had a fondness for music. Whenever his attendant produced a mouth organ and played on it “Sweet Violets,” or “Yankee Doodle,” the chimpanzee's whole attention was at once arrested. He would listen for a few moments intently, and as the air proceeded, a state of great nervous excitement would come upon him. His body would begin to sway in unison with the attendant's foot as it beat upon the floor, until at last, no longer able to contain himself, he would spring up and down in a chimpanzee jig, which appears to be a kind of cross between a Virginia reel and an Irish break-down, keeping this up until he became exhausted or the music ceased. When the instrument was given to him and held for him, he would blow upon it and try to reproduce the sounds which caused him pleasure, and when he succeeded, an expression of delight would brighten his flexible features. But his performances were never such as to warrant his applying for a situation in Theodore Thomas's orchestra or even in an ordinary street band.
“With the winter of 1887-88 Crowley entered upon his fifth year. He had attained the weight of nearly one hundred pounds, and when erect he stood quite four feet two inches in his bare feet. His hands were as big and knotted as those of a negro laborer inured to toil, and his muscles were thoroughly developed. His temper did not improve, and it became necessary to apply a whip to him occasionally to keep him under discipline. During the winter he had an attack of pneumonia, and when the fever came on all his bluster and bad temper disappeared. His strength left him and he became quite helpless, lying all day on the floor in the center of his cage, his head resting on one arm for a pillow, with a piece of heavy bagging beneath him for a mattress. When strangers entered his cage he was too weak to raise his head. Many physicians called to see him and tender their services. He recognized their kindness and their purpose with a low grunt, which often ended in a fit of coughing.
“When requested, he would proffer his arm for the physicians to feel his pulse, turn over that the breathing in his chest might be listened to, and show his tongue for examination. For a long time he regarded the thermometer used to secure his temperature with suspicion. It could not be placed beneath his tongue for fear of the consequences, but, as he became weaker, and unable to repel the liberties, he was persuaded to hold the instrument under an arm.
“All that could be done for Crowley seemed of little avail, and for two weeks he remained in this hopeless state.. His temperature at times rose to one hundred and five degrees, and pulse beat nearly a hundred. In the absence of hot applications, only hot teas and liquors could be given him. A concoction of rum and molasses was prepared and he was prevailed on, at a critical point of his illness, to swallow a large dose of this, to which a quantity of brandy was added. Soon after swallowing it he fell into a heavy stupor which continued for several hours. About midnight he startled his attendant by suddenly leaping into his trapeze with all his old nimbleness. He bounded upon his spring-board and for an hour danced and shouted in his cage, and then staggered and sank down in a profound perspiration. He was covered with a blanket and slept soundly until morning.
“When he awoke, there was something like the old grin on his face as he looked up at his keeper.
“'Comin' around, old man?' asked the keeper tenderly.
“'Oogh, oogh!' muttered Crowley, faintly, and closed his eyes.
“Sure enough he was on the way to recovery. His strength and flesh returned, and with them his occasional displays of bad temper that required the use of the whip.”
“What is the difference between the chimpanzee and the gorilla?” Harry asked, when George had finished reading his description of Mr. Crowley and his curious ways.
“The name has sometimes been given to all the great apes, including the gorilla and the orang-outang,” said Mr. Graham, “but it properly belongs to the lowest of the man-shaped apes of equatorial Africa. The gorilla stands at the head of the list; then comes the kooloo-kamba, then the nachiego-mbouve, then the soko, and after these the chimpanzee. They are all so closely allied that any one but a close student may mistake one for the other, and this circumstance has led to confusion in the stories of explorers.
“In size and shape the gorilla approaches more nearly to man than any other of the monkey family, but he is still a long way from being able to claim one of us as his brother. The arms are so long that they almost touch the ground when the animal stands erect, which he does not do easily.
“Mr. du Chaillu was the first explorer to see the gorilla at home; he killed several specimens of this remarkable creature and sent their skins to England, but though he tried very hard to bring away a living sample he was unable to do so. Later travelers have been more fortunate, and I have read to-day in a newspaper that Boston has just received from Africa the largest gorilla ever landed in this country. His name is Jack, and he is five feet in height when standing erect, and measures seven feet from the end of one outstretched hand to the other. He weighs about one hundred and twenty-five pounds and exhibits enormous strength, compared with which that of man seems like a child's. He arrived in a large box made of planking two and a half inches thick, and when being removed from the ship he tore large splinters from the hard wood planks with as much ease as a child would break a twig. The hair, which is very coarse, and from two to four inches in length, is of a greenish-gray color, and on the back, legs and arms inclines to a black. His shoulders are immense. The expression of his face, which is black, is scowling. The eyes are small, sunken in the head, and the lips large and thin.”
“I suppose the gorilla does not make as good-natured a captive as Mr. Crowley, for example,” one of the boys remarked.
“Not by any means,” answered Mr. Graham. “He is of an ugly disposition and generally refuses to be tamed, though occasionally one is found that is comparatively submissive. Some years ago a gentleman bought a gorilla that was thought to be about two years old and shipped it to England. It was not spiteful or obstinate in its ways, but seemed to be very shy; its owner thought the best plan was to allow it to run about the ship, and after it was given its freedom it got along very well. It would take food from the hands of passengers and sailors, but permitted no familiarity; it formed a great friendship for a bull terrier, and the two used to play together by the hour, the dog occasionally giving a very sharp nip which was not resented by the larger animal. But, unfortunately, the gorilla was missed one morning, and was supposed to have fallen overboard during the night.”
“The gorilla is the largest monkey of Africa and in fact of the whole world. The largest Asiatic monkey is found, not on the continent of Asia, but on the islands of Sumatra and Borneo. He is know to foreigners as the orang-outang or wild man of the forest, and is generally called 'mias' by the natives. Many of the people believe that the creature is a human being who lives in a wild state, and hence the name by which he is described to strangers. In habits, size, and general appearance, the mias is much like the gorilla, but he is more easily tamed and kept in captivity. He lives in the forestand travels from tree to tree without descending to the ground; in fact he sleeps in the trees, making a bed of leaves among the branches. Mr. Wallace, a naturalist, describes how he shot at a mias and broke his arm. The animal was in the top of a tree at the time, and immediately proceeded to break off branches and make a nest for himself. Mr. Wallace fired at him several times, but he did not quit his work, and he finally laid down in the nest and died there from the effects of the shot. It was necessary to cut down the tree in order to obtain the body, which proved to be a very large one.
“Mr. Wallace caught a young mias and managed to keep it six or eight weeks; he hoped to be able to take it to England, but it died at the end of that time, probably from the impossibility of obtaining proper food. He said it would cry like a child when hungry or when its food did not suit its taste; if its keeper persisted in offering food that it disliked it would scream and kick violently, exactly like a baby in a passion. Altogether he thought it very human in its actions, and was very sorry when it died from intermittent fever.”
Harry asked if the gibbon monkey which comes from Siam and the neighboring countries was anything like the mias.
Mr. Graham explained that the gibbon was much smaller than the gorilla or the orang-outang, and more human in his general appearance. He is a delicate creature and cannot exist in a cold climate even with the greatest care. An adult gibbon rarely lives more than a few weeks in captivity, and when captured young the animal does not usually reach maturity. The gibbons are very gentle in their manners, devotedly attached to their masters when kindly treated, and not at all mischievous.
“On a steamer that carried me from Bangkok to Singapore,” said Mr. Graham, “one of the passengers, Mr. Newman, had a gibbon which he was undertaking to carry to England. The little fellow was very gentle and playful and easily made friends with all the passengers. Mr. Newman said he had kept the monkey at his house in Bangkok and allowed him the largest liberty.
“The house was full of bric-a-brac and curios of various kinds, but the monkey went about with the greatest care and never injured anything.
“One of his favorite amusements was to race around the verandah of the house with his master, the two starting from one point and going in opposite directions. Frequently he came in the morning and by signs indicated that he wished a race; Mr. Newman generally allowed the monkey to beat him, and the creature always seemed pleased at his triumph.
“He sat at the table and drank milk and coffee from a cup, and his manners in general were far better than those of most monkeys in captivity.
“Another gibbon that was being carried to England on a steamer would walk the entire length of the saloon table at dinner without breaking or even touching anything upon it, although the table might be covered with glasses and plates and the vessel was rolling heavily. He would start from the foot of the table, walk to the other end to take a glass of wine with the captain, and then return in the same careful manner. The wild gibbons drink by scooping up the water with a single paw, and it requires some patience to teach them to drink from a glass or cup in a human fashion.
“But of all the monkeys in the world,” continued the gentleman, “the most comical is the long-nosed monkey of Borneo; as far as known it has been found nowhere else than in that island. He grows to the size of a large pointer dog, lives in the same forests with the orang-outang, and probably associates with him. He has a funny appearance at any age, but perhaps the funniest when young and the nose has just begun to develop. Its hair grows naturally down the sides of the head as though parted by a comb, it has whiskers but no mustaches, and it has a long tail which starts high enough up the back not to be in the way when the animal sits down.
“The Dyak natives believe that these monkeys are a race of men who have fled to the forest in order to avoid the payment of taxes!”