The organ-grinder and his monkey are two animals well known to us all, and we may have looked at them now and then and asked ourselves which of the two had the best brain. The one spends his time turning a crank and grinding out something that passes for music. His little brother dances about on his nimble legs, holds out his hat for pennies, and chatters away in a language of his own.
We do not understand what he has to say; but neither do we understand a Chinaman or a Frenchman. We say to ourselves that he has been taught his tricks; but so has his master been taught how to use his music-box. No doubt the master learns his art more quickly than the monkey, but then he understands what is told him while his poor little comrade does not, but has to be shown everything he is to do, so this gives the man a great advantage.
Now do not think that I am trying to say that the monkey has as good a brain as the man. All I want to say is that he has a brain that acts in the same way. But it gets to its upper level of thought before it reaches what is a low level in man. The monkey can think as we can, and often shows that he is thinking. So can many other animals, such as the dog and the parrot; but while the monkey looks more like a man than these animals, it also seems to think more like a man.
Have you ever been to the zoo and seen a cage full of monkeys, or seen a cage of them in a travelling menagerie? Lively, cunning, jolly little fellows they are, playing tricks on one another, leaping and climbing, never still for two minutes together, and the most curious of all the animals we know. What does this curiosity mean? Does it not mean that the monkey wants to know, just as we want to know when we show curiosity? And wanting to know is the first step towards getting to know.
Among the many pets kept by man the monkey must be included. We take a fancy to it as if it were a far-off cousin of our own. With its power of walking on its hind legs and using its front legs as arms and its paws as hands, and also often in the shape of its face, it has something very human about it, and there is no animal in which young folks take more delight—and many older folks also.
What many enjoy in it is its love of mischief. There is no trick that it is not up to. At any rate when we hear of boys playing "monkey tricks" they seem to us, in this way, on the same level as the monkey. They would likely play more of them if they had the monkey's nimble ways, for the monkey has the best of the boy in getting out of reach. Many of them can even use their tails to swing on, leaving all their legs free for acts of mischief.
All this is very well in its way, but it stands in the way of keeping the monkey as a pet, for it is apt in the end to become a nuisance. No one knows what it is going to do next. It is as full of tricks as a watermelon is of seeds. As we do not enjoy a boy who is too fond of mischief, so we do not enjoy a monkey. He makes too much trouble. And then he is of no use except as a pet. We can not often put him to work, except in such ways as taking up pennies for an organ-grinder.
It is said that some people in the South are talking of using the monkey to pick cotton. This sounds very nice. No doubt the monkey can be taught to pick cotton, as it has been taught to do many other things. But it is not to be trusted. Any fancy, a bird flying over, a mouse stealing through the cotton field, will be likely to draw it from its task, and if any one tries to punish it for not keeping to its work he cannot be sure but that the little rascal will have revenge in some costly way.
Many stories might be told of monkeys that take revenge on those who treat them badly. One or two of these may be worth telling. There is one story of a gentleman who kept a pet monkey and lived next door to a widow lady who had three boys, all fond of mischief.
These boys were at home from school for the holidays and spent much of their time in teasing the monkey, in such ways as throwing lighted fire-crackers at him and giving him nuts filled with pepper and mustard.
The little sufferer did not forget. When the boys set out on their return to school the monkey watched them from a hiding place till they were well out of the way. Then he crept slyly along the balcony till he came to a window of the widow's house, looked in to see that there was no one about, then went in, found a bottle of ink on the table, and sprinkled the ink widely over the carpet and furniture. He was caught at the trick, handed over to his master, and soundly whipped. But he had his revenge for the nuts and crackers.
Here is a tale of a jealous monkey. His master, who made a great pet of him, belonged to a yacht club and used to take him along when out on a cruise. Every one on board petted him and he felt that he was folks like all the rest and a gentleman of importance.
But the time came when the monkey found his nose out of joint. This time there was a pretty girl on board and the attention that had been given to Master Pug was given to her. She said that she did not like monkeys, so our little friend had to keep in the background, a thing which he did not like at all.
Master Pug waited his chance for revenge on the girl who did not like monkeys. The party on the yacht went ashore to see some caves and he managed to slip into the boat unseen and go with them. Keeping his eye open for chances, he spied a large crab, which he picked up and put against the young lady's heel. In an instant it gripped her with its strong claw and she gave a loud scream of pain. The monkey got a whipping, for some one had seen him in the act, but very likely he felt that he had got even.
Monkeys do not forget easily and will often bear malice for a long time. A lady named Mrs. Lee, when at the zoölogical garden in Paris, saw a big ape in a cage ill treating one of his fellows. To stop him she tapped him smartly on the hands. This the savage creature did not forget nor forgive. Whenever he saw her at later times in the monkey house, or even heard her voice, he would fly into a passion, roll about his cage in rage, and once when she came within reach he seized her gown through the bars of his cage and tore out a piece of it, though it was of strong material.
Shall we tell the story of one that acted in a cruel manner? He was kept tied to a stake in the grounds and the crows of the neighborhood often robbed him of his food. He got the best of the robbers in a way very artful, even for a monkey.
Feeding Monkeys at the Zoölogical Garden
One day he lay on the ground quite still, as if he was dead. The birds came near and picked at his food but the cunning little rascal never stirred. Growing bolder, the crows approached until one of them was within reach. In an instant the monkey made a quick grab and caught the culprit. Holding his prisoner firmly, he pulled out its feathers until not one was left in its naked body. Then he flung it towards its companions, who were screaming with rage and fear. At once, for reasons best known to the crow community, they made a fierce attack on their featherless comrade and pecked it to death. Those who saw this affair say that the delight on the monkey's face, as he saw this, was too great to be described.
The monkey is an animal easy to teach, for it is very ready to do what it sees those around it do. It thus has two qualities very useful in teaching, curiosity and imitation. When it sees anything being done it is apt to watch closely and then try to do the same thing. These qualities we all have. Many of us are curious to see and prompt to do what our teacher does, and in this way the monkey is like man in his thinking powers. It does not wait to be told to do things, but will try to do them itself. This faculty has led to some comical results, as you will think when you read the following stories.
We are told of a retired admiral and his wife who had a monkey as one of their home pets. The admiral had a habit of reading the paper aloud to his wife and would strike it in a testy way when he read something that made him angry. One day his wife, hearing a strange noise in the dining-room, looked in to see what caused it. What she saw was very amusing.
In the arm chair sat master monkey, with the admiral's smoking-cap on his head and the admiral's spectacles on his nose. In his hand was an open newspaper, and this he shook and patted, just as he had seen his master do, jabbering away in a very funny manner to the cat that lay blinking on the hearth. So close was the imitation to the tone and manner of the testy old sea-dog that the lady broke up the performance with a shout of laughter.
A Mrs. Loudan tells us of a case of the same kind, but with a different audience from the cat. It is told of Father Casaubon, a priest, who had a favorite Barbary ape that grew very fond of him and tried to follow him wherever he went. One day, when he set out for church, the ape in some way got loose and followed him unseen. When the church was reached the ape slipped in and climbed up to the sounding-board, where he lay quiet till the sermon began.
While the reverend father spoke, the ape perched itself just above his head and watched his actions, and soon began to imitate the gestures made by him. The congregation could not help smiling and tittering at this. Casaubon scolded them severely for their behavior, suiting his actions to his words, while the monkey imitated all his movements in a very amusing manner.
At this the congregation could not keep still, but broke into a roar of laughter, in which the angry priest joined when its cause was pointed out to him. He took good care that his ape should not attend church again.
These are perhaps enough of this sort of stories, though there are one or two others which you may care to read. One is of a painter who, on going into his studio, saw his pet monkey seated before his nearly finished picture, with brush and painting implements in hand, laying on the colors with a free touch that made bad work of the artist's masterpiece.
A second has to do with an English vicar and his family, who came home to dinner one Sunday after the morning service. On entering the dining room they saw the table-cloth, which had been laid for dinner, spread out smoothly on the floor, with all the plates and dishes, knives and forks, laid upon it in a way that showed how well the lesson had been learned. Beside it sat the pet monkey, with a look of satisfaction that showed it was very proud of its work.
A monkey, in fact, knows very well when it has done a thing as it should be done, and likes to be praised for it. I cannot say that they always get praise, certainly not for jobs like those just told, in which the element of mischief is mixed with that of good work.
But when we talk of the intelligence of animals we must admit that the monkey goes ahead of the dog, cat, or other household pet. Certainly none of these would think of a piece of work like that, laying the table-cloth on the floor and properly placing on it all the table ware.
Many monkeys have such a grave and quiet way of doing things, and look at us with such bright and meaning eyes, that we are brought to think that if they could talk they would have something to say worth hearing. In fact, there are people who think they could talk if they chose. There is the story of the Southern slaves who thought they showed their wit in not talking, since if they did they would have a hoe put in their hands and be set at hoeing.
A traveller, writing about Java, tells us something of the same sort. He speaks of a sultan who had a well trained corps of monkeys and apes. "The orang-outangs and long-armed apes," he says, "had been trained to go through a variety of military exercises; and when one of us expressed surprise at their seeming intelligence the Sultan said gravely: 'They are as really men as you and I, and have the power of speech if they chose to use it. They do not talk because they do not wish to work and be made slaves of.'"
The Malays in all the islands believe this and in their language orang-outang means "man of the woods."
Certainly monkeys can be trained to act very much like men. Mrs. Lee tells us of one that has been taught by a Frenchman to act in a very polite fashion. One day she met this monkey as he was on his way up stairs. He made way for her very politely and stood on one side to let her pass.
"Good morning," she said, and he took off his cap and made a low bow. "Are you going away? Where is your passport?"
At this question he took a square piece of paper out of his cap and showed it to her.
His master, who was following Mrs. Lee, now told him that the lady's dress was dusty. He at once went to the man, took a brush out of his pocket, and raising the hem of Mrs. Lee's dress, brushed it and did the same with her shoes.
But while monkeys can be trained to do some surprising things, they are not all alike. Some can be taught easily and some not at all. Darwin tells us of a man whose work it was to train monkeys to act, and who bought them from the Zoölogical Society for twenty dollars apiece. He offered double the price if he might keep them for three or four days so as to pick out a good one.
When asked how he could tell this in so short a time he said that what he wanted was a monkey that would pay attention. If when he was talking to one he could not keep its attention, but it turned aside to look at a fly on the wall or other trifle, it was of no use. To force such a monkey to act by whipping would only make it sulky. But a monkey that gave him close attention when he was talking or showing it something could always be trained.
A Pair of Midget Donkeys Driven by a Baboon and Groomed by a Monkey
Any one who pays attention can be taught, whether boy, monkey, or dog. As long ago as 1753 this was shown in London in the case of the monkey and the dog. In that year everybody in London was going to see and was talking about "Mrs. Midnight's Animal Comedians." This was a troupe of trained dogs and monkeys who were taught to dance a ballet, dressed as ladies and gentlemen. This they did very neatly and cleverly.
But their great act was when, dressed as soldiers, they took part in a mock battle. A fort was built on the stage which was defended by the monkeys and attacked by the dogs. Everything was done as in regular battle. The dogs carried ladders and tried to climb them and capture the fort. The monkeys, armed with muskets, fired on them and the air was full of smoke and the smell of powder.
After a hard fight the dogs took the fort. Then the monkeys dropped their muskets, the smoke cleared away, and both parties were seen drawn up side by side, waving their hats, while the band played "God save the king."
The stories we have given about monkeys are only a few of the many that might be told, and it is well to give some more to show that monkeys think and act, up to a certain limit, very much as we do ourselves.
But you must bear in mind that there are many kinds of monkeys, some with good and some with bad tempers and some with much better brains than others. When we talk of the house dog and cat, the horse and cow, it must be remembered that each of these is a single species of animal. But when we talk of the monkey we have to do with a whole family of animals, of a great many different species.
Thus there are New World monkeys and Old World monkeys which differ so that we can always tell them apart. One curious thing about the New World monkeys is that they all live in trees and have long tails, which they can use in such a way that they seem to have five legs. They twist their tails firmly around the limbs of trees and swing about, leaving their legs, or arms, free to help them in other ways. There is nothing like this in the Old World monkeys. Some of these have no tails. Others have long tails, but none of them have learned how to use these as ropes to swing on from tree limbs.
All monkeys have thinking powers, which they show in various ways, but the best thinkers among them are those known as man-like monkeys. This is the meaning of the name we give them, that of Anthropoid Apes. They are the highest members of the monkey family, and are like men in a good many ways. They have no tails, are of large size, and can stand and walk upright if they want to—though they do not often want to.
Their arms are longer and their legs shorter than ours are, and they live much in trees, where they have to use both feet and hands in getting about. So, when they come down to the ground they also use their arms to help them get about. They do not walk on four legs in the way of most other animals, nor on two legs in the way of men, but move in a jumping fashion, putting their hands to the ground and jumping through them. This looks like an awkward way of travelling, but they can get over the ground pretty fast, for all that.
A fact of much interest is that the bones, the muscles, and the blood-vessels of these animals are exactly like those of man, except in size. And the same may be said of their brains. These are smaller than a man's brain, but they are very much like it in all other ways. The weak point of these brains lies in their small size. They seem to think in the same way as we do, but they come to the end of their thinking powers when we are just past the beginning.
There are four different kinds of man-like apes, known as the Gorilla, the Orang Outang, the Chimpanzee, and the Gibbon. Of these the first two are large animals, the gorilla being larger and stronger than a man. It is a savage brute, too wild and fierce to be tamed, but this is not the case with the orang, which can easily be tamed and is very teachable.
These two are solitary creatures, living by themselves, but the chimpanzee, which is smaller, is very fond of company, and lives with its fellows in the woods, leaping about among the trees in a very sportive fashion. The gibbons are much smaller than the others, but have very long arms. When they stand erect their hands nearly reach the ground and they may be seen at times walking in the same way as we do, but holding their arms above their heads. If disturbed in any way down come their arms and they run away in the same manner as the other apes.
The gibbons are gentle and easily tamed and have often been kept as pets. They are less intelligent than the others, and it is the chimpanzee and the orang which can best be taught man's ways when kept as man's companions. Many tales could be told of the smart doings of those tamed apes and it will be well to give a few of them.
Buffon, a famous French naturalist, tells us of a tame chimpanzee which always walked on its hind-legs, even when it had a heavy weight to carry. The chimpanzee does not do this in the woods, but this one was in company with man and learned to walk in the same way as man. Buffon goes on to say:
"I have seen this animal present its hand to conduct the company to the door or walk about with them through the room; I have seen it sit at table, unfold its napkin, wipe its lips, make use of a spoon or fork to carry its victuals to its mouth, pour out its drink into a glass, touch glasses when invited, go for its cup and saucer, carry them to the table, pour out its tea, sweeten and leave it to cool, and all this without any other instigation than the signs or commands of its keeper and sometimes even of its own accord. It was gentle and inoffensive; it even approached you with a kind of respect and as if only seeking for caresses."
Captain Brown, the writer of a book on the habits of animals, tells us this interesting story of a trained chimpanzee:
"Madame Grandpré saw on board a vessel a female chimpanzee which showed wonderful proofs of intelligence. She had learned to heat the oven; she took great care not to let any of the coals fall out, which might have done mischief in the ship; and she was very accurate in observing when the oven was heated to the proper degree, of which she apprised the baker. With perfect confidence in her information, he carried his dough to the oven as soon as the chimpanzee came to fetch him.
"The animal performed all the duties of a sailor, spliced ropes, handled the sails, and assisted at unfurling them, and she was, in fact, looked upon by the sailors as one of themselves."
In the end of her life this animal showed what seemed a human feeling and sense of injustice. The first mate beat her cruelly for something in which she was not in fault and the ill-treatment seemed to break her tender heart. She bore the blows with patience, merely holding up her hands as if praying for mercy, but from that moment she refused to take any food and on the fifth day she died from grief and hunger. The sailors would have liked, if they dared, to treat the mate in the same way he had treated the monkey.
It may be said that much of what has been told is the result of training and only shows that the monkey is easily taught. It does things, it is true, which no dog could be taught to do, but it has the advantage of having fingers and thumbs in place of the dog's paws, and also of having learned how to use these in its forest life in much the same way as we use them. A monkey, for instance, can use a stone as a hammer and some of them can throw stones with a very good aim. They can use other tools, as we shall show.
But there is one great difference between the monkeys and the other animals we have spoken of. Many of these can be taught to do things we would not expect of them, but they do not often teach themselves. Now the monkey does not wait to be taught but is constantly trying new tricks and working them out for itself. It is the most curious of animals, always wanting to know how things should be done, and thinking out for itself the right way to do them. We look with wonder on a dog when it does something that it has been taught. Should we not look with more wonder on the monkey when it does things which it has taught itself? I am sure you will enjoy reading some stories in this line.
Reproduced by Permission of the Philadelphia Museums
The Orang Outang in the Hands of His Keeper
Here is one of a tame orang outang told by the French scientist Cuvier. This animal, he says, when it wanted to open the door of a room, used to draw a chair from one end of the room to the other, and stand on it to lift the latch. Another writer speaks of a monkey which, when it wanted to lift the lid of a chest too heavy for it, used a stick as a lever to raise it. That monkeys use stones to break open oyster-shells has often been seen.
Mr. Romanes tells the following story. A large monkey was kept in a wide cage, in the centre of which was a kind of hut in which he slept. Near this hut was an artificial tree, with a branch leading away from the hut. If he wanted to get on this branch he could do so by climbing to the top edge of the hut door. But this door had a bad fashion of swinging shut whenever he pushed it open to climb up. He was seen to try this two or three times, and then to pick up a thick blanket which lay in his cage and throw it over the top of the door so that it could not swing to.
In all these cases the animal thought out for itself the best way of gaining its end. These things were done by chimpanzees and orangs, apes of high class, but Mr. Romanes, in his book on "Animal Intelligence," tells of quite as strange things done by a South American monkey of which such doings could not be expected. This he kept as a pet and watched for many days.
One thing his monkey never liked; that was to be laughed at; any one that did so would be apt to be repaid for his mirth. Mr. Romanes gave him a hammer to break his nuts with, and from the start he knew just how to use it.
"To-day," says Romanes, "a strange person (a dressmaker) came into the room where he is tied up and I gave him a walnut that she might see him break it with his hammer. The nut was a bad one and the woman laughed at his disappointed face. He then became very angry and threw at her everything he could lay hands on; first the nut, then the hammer, then a coffee pot which he seized out of the grate, and lastly all his own shawls. He throws things with great precision by holding them in both hands, and extending his long arms well back over his head before projecting the missile, standing erect the while."
Every day this little fellow did something new and unlooked for, something worked out in his own little brain. When a nut or anything he wanted lay too far away for him to reach it, he being fastened by a chain, he would try to draw it to him with a stick. If he failed in this, he would take his shawl by the two corners, throwing it back over his head and then flinging it forward with all his strength, but not letting go the corners. If it reached far enough to cover the nut, he would draw this in by pulling back the shawl. This is like the story of the elephant that used its trunk to make a wind beyond anything out of its reach, and thus blow it back.
His chain was a constant trouble to him and he tried in every way he could to get rid of it. When it was tied to a ring sunk into the floor, he spent a whole day passing the chain back and forward through the ring, and hammering it with all his strength. He went at it again the next day and this time got the chain so tangled up that he could not loosen it. When his master came to his aid he watched him very closely, sometimes taking hold of his fingers and pulling them to one side that he might see better. He would also look up into his master's face in an intelligent way as if to ask him how he did it. After the chain was loosened he worked at it again for hours, but took care not to twist it into the ring a second time.
Among the many things done by this comical little creature there were two which showed so much monkey wisdom as to be worth telling. His nuts were kept in a trunk which he looked upon as his own property. There were other things kept in the trunk, but if any person opened it to get anything out he grew very angry. It was not on account of the nuts, for he always had plenty of these, but for meddling with his property.
One day, when his chain was broken, he got to the trunk and began picking at the lock with his fingers. His master then gave him the key and for two full hours he tried to unlock the trunk. It was a hard lock to open, being a little out of order, but he found the right way to put the key in and turn it in the lock, every time trying the lid to see if it would come up. Of course, he had seen others use the key and knew how it should be used.
The most remarkable thing done by our smart little friend was the following: One day he got hold of a hearth-brush, one of the kind which has the handle screwed into the brush. In his usual fondness for experiment he at once began on the handle, and soon had it unscrewed and out of the brush. Then he began to try and find the way to screw it in again.
At first he put the wrong end of the handle into the hole and turned it round and round, always the right way for screwing. Then he tried the other end, still always turning only the right way. How he knew the way the screw should turn is a mystery. The work was a hard one, for he had to use both hands on the handle, and the brush, with its bristles, would not lie still. Next he tried holding it with his foot, and even then it was not easy to get the first turn of the screw to take hold. When this was done he turned the handle round and round until it was fully screwed in.
The strange thing was that, in all his efforts, he never tried to turn the handle the wrong way; he always screwed from right to left. The work done, he unscrewed it and screwed it in again, this time more easily. He kept on until he could do it without trouble and then threw it aside for some other amusement.
Here is a case where the animal tried for himself a thing he had never seen done, not for anything to be gained, but simply to find out how to do it. He knew somehow the right from the wrong way, and when he had finished he had no further use for the brush. He had learned that lesson, solved that riddle, and was ready to try something else.
While men like to have the monkey for a pet, the monkey imitates them by having pets of its own. It has a fancy for this and likes to have something or some animal under its care. It may be a doll, a guinea pig, a white rat, or anything to which it takes a fancy. This was the case with a monkey we are told of, which was very fond of nursing.
His fancy in this way brought him to a sad end. Seeing a litter of young pigs, he grew eager to have one of these for a pet. Watching till the mother pig was at the other end of the pen he popped down and seized one of the little grunters. With his prize he leaped to the door of the pig-stye, but it gave way under his weight and he fell back into the jaws of the furious sow, who with one crunch put an end to the pet-lover's career.
Here is another story told by the same party: "A female baboon which I brought up in my family got hold of a kitten with the intention of making a pet of it and mothering it, but was scratched by the scared fondling. The monkey then made a close study of the kitten's paws, pressed the claws forward, looked at them from above, from beneath, and from the side, and then bit them off to save itself from further scratches."
This love of pets on one occasion led to a serious scene. It was in the case of a large baboon kept on a ship on which was a lady passenger with a baby. Not noticing that the baboon had its eye on the little one, the mother laid it down on a bench to look at something which the captain wanted to show her.
In a moment the big monkey had the child in its arms and was running for the rigging, hastened by the mother's scream on seeing the fate of her little one.
Clasping the baby with one arm, the nimble creature ran up to the mast head with the aid of the other, and when the sailors started after it ran to the head of the top mast. By this time the poor mother was being carried to the cabin in a dead faint.
What to do the captain did not know. He called the sailors down, fearing that if they chased the brute it might throw the child into the sea. But when it saw that they had given up the pursuit it set itself to quiet the screaming child, fondling and talking to it in a very motherly way.
The baby by this time was in a terrible state, and the captain, at his wits' end, at length ordered everybody on deck to go below, thinking the monkey might come down if the coast were clear. The plan proved a good one. On seeing that there was no one on deck, the animal descended with its prize and laid it on the bench from which it had been taken. It was soon in its mother's arms and the pet-loving baboon found itself locked up as a punishment for its trick.
Monkeys are often kept on ship board and they are not to be trusted if there is anything they can steal. There were two of them on a British naval ship in the West Indies, a big and a little one, both great favorites. Dressed in uniform, they would march up and down the deck, salute the captain, and imitate the movements of the officer of the watch. But both were thieves, the big one stealing, the little one hiding, and they needed watching.
One day the captain's gold snuff-box was missing. It was known that the monkeys had stolen it, for both of them were taken with a severe fit of sneezing. But no one could find it, until the little one was seen peeping into a middy's chest. Searching this, the box was found below the clothing.
Another theft was made while the ship was at anchor in Kingston harbor, Jamaica. This time it was a bottle of wine, which the big one emptied without leaving a drop for his pal, who sat and looked at him as if he had been very badly treated.
In a few minutes the big thief was reeling about the deck very drunk. He jumped on the bulwarks, and seeing a shark swimming around the ship began a great jabbering and at last jumped overboard, perhaps with some idea of making a pet of the big fish. One snap of the huge jaws and the drunken monkey was no more.
The little one saw this with screams of agony. He could not be consoled for the loss of his mate, and the next day he, too, jumped overboard and was soon in the same place as his dead friend.
What has been said above goes to show that the monkey can think and that it comes next to man in doing its own thinking. It goes to school, no doubt, as boys and girls go to school, but it teaches itself also, as may be seen in the story of the monkey and the brush-handle. But the monkey can not only think, it can also feel, and when we tell of some of its shows of feeling it almost seems as if we were talking about people like ourselves.
Here is a story that has been often told, but is worth telling again. A man in India had shot a female monkey and carried it to his tent. A crowd of friends of the dead animal, forty or fifty of them, soon gathered round the tent, making a great noise and acting as if they were about to make an attack on the sportsman. Only when he came out gun in hand did they run away, as if they well knew the powers of that dreadful weapon.
But the leader of the band stood his ground, chattering away in monkey language. When he found that his fury and his threats did no good, he came to the tent door and began to moan in a sorrowful manner and to make signs as if to beg for the dead body. When it was given to him he took it in his arms and carried it away to his waiting friends. All those who saw this sad scene vowed that they would never again fire at one of the monkey race.
This interesting story is only one among many. One of them has to do with an instance where the horses of a party of travellers were frightened by monkeys in the trees, some of the horses breaking loose. To stop this one of the party fired at the monkeys with a load of small shot to drive them away. One of the monkeys ran down to the lowest branch of the tree, then stopped, put his paw to the part wounded, and held it out covered with blood for the man to see. The sportsman says: "I was so much hurt at the time that it left an impression never to be effaced and I have never since fired a gun at any of the tribe."
A few minutes later a native came in and said that the monkey was dead. They told him to bring it in, but when he went back he found that the other monkeys had carried off their dead comrade and none of them were to be seen.
Here is a case of the same kind, told by Sir William Hoste, an officer in India. It is of a still more affecting kind. We give it as told by a Mr. Jesse.
"One of his officers, coming home after a long day's shooting, saw a female monkey running along the rocks, with her young one in her arms. He immediately fired and the animal fell. On his coming up, she grasped her little one close to her breast, and with her other hand pointed to the wound which the ball had made, and which had entered above her breast. Dipping her finger in the blood, and then holding it up, she seemed to reproach him with being the cause of her death, and in consequence that of the young one, to which she frequently pointed."
When Sir William was told this affecting story he, as in the other cases cited, resolved never to shoot one of these animals as long as he lived.
Is not all this very human-like? The poor things, knowing that men are stronger than they and carry death-dealing weapons, do all they can to make them sorry for their cruelty and accuse them of murder. If they could talk they could not say more than these monkeys did in dumb show.
Monkeys are very fond of and tender to their young. One writer saw an American monkey driving away the flies that troubled her infant, and another saw a mother monkey washing the faces of her young ones in a stream. When their young die the mothers are very apt to die of grief. This we are told by Darwin, who further says: "Orphan monkeys are always adopted and carefully guarded by the other monkeys, both male and female."
An afternoon chat. Observe the close attention of the monkey and its care of its young
They also take care of those that are hurt. One writer tells us that he kept a number of Gibbons in his garden, living in the trees and coming down to be fed. One of them fell from a tree and sadly hurt its wrist. The others at once paid it great attention, and an old female, who was no relation to the crippled animal, fed it every day before eating any food herself. The writer goes on to say: "I have frequently noticed that a cry of fright, pain, or distress from one would bring all the others at once to the complainer, and they would then condole with him and fold him in their arms."
Captain Hugh Crow, in his "Narrative of my Life," tells a story of this kind which goes to show how tender the monkeys are to one another. On board his ship were a number of monkeys, of different kinds and sizes, among them a beautiful little one, only about ten inches long and no larger in body than a common drinking glass.
It was a playful little thing and a great favorite with the other monkeys, who looked on it as the pet of the family, treating it with a kindly feeling which they did not often show for one another. It became sick at length, of a disease that prevailed in the ship, and then their kindness and tenderness were doubled. He says:
"It was truly affecting and interesting to see with what anxiety and tenderness they tended and nursed the little creature. A struggle often ensued among them for priority in these offices of affection, and some would steal one thing and some another which they would carry to it untasted, however tempting it might be to their own palates. Then they would take it up gently in their fore-paws, hug it to their breasts, and cry over it as a fond mother would over her suffering child.
"The little creature seemed sensible of their kind attention, but it was sadly overcome by sickness. It would sometimes come to me and look me pitifully in the face and moan and cry like an infant, as if it besought me to give it relief; and we did everything we could think of to restore it to health; but in spite of the united attention of its kindred tribes and ourselves the interesting little creature did not survive long."
Sir James Malcolm tells us of two monkeys on shipboard, one older and larger than the other. They were not related, but merely friends, but were very fond of each other. One day the small monkey fell overboard. The older one was in a great excitement. It ran to the part of the ship which is called "the bend," held on to the side of the vessel with one hand, and dropped down to the other the end of a cord with which it had been tied up and which was fastened round its waist. Every one looked on with surprise at this display of monkey wit, but the cord was too short and the little one swept by. It is pleasant, however, to be able to say that it was saved by a sailor, who threw it a longer rope, which it seized and was drawn on board.
The monkey becomes as fond of its human friends as it is of those of its own race. Often it does not like certain people, and has its own way of showing this, but there are others whom it seems to love warmly. This faculty does not belong only to monkeys, but may be seen in dogs and other animals. But it is often strongly shown by the monkey.
Darwin tells of a keeper in the London Zoölogical Garden, who one day was attacked by a savage baboon. In the cage was a little American monkey, a great friend of the keeper, but very much afraid of the great baboon. But when the poor little thing saw its friend in peril it sprang at once to the rescue and by screams and bites so distracted the baboon that the keeper was able to escape. The little monkey quite forgot its fear of the fierce beast when it saw its friend in danger.
We rarely think what depth of feeling such an animal as the monkey may have. There are cases in which none of ourselves could show greater feeling. Here is a case in point.
On board a war-vessel that was going to Persia was a pet monkey of the captain, a gentle, kindly little creature that was made much of by every one on the ship. But like all of its kind it was not free from love of mischief. There was a goat kept on board to supply milk for the use of a government official on the ship. One morning it was found that the monkey had tied the goat to the tackle of a gun and milked it into the stiff hat of a marine.
The little culprit was caught in the act and taken to the captain, who to punish it gave orders that no one on board should take notice of it for a week. The loving little thing did not know what to make of this. It went about from friend to friend, looking up to them wistfully, but not getting a word or a kind look from any of them. It put on its most coaxing airs, but all in vain. For two days it bore this, but on the morning of the third, finding that it was still in disgrace, its tender heart was quite broken. It sprang on the bulwarks, put its hands over its head, gave one pitiful cry and leaped into the sea. It was seen no more.
To be fond of mischief and of playing jokes is a common trait in monkeys as it is in boys. This likeness is shown by the tricks of boys being called "Monkey tricks." Perhaps they would not play them if they knew that they were putting themselves on the level of the monkey. Stories of this tendency are common enough. Here is one told of a young chimpanzee who bore the familiar name of Tommy, and who lived in a cage in the Zoölogical Garden of London.
Master Tommy did not at all approve of tricks that were played upon himself, though he was very fond of playing them on others. Thus one day when a carpenter had to enter his cage to make some changes the little joker was in his element. He played all kinds of tricks on the workman, such as pulling his hair, snatching off his paper cap, stealing his tools, and even trying to trip him up. All the time he put on an air of innocence and only came up when he thought he was not seen. The moment the joke was played he retreated to the other end of the cage, where he seemed very much interested in something else.
In the end, when the carpenter had his back to him, Master Tommy could not resist the temptation, but sprang on the man's shoulders and gave him such a sound box on the ears that the keeper, who had been enjoying the fun, had to interfere and make the little rascal behave himself.
On another occasion Tommy in some way got a small dog into his cage, and had the time of his life with the little victim. He pulled its ears and tail till the dog lost its temper and began to show its teeth. At this Master Tommy pretended to be very indignant, and lifted his hand in a threatening way, as if to chastise doggie for his impudence. He would do the same with children if he got a chance, pulling their hair or clothes or scratching them.
In fact, he was a little imp of mischief, yet had been taught to be very neat and nice in his habits, to pick his teeth, clean his nails, and do other acts supposed to belong to the human race. Like man also he could walk erect, jump on his hind feet and dance in the stamping fashion of a child a few years old, though with greater force.
We must close our stories of monkey wit and wisdom with one that comes from South Africa, of a monkey that acted as signal man on a railroad. This is the story, as told in Chambers' Journal.
"We had a remarkably intelligent baboon here a few years ago. He was a giant of his species. His master and trainer had the misfortune to have both his legs cut off in a railway accident, and on his leaving the hospital the Cape government gave him a berth as signal man. He taught this baboon not only to work the signals, but to place the wheels of a little trolley on the line, and then the bed on the wheels. His master would then seat himself on the trolley and Jocko would push him along to his house, about two hundred yards down the line. He would then detach the pieces of the trolley and clear them off the line. He would also lock the door of the signal-box and take the key to his master."