Chapter XIII (4)

“Prudence and resolution ought to be the traveller’s constant companions. The first will cause him to avoid a number of snares which he will find in the path as he journeys on; and the second will always lend a hand to assist him if he has unavoidably got entangled in them. The little distinctions which have been shown him at his own home ought to be forgotten when he travels over the world at large; for strangers know nothing of his former merits, and it is necessary that they should witness them before they pay him the tribute which he was wont to receive within his own doors. Thus, to be kind and affable to those we meet, to mix in their amusements, to pay a compliment or two to their manners and customs, to respect their elders, to give a little to their distressed and needy, and to feel, as it were, at home amongst them, is the sure way to enable you to pass merrily on, and to find other comforts as sweet and palatable as those which you were accustomed to partake of amongst your friends and acquaintance in your native land. We will now ascend in fancy on Icarian wing, and take a view of Guiana in general. See an immense plain! betwixt two of the largest rivers in the world, level as a bowling-green, save at Cayenne, and covered with trees along the coast quite to the Atlantic wave, except where the plantations make a little vacancy amongst the foliage.

“Though nearly in the centre of the torrid zone, the sun’s rays are not so intolerable as might be imagined, on account of the perpetual verdure and refreshing north-east breeze. See what numbers of broad and rapid rivers intersect it in their journey to the ocean, and that not a stone or a pebble is to be found on their banks, or in any part of the country, till your eye catches the hills in the interior. How beautiful and magnificent are the lakes in the heart of the forests, and how charming the forests themselves, for miles after miles on each side of the rivers! How extensive appear the savannas or natural meadows, teeming with innumerable herds of cattle where the Portuguese and Spaniards are settled, but desert as Saara where the English and Dutch claim dominion! How gradually the face of the country rises! See the sand-hills all clothed in wood first emerging from the level, then hills a little higher, rugged with bold and craggy rocks, peeping out from amongst the most luxuriant timber. Then come plains, and dells, and far-extending valleys, arrayed in richest foliage; and beyond them, mountains piled on mountains, some bearing prodigious forests, others of bleak and barren aspect. Thus your eye wanders on, over scenes of varied loveliness and grandeur, till it rests on the stupendous pinnacles of the long-continued Cordilleras de los Andes, which rise in towering majesty, and command all America.

“How fertile must the lowlands be, from the accumulation of fallen leaves and trees for centuries! How propitious the swamps and slimy beds of the rivers, heated by a downward sun, to the amazing growth of alligators, serpents, and innumerable insects! How inviting the forests to the feathered tribes, where you see buds, blossoms, green and ripe fruit, full-grown and fading leaves, all on the same tree! How secure the wild beasts may rove in endless mazes! Perhaps those mountains, too, which appear so bleak and naked, as if quite neglected, are, like Potosi, full of precious metals.”

Sagely and befitting an instructor, he gives excellent advice upon many points, very necessary to be known of those who are engaged in seeing the face of the earth. “I would here, gentle reader, wish to draw thy attention, for a few minutes, to physic, raiment, and diet. Shouldst thou ever wander through these remote and dreary wilds, forget not to carry with thee bark, laudanum, calomel, and jalap, and the lancet. There are no druggist shops here, nor sons of Galen to apply to in time of need. I never go encumbered with many clothes. A thin flannel waistcoat under a check shirt, a pair of trousers, and a hat, were all my wardrobe; shoes and stockings I seldom had on. In dry weather they would have irritated the feet, and retarded me in the chase of wild beasts; and in the rainy season they would have kept me in a perpetual state of damp and moisture. I eat moderately, and never drink wine, spirits, or fermented liquors in any climate. This abstemiousness has ever proved a faithful friend; it carried me triumphant through the epidemia at Malaga, where death made such havoc about the beginning of the present century; and it has since befriended me in many a fit of sickness, brought on by exposure to the noon-day sun, to the dews of night, to the pelting shower, and unwholesome food.

“Perhaps it will be as well, here, to mention a fever which came on, and the treatment of it; it may possibly be of use to thee, shouldst thou turn wanderer in the tropics: a word or two also of a wound I got in the forest, and then we will say no more of the little accidents which sometimes occur, and attend solely to natural history. We shall have an opportunity of seeing the wild animals in their native haunts, undisturbed and unbroken in upon by men. We shall have time and leisure to look more closely at them, and probably rectify some errors which, for want of proper information, or a near observance, have crept into their several histories.

“It was in the month of June, when the sun was within a few days of Cancer, that I had a severe attack of fever. There had been a deluge of rain, accompanied with tremendous thunder and lightning, and very little sun. Nothing could exceed the dampness of the atmosphere. For two or three days I had been in a kind of twilight state of health, neither ill nor what you may call well; I yawned and felt weary without exercise, and my sleep was merely slumber. This was the time to have taken medicine; but I neglected to do so, though I had just been reading, ‘O navis referent in mare te novi fluctus, O quid agis? fortiter occupa portum.’ I awoke at midnight; a cruel headache, thirst, and pain in the small of the back, informed me what the case was. Had Chiron himself been present, he could not have told me more distinctly that I was going to have a tight brush of it, and that I ought to meet it with becoming fortitude. I dozed, and woke, and startled, and then dozed again, and suddenly awoke, thinking I was falling down a precipice.

“The return of the bats to their diurnal retreat, which was in the thatch above my hammock, informed me that the sun was now fast approaching to the eastern horizon. I arose, in languor and in pain, the pulse at one hundred and twenty. I took ten grains of calomel and a scruple of jalap, and drank during the day large draughts of tea, weak and warm. The physic did its duty; but there was no remission of fever or headache, though the pain of the back was less acute. I was saved the trouble of keeping the room cool, as the wind beat in at every quarter.

“At five in the evening the pulse had risen to one hundred and thirty, and the headache almost insupportable, especially on looking to the right or left. I now opened a vein, and made a large orifice, to allow the blood to rush out rapidly; I closed it after losing sixteen ounces. I then steeped my feet in warm water, and got into the hammock. After bleeding, the pulse fell to ninety, and the head was much relieved; but during the night, which was very restless, the pulse rose again to one hundred and twenty, and at times the headache was distressing. I relieved the headache from time to time, by applying cold water to the temples, and holding a wet handkerchief there. The next morning the fever ran very high, and I took five more grains of calomel and ten of jalap, determined, whatever might be the case, this should be the last dose of calomel. About two o’clock in the afternoon the fever remitted, and a copious perspiration came on; there was no more headache, nor thirst, nor pain in the back, and the following night was comparatively a good one. The next morning I swallowed a large dose of castor oil: it was genuine, for Louisa Backer had made it from the seeds of the trees which grew near the door. I was now entirely free from all symptoms of fever, or apprehensions of a return; and the morning after I began to take bark, and continued it for a fortnight. This put all to rights.

“The story of the wound I got in the forest, and the mode of cure, are very short. I had pursued a red-headed woodpecker for above a mile in the forest, without being able to get a shot at it. Thinking more of the woodpecker, as I ran along, than of the way before me, I trod upon a little hardwood stump, which was just about an inch or so above the ground; it entered the hollow part of my foot, making a deep and lacerated wound there. It had brought me to the ground, and there I lay till a transitory fit of sickness went off. I allowed it to bleed freely, and on reaching head-quarters washed it well and probed it, to feel if any foreign body was left within it. Being satisfied that there was none, I brought the edges of the wound together, and then put a piece of lint on it, and over that a very large poultice, which was changed morning, noon, and night. Luckily, Backer had a cow or two upon the hill; now, as heat and moisture are the two principal virtues of a poultice, nothing could produce those two qualities better than fresh cow-dung boiled: had there been no cows there, I could have made it with boiled grass and leaves. I now took entirely to the hammock, placing the foot higher than the knee; this prevented it from throbbing, and was, indeed, the only position in which I could be at ease. When the inflammation was completely subdued I applied a wet cloth to the wound, and every now and then steeped the foot in cold water during the day, and at night again applied a poultice. The wound was now healing fast, and in three weeks from the time of the accident nothing but a scar remained; so that I again sallied forth sound and joyful, and said to myself—

“‘I, pedes quo te rapiunt et auræ
Dum favet sol, et locus, i secundo
Omine, et conto latebras, ut olim,
Rumpe ferarum.’

Now, this contus was a tough light pole, eight feet long, on the end of which was fixed an old bayonet. I never went into the canoe without it; it was of great use in starting the beasts and snakes out of the hollow trees, and in case of need, was an excellent defence.”

In some parts of the Guiana forests Mr. Waterton saw the Vanilla growing luxuriantly. It creeps up the trees to the height of thirty or forty feet. He found it difficult to get a ripe pod, as the monkeys are very fond of it, and generally take care to get them before the traveller could. The pod hangs from the tree in the shape of a little scabbard. Vayna is the Spanish for scabbard, and Vanilla for little scabbard. Hence the name.

In his fourth journey to South America, he has something more to say regarding the sloth, and it is worth listening to:—“Here,” in Demerara, “I had a fine opportunity once more of examining the three-toed sloth. He was in the house with me for a day or two. Had I taken a description of him as he lay sprawling on the floor, I should have misled the world, and injured natural history. On the ground he appeared really a bungled composition, and faulty at all points; awkwardness and misery were depicted on his countenance; and when I made him advance he sighed as though in pain. Perhaps it was that by seeing him thus, out of his element as it were, that the Count de Buffon, in his history of the sloth, asks the question—‘Why should not some animals be created for misery, since, in the human species, the greatest number of individuals are devoted to pain from the moment of their existence?’ Were the question put to me, I would answer, I cannot conceive that any of them are created for misery. That thousands live in misery there can be no doubt; but then, misery has overtaken them in their path through life, and wherever man has come up with them, I should suppose they have seldom escaped from experiencing a certain proportion of misery.

“After fully satisfying myself that it only leads the world into error to describe the sloth while he is on the ground, or in any place except in a tree, I carried the one I had in my possession to his native haunts. As soon as he came in contact with the branch of a tree, all went right with him. I could see, as he climbed up into his own country, that he was on the right road to happiness; and felt persuaded more than ever that the world has hitherto erred in its conjectures concerning the sloth, on account of naturalists not having given a description of him when he was in the only position in which he ought to have been described, namely, clinging to the branch of a tree.”

The vampires also come in for further notice. He says that “independent of the hollow trees, the vampires have another hiding-place. They clear out the inside of the large ants’ nests, and then take possession of the shell. I had gone about half a day down the river, to a part of the forest where the wallaba-trees were in great plenty. The seeds had ripened, and I was in hopes to have got the large scarlet ara, which feeds on them. But, unfortunately, the time had passed away, and the seeds had fallen.

“While ranging here in the forest, we stopped under an ants’ nest; and, by the dirt below, conjectured that it had got new tenants. Thinking it no harm to dislodge them, ‘vi et armis,’ an Indian boy ascended the tree; but, before he reached the nest, out flew above a dozen vampires.

“I have formerly remarked that I wished to have it in my power to say, that I had been sucked by the vampire. I gave them many an opportunity, but they always fought shy; and though they now sucked a young man of the Indian breed very severely, as he was sleeping in his hammock in the shed next to mine, they would have nothing to do with me. His great toe seemed to have all the attractions. I examined it minutely as he was bathing it in the river at daybreak. The midnight surgeon had made a hole in it, almost of a triangular shape, and the blood was then running from it apace. His hammock was so defiled and stained with clotted blood, that he was obliged to beg an old black woman to wash it. As she was taking it down to the river side, she spread it out before me, and shook her head. I remarked, that I supposed her own toe was too old and tough to invite the vampire-doctor to get his supper out of it; and she answered, with a grin, that doctors generally preferred young people.

“Nobody has yet been able to inform me how it is that the vampire manages to draw such a large quantity of blood, generally from the toe; and the patient, all the time, remains in a profound sleep. I have never heard of an instance of a man waking under the operation. On the contrary, he continues in a sound sleep, and at the time of rising, his eyes first inform him that there has been a thirsty thief on his toe.

“The teeth of the vampire are very sharp, and not unlike those of a rat. If it be that he inflicts the wound with his teeth (and he seems to have no other instruments), one would suppose that the acuteness of the pain would cause the person who is sucked to awake. We are in darkness in this matter; and I know of no means by which one might be enabled to throw light upon it. It is to be hoped that some future wanderer through the wilds of Guiana will be more fortunate than I have been, and catch this nocturnal depredator in the fact. I have once before mentioned that I killed a vampire which measured thirty-two inches from wing to wing extended; but others, which I have since examined, have generally been from twenty to twenty-six inches in dimension.”

Mr. Waterton corrects a common mistake as to the statements concerning the imitative actions of monkeys in casting back at men fruit and sticks in return for being pelted with stones. He believes that “travellers have erred in asserting that the monkeys of South America throw sticks and fruit at their pursuers. I have had fine opportunities of narrowly watching the different species of monkeys which are found in the wilds, betwixt the Amazons and the Oroonoque. I entirely acquit them of acting on the offensive. When the monkeys are in the high trees over your head, the dead branches will now and then fall down upon you, having been broken off as the monkeys pass along them; but they are never hurled from their hands.

“Monkeys, commonly so called, both in the old and new continent, may be classed into three grand divisions—namely, the ape, which has no tail whatever; the baboon, which has only a short tail; and the monkey, which has a long tail. There are no apes and no baboons as yet discovered in the New World. Its monkeys may be very well and very briefly ranged under two heads—namely, those with hairy and bushy tails, and those whose tails are bare of hair underneath, about six inches from the extremity. Those with hairy and bushy tails climb just like the squirrel, and make no use of the tail to help them from branch to branch. Those which have the tail bare underneath towards the end find it of infinite advantage to them in their ascent and descent. They apply it to the branch of the tree, as though it were a supple finger, and frequently swing by it from the branch like the pendulum of a clock. It answers all the purposes of a fifth hand to the monkey, as naturalists have already observed.

“The large red monkey of Demerara is not a baboon, though it goes by that name, having a long prensile tail.[2] Nothing can sound more dreadful than its nocturnal howlings. While lying in your hammock in these gloomy and immeasurable wilds, you hear him howling at intervals, from eleven o’clock at night till daybreak. You would suppose that half the wild beasts of the forest were collecting for the work of carnage. Now it is the tremendous roar of the jaguar, as he springs on his prey; now it changes to his terrible and deep-toned growlings, as he is pressed on all sides by superior force; and now you hear his last dying moan, beneath a mortal wound.

[2] I believe _prensile_ is a new-coined word. I have seen it,
but do not remember where.

“Some naturalists have supposed that these awful sounds, which you would fancy are those of enraged and dying wild beasts, proceed from a number of the red monkeys howling in concert. One of them alone is capable of producing all these sounds; and the anatomist, on an inspection of the trachea, will be fully satisfied that this is the case. When you look at him, as he is sitting on the branch of a tree, you will see a lump in his throat the size of a large hen’s egg. In dark and cloudy weather, and just before a squall of rain, this monkey will often howl in the daytime; and if you advance cautiously, and get under the high and tufted tree where he is sitting, you may have a capital opportunity of witnessing his wonderful powers of producing these dreadful and discordant sounds.

“His flesh is good food; but when skinned his appearance is so like that of a young one of our own species, that a delicate stomach might possibly revolt at the idea of putting a knife and fork into it. However, I can affirm, from experience, that after a long and dreary march through these remote forests, the flesh of this monkey is not to be sneezed at, when boiled in Cayenne pepper, or roasted on a stick over a good fire. A young one tastes not unlike kid, and the old ones have somewhat the flavour of he-goat.

“I mentioned, in a former adventure, that I had hit upon an entirely new plan of making the skins of quadrupeds retain their exact form and feature. Intense application to the subject has, since that period, enabled me to shorten the process, and hit the character of an animal to a very great nicety, even to the preservation of the pouting lip, dimples, warts, and wrinkles on the face. I got a fine specimen of the howling monkey, and took some pains with it, in order to show the immense difference that exists betwixt the features of this monkey and those of man.

“I also procured an animal which has caused not a little speculation and astonishment. In my opinion, his thick coat of hair, and great length of tail, put his species out of all question; but then, his face and head cause the inspector to pause for a moment, before he ventures to pronounce his opinion of the classification. He was a large animal, and as I was pressed for daylight, and, moreover, felt no inclination to have the whole weight of his body upon my back, I contented myself with his head and shoulders, which I cut off, and have brought them with me to Europe. I have since found that I acted quite right in doing so, having had enough to answer for. The head alone, without saying anything of his hands and feet, and of his tail, which is an appendage, Lord Kames asserts, belongs to us.

“The features of this animal are quite of the Grecian cast; and he has a placidity of countenance which shows that things went well with him when in life. Some gentlemen of great skill and talent, on inspecting his head, were convinced that the whole series of its features has been changed. Others again have hesitated, and betrayed doubts, not being able to make up their minds whether it be possible that the brute features of the monkey can be changed into the noble countenance of man.—‘Scinditur vulgus.’ One might argue at considerable length on this novel subject, and perhaps, after all, produce little more than prolix pedantry. ‘Vox et præterea nihil.’

“Indian-rubber belongs to the tree-world, and if ever there should be a great demand for large supplies of gum-elastic, commonly called Indian-rubber, it may be procured in abundance far away in the wilds of Demerara and Essequibo.

“Some years ago, when I was in the Macoushi country, there was a capital trick played upon me about Indian-rubber. It is almost too good to be left out of these Wanderings, and it shows that the wild and uneducated Indian is not without abilities. Weary and sick, and feeble through loss of blood, I arrived at some Indian huts, which were about two hours distant from the place were the gum-elastic trees grew. After a day and a night’s rest, I went to them, and with my own hands made a fine ball of pure Indian-rubber; it hardened immediately as it became exposed to the air, and its elasticity was almost incredible.

“While procuring it, exposure to the rain, which fell in torrents, brought on a return of inflammation in the stomach, and I was obliged to have recourse again to the lancet, and to use it with an unsparing hand. I wanted another ball, but was not in a fit state the next morning to proceed to the trees. A fine interesting young Indian, observing my eagerness to have it, tendered his services, and asked two handfuls of fish-hooks for his trouble.

“Off he went, and, to my great surprise, returned in a very short time. Bearing in mind the trouble and time it had cost me to make a ball, I could account for this Indian’s expedition in no other way except that, being an inhabitant of the forest, he knew how to go about his work in a much shorter way than I did. His ball, to be sure, had very little elasticity in it. I tried it repeatedly, but it never rebounded a yard high. The young Indian watched me with great gravity; and when I made him understand that I expected the ball would dance better, he called another Indian, who knew a little English, to assure me that I might be quite easy on that score. The young rogue, in order to render me a complete dupe, brought the new moon to his aid. He gave me to understand that the ball was like the little moon, which he pointed to, and by the time it grew big and old the ball would bounce beautifully. This satisfied me, and I gave him the fish-hooks, which he received without the least change of countenance.

“I bounced the ball repeatedly for two months after, but I found that it still remained in its infancy. At last I suspected that the savage (to use a vulgar phrase) had come Yorkshire over me, and so I determined to find out how he had managed to take me in. I cut the ball in two, and then saw what a taut trick he had played me. It seems he had chewed some leaves into a lump, the size of a walnut, and then dipped them into the liquid gum-elastic. It immediately received a coat about as thick as a sixpence. He then rolled some more leaves round it, and gave it another coat. He seems to have continued this process till he had made the ball considerably larger than the one I had procured; and, in order to put his roguery out of all chance of detection, he made the last and outer coat thicker than a dollar. This Indian would, no doubt, have thriven well in some of our great towns.”

THE MONKEY AMONGST MEN, OR THE HOUSE IN REGENT’S PARK.

THE MONKEY AMONGST MEN, OR THE HOUSE IN REGENT’S PARK.

OLD WORLD MONKEYS.

The Monkey House is always a favoured resort with those who visit the Zoological Gardens, and, in spite of its somewhat close atmosphere and very disagreeable odour, one of the most attractive spots in the institution. As the number of species is very considerable, it will be impossible to condense the needful information into the limits of a single paper. I purpose, therefore, to separate the subject into two divisions, namely, the Monkeys of the Old and New Worlds. This is not merely an arbitrary classification to suit the present purpose, but is founded upon important differences of structure, which will be mentioned when we arrive at the history of the New World Monkeys.

* * * * *

The young observer is probably aware that the apes, monkeys, and baboons are distinguished from all other animals by the structure of their limbs. They have no feet suited for progression on a level surface, but are furnished with four quasi-hands, enabling them to cling to the branches, among which is their chief residence. In consequence of this structure, they are totally unable to walk properly, or even to stand upright, their knees being always bent, and their fore hands ready to act as feet. Indeed, I have seen many a man walk better on his hands than any monkey on its feet.

Many writers have laid much stress on the hand-like form of the fore paws, and founded upon that structure a theory that the Quadrumana bear some relation to mankind. The opposable thumb is the chief characteristic upon which these writers insist for the support of their theory. Now, if we examine the fore and hind paws of any monkey, we shall find that in the fore paws the thumb, although it can be opposed to the fingers, is a very small and undeveloped member, scarcely visible in some species, and entirely absent in others. It is not used for the many delicate purposes to which the human thumb is applied, nor does it aid in the grasp of the branches. On the contrary, when the monkey seizes a branch, the thumb lies by the side of the fingers, and is unemployed until the animal is at rest.

Now look at the hind paws. It is true that the thumb is very large and opposable, and that it can grasp very tightly; but there its mission ends. It is essentially a grasping member, like the foot of the parrot, or any other scansorial bird, and is used for that purpose alone. It has not the slightest claim to be elevated to the rank of a hand, and is, in common with the fore paw, nothing more or less than an arboreal foot.

Before leaving the subject, I must briefly mention that the head is not set on the neck like that of man. The hole through which the spinal cord passes into the brain is set so far back upon the skull that the muzzle is thrown downwards; and, like all other animals, the monkey is incapable of assuming the erect aspect of man.

* * * * *

The great apes, such as the Orang-outan and the Chimpanzee, have unfortunately died. We should also observe that, as it is some years since the Rev. J. G. Wood wrote these papers, the _personnel_ of the cages will have changed. We pass, therefore, onwards to that group of pretty, long-tailed monkeys that are ranked under the genus Cercopithecus, a name which I do not translate, because your Greek Lexicons will explain its meaning. They are all natives of Africa, and extremely plentiful in different parts of that vast continent, so that they are frequently brought to England, and may be seen in menageries, accompanying barrel-organs, or even domesticated as pets in private houses.

Several species of one genus are often placed in the same cage, so that, in order to distinguish them, it will be necessary to examine their form and colour with care, and then to compare the animal with the description.

* * * * *

Our first example is the Mona (_Cercopithecus Mona_), a native of Western Africa. This monkey is brown, with darkish limbs, and a dark band across the forehead, and there is a light spot upon each side of the tail. At present here is only one specimen of this monkey. It is a pretty little creature—that is, if we can call any monkey pretty—and is not more mischievous than the generality of these creatures, while it is, perhaps, a little more endurable.

So much, however, depends upon the management of the animal, that the conduct of any isolated individual forms no guide to the character of the species. I have now before me two printed accounts of the Mona, in one of which it is said to be mischievous, malicious, passionate, and disobedient, while in the other its character is stated to be mild, affectionate, and docile. But these accounts are founded on the conduct of living specimens, and the conclusion which I deduce from them is, that the owner of the first-mentioned animal was unsympathetic and hasty-tempered, while the possessor of the second was fond of the little creature under his care, and behaved kindly to it.

I do not particularly recommend a monkey as a pet, because the animal requires great attention in this climate, and, unless its habitation be kept most scrupulously clean, the odour which it exhales is positively horrible. See, for example, how beautifully clean are the cages in the Zoological Gardens, and yet how very unpleasant is their odour. If, therefore, a monkey should be presented to any reader of this book, I strongly recommend him to transfer it to some public institution.

Some lads, however, are monkey-mad, and would prefer to keep the animal. If they should by any chance do so, let them give the animal plenty of space wherein it may exercise its active limbs, and, above all things, keep it in a warm room during cold or wet weather. In this climate the monkeys generally die from diseased lungs, and they must accordingly be shielded from draughts and moisture.

* * * * *

For our next examples we must pass under the tunnel, and visit the room in which those wonderful Spider Monkeys are placed. In a moderately-sized cage are several specimens of two closely-allied species, which may be easily distinguished by attending to the descriptions.

The first of these creatures is the Moustache Monkey (_Cercopithecus Cephus_). It is a very little and a very elegant monkey, looking quite brilliant with its yellow tufts on the side of its face, and its blue skin. In the same cage are some specimens of the Red-eared Monkey (_Cercopithecus erythrotis_), also with yellow tufts on the side of the face. They can, however, be at once distinguished from the last-mentioned species by the colour of the bare skin on the face, which is pink instead of blue. The long tail, moreover, is of a bright chestnut hue, darkening towards the tip. This species comes from Fernando Po, a little island on the western coast of Africa, in the Bight of Biafra, where the lover of animals finds abundantly birds, beasts, and fishes. Both these little creatures are meek, gentle, and somewhat timid. They do not, however, seem to present any salient point worthy of particular mention. One little fellow is very conspicuous among its companions by the sable tintings of its fur, and its white eyebrows. This is the Pluto Monkey (_Cercopithecus Pluto_), so called because its dark and sombre hues are thought to be emblematical of the gloomy King of Orcus.

Closely allied to these monkeys are the Mangabeys, several specimens of which are in the Zoological Gardens. Two species may be seen in the same cage in the Monkey House, and very funny creatures they are.

Of these two animals, the Lunulated Monkey is, perhaps, the greatest favourite with the public, not because it is more engaging in its manners, but on account of its petulance and the quaint manner in which it shows its displeasure.

It takes offence very readily, and, like certain irritable human beings, always thinks that some one is ridiculing it, and straightway flies into a passion. It dashes at its supposed foe, squeaks with rage, grins furiously, showing all its teeth, and agitates its eyebrows violently, producing a most absurd effect, as the skin of that part of the face is nearly white, and its alternate display and concealment never fail to raise much merriment among the spectators. This, of course, only irritates the monkey still further, and those who happen to be standing in front of the cage will act wisely by holding themselves well aloof, for the monkey darts its hand between the bars with wonderful rapidity, and will tear a piece out of a lady’s dress, or sadly injure a coat-skirt, before the keeper can interfere.

Even when no one is attempting to irritate it, the creature utters a few occasional growls, as if to give warning that it does not mean to be offended without taking notice of the insult. The colour of this monkey can be very well imitated by diluted lampblack, and the creature can always be recognised by the white eyelids. Both these monkeys come from Western Africa.

Of the genus Macacus there are several examples. There are no less than seven specimens of the Bonnet Macaque (_Macacus pileatus_), a monkey that may be recognised by the manner in which the hair of the head is parted in the middle, after the fashion of the modern dandy. The general tint of the fur is pale brown, but that of the head is black—a peculiarity which has earned for the creature its popular name. These monkeys are funny little fellows, with a peculiar wistful, peering expression in their faces, which I do not remember to have noticed in any other species. They are fond of gathering together in the window, selecting the spot where the sunbeams fall; and there they squat all in a group, so closely pressed together that no separate bodies can be distinguished, and they seem to be little more than a large bunch of fur, from which a number of heads and tails protrude confusedly.

The Round-faced Macaque (_Macacus cyclopis_) deserves a passing notice. It is a stout, sturdy little creature, with rather short limbs in proportion to the size of its body, a bold, pinky face, and fur of a sooty brown colour. Though strong and muscular, and climbing with wonderful address, it is hardly so active as the more slenderly-made monkeys; and when it leaps from a small height to the ground it comes down with a thump and a flounce, as if the limbs were not accustomed to such exertion. It is a native of Formosa.

I regret to say that the Pig-tailed Macaques (_Macacus nemestrinus_) are dead. They were, perhaps, the most amusing denizens of the Monkey House, with unrivalled capabilities of planning and executing mischief, and always having so comical an air about them that even the sufferer from their misdeeds could not be angry with them. I hope that new specimens will arrive, when they may be recognised by the peculiarity from which they derive their name, their slender, short tails bearing a singular resemblance to the caudal extremities of the porcine tribe.

There are two specimens of the Toque (_Macacus radiatus_), odd little creatures, which look just as if they had been crying. One looks as if it had been drinking as well, for its face is quite red and flushed. They are not quite so strong-jawed as some of the species, and, therefore, prefer buns to nuts, the shells being often too hard for them. This species is sometimes called the Zati, and sometimes is described under the name of Capped Macaque. It is a native of India. The common Macaque (_Macacus cynomolgus_) is also represented by several specimens. The colour of its fur is greenish brown above, and yellowish or whitish below. All the species of this genus bear a great resemblance to each other, and the young naturalist will find that the task of distinguishing them is at the same time difficult and instructive.

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The Rhesus is a lively and amusing animal. There are no less than ten specimens of this monkey in the establishment, one of which, a remarkably fine fellow, called Jumbo by the keeper, is in the habit of displaying some very singular antics.

He climbs upon a strong bar that crosses his cage, and, fixing his hands tightly, jumps up and down rapidly with his hind paws, bringing them down on the bar with a mighty thump, and shaking the whole place with the violence of his exertions. The keepers have their pet names for all the conspicuous monkeys. Jumbo is the largest of them, and next in order come Jim and Nancy. Nancy is not permitted to associate with the other monkeys, because she has a baby, and her companions would assuredly tease and worry both the mother and her child.

By special favour the reader may, perhaps, be permitted to see this interesting pair of animals, and it is pretty to watch the care which the parent takes of her offspring, and the extreme jealousy with which she regards the least movement of the spectator. She flies forward with grinning teeth and flashing eyes, shakes the bars of her cage violently, and chatters her wrathful defiance to the imagined enemy. The little one is in its way quite as shy, and whenever it takes alarm it leaps at its mother, clasps her round the neck and waist with its hands and feet, and lies, not on her back, as artists so frequently misrepresent, but under her belly, pressed so tightly to her body and buried so deeply in her fur, that at a little distance it cannot be distinguished. The rapidity of the movement is really astonishing. There is a quick spring, and in an instant the little creature is snugly settled in its natural cradle.

The baby looks ten times as old as the mother. Its face is puckered into a hundred wrinkles, and its skin hangs loose and flabby on its cheeks.

While I was watching this interesting pair, both mother and child became actuated by a common emotion. Their eyes sparkled with excitement; they glared anxiously through the bars of the cage, and they chattered with eager expectation. The keeper had put his hand into the pocket where he kept his apples, and the monkeys had seen the movement. The desired fruit was cut and given to the expecting animals, and then, I regret to say, the mother monkey displayed a more unamiable character than I should have thought her capable of possessing.

In spite of her evident fondness for her offspring, and her jealousy of strangers, she behaved very selfishly, snatched a piece of apple from her child and ate it herself, scolding it the while for daring to eat anything which she wanted.

The child, however, was by no means disposed to acquiesce in this appropriation, and when its mother came to take away the next piece of apple that was given to it, the little creature popped the morsel into its mouth. The piece of apple was, however, so large, and the young monkey’s mouth so small, that the greater portion projected from its jaws. The mother made a sharp snatch at the projecting portion, but this time the young one was too quick for her, and, striking the apple smartly with the back of its hand, drove it fairly into its mouth. I really thought that the little animal would be choked, so greatly were its cheeks distended. But by some ingenious process it contrived to nibble away the apple, and seemed rather pleased than inconvenienced by the huge morsel which it had forced into its mouth.

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In another cage is a small specimen of the Wanderoo (_Silenus veter_).

When adult and in good condition, this monkey is notable for the enormous mane which falls over the head and shoulders, and bears a remarkable resemblance to the full-dress wig of a judge. In the young specimen this hairy mass is but short and scanty, and it is not until the creature has reached its full growth that the wig flows around its head in such massy waves. The top of the head is black, but the wig—if we may retain that term—takes a greyish and sometimes a white hue along the sides, and gives a very venerable aspect to the monkey.

The fur of the Wanderoo is very black, without any gloss, and in allusion to this hue the Indians call it Neel-bhunder—_i.e._, Black monkey.

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In a large cage at one end of the room sits in solitary state a fine specimen of the Anubis Baboon (_Cynocephalus Anubis_). In all the members of this genus the face is lengthened into a decided snout, at the extremity of which are placed the nostrils. This peculiarity gives a very morose aspect to the animals, which is certainly not belied by their tempers. All the Cynocephali are natives of Africa.

The fur of the male Anubis is very thick over the shoulders and upper parts of the body, and has a greenish cast, each hair being alternately black and yellow. The nose and bare skin of the face are brown.

This specimen is rather tetchy in disposition; and as he is an enormously powerful animal, the bars of his cage are defended by strong wire network, so that he cannot pass his hand between them. One day a gentleman who was visiting the Monkey House chose to act contrary to regulations, and poked his stick through the bars for the purpose of irritating the baboon. The animal immediately seized it, and a pulling match commenced in which the baboon was easily victorious, dragging the gold-headed stick into his cage and keeping it.

In spite of all precautions, I regret to say that some of the visitors behave very badly to the animals. On Mondays especially, when the price of admission to the Gardens is only sixpence, the monkeys are shamefully teased.

The Anubis is always in a constant state of irritation on those days, and on one occasion had recourse to a rather curious device. He took up a handful of straw and fixed it on his perch close to the wires. This bunch of straw he seemed to regard much as the combative Irishman regards the coat-tail which he is trailing on the ground—resented with his utmost fury every attempt to touch it.

I once put him in a terrible passion. He is very fond of raw eggs, and the keeper produced a fine fresh one from his pocket. The Anubis saw it at once, and descended from his perch in anxious expectation. Wishing to see what the animal would do, I took the egg from the keeper, put it under my coat, and walked away. The baboon immediately flew into a fury; his eyes shot forth angry fires, and he jerked himself about in the oddest manner; he uttered guttural grunts, and followed me about with his eyes as if he would kill me.

I then returned the egg to the keeper, who opened the door of the cage and flung the egg at the baboon. The animal caught it with the dexterity of a juggler, and put it into his mouth. He then held his nose in the air so as to permit the egg to roll to the back of his jaws, and with the under-teeth he broke the egg-shell, permitting its contents to flow down his throat. After the lapse of a few minutes, he just opened his mouth and protruded the fragments of the egg-shell, each portion of which he licked with economical care before he threw it on the floor of his cage.

On one occasion a gentleman, being anxious to discover the number of eggs that the animal would take, purchased sixpennyworth on his way to the Gardens. Eggs were then sold fourteen for a shilling. When he arrived at the Monkey House he produced the basket of eggs, and threw them to the baboon in rapid succession. The animal caught them all, and stowed away six in his cheeks, three on either side. There was no space for the seventh, so he ate it at once, and finished the others at his leisure. Once or twice a rotten egg has intruded into his mouth, and on such occasions his wrath is extreme.

This animal has a curious habit of sitting with his face to the wall, and fixing all his four paws against it on a level with his nose.

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In the opposite cage are two specimens of a North African species—namely, the Arabian Baboon, sometimes called the Tartarin (_Cynocephalus Hamadryas_). This is a very handsome species, with a mass of long grey hair falling from the shoulders of the male, giving it a very poodle-like aspect, especially when it is seated. It is much more quiet than the Anubis, and is fond of assuming very remarkable attitudes, too numerous and too varied to be described. In Mr. Waterton’s museum at Walton Hall there is a splendid specimen of this beast, prepared after the unique style of that eminent naturalist, perfectly hollow, and without wires or any support whatever. It is so lifelike, indeed, that it is not exhibited in the museum. This animal was obtained from a large travelling menagerie, where it had lived for some time under the grandiloquent title of Lion-slayer, though neither it nor any other baboon ever slew a lion in their lives.

There is a small specimen of the Chacma, or Pig-faced Baboon (_Cynocephalus porcarius_). This species inhabits Southern Africa, where it is very plentiful in certain spots.

If taken when young the Chacma is easily tamed, and becomes a very amusing animal, retaining its good-humour in spite of the teasing to which it is so often subjected. The word Chacma is a corruption from the Hottentot name of the animal, T’chakamma, the T’ representing one of those strange clicking sounds peculiar to the South African languages, so difficult of imitation, and so impossible of description.

In his native country the tame Chacma is often used for a very important purpose—namely, the discovery of water. The animal is purposely deprived of all liquid for a day or two, and is then suffered to go in search of water, being led by a long rope. The keen instinct of the poor thirsty animal is sure to guide it towards the desired object, and if any water be near the spot the baboon is a certain guide to the stream or fountain.

Two other species of this genus are in the Monkey House, but neither of them present any salient points of interest. One is the Guinea Baboon (_Cynocephalus papio_), a very young and small specimen, and the other is the Yellow Baboon (_Cynocephalus papioides_). This little animal can at once be recognised by the peculiarity from which it draws its name, the fur being conspicuously yellow. It is rather a good-tempered animal, and gives very little trouble to the keeper.

The wonderful Mandrill (_Papio Mormon_) is, I am sorry to say, numbered among the dead, but it is probable that its place may soon be filled by another specimen. It is, without doubt, the most interesting among the monkeys of the Old World, its ribbed cheeks being decorated with colours so brilliant that they seem to have been laid on with a painter’s brush dipped in the brightest tints which his palette could furnish.

NEW WORLD MONKEYS.

We now leave the true monkeys of the Old World, and pass to those of the New. I say the _true_ monkeys, because we shall, in the course of the present paper, recur to a portion of the Old World, as certain beings are found there which undoubtedly belong to the quadrumanous order, but which depart in many points from the characteristics of the true monkeys.

The rulers of the Zoological Gardens have done rightly in transferring the greater number of the New World monkeys to a separate building. Their peculiar temperament requires extended space, and their delicate lungs need a combination of warmth and fresh air that cannot be obtained except in a building devoted to the purpose.

Next to the Reptile House the visitor will see another door, upon which is a placard calling attention to the Spider Monkeys. Passing up a few stairs, we come to a room the centre of which is occupied by a magnificent wire cage. In this cage are placed four specimens of the Spider Monkey, a few lemurs, and a single specimen of the Moustache Monkey, a creature which has been described at page 250 of our volume. This little animal has been transferred to the Spider Monkeys’ cage for the purpose of enlivening the normal inhabitants, who have a custom of squatting together on the floor, winding their prehensile tails around the general assemblage, and scolding every one who tries to disturb them.

There are three specimens of the Black-faced Spider Monkey (_Ateles frontatus_), and one of the Greyish Spider Monkey (_Ateles hybridus_). The latter animal can be at once recognised by the colour of its fur, which is of a very light and nearly white grey, the hair being rather long and coarse. The others are all known by their darker colour, a blackish brown pervading their whole bodies, and their faces being darker than the rest of their persons. One specimen of the Black-faced Spider Monkey is in excellent health and spirits, and seldom fails to afford its visitors the gratification of seeing it go through its wonderful performances.

It has a regular series of feats, and goes through them as systematically as if it were an acrobat performing before the public. First it climbs up the wires until it has reached the longitudinal rafter that runs along the top of the cage. Along this rafter it springs, holding only by its hands, and swings along, hand over hand, with a certainty and lightness that are peculiarly beautiful.