THE STORY OF A MONKEY. 637 



THE STORY OF A MONKEY. 



By M. J. DYEOWSKl. 



WE were on the third hour of our march, one morning ; it was 

 nearly nine o'clock, and the sun was already getting burn- 

 ing hot, when, turning one of the green capes which the forest 

 sends out in the sea that washes its base, we perceived the gay 

 tricolor flapping near a hut. It was the port of Nyanga (in the 

 Congo country). We had completed a hard day's work on the 

 previous evening. The great forest, composed of spiny palms and 

 interlacing lianas, drove us continually to the edge of the raging 

 sea ; a leaden sun darted its burning rays upon us, and the reflec- 

 tion from the fine sand threw a blinding light into our faces, 

 which we could only endure by half closing our eyes. We were 

 broken up as much by this toilsome march as by the all-envelop- 

 ing heat, which in spite of all the precautions we could take, with 

 helmet and dress of light linen, produced at last that kind of in- 

 solation which is shown by the fever that reigns normally in this 

 country, and which a trifle will arouse. A thing that rendered 

 this march still more difiicult was that the sea washing into the 

 lagoons that stretched along the shore made their water brackish, 

 so that we could only get a little fresh water in the evening by 

 stretching out our India-rubber coats to catch the drops from a 

 shower that came up. 



The sight of the French flag refreshed our strength, and we 

 walked more rapidly to reach it the sooner, and take a little rest 

 that we greatly needed. The port of Nyanga was held by a 

 brigadier of customs, M. Lambert, who gave us the privilege of 

 his house with a sincere cordiality. It was decided that we 

 should remain there two or three days and make some excursions 

 in the neighborhood. 



Not far from the house was a little straw hut used as a kitchen, 

 to which our host went to give his orders. I followed him, and 

 saw in it, in one corner, tied to one of the posts, a pretty monkey, 

 which as we came nearer to it uttered low cries and stretched its 

 hands toward us. I was struck with the beauty of the creature 

 and asked why it was there. I was told that it had been three 

 years at the post, and that it usually lived at large ; but that it 

 was sometimes necessary to tie it, on account of the mischief it 

 would not fail to commit when it was allowed to run where it 

 would. 



As I took so much interest in it, it was tied to the veranda. 

 We soon became the best of friends. It was very pleasant and 

 familiar. It allowed itself to be caressed, and responded to the 

 advances that were made to it with cries of satisfaction. It played 



