THE CHIMPANZEE. 275 



by a slight modification has, no doubt, given us our word Jacko, 

 so commonly applied to the whole Monkey race indiscriminately. 



The habits of the Chimpanzee in a state of nature are very 

 imperfectly known ; and there is good reason to believe that it 

 has been credited, or perhaps it would be more correct to say 

 debited, with many of the exploits of its more terrible and re- 

 cently recovered ally, to be discoursed of in our next chapter. 

 It is a native of the heavy, dismal forests of the west coast of 

 Africa, where it is pretty widely distributed, and in some districts 

 it appears to be of very common occurrence. 



The natives of the country regard them with great dread, 

 and tell the most horrible tales of their ferocious depredations. 

 It is said that their strength is so great, that they break off, with 

 perfect ease, branches of trees that two men could hardly bend ; 

 that they build a rude kind of hut for the females and the young 

 to lie in ; and that on the death of one of their number, they 

 cover up the body with branches and leaves of trees. They are 

 also described as living in troops, and as giving battle to what- 

 ever wild beasts invade their territory: and it is said that 

 even man himself is not safe, venturing into their haunts alone 

 or unarmed. But the most terrible part of the story is that they 

 surprise and carry off young negresses into the woods ; and 

 that cases have occurred in which the wretched women have 

 escaped, and returned to human society, after having been detained 

 for years in this loathsome captivity. Most of these statements, 

 it is true, rest entirely on the testimony of the natives ; but a 

 case of female abduction came under the personal notice of De la 

 Brosse ; and Captain Paine was assured that similar instances 

 had happened on the Gaboon. Lieutenant Savers, who brought 

 a young Chimpanzee to England from the Bullom country, 

 some years since, says, that on that part of the African coast 

 the woods are infested with them in numbers quite equal to 

 the commonest species of Monkey. " They are exceedingly 

 watchful," he says, "and the first one who discovers the ap- 

 proach of a stranger utters a protracted cry, much resembling 

 that of a human being in great distress. The first time I heard 

 it I was much startled ; the animal was apparently not more 

 than thirty paces distant, but had it been but five, I could not 

 have seen it, from the tangled nature of the jungle. The native 

 who was with me laid his hand upon my shoulder, and pointing 



