O UR FO UR-HANDED RE LA TIVES. 3 3 



his name. Recognizing my voice, he flew at my throat, 

 fastened his teeth in my collar, and, thus clasping my 

 neck, gave vent to his feelings in a curious kind of spas- 

 modic sobs. The farmer's girls finally lugged him to the 

 front of the wagon ; but every now and then he came 

 back to my corner and tried to establish my identity by 

 passing his hands over my face and feeling for my beard. 

 When his offences against the eighth commandment had 

 roused the wrath of the housekeeper, he used to hide 

 under the stove ; but on one such occasion, while the 

 duenna was after him with a broom-stick, a strange dog 

 happened to enter the kitchen, and, without a moment's 

 hesitation, Buddha chose the least of two evils, and, fly- 

 ing into the woman's arms, clung to her for protection, 

 though he had to take a good thrashing into the bargain. 

 Monkeys are practical physiognomists, and can read 

 half-suppressed emotions in the symbolism of the human 

 face. An angry look at once puts them on their guard. 

 They have an eye for individual dispositions and foibles. 

 During a two years' residence in the suburbs of Vera 

 Cruz I often left Buddha in charge of my landlord, or 

 rather of his children, for the old man was a hipped 

 Cuban refugee and very apt to drown his cares in 

 aguardiente. When I came home in the evening, a 

 single look at the monkey-perch told me if the Cubano 

 had been once too often " round the corner," for in that 

 case the Macacus radiatus was hiding behind the curtain 

 or under the sofa, unwilling to meet the enemy in single 



