1 66 THE MONKE Y FA MIL Y. 



any internal support whatever, it will retain the form which I have 

 given to it, and the exact position in which it has been placed at 

 Walton Hall, where it has many attractions for scientific visitors. 

 Of all apes as yet discovered, this little chimpanzee appears to 

 approach the nearest to man in form and feature. In fact, it might 

 compete with some of the negro family for the prize of beauty. But 

 still it cannot speak ! No, not one single solitary word can it utter 

 in accordance with those produced by the human voice. In this 

 particular, several of the birds may take precedence of it. The 

 raven, starling, jackdaw, jay, and magpie can learn to say, " How do 

 you do?" "I can't get out; no, I can't get out," said the poor 

 captive starling. Quadrupeds seem not to have this privilege. 

 Balaam's ass, to be sure, once spoke a few words, but those were 

 miraculous ; and again, Leibnitz mentions a dog that could articu- 

 late thirty words ; still, as the Spanish proverb informs us, one 

 swallow does not make a summer " una golojidrina no hace verano" 

 In sight, scent, and agility amongst the trees, we may allow the ape 

 to claim superiority over man. In other qualities, it is inferior to 

 him. After man, it may possibly hold the first place in the graduated 

 scale of animated nature ; and this, methinks, is all that ought to be 

 granted to any individual of the monkey family. 



The second living ape which has come under my inspection, is the 

 great red orang-outang, from the island of Borneo. I went up to 

 London expressly to see it at the Zoological Gardens, which are under 

 the superintendence of Mr Mitchell, a gentleman so well known for 

 his talents in office, and for his courtesy to visitors. Most amply, in- 

 deed, was I repaid for the trouble I had taken. The orang-outang 

 was of wrinkled and of melancholy aspect, entirely devoid of any 

 feature bordering on ferocity. As I gazed through the bars of his 

 clean and spacious apartment, I instantly called to my recollection 

 Sterne's affecting description of his captive, who was confined for 

 life, and was sitting on the ground, " upon a little straw, and was 

 lifting up a hopeless eye to the door ! " The more I inspected this 

 shaggy prisoner from Borneo, the more I felt convinced, that, in its 

 own nature, it could lay no manner of claim to the most remote 

 alliance with the human race, saving in a faint appearance of form, 

 and in nothing more. The winding up of the interview which I had 



