THE MONKE Y FAMIL Y. 171 



by nature to walk on the soles of its feet, or hands, properly so 

 called. In its own native regions, if we may judge by the peculiar 

 formation of its limbs, the whole of its life must be passed amid the 

 ever verdant trees of the forest. Jenny has no appearance whatever 

 of a tail, for she is a veritable ape. Her skin is as black as a sloe in 

 the edge, whilst her fur appears curly and brown. Her eyes are 

 beautiful, but there is no white in them ; and her ears are as small, 

 in proportion, as those of a negress. Whilst apes in general, saving 

 one, have little more than two apertures by way of nose, Jenny has 

 a large protuberance there. It is flattened ; and one might suppose 

 that some officious midwife had pressed it down with her finger and 

 thumb, at the hour of Jenny's birth. When kindly treated Jenny is 

 all gentleness; still I fancied that I could perceive at intervals a 

 slight tinge of mischief in her temper, for there was a pretty little 

 dog in the same room with her, and whenever she could get hold of 

 it, she would fix her teeth in it until it yelped aloud. I happened 

 to be amongst the crowd of spectators outside of Jenny's little apart- 

 ment (for she was not exhibited with the other wild beasts) when she 

 made her final appearance before the liberal inhabitants of Scar- 

 borough. Having mounted the steps which led up to the room, in 

 order that I might take my leave of her, Jenny put her arms round my 

 neck ; she ' looked wistfully at me,' and then we both exchanged soft 

 kisses, to the evident surprise and amusement of all the lookers-on. 

 ' Farewell, poor little prisoner ! ' said I ; * I fear that this cold and 

 gloomy atmosphere of ours will tend to shorten thy days.' Jenny 

 shook her head, seemingly to say, there is nothing here to suit me. 

 The little room is far too hot, the clothes they force me to wear are 

 insupportable, whilst the food which they give me is not like that 

 upon which I used to feed when I was healthy and free in my own 

 native woods. With this we parted probably for ever. Should 

 little Jenny cease to live, and should her remains reach Walton 

 Hall, I assured Miss Blight that I would spare no pains to make her 

 cherished favourite appear, for ages yet to come, as though the 

 cruel hand of death had never laid it low." The reader will perhaps 

 be grieved to learn, that poor Jenny's death was nearer than I had 

 anticipated. She journeyed on, from place to place, in Mrs Womb- 

 well's fine menagerie of wild animals, till they reached the town of 



