THE M1RIK1. 79 



I conclude the account of the spider monkeys with a few anecdotes of one of these ani- 

 mals, that have been kindly narrated to me by its owner, a captain in the British navy. 



The monkey — a lady — to whom the name of Sally was given, was captured in British 

 Guiana, and brought to the governor of Demerara, from whom it passed to its present gallant 

 possessor. Sally seems to be a wondrous favorite, and to take in her owner's heart the place 

 of a favorite child. There are many photographic portraits of this sable pet, three of which 

 are at present before me, one representing Sally as lying contentedly in her master' s lap, her 

 little wrinkled face looking over his arm, and her tail twisted round his knees, while one hind- 

 foot is grasping this appendage. A second portrait exhibits her standing on a pedestal, by 

 the side of the captain's coxswain, — to whose care she was chiefly committed — her left arm 

 flung lovingly round his neck, and her tail coiled several times round his right hand, on which 

 she is partly sitting. In the third, she is shown standing by the side of the same man, with 

 her foot upon his hand, and the tip of her tail round his neck, by way of a change. 



In almost every case there is a slight blur in the monkey' s f orm, owing to the difficulty 

 in persuading so volatile an animal as a monkey to remain still for two seconds together. 

 However, the proportions of the animal are well preserved, and its characteristic attitudes 

 shown clearly enough. 



She is a most gentle creature, only having been known to bite on two occasions, one of 

 which was simply in self-defence. She had got loose in the dock yard at Antigua, and had 

 been chased by the men for some time. At last she was hemmed into a corner, and would 

 have been taken easily, had not the dockyard laborers rather feared her teeth. Her master, 

 however, in order to prove that she was not dangerous, caught her, and was rewarded by a 

 rather severe bite on his thumb. Had it not been, however, that poor Sally was terrified out 

 of her senses by the pursuit of the laborers, she would not have behaved so badly. 



So gentle was she in general, that whenever she received a slight correction for some fault, 

 she would never attempt to retaliate, but only sidle away and accept the rebuke. Malice does 

 not seem to be in her nature, for she soon forgets such inpiries, and does not lose her kind 

 feelings towards her corrector. Her master tells me that if any one gets bitten by her, it is 

 entirely the fault of the sufferer, and not of the monkey. 



On board ship she is not trammelled by chain or rope, but is permitted to range the vessel 

 at her own sweet will. She revels among the rigging, and when she becomes playful, dances 

 about a rope in such a strange manner, and flings her limbs and tail about so fantastically, 

 that the spectators are at a loss to distinguish the arms and legs from the tail. When thus 

 engaged, the name of spider monkey is peculiarly apposite, for she looks just like a great 

 overgrown tarantula in convulsions. During these fits of sportiveness, she stops eveiy now 

 and then to shake her head playfully at her friends, and, screwing up her nose into a point, 

 utters little, short, soft grunts at intervals. She generally becomes vivacious towards sunset. 



There is a curious custom in which she is in the habit of indulging. She likes to climb 

 up the rigging until she reaches a horizontal rope, or small spar, and then, hooking just the 

 tip of her tail over it, will hang at full length, slowly swinging backward and forward, while 

 she rubs each arm alternately from the wrist to the elbow, as if she were trying to stroke the 

 hair the wrong way. She always must needs have her tail round something, and, if possible, 

 would not venture a step without securing herself to some object by the means of that long 

 and lithe member. 



Unlike many of her relatives, who are inveterate thieves, and with the tips of their tails 

 quietly steal objects from which their attention is apparently turned, Sally is remarkably 

 honest, never having stolen anything but an occasional fruit or cake. She is accustomed to 

 take her dinner at her master's table, and behaves herself with perfect decorum, not even 

 beginning to eat until she has obtained permission, and keeping to her own plate like a civil- 

 ized being. Her food is mostly composed of vegetables, fruit, and sopped bread, although 

 she occasionally is treated to a chicken-bone, and appreciates it highly. 



In the matter of food she is rather fastidious, and if a piece of too stale bread be given to 

 her, smells it suspiciously, throws it on the floor, and contemptuously ignores its existence. 

 With true monkey instinct, she is capable of distinguishing wholesome from harmful food, 



