A LEAF FROM MY SKETCH BOOK 



By DAN BEARD 



OOKING over my 

 sketch book to find a 

 leaf for this number 

 of Recreation, I dis- 

 covered sketches made 

 a number of years 

 ago, from the cele- 

 brated Mr. Crowley, 

 the chimpanzee who was such a favor- 

 ite at the Arsenal at Central Park. 



A glance at this page from my sketch 

 book will disclose to even the most cas- 

 ual observer the fact that Mr. Crowley 

 was not only a gymnast, but that he 

 did not remain in any one position for 

 any length of time. I have drawn all 

 sorts of animals from life ; but I never 

 spent a more strenuous hour than I did 

 with this human-like ape, and, I might 

 say, that I do not remember any more 

 profitable time, spent with strange 

 creatures with whom I have been asso- 

 ciated as an "animal artist." 



Crowley was the first one to impress 

 upon me the characteristics of an un- 

 trained mind. He was an affectionate 

 brute ; but, at the slightest offense or 

 imagined insult, he flew into a violent 

 rage, and, could he have reached 

 me, would have murdered me on 

 the spot without the slightest compunc- 

 tions of conscience, though the next in- 

 stant he was ready to fawningly shake 

 hands and even kiss me had I allowed 

 it. 



I have noticed the same trait in un- 

 trained low-minded people and savages, 

 and ever since that time, whenever 

 I see a human being fly into an un- 

 governable fit of anger I think that the 

 mental relationship between this human 

 being and the human-like ape is indeed 

 very close. 



With playful creatures, I have found, 

 as a rule, that the best way for an artist 

 to do is to play with them until they 



get tired, then, while they are resting, 

 he has a good opportunity to make his 

 sketches. But, in attempting to follow 

 this policy with Mr. Crowley, I soon 

 discovered that I had over-estimated 

 my own capabilities and under-esti- 

 mated his. 



I was locked in the room where Mr. 

 Crowley's cage extended from one end 

 to the other, and, as there was no au- 

 dience to embarrass us we had high 

 jinks there for quite a while. I would 

 rush to one end of the room and knock 

 on the floor with my knuckles. Mr. 

 Crowley would tear around on his 

 knuckles and hind feet to that end of 

 the room, availing himself of the flying 

 trapeze, which hung in his cage, to 

 make a giant leap which sent him bang 

 up against the other end of the cage, 

 and then get down on his hands and 

 knees to look and see where I had 

 knocked, and listen and pretend to ex- 

 amine the place very carefully. Then 

 looking at me with his comical eyes, 

 his face would assume an expression in 

 which there was discernible an undeni- 

 able grin, which is depicted by the 

 sketch underneath the one in the north- 

 west corner where he has got his face 

 down between his hands ; the next in- 

 stant he would scramble over to the op- 

 posite end of the cage and reach out 

 and knock on the floor with his knuck- 

 les. Then I would run and examine 

 the place in the same manner. This 

 and other boisterous sports and games 

 we kept up until I had to strip off my 

 coat and vest and at last fell exhausted 

 against the steam heater, much to the 

 amusement of the ape. 



I sat for some time fanning myself 

 with my hat, only to discover that Mr. 

 Crowley had just begun to get warmed 

 up to the fun ; but there was no more 

 play left in me, so I picked up my 



