IX. 



MONKEYS WHO WOEK. 



Before I end this account of monkeys, I 

 want to say a little about some who have been 

 taught to work. 



Monkeys are very much like people in their 

 ways. Whether the fact pleases us or not, we 

 are obliged to admit it. 



The baby monkey — droll little bundle of fur 

 that it is — acts wonderfully like the darlings of 

 our nurseries. It puts its fingers in its mouth, 

 and it creeps on the ground ; it plays with toys, 

 and it laughs when tickled ; it weeps when 

 grieved, and it screams when angry ; it moans 

 when ill, coos when caressed, and squalls when 

 left alone, — exactly as do human little folk. 



When it is a little older it plays and quarrels, 

 drums on hollow logs to make a noise, jumps, 

 swings, and performs feats of strength, so like 

 those in which our own youngsters delight as to 

 be amazing to one who sees them. 



Yet they are " full of mischief," we always 

 say ; and people chain them up or shut them in 

 cages, where they fret themselves nearly wild. 

 It is pitiful to see the restless creatures with 



