THE POWER OF KINDNESS. 
39 
nearly white, as is the nnder surface of the body, and the outer side of the limbs takes a gray- 
ish tinge. The hairy fringe that grows over the side of the face is of a delicate golden yellow. 
This monkey is a native of Senegal and the neighboring parts, and is frequently brought 
to this country. 
The Vekvet is rather a variable animal in point of color, some specimens being decidedly 
pale, while others assume a blackish hue. In general, the color of the animal is as follows. 
The prevailing tint of the fur is much the same as that of the Grivet, to which animal the 
Yervet bears a strong resemblance. The head, the throat, and breast, are of a light dun, the 
paws being very dark. In the male Ye.rvet the canines are rather long, and show their points 
beyond the lips. 
These little animals are extremely abundant in their native land, and in Senegal especially 
are seen among the branches in immense troops. They seem to feel their own dignity as mas- 
ters of the wood, and are aggrieved by the intrusion of human beings into their special domains. 
They are so agile and swift in their movements, and withal so quick of sight, that they almost 
invariably descry an intruder before themselves are visible. There may be hundreds of little 
heads peering through the branches of the very tree under which the traveller is seated, and 
double the number of sharp little eyes glittering among the foliage ; but their owners are so 
lithe and cautious, that their presence remains undiscovered until they choose to announce 
themselves in their own fashion. 
Monkeys have their code of etiquette as well as men ; and, as they do not possess cards, 
the correct mode in which a monkey announces its presence to a human visitor is by dropping 
a piece of stick upon him. Perhaps he may consider the stick to be only a twig fallen in the 
course of nature, and so take no notice of it. Down comes another stick, and if that does not 
cause him to look up, several more are let fall upon him until his attention is drawn to the 
assembly in the branches. 
This point having been gained, the next object is to let the intruder know that his com- 
pany is undesirable, and that the sooner he takes his departure the more agreeable it will be 
for all parties. 
That the long- tailed party are averse to so big an animal without an inch of tail, is clearly 
shown by the angry chattering that is set up, and the double rows of white and sharp teeth 
that are freely exhibited ; and that the position of the objectionable individual will become 
anything but agreeable, is practically proved by the riot among the branches, which are 
shaken with noisy violence, the constant cries and chattering, and the shower of sticks and 
various missiles that pour upon him from above. Whether the object of their dislike be 
armed or not, seems to make but little difference to these tetchy animals. Should he retreat 
from so unpleasant a proximity, well and good — they have achieved their point, and satisfied 
their pride of place. Should he retaliate, and hurl deadly leaden missiles among his perse- 
cutors in exchange for the harmless but disagreeable assaults committed on himself, they 
sullenly receive his fire, unterrified by the fall of their slaughtered companions, and, even 
when wounded, continue the unequal conflict. They evidently feel themselves in the right, 
and refuse to abandon their position. One traveller who had been thus treated by the monkeys, 
killed twenty-three of the poor animals in less than an hour — not much to his credit. 
Killing a monkey is always a pitiful business, for it is so much like an act of murder com- 
mitted on a human being. Many are the travellers who, urged either by anger, curiosity, 
scientific researches, or innate destructiveness, have destroyed these animals, and have been 
so stricken by remorse at the effect of their cruelty, that they have vowed never to kill another 
monkey as long as they lived. There are several most touching narratives of such scenes, but 
they are so trying to the feelings, that I can neither bring myself to write them, nor to inflict 
such tragical tales on my readers. It were much to be wished that men could read the effects 
of their cruelty in the eyes of other animals except the monkeys, and would bind themselves 
never to inflict one unnecessary pang upon any living creature. Surely no wounded monkey 
could look at its tormentor with more pitiful eyes than those of the over-laden and over-driven 
ass, or even the neglected and ill-treated dog. These latter animals, too, are always with us, 
and need not only the cessation of actual cruelty, but even the gift of human sympathies, 
