230 
A NATURALIST ON THE PROWL . 
which they may lay hold and so mount higher. But this 
habit of speculation easily becomes a disease, so I will not 
speculate this morning, but only observe. 
The monkeys are scarcely thirty yards away, and the 
glasses bring them so near to me that I feel as if I could 
pat their heads. One fine old patriarch is sitting on a Jack- 
fruit tree. Monkeys do not perch, nor squat like natives, 
but sit as a man does on a low stool. They are very clever 
at finding seats among the branches with a rest for their 
feet in front, and the long tail hanging down behind seems 
to make their position more secure. I imagine tails were 
discarded by degrees as the advanced apes took more and 
more to the ground. But I am speculating again and on 
a dangerous subject. The patriarch on the jack-fruit tree 
sits with his back curved like a large C. He needs a little 
discipline with the back board. From time to time he ex- 
amines the ends of the branches, and nipping off a tender 
shoot, puts it into his mouth and munches away. There 
is a weary look in his light brown eyes. Why do monkeys 
always look so sad? The hair of his head projects over his 
low forehead like the peak of a cap, and his coal-black face 
is fringed with a hoary line of whisker and beard, which 
follows his jawbone like the first growth on the face of a 
