Animal Intelligence · George J. Romanes

Chapter 17: Monkeys, Apes, and Baboons (Part 1)

32 of 33 · 30 min of reading

WE now come to the last group of animals which we shall have occasion to consider, and these, from an evolutionary point of view, are the most interesting. Unfortunately, however, the intelligence of apes, monkeys, and baboons has not presented material for nearly so many observations as that of other intelligent mammals. Useless for all purposes of labour or art, mischievous as domestic pets, and in all cases troublesome to keep, these animals have never enjoyed the improving influences of hereditary domestication, while for the same reasons observation of the intelligence of captured individuals has been comparatively scant. Still more unfortunately, these remarks apply most of all to the most man-like of the group, and the nearest existing prototypes of the human race: our knowledge of the psychology of the anthropoid apes is less than our knowledge of the psychology of any other animal. But notwithstanding the scarcity of the material which I have to present, I think there is enough to show that the mental life of the Simiadæ_ is of a distinctly different type from any that we have hitherto considered, and that in their psychology, as in their anatomy, these animals approach most nearly to Homo sapiens.

Emotions._

Affection and sympathy are strongly marked--the latter indeed more so than in any other animal, not even excepting the dog. A few instances from many that might be quoted will be sufficient to show this.

Mr. Darwin writes:--

Rengger observed an American monkey (a Cebus) carefully driving away the flies which plagued her infant; and Duvancel saw a Hylobates washing the faces of her young ones in a stream. So intense is the grief of female monkeys for the loss of their young, that it invariably caused the death of certain kinds kept under confinement by Brehm in North Africa. Orphan monkeys were always adopted and carefully guarded by the other monkeys, both male and female.

Again, Jobson says that whenever his party shot an orang-outang from their boat, the body was carried off by others before the men could reach the shore.

So, again, James Forbes, F.R.S., in his 'Oriental Memoirs,' narrates the following remarkable instance of the display of solicitude and care for a dead companion exhibited by a monkey:--

One of a shooting-party under a banian tree killed a female monkey, and carried it to his tent, which was soon surrounded by forty or fifty of the tribe, who made a great noise and seemed disposed to attack their aggressor. They retreated when he presented his fowling-piece, the dreadful effect of which they had witnessed and appeared perfectly to understand. The head of the troop, however, stood his ground, chattering furiously; the sportsman, who perhaps felt some little degree of compunction for having killed one of the family, did not like to fire at the creature, and nothing short of firing would suffice to drive him off. At length he came to the door of the tent, and, finding threats of no avail, began a lamentable moaning, and by the most expressive gesture seemed to beg for the dead body. It was given him; he took it sorrowfully in his arms and bore it away to his expecting companions. They who were witnesses of this extraordinary scene resolved never again to fire at one of the monkey race.

Of course it is not to be supposed from this instance that all, or even most monkeys display any care for their dead. A writer in 'Nature' (vol. ix., p. 243), for instance, says expressly that such is not the case with Gibbons (Hylobates agilis), which he has observed to be highly sympathetic to injured companions, but 'take no notice whatever' of dead ones.

Regarding their sympathy for injured companions this writer says:--

I keep in my garden a number of Gibbon apes (Hylobates agilis); they live quite free from all restraint in the trees, merely coming when called to be fed. One of them, a young male, on one occasion fell from a tree and dislocated his wrist; it received the greatest attention from the others, especially from an old female, who, however, was no relation; she used before eating her own plantains to take up the first that were offered to her every day, and give them to the cripple, who was living in the eaves of a wooden house; and I have frequently noticed that a cry of fright, pain, or distress from one would bring all the others at once to the complainer, and they would then condole with him and fold him in their arms.

Captain Hugh Crow, in his 'Narrative of my Life,' relates an interesting tale of the conduct of some monkeys on board his ship. He says:--

We had several monkeys on board; they were of different species and sizes, and amongst them was a beautiful little creature, the body of which was about ten inches or a foot in length, and about the circumference of a common drinking glass. This interesting little animal, which, when I received it from the Governor of the Island of St. Thomas, diverted me by its innocent gambols, became afflicted by the malady which unfortunately prevailed in the ship. It had always been a favourite with the other monkeys, who seemed to regard it as the last born and the pet of the family; and they granted it many indulgences which they seldom conceded to one another. It was very tractable and gentle in its temper, and never took advantage of the partiality shown to it. From the moment it was taken ill their attention and care of it redoubled; and it was truly affecting and interesting to see with what anxiety and tenderness they tended and nursed the little creature. A struggle often ensued among them for priority in those offices of affection; and some would steal one thing and some another, which they would carry to it untasted, however tempting it might be to their own palates. Then they would take it up gently in their fore-paws, hug it to their breasts, and cry over it as a fond mother would over her suffering child. The little creature seemed sensible of their assiduities, but it was wofully overpowered by sickness. It would sometimes come to me and look me pitifully in the face, and moan and cry like an infant, as if it besought me to give it relief; and we did everything we could think of to restore it to health: but, in spite of the united attention of its kindred tribes and ourselves, the interesting little creature did not survive long.

Here is a case which I myself witnessed at the Zoological Gardens, and published in the 'Quarterly Journal of Science,' from which I now quote:--

A year or two ago there was an Arabian baboon and an Anubis baboon confined in one cage, adjoining that which contained a dog-headed baboon. The Anubis baboon passed its hand through the wires of the partition, in order to purloin a nut which the large dog-headed baboon had left within reach--expressly, I believe, that it might act as a bait. The Anubis baboon very well knew the danger he ran, for he waited until his bulky neighbour had turned his back upon the nut with the appearance of having forgotten all about it. The dog-headed baboon, however, was all the time slyly looking round with the corner of his eye, and no sooner was the arm of his victim well within his cage than he sprang with astonishing rapidity and caught the retreating hand in his mouth. The cries of the Anubis baboon quickly brought the keeper to the rescue, when, by dint of a good deal of physical persuasion, the dog-headed baboon was induced to leave go his hold. The Anubis baboon then retired to the middle of his cage, moaning piteously, and holding the injured hand against his chest while he rubbed it with the other one. The Arabian baboon now approached him from the top part of the cage, and, while making a soothing sound very expressive of sympathy, folded the sufferer in its arms--exactly as a mother would her child under similar circumstances. It must be stated, also, that this expression of sympathy had a decidedly quieting effect upon the sufferer, his moans becoming less piteous so soon as he was enfolded in the arms of his comforter; and the manner in which he laid his cheek upon the bosom of his friend was as expressive as anything could be of sympathy appreciated. This really affecting spectacle lasted a considerable time, and while watching it I felt that, even had it stood alone, it would in itself have been sufficient to prove the essential identity of some of the noblest among human emotions with those of the lower animals.

As a beautiful instance of the display of sympathy, I may narrate an occurrence which was witnessed by my friend Sir James Malcolm--a gentleman on the accuracy of whose observation I can rely. He was on board a steamer where there were two common East India monkeys, one of which was older and larger than the other, though they were not mother and child. The smaller monkey one day fell overboard amidships. The larger one became frantically excited, and running over the bulwarks down to a part of the ship which is called 'the bend,' it held on to the side of the vessel with one hand, while with the other it extended to her drowning companion a cord with which she had been tied up, and one end of which was fastened round her waist. The incident astonished everyone on board, but unfortunately for the romance of the story the little monkey was not near enough to grasp the floating end of the cord. The animal, however, was eventually saved by a sailor throwing out a longer rope to the little swimmer, who had sense enough to grasp it, and so to be hauled on board.

The following account of the behaviour of a wounded monkey seems to suggest the presence of a class of emotions similar to those which we know as feelings of reproach. The observer was Capt. Johnson:--

I was one of a party of Jeekary in the Bahar district; our tents were pitched in a large mango garden, and our horses were picquetted in the same garden a little distance off. When we were at dinner a Syer came to us, complaining that some of the horses had broken loose in consequence of being frightened by monkeys (i.e. Macacus Orhesus) on the trees. As soon as dinner was over I went out with my gun to drive them off, and I fired with small shot at one of them, which instantly ran down to the lowest branch of the tree, as if he were going to fly at me, stopped suddenly, and coolly put his paw to the part wounded, covered with blood, and held it out for me to see. I was so much hurt at the time that it has left an impression never to be effaced, and I have never since fired a gun at any of the tribe. Almost immediately on my return to the party, before I had fully described what had passed, a Syer came to inform us that the monkey was dead. We ordered the Syer to bring it to us, but by the time he returned the other monkeys had carried the dead one off, and none of them could anywhere be seen.

This case is strikingly corroborated by the following allusion to Sir W. Hoste's Memoirs, given by Jesse as follows:--

One of his officers, coming home after a long day's shooting, saw a female monkey running along the rocks, with her young one in her arms. He immediately fired, and the animal fell. On his coming up, she grasped her little one close to her breast, and with her other hand pointed to the wound which the ball had made, and which had entered above her breast. Dipping her finger in the blood, and then holding it up, she seemed to reproach him with being the cause of her death, and consequently that of the young one, to which she frequently pointed. 'I never,' says Sir William, 'felt so much as when I heard the story, and I determined never to shoot one of these animals as long as I lived.'

Mr. Darwin says that most persons who have observed monkeys have seen them show a sense of the ludicrous. Here is an instance which I have myself observed, and now quote from my article in the 'Quarterly Journal of Science:'--

Several years ago I used to watch carefully the young orang-outang in the Zoological Gardens, and I am quite sure that she manifested a sense of the ludicrous. One example will suffice. Her feeding tin was of a somewhat peculiar shape, and when it was empty she used sometimes to invert it upon her head. The tin then presented a comical resemblance to a bonnet, and as its wearer would generally favour the spectators with a broad grin at the time of putting it on, she never failed to raise a laugh from them. Her success in this respect was evidently attended with no small gratification on her part.

But perhaps the strongest evidence of monkeys having an appreciation of the ludicrous is the same as that which we have seen to be presented in the case of certain dogs--namely, in the animals disliking ridicule. Abundant evidence on this head in the case of monkeys will be given further on.

That monkeys enjoy play no one can question who spends an hour or two in the monkey-house at the Zoological Gardens. According to Savage, chimpanzees congregate together for the sole purpose of play, when they beat or drum with pieces of stick on sonorous pieces of wood.

Curiosity is more strongly pronounced in monkeys than in any other animals. We all know the interesting illustration on this head furnished by the experiment of Mr. Darwin, who, in order to test the statement of Brehm that monkeys have an instinctive dread of snakes, and yet cannot 'desist from occasionally satiating their curiosity in a most human fashion, by lifting up the lid of the box in which the snakes were kept,' took a stuffed snake to the monkey-house at the Zoological Gardens. Mr. Darwin says:--

The excitement thus caused was one of the most curious spectacles I ever beheld. . . . I then placed a live snake in a paper bag, with the mouth loosely closed, in one of the larger compartments. One of the monkeys immediately approached, cautiously opened the bag, peeped in, and instantly dashed away. Then I witnessed what Brehm has described, for monkey after monkey, with head raised high and turned on one side, could not resist taking a momentary peep into the upright bag, at the dreadful object lying quietly at the bottom.

Allied, perhaps, to curiosity, and so connected with the emotions, is what Mr. Darwin calls 'the principle of imitation.' It is proverbial that monkeys carry this principle to ludicrous lengths, and they are the only animals which imitate for the mere sake of imitating, as has been observed by Desor, though an exception ought to be made in favour of talking birds. The psychology of imitation is difficult of analysis, but it is remarkable as well as suggestive that it should be confined in its manifestations to monkeys and certain birds among animals, and to the lower mental levels among men. As Mr. Darwin says:--

The principle of imitation is strong in man, and especially, as I have myself observed, with savages. In certain morbid states of the brain, this tendency is exaggerated to an extraordinary degree; some hemiplegic patients and others, at the commencement of inflammatory softening of the brain, unconsciously imitate every word that is uttered, whether in their own or in a foreign language, and every gesture or action which is performed near them.

The same sort of tendency is often observable in young children, so that it seems to be frequently distinctive of a certain stage or grade of mental evolution, and particularly in the branch Primates. Other animals, however, certainly imitate each other's actions to a certain extent, as I shall have occasion fully to notice in my next work.

As for the sterner emotions, rage may be so pronounced as to make a monkey exhaust itself with beating about its cage, or a baboon bite its own limbs till the blood flows. Jealousy occurs in a correspondingly high degree, while retaliation and revenge are shown by all the higher monkeys when injury has been done to them, as any one may find by offering an insult to a baboon. The following is a good case of this, as it shows what may be called brooding resentment deliberately preparing a satisfactory revenge. Mr. Darwin writes:--

Sir Andrew Smith, a zoologist whose scrupulous accuracy was known to many persons, told me the following story of which he was himself an eye-witness. At the Cape of Good Hope, an officer had often plagued a certain baboon, and the animal, seeing him approaching one Sunday for parade, poured water into a hole and hastily made some thick mud, which he skilfully dashed over the officer as he passed by, to the amusement of many bystanders. For long afterwards the baboon rejoiced and triumphed whenever he saw his victim.

General Intelligence._

Coming now to the higher powers, I shall give a few cases to show that monkeys certainly surpass all other animals in the scope of their rational faculty. Professor Croora Robertson writes me:--

I witnessed the following incident in the Jardin des Plantes, now many years ago; but it struck me greatly at the time, and I have narrated it repeatedly in the interval. A large ape--I believe anthropoid, but cannot tell the species--was in the great iron cage with a number of smaller monkeys, and was lording it over them with many wild gambols, to the amusement of a crowd of spectators. Many things--fruits and the like--had been thrown between the bars into the cage, which the ape was always forward to seize. At last some one threw in a small hand looking-glass, with a strongly made frame of wood. This the ape at once laid hold of, and began to brandish like a hammer. Suddenly he was arrested by the reflection of himself in the glass, and looked puzzled for a moment; then he darted his head behind the glass to find the other of his kind that he evidently supposed to be there. Astonished to find nothing, he apparently bethought himself that he had not been quick enough with his movement. He now proceeded to raise and draw the glass nearer to him with great caution, and then with a swifter dart looked behind. Again finding nothing, he repeated the attempt once more. He now passed from astonishment to anger, and began to beat with the frame violently on the floor of the cage. Soon the glass was shattered, and pieces fell out. Continuing to beat, he was in the course of one blow again arrested by his image in the piece of glass still remaining in the frame. Then, as it seemed, he determined to make one trial more. More circumspectly than ever the whole first part of the process was gone through with; more violently than ever the final dart made. His fury over this last failure knew no bounds. He crunched the frame and glass together with his teeth, he beat on the floor, he crunched again, till nothing but splinters was left.

Mr. Darwin writes: 'Rengger, a most careful observer, states that when first he gave eggs to his monkeys in Paraguay, they smashed them, and thus lost much of their contents; afterwards they generally hit one end against some hard body, and picked off the bits with their fingers. After cutting themselves only once with any sharp tool, they would not touch it again, or would handle it with the greatest caution. Lumps of sugar were often given them wrapped up in paper; and Rengger sometimes put a live wasp in the paper, so that in hastily unfolding it they got stung; after this had once happened, they always first held the packet to their ears to detect any movement within.'

The powers of observation and readiness to establish new associations thus rendered apparent, display a high level of general intelligence. Mr. Darwin further observes that Mr. Belt 'likewise describes various actions of a tamed cebus, which, I think, clearly show that this animal possessed some reasoning power.' The following is the account to which Mr. Darwin here refers, and I quote it in extenso, because, as I shall presently show, I have myself been able to confirm most of the observations on another monkey of the same genus:--

It would sometimes entangle itself round a pole to which it was fastened, and then unwind the coils again with the greatest discernment. Its chain allowed it to swing down below the verandah, but it could not reach to the ground. Sometimes, when there were broods of young ducks about, it would hold out a piece of bread in one hand, and when it had tempted a duckling within reach, seize it by the other, and kill it with a bite in the breast. There was such an uproar amongst the fowls on these occasions, that we soon knew what was the matter, and would rush out and punish Mickey (as we called him) with a switch; so that he was ultimately cured of his poultry-killing propensities. One day, when whipping him, I held up the dead duckling in front of him, and at each blow of the light switch told him to take hold of it, and at last, much to my surprise, he did so, taking it and holding it tremblingly in one hand. He would draw things towards him with a stick, and even used a swing for the same purpose. It had been put up for the children, and could be reached by Mickey, who now and then indulged himself in a swing on it. One day I had put down some bird-skins on a chair to dry, far beyond, as I thought, Mickey's reach; but, fertile in expedients, he took the swing and launched it towards the chair, and actually managed to knock the skins off in the return of the swing, so as to bring them within his reach. He also procured some jelly that was set out to cool in the same way. Mickey's actions were very human-like. When any one came near to fondle him, he never neglected the opportunity of pocket-picking. He would pull out letters, and quickly take them from their envelopes.

I shall now proceed to state some further facts, showing the high level of intelligence to which monkeys of various kinds attain.

The orang which Cuvier had used to draw a chair from one end to the other of a room, in order to stand upon it so as to reach a latch which it desired to open; and in this we have a display of rationally adaptive action which no dog has equalled, although, as in the case before given of the dog dragging the mat, it has been closely approached. Again, Rengger describes a monkey employing a stick wherewith to prise up the lid of a chest, which was too heavy for the animal to raise otherwise. This use of a lever as a mechanical instrument is an action to which no animal other than a monkey has ever been known to attain; and, as we shall subsequently see, my own observation has fully corroborated that of Rengger in this respect. More remarkable still, as we shall also subsequently see, the monkey to which I allude as having myself observed, succeeded also by methodical investigation, and without any assistance, in discovering for himself the mechanical principle of the screw; and that monkeys well understand how to use stones as hammers is a matter of common observation since Dampier and Wafer first described this action as practised by these animals in the breaking open of oyster-shells. The additional observation of Gernelli Carreri of monkeys thrusting stones into the open valves of oysters so as to save themselves the trouble of smashing the shells, though not incredible, requires confirmation. But Mr. Haden, of Dundee, has communicated to me the following very remarkable appreciation of mechanical principles which he himself observed in a monkey (species not noted), and which would certainly be beyond the mental powers of any other animal:--

'A large monkey, confined alone in a large cage, had its sleeping-place in the form of a kind of hut in the centre of the cage. Springing near the hut was a tree, or imitation tree, the main branch of which ascended over the top of the hut, and then came forwards away from it. Whether the roof of the hut enabled this animal to gain any part of this branch, I did not observe, but only remarked its method at the time of gaining the part of the branch which led frontwards, and away from the hut. This could be done by means of the hut door, which, when opened, swung beneath this part of the branch. The door, either by accident or by the design of its construction, swung to each time the animal opened it to mount upon its top edge. After one or two efforts to mount by it in spite of its immediate swinging to, the creature procured a thick blanket which lay in the cage, and threw it over the door, having opened the same, so that its complete swinging to was prevented sufficiently for the creature to mount upon its free edge, and so gain that part of the branch which ran above it.'

The following, which I quote from 'Nature' (vol. xxiii., p. 533), also displays high intelligence:--

One of the large monkeys at the Alexandra Palace had been for some time suffering from the decay of the right lower canine, and an abscess, forming a large protuberance on the jaw, had resulted. The pain seemed so great, it was decided to consult a dentist as to what should be done; and, as the poor creature was at times very savage, it was thought that if the tooth had to be extracted, gas should be used for the safety of the operation. Preparations were made accordingly, but the behaviour of the monkey was quite a surprise to all who were concerned. He showed great fight on being taken out of the cage, and not only struggled against being put into a sack prepared with a hole cut for his head, but forced one of his hands out, and snapped and screamed, and gave promise of being very troublesome. Directly, however, Mr. Lewen Moseley, who had undertaken the operation, managed to get his hand on the abscess and gave relief, the monkey's demeanour changed entirely. He laid his head down quietly for examination, and, without the use of the gas, submitted to the removal of a stump of a tooth as quietly as possible.

According to D'Osbonville, certain monkeys that he observed in the wild state were in the habit of administering corporal chastisement to their young. After suckling and cleansing them, the mothers used to sit down and watch the youngsters play. These would wrestle, throw and chase each other, &c.; but if any of them grew malicious, the dams would spring up, and, seizing their offspring by the tail with one hand, correct them severely with the other.

We have already seen that dogs and cats display the idea of maintaining discipline among their progeny.

According to Houzeau the sacred monkey of India (Semnopithecus entellus) is very clever in catching snakes, and in the case of poisonous species destroy the fangs by breaking them against stones.

Of the fact that monkeys act in co-operation, many proofs might be given, but one will suffice.

Lieutenant Schipp, in his Memoirs, says:--

A Cape baboon having taken off some clothes from the barracks, I formed a party to recover them. With twenty men I made a circuit to cut them off from the caverns, to which they always fled for shelter. They observed my movements, and detaching about fifty to guard the entrance, the others kept their post. We could see them collecting large stones and other missiles. One old grey-headed one, who had often paid us a visit at the barracks, was seen distributing his orders, as if a general. We rushed on to the attack, when, at a scream from him, they rolled down enormous stones on us, so that we were forced to give up the contest.

I shall here bring to a close my selections from the literature of monkey psychology, because I wish to devote a good deal of space to detailing a number of observations which have not yet been published. Thinking it desirable for the purposes of this work that an intelligent monkey should be subjected to close observation for some length of time, I applied to Mr. Sclater for the loan of one from the collection of the Zoological Society. He kindly consented to my proposal, and I selected a specimen of Cebus fatuellus, which appeared to me to be the most intelligent monkey in the collection. Not having facilities for keeping the animal in my own house, I consigned him to the charge of my sister (who lives close by), with the request that she should carefully note all points of interest connected with his intelligence. Therefore, from the day of his arrival till that of his departure she kept a diary, or note-book, in which all the observations that she made when I was absent were entered. It was originally my intention to make an abstract of this note-book; but on afterwards reading it through for this purpose, it seemed to me that I should rather spoil matters by attempting a condensation. There is a certain graphic effect incidental to the diary form and spontaneous style of diction--the notes, of course, not having been written with a view to verbatim publication; and besides, as the psychology of monkeys has been so little studied, I think it is well to give all the details of a continuous series of observations. It is desirable to add that on occasions subsequent to the taking of this or that particular note, I generally had the opportunity of verifying the observation myself; but I may state that I attach no more importance to this circumstance than I should to verifying an observation of my own; for as a careful observer of animals I have quite as much confidence in my sister as in myself. It only remains to explain that my mother, being an invalid, is confined most of the time to her bedroom; and that the monkey was kept there for the first six weeks of his stay at her house, partly in order that he might be under constant observation, and partly also to furnish her with an entertaining pet. The following are my sister's notes in extenso and without alteration:--

Brown Capuchin (Cebus fatuellus--Linn.), Brazil.

DIARY, 1880.

December 18th. Arrived in box with keeper. Seemed rather frightened and screamed a good deal on being transferred from small box to a larger one.

19th. Took him out of the box he had been in all night and fastened chain on to collar. Was meek and subdued, hiding his face in my lap.

20th. Has become much more lively and somewhat aggressive, especially towards the servants. He has taken a fancy to my mother, and (she holding his chain) he plays with her in a gentle and affectionate manner in her bed, but flies angrily at any of the servants who come near the bed. I observed to-day that he breaks walnuts (which are too hard for him to crack with his teeth) by striking them with the flat bottom of a dish he has for drinking out of. He is ceaselessly active all day, and at night covers himself very neatly with warm shawls, and sleeps soundly till about eight o'clock.

21st. I notice that the love of mischief is very strong in him. To-day he got hold of a wine-glass and an egg-cup. The glass he dashed on the floor with all his might, and of course broke it. Finding, however, that the egg-cup would not break for being thrown down, he looked round for some hard substance against which to dash it. The post of the brass bedstead appearing to be suitable for the purpose, he raised the egg-cup high over his head and gave it several hard blows. When it was completely smashed he was quite satisfied. He breaks a stick by passing it down between a heavy object and the wall, and then hanging on to the end, thus breaking it across the heavy object. He frequently destroys an article of dress by carefully pulling out the threads (thus unripping it) before he begins to tear it with his teeth in a more violent manner. If he gets hold of anything that he sees we do not care about, he soon leaves it again; but if it is an article of value (even if it be only a scrap of paper) which he sees we are anxious about, nothing will induce him to give it up. No food, however inviting, will distract his attention: scolding only makes him more angry, and he keeps the article until it is quite destroyed. To-day I gave him a hammer to break his walnuts with, and he uses it in a proper manner for that purpose.

22nd. To-day a strange person (a dressmaker) came into the room where he is tied up, and I gave him a walnut that she might see him break it with his hammer. The nut was a bad one, and the woman laughed at his disappointed face. He then became very angry, and threw at her everything he could lay hands on; first the nut, then the hammer, then a coffee-pot which he seized out of the grate, and, lastly, all his own shawls. He throws things with great force and precision by holding them in both hands, and extending his long arms well back over his head before projecting the missile, standing erect the while.

23rd. There is continual war between him and Sharp [a small terrier], but they both seem to have a certain mutual respect for each other. The dog makes snatches at nuts, &c., and runs away with them beyond the reach of his chain, and the monkey catches at the dog, but seems afraid to hold him or hurt him. He however pelts him with nuts or bits of carrot, and chatters at him. At other times he holds out his hand as if to make friends, but the dog is too suspicious to go near him. His hostility towards the servants (one especially) increases, so that he will not even take a nut from her without catching fiercely at her hand; he also frequently throws things at her. On the other hand, he allows my mother to do anything with him.

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End of part 32 of 33