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pan zee; whilst his head was turned to look at a new visitor, a person secreted his plate; for a few seconds he looked round to see what could have become of it, and then began to pout and fret exactly like a spoiled child. Perceiving near him a young lady who happened to be laughing, and perhaps fancying she was the delinquent, he flew at her in the greatest rage, and would probably have bitten her, had she not got beyond his reach. Upon having his plate restored, he took care to prevent a repetition of the joke by holding it firmly with one hand, while he fed himself with the other. Neither of these animals lived long. The cold climate of this country seems invariably to affect the orangs, and they rarely survive the first winter. The change, too, from a natural diet to one so extremely different, may also have something to do with their early death. Monkeys, it is said, will, in their native woods, intoxicate themselves with the palm wine, which they steal from the calabash, where it is left by the natives to ferment; and this love of strong drink may, perhaps, in this country lead to their death, if the animals are placed in injudicious hands, particularly as the monkey is subject to consumption. A female orang-otan was brought to Holland, and lived in the menagerie of the Prince of Orange but six months. She appears to have eaten and drank everything that was given to her, meat,—fish, poultry, eggs, fruit, coffee, tea,—and was particularly fond of sweet Malaga wine. She was both an interesting and sagacious creature, and a great favourite with every one. Whilst on ship board she would mess with the sailors, use a knife and fork, cup and saucer, with the greatest propriety, and after a meal wipe her mouth. All these actions she performed merely from the signs or verbal orders of her master, and often even of her own accord. At the approach of night she would prepare the hay bed on which she slept by shaking it, and lying down, cover herself carefully with the quilt. She was seen one day poking a little bit of stick into the padlock of her chain, and seemed quite disappointed that she could not succeed in opening it as she had seen done with a key. A chimpanzee that was in England in 1698, was an extremely affectionate creature, and those persons whom he knew in the vessel that brought him over he would embrace with the greatest tenderness, though he took no notice of other monkeys in the ship. A suit of clothes was made for him, which he took great delight in wearing, and if he could not put them on alone, he would carry any part in his paws to some one of the crew for assistance. This animal died almost immediately after its arrival in London.
In Loudon's Magazine of Natural History, vol. ii. p. 3, is a very amusing letter from Mrs. Bowdich, in which, as she says, "she ventures to intrude an old shipmate of her acquaintance on the notice of the editor, although he belonged to the never failing theme of monkeys. He was," says this lady, "a native of the Gold coast, and was of the Diana species. He had been purchased by the cook of the vessel in which I sailed from Africa, and was considered his exclusive property. Jack's place, then, was next to the cabooce; but as his education progressed he was gradually allowed an increase of liberty, till at last he
enjoyed the range of the whole ship, except the cabin. I had embarked with more than a womanly aversion to monkeys, it was absolute antipathy; and although I often laughed at Jack's freaks, still I kept out of his way till a circumstance brought with it a closer acquaintance, and cured me of my dislike. Our latitude was three degrees south, and we only proceeded by occasional tornadoes, the intervals of which were filled up by dead calms and bright weather. When these occurred during the day, the helm was frequently lashed, and all the watch went below. On one of these occasions I was sitting alone on the deck, and reading intently, when in an instant something jumped on my shoulders, twisted its tail round my neck, and screamed close to my ears. My immediate conviction that it was Jack scarcely relieved me; but there was no help; I dared not cry for assistance, because I was afraid of him; and dared not obey the next impulse, which was to thump him off, for the same reason; I, therefore, became civil from necessity, and from that time I and Jack entered into an alliance. He gradually loosened his hold, looked at my face, examined my hands and rings with the most minute attention, and soon found the biscuit which lay by my side. When I liked him well enough to profit by his friendship, he became a constant source of amusement. Like all other nautical monkeys, he was fond of pulling off the men's caps as they slept, and throwing them into the sea; of knocking over the parrots' cages to drink the water as it trickled along the deck, regardless of the occasional gripe he received; of taking the dried herbs out of the tin mugs in which the men were making tea of them; of dexterously picking out the bits of biscuits that were toasting between the bars of the grate; of stealing the carpenter's tools; in short, of teasing everything and every body; but he was also a first-rate equestrian. Whenever the pigs were let out, to take a run on deck, he took his station behind a cask, whence he leaped on the backs of one of his steeds as it passed. Of course the speed was increased, and the claws he stuck in to keep himself on produced a squealing; but Jack was never