17th. He offered the dog a bit of toast which he himself was eating, and the dog took a part of it. I think, however, that he had at the same time a sly design of catching the dog with the other hand, but he did not do so—perhaps because I was looking on, and he knows the dog is a friend of mine; but he had a wicked look in his eye while feeding the dog, which he has not when he extends his bounty to me.

19th. When I was brushing him to-day he took the brush away from me. Playthings are especially valuable to him now, as he is not allowed to have any lest he should break the windows with them. For this reason I was afraid to leave the brush with him, but found he was not at all disposed to give it up. I threw other things within his reach, but he carried the brush in his hind hand while going after the other things. At last I sat down and called him gently, when he mildly came up to my lap and put the brush into my two hands, evidently resolving that he would not now quarrel with his only friend.

22nd. His manner of showing his humours is interesting, as illustrating the principle of antithesis. Thus when he is angry he springs forward on all four hands with tail very erect and hair raised, so making himself look much bigger. When affectionate he advances slowly backwards with his body in the form of a hoop, so that the crown of his head rests on the ground, face inwards. He walks on three hands (hair very smooth), and puts the fourth fore-hand out at his back in advance of his body. He expects this hand to be taken kindly, and he then assumes his natural attitude. In that manner of advancing it is obviously impossible that he could bite, as his mouth is towards his own chest, so it is the best way of showing how far he is from thinking of hostility.

February 28, 1881.

The above account may be taken as fully trustworthy. Most of the observations recorded I have myself subsequently verified numberless times. From the account, however, several observations which I happened to make myself in the first instance are designedly omitted, and these I shall therefore now supply.

I bought at a toy-shop a very good imitation of a monkey, and brought it into the room with the real monkey, stroking and speaking to it as if it were alive. The monkey evidently mistook the figure for a real animal, manifesting intense curiosity, mixed with much alarm if I made the figure approach him. Even when I placed the figure upon a table, and left it standing motionless, the monkey was afraid to approach it. From this it would appear that the animal trusted much more to his sense of sight than to that of smell in recognising one of his own kind.

I placed a mirror upon the floor, and the monkey at once mistook his reflection in it for a real animal. At first he was a little afraid of it; but in a short time he gained courage enough to approach and try to touch it. Finding he could not do so, he went round behind the mirror and then again before it a great number of times; but he did not become angry, as the monkey of which Prof. Brown Robertson wrote me. Strange to say, he appeared to mistake the sex of the image, and began in the most indescribably ludicrous manner to pay to it the addresses of courtship. First placing his lips against the glass he rose to his full height on his hind legs, retired slowly, and while doing so turned his back to the mirror, looking over his shoulder at the image, and, with a preposterous amount of 'pinch' in his back, strutted up and down before the glass with all the appearance of the most laughable foppery. This display was always gone through when at any subsequent time the mirror was placed upon the floor.

From the first time that he saw me, this monkey took as violently passionate an attachment to me as that which he took to my mother. His mode of greeting, however, was different. When she entered the room after an absence, his welcome was of a quiet and contented character; but when I came in, his demonstrations were positively painful to witness. Standing erect on his hind legs at the full length of his tether, and extending both hands as far as he could reach, he screamed with all his strength, in a tone and with an intensity which he never adopted on any other occasion. So loud, indeed, were his rapidly and continuously reiterated screams, that it was impossible for any one to hold even a shouting conversation till I took the animal in my arms, when he became placid, with many signs of intense affection. Even the sound of my voice down two flights of stairs used to set him screaming in this manner, so that whenever I called at my mother's house I had to keep silent while on the staircase, unless I intended first of all to pay a visit to the monkey.

It has frequently been noticed that monkeys are very capricious in forming their attachments and aversions; but I never knew before that this peculiarity could be so strongly marked as it was in this case. His demonstrations of affection to my mother and myself were piteous; while towards every one else, male or female, he was either passively indifferent or actively hostile. Yet no shadow of a reason could be assigned for the difference. My sister, to whom animals are usually much more attached than they are to me, used always to be forbearingly kind to this one—taking all his bites, &c., with the utmost good humour. Moreover, she supplied him with all his food, and most of his playthings, so that she was really in every way his best friend. Yet his antipathy to her was only less remarkable than his passionate fondness of my mother and myself.

Another trait in the psychology of this animal which is worth observing was his quietness of manner towards my mother. With me, and indeed with every one else, his movements were unrestrained, and generally monkey-like; but with her he was always as gentle as a kitten: he appeared to know that her age and infirmities rendered boisterousness on his part unacceptable.