When I prepared to start on a journey across the Esyira country, it was not practicable for me to take Moses along, so I arranged to leave him in charge of a missionary. Shortly after my departure the man was taken with fever, and the chimpanzee was left to the care of a native boy belonging to the mission. The little prisoner was kept confined by a small rope attached to his cage. This was done in order to keep him out of mischief. It was during the dry season, when the dews are heavy and the nights chilly; and the winds at that season are fresh and frequent.
Within a week after I had left him he contracted a severe cold. This soon developed into acute pulmonary troubles of a complex type, and he began to decline. After an absence of three weeks and three days I returned and found him in a condition beyond the reach of treatment. He was emaciated to a living skeleton; his eyes were sunken deep into their orbits, and his steps were feeble and tottering; his voice was hoarse and piping; his appetite was gone, and he was utterly indifferent to everything around him.
During my journey I had secured a companion for him, and when I disembarked from the canoe I hastened to him with this new addition to our little family. I had not been told that he was ill, and, of course, was not prepared to see him looking so ghastly. When he discovered me approaching, he rose up and began to call me, as he had been wont to do before I left him; but his weak voice was like a death-knell to my ears. My heart sunk within me as I saw him trying to reach out his long, bony arms to welcome my return. Poor, faithful Moses! I could not repress the tears of pity and regret at this sudden change, for to me it seemed the work of a moment. I had last seen him in the vigor of a strong and robust youth, but now I beheld him in the decrepitude of a feeble senility. What a transformation!
I diagnosed his case as well as I was able and began to treat him, but it was evident that he was so far gone that I could not expect him to recover. My conscience smote me for having left him, yet I felt that I had not done wrong. It was not neglect or cruelty for me to leave him while I went in pursuit of the chief object of my search, and I had no cause to reproach myself for having done so. But emotions that are stirred by such incidents are not to be controlled by reason or hushed by argument, and the pain caused me was more than I can tell.
If I had done wrong, the only restitution possible for me to make was to nurse him patiently and tenderly to the end, or till health and strength should return. This was conscientiously done, and I have the comfort of knowing that the last sad days of his life were soothed by every care that kindness could suggest. Hour after hour during that time he lay silent and content upon my lap. That appeared to be a panacea to all his pains. He would roll up his dark brown eyes and look into my face, as if to be assured that I had been restored to him. With his long fingers he stroked my face as if to say that he was again happy. He took the medicines I gave him as if he knew their purpose and effect. His suffering was not intense, and he bore it like a philosopher. He seemed to have some vague idea of his own condition, but I do not know that he foresaw the result. He lingered on from day to day for a whole week, slowly sinking and growing feebler; but his love for me was manifest to the last, and I dare confess that I returned it with all my heart.
Is it wrong that I should requite such devotion and fidelity with reciprocal emotion? No. I should not deserve the love of any creature if I were indifferent to the love of Moses. That affectionate little creature had lived with me in the dismal shadows of that primeval forest for many long days and dreary nights; had romped and played with me when far away from the pleasures of home; and had been a constant friend, alike through sunshine and storm. To say that I did not love him would be to confess myself an ingrate and unworthy of my race.
The last spark of life passed away in the night. Death was not attended by acute pain or struggling; but, falling into a deep and quiet sleep, he woke no more.
Moses will live in history. He deserves to do so, because he was the first of his race that ever spoke a word of human speech; because he was the first that ever conversed in his own language with a human being; and because he was the first that ever signed his name to any document. Fame will not deny him a niche in her temple among the heroes who have led the races of the world.