BHUNDER AND BONNET MONKEY.
F. Cuvier observed the early days of one born in France, and noticed that immediately after birth it clung fast to its mother’s stomach, holding on with its fore hands stuck in her fur, and that it did not quit the breast, even during its sleep, for fifteen days. In the first day of its existence it appeared to distinguish things, and to look at them carefully, and the mother was devoted to it, giving it the tenderest attention of a constant and patient nurse. Not a movement or noise on its part escaped her, and her maternal solicitude was quite astonishing. The weight of the little thing did not interfere with her moving about, and all her exertions were managed with a view of not incommoding her young charge. She never shook it, or struck it accidentally against the edges and corners of her house. At the end of a fortnight the little one began to detach itself, and from the beginning of its moving by itself it showed a great amount of vigour, power, and ability to run and jump, which human children of a year or two might well envy. It held on to the wires of its cage and crawled up and down at will, but the careful mother never took her eyes off it, and followed it wherever it went, and even held out her hands to prevent it tumbling when it became too venturesome. Indeed, she admonished the little one by a gentle touch that it had been away long enough, and must come in. At other times it walked on all-fours over the straw, and often let itself drop down from the top of its cage on to the soft bottom, so as to accustom itself to fall on all-fours; then it would jump up the net-work and lay hold and scramble with great precision. After a while, the mother began to teach the young one not to be so troublesome to her, and to manage without her, but still she took care of it, following it if it was doing anything out of the way and in danger. With strength the agility of the creature increased, and its jumps and bounds were wonderful, and it never miscalculated its distance, or made a false step. After six weeks a more substantial nourishment than milk was required, and then a very curious spectacle was seen. This attentive mother would not let the little one have a bit of all the nice things, but drove it away and scolded it, although it was hungry. The old one took possession of the fruit and bread which were for both, and boxed the little one’s ears if it came close and hid up the food. She had hardly any more milk, and the young one was in daily want of food, but the old one did not appear to act from cruelty or gluttony, but wished to train up the youth, like the young Cyrus, to feats of daring and of skill. As hunger pressed, the young one became bold, and stole by art what he could not get otherwise. If he was very adroit, all the better, and he was commended by being allowed to carry off his own. He used to get to the further end of the cage, and turning his back on his mother would begin to gormandise. But even the maternal solicitude was not wanting, for she often used to go up to him and snatch a nice titbit out of his jaws. Perhaps this was a mistaken idea, for after a while a larger quantity of food was placed in the cage, and the little one had its quantity without any stealing.
MOOR MACAQUE.
The Bhunders are sacred in some parts of India, and are left very much to themselves; so they assemble in troops, and steal from among the natives in a very troublesome manner.
As they are very bold, their habits in the wild state are often observable, their slyness and thieving propensities being most amusing. They gather on the roofs of the low houses in the bazaars, and look out for occasion to steal. One was observed on a roof fronting a sweetmeat shop, and feigning to be asleep; but every now and then he looked wistfully at the luscious prizes below. It was, however, of no use, for sitting beside his stores was the seller, smoking his pipe, and looking decidedly wide awake. This went on for half an hour, when the Monkey got up, yawned, and stretched himself artfully, as if he had only just awoke. He began to play with his tail, and even made believe he was tying knots in it, as if he were wholly intent on it; but ever and anon he gave a sharp, sly look over his shoulder at the sweetmeats, but only to see the seller still there smoking away to his heart’s content, and ruminating concerning prospective customers and profits. The Monkey still had patience, and amused himself with his fleas, and had a good and general scratch; and he was rewarded, for suddenly the confectioner arose from his seat, took his pipe, and turned towards the back door for a fresh supply of tobacco. Instantly the Bhunder was on all-fours, and the sweetmeats were before him and behind their owner. In another moment he had jumped off the roof, cleared the street, and was on the board which was crowded with sugar-plums. He of course began to cram as many as possible into his cheek-pouches. But, alas for the spoiler, there were other pilferers there in the shape of hornets; his sudden descent frightened them, and they flew off, but returned on the instant, and to take vengeance. Before he could regain his roof they were all round him, stinging here and stinging there with great zeal and passion. His efforts at getting away from them were frantic, and he scrambled over the rotten roof, displacing the tiles, which came down with a crash; and at last, when he jumped clear of the enraged insects, he came on to a sharp, thorny bush, from which he could not extricate himself. He had to spit all the nice things out of his pouches, and, screaming with pain—for the thorns were more like fish-hooks than anything else—he sat a picture of misery, barking hoarsely now and then. The fall of the tiles brought out a crowd of natives, and they were speedily joined by the confectioner, full of revenge. But the culprit was a Monkey, and, therefore, an object of veneration; so a couple of Hindoos managed to rescue him, and he limped off as well as he could to a neighbouring grove.
The Hindoos tell many tales of the sagacity of this Monkey; and there is one which may be taken as a specimen, although it has been filtered through Mahomedan pages. A fakir had a Monkey which he had brought up from birth. He loved it, and travelled here and there, taking much care of it. In return the Monkey behaved like a watch-dog, and was most faithful and watchful. It amused the fakir by its endless tricks and mimicry. One day, the fakir placed his carpet in a square before the palace of some great shah who had nothing to do, and who looked at the fakir and the Monkey with great delight. The fakir had made a pie; there were some pieces of birds’ flesh in it, and it was placed on some lighted charcoal to be cooked. The Monkey sat watching, and the fakir thought he would like a stroll until dinner was ready, knowing that his faithful follower would look after the cooking. But the shah saw more than the fakir; for, after a while, the smell of the meat came strongly into the Monkey’s nostrils, and he began to feel hungry. Soon he was very hungry, and then he just lifted up the edge of the crust, and could not refrain from taking a tiny bit—just a little leg. This was so nice that he took a little more, and finally eat all. The crust was left on the grass, and then the sinner suddenly remembered his master. The shah was in ecstasies, wondering what would come next. After due consideration, the Monkey remembered that he usually sat on a very beautiful flesh-coloured “callosity,” and he had noticed that several Crows and other birds had been hovering about whilst he consumed his master’s dinner. He instantly feigned to be dead, and hiding his head, gave the birds the benefit of the scarlet appearance. One came down instantly with a swoop; but the Monkey was too quick, and the bird was seized and strangled in an instant. Rapidly plucking off the feathers, the Monkey pulled it to pieces, and put it in the pie, and sat looking happy, contented, and extremely virtuous. The shah was struck with this wonderful display of instinct, and the story goes on to say that he promoted the fakir to an important post under government.
There is a Macaque which, instead of having the quiet brown and olive tints of the others, with short tails, is of a dark oily black colour. It is called