While in Simla we were told the oft-repeated story of Lady Barker’s dinner. Lady Barker, desiring to give a dinner to a large number of guests, took unusual pains in the preparation of the feast. With her own hands she arranged the flowers, and in the most attractive manner were placed upon the table all the delicacies possible to procure, far and near. When everything was arranged to her entire satisfaction, she retired to array herself for the reception of her guests. The servants were left in charge of the rooms, but instead of watching the tables, they deserted their posts to amuse themselves in a more congenial way. Imagine the surprise and consternation when, upon descending to the dining room, she found it filled with guests, but not those whom she had invited. A large band of monkeys had entered through the windows and were enjoying themselves without restraint. Poor Lady Barker had nothing left to offer her invited guests but the spoiled remains of her sumptuous feast. Her little lap-dog “Fury” met with an untimely death by the hands of probably this same band of monkeys. The dog waged war on the creatures at every opportunity, but one day a large monkey managed to catch him and carry him along to its tree-top. There the dog was tormented by all the monkeys, being passed from hand to hand and finally thrown down a precipice.
While the Rhesus is an intelligent creature and easily taught while young, it it a question whether one really wishes this monkey for a pet, for when old, they become vicious and spiteful and can bite and scratch in a dangerous manner.
In addition to the fruit and seeds which they eat, they are also fond of insects and spiders, and frequently large parties may be seen searching the ground for these delicacies.
Professor Ball relates an interesting anecdote of these monkeys. He said that when at Malwa Tal, a lake where he spent a day, he was warned that when passing under a certain landslip which slopes to the lake, he would be liable to have stones thrown at him by the monkeys. As he thought this might be only a traveler’s tale, he took pains to go to the spot in order to see what had given rise to the story. As he approached the base of the landslip, he saw a number of Rhesus monkeys rush to the sides and across the top, and presently pieces of loosened stone and shale came tumbling down where he stood. He soon satisfied himself that this was not accidental, for he distinctly saw one monkey, industriously with both forepaws, push the loose shingle off a shoulder of rock. He then tried the effect of throwing stones at them, but this made them quite angry and the amount of fragments which they set rolling was speedily doubled. This adventure caused Professor Ball to believe that there may be some truth in the stories related in regard to monkeys throwing fruit at people from the tree tops, and yet even about monkeys it is not always best to credit all one hears.
John Ainslie.
AN ANIMAL TORPEDO.
The gymnotus, or electric eel, is a common denizen of the stagnant pools and sluggish lagoons of the Llanos of Venezuela. It is known to the natives under the more suggestive name of arimna or something that deprives of motion.
Our first experience with this curious Animal Torpedo was on the borders of the Llanos, a few days’ journey to the south of Valencia. The pack mules, usually very slow, had preceded us, during the noon hour, while we had leisurely taken luncheon. In the course of an hour, we caught up with them, as they had reached a sluggish estuary of a neighboring river. Before we were in hailing distance, we could see, from the wild and frantic gesticulations of the muleteer, that something unusual had occurred. It proved to be an attack of electric eels upon the first mule, which had attempted to ford the lagoon. The animal had nearly reached the opposite shore before the attack was made, and thus, the first mule had escaped with only a few shocks from the invisible torpedoes. The other pack mules, just entering the stream, were turned upon savagely by the concealed serpents, and were wildly and frantically turning back, when we came upon the scene. Their distended nostrils and bulging, terrified eyes, with excited snorting and plunging, would have made a perfect picture of agonized terror. Their suffering, fortunately, was of short duration, as they soon gained the shore and dashed away madly over the prairie. The first mule, which had crossed, terrified by the electric shocks received, had retreated from the lagoon and, in a state of great fright, had plunged into a browsing herd of cattle, dangling its swaying pack and causing a frightened stampede among the half-wild herd. The latter, ignorant of the immediate peril, rushed toward the lagoon ford, and, if those in front hesitated, they were persistently prodded by those from behind. In a moment all were in the midst of their dreaded enemies in the water. A scene followed which is hard to describe. The poor brutes reared, bellowed and moaned; they gored each other in their agony, while their startled eyes seemed ready to jump from their sockets.
As the herd was numerous, the greater portion soon struggled out, and, with tails reared high in the air, they plunged, like maddened demons, across the prairie. Three cows and a heifer remained in the pool with the eels. The former, much exhausted, finally escaped from their tormentors, but the heifer, unable to withstand the repeated attacks, made one last effort, and, with a gasp, sank below the surface.
We spent some time in collecting our terrified pack mules and scattered baggage, finally crossing the bayou at a shallow point some distance above the ford. In the meantime, one of the mozos speared one of the eels, as they had become very sluggish and were swimming aimlessly about the surface, after having spent so much of their galvanic force. The captured specimen was about two and a half feet in length and would weigh about eight pounds. It had an olive green color and the upper part of the head was mingled with red. Two rows of yellow spots are placed symmetrically along the back, each spot containing an execretary aperture, which were its galvanic batteries. It possessed an enormous swimming bladder, which accounts for its great agility and swiftness in the water. The creature looks more like a fish than an eel, and is very difficult to capture in nets, owing to its agility and a habit of burying itself in the mud when frightened. The electric action of the eel depends entirely upon its own will and a shock can be given whether it is touched by one or both hands to complete the circuit. When wounded, their power is almost destroyed and they are able to give only feeble shocks. Humboldt describes putting both feet upon a newly-captured specimen, which rendered him entirely powerless for a considerable time. The shock was so great that he suffered all day from pains in his knee and back.