The Speech of Monkeys Part 2

[Sidenote: NEMO AND MICKIE]

In this cage was kept another little boarder of the same species, which belonged to Mr. G. Hilton Scribner, of Yonkers. The keeper did not know the name or anything of the past history of this little stranger, and for want of some ident.i.ty and a name I called him Nemo. He was a timid, taciturn little fellow, quite intelligent, and possessed of an amount of diplomacy equal to that of some human beings. He was the smallest monkey in the cage, on which account he was somewhat shy of the others. He was thoughtful, peaceable, but full of "guile." He sought on all occasions to keep on the best terms with Mickie, to whom he would toady like a sycophant. He would put his little arms about Mickie's neck and hang on to him in the most affectionate manner. He would follow him like a shadow, and stay by him like a last hope. If anything ever aroused the temper of Mickie it was sure to make Nemo mad too; if Mickie was diverted and would laugh, Nemo would laugh also if he was suffering with a toothache. He was as completely under the control of Mickie as the curl in Mickie's tail. When I first began to visit them Nemo would see Mickie bite my fingers while we were playing, and he supposed it was done in anger. Nemo never lost a chance to bite my fingers, which he would always do with all his might, but his little teeth were not strong enough to hurt me very much. He would only do this after seeing Mickie bite me, and he did not evince any anger in the act, but appeared to do so merely as a duty. He would sneak up to my hands and bite me unawares; then he would run to Mickie and put his arm about his neck just as you have seen some boys do when trying to curry favour with a larger boy.

On one occasion while in the cage with them he slipped up to me and bit my finger, for which I kindly boxed his little ears. I would then give Mickie my finger and allow him to bite it, after doing which I slapped him gently and then give it to him again. I would then allow Nemo to bite my finger, and if he bit it too hard I would slap him again, and in this manner soon taught him to understand that Mickie only bit me in fun, and he evidently learned that this was a fact. He did not appear, however, to catch the point clearly or see any reason therefor, but on all occasions thereafter he would take my finger in his mouth and hold it in his teeth, which were scarcely closed upon it. This he would do for a minute at a time without having the least apparent motive except that he had seen Mickie do so. [Sidenote: MICKIE'S ATTACHMENT] Often while holding my finger in this manner, with a look of seriousness worthy of a supreme judge, he would roll his little eyes at me in the most inquiring manner, as if to say "how is that"? When he once realised that Mickie was so much attached to me, Nemo always showed a desire to be on friendly terms with me; and when I would go into the cage to play with Mickie and McGinty, he always wanted to be counted in the game. When I had anything for them to eat he always wanted a seat of honour at the table, and he would at times want to fight for me when the other monkeys got too friendly. Poor little fellow, he is now dead, but the image of his cute little face and original character are deeply imprinted on my mind. I was never able to secure a record of the sounds of his little voice, though I have often heard him talk. He had a soft musical voice, and great power of facial expression.

[Sidenote: APOLOGY TO DODO]

One of the most remarkable things I have ever observed among monkeys was done by this little fellow. On two separate occasions I have seen him apologise to Dodo in the most humble manner for something he had done, and I tried very hard to secure a record of this particular speech, in which I totally failed, as I could not foreknow when such an act would be done, and therefore could not have my phonograph in place to obtain such a record. I called the attention of Mr. F. S. Church, the eminent artist, to this act, with the hope that he might be able to make a sketch of Nemo while in this att.i.tude. I do not know what the offence was, but the pose and expression as well as the speech were very impressive. He sat in a crouching position, with the left hand clasping the right wrist, and delivered his speech in a most energetic but humble manner. The expression on his face could not be misunderstood. After a few moments he paused briefly, and then seemed to repeat the same thing some two or three times. The manner of his delivery was very suggestive, and his demeanour was conciliatory. When he had quite finished his speech, Dodo, to whom the apology was being made, and who had listened to it in perfect silence, delivered a sound blow with her right hand on the left side of the face of the little penitent, to which he responded with a soft cry, while Dodo turned and left him without further debate.

I also called the attention of the keeper to this act, and he a.s.sured me that he had repeatedly witnessed the same. What the subject of his speech was or the cause which brought it about I am not able to say, nor can I say with certainty to what extent he explained, but that it was an apology, or explanation of some kind at least, I have not the slightest doubt. I do not believe, of course, that his speech contained any details concerning the offence, but that it expressed regret, penitence, or submission does not to my mind admit of a doubt. I have seen a few other cases somewhat similar to this, but none of them comparing in point of polish and pathos to that of Nemo in his unique little speech.

n.i.g.g.e.r was of this same species: he was in poor health most of the winter, being afflicted with some spinal trouble. But, notwithstanding his affliction, he was a good talker. His infirmity, however, placed him at the mercy of the other inmates of the cage, and as monkeys are naturally cruel and entirely dest.i.tute of sympathy, the daily life of n.i.g.g.e.r could not be expected to be a very happy one. From this state of facts n.i.g.g.e.r usually kept to himself, and was not intimate with any other monkey in the cage. I have frequently given n.i.g.g.e.r some choice bits of food while I was in the cage, and protected him from the other monkeys while he was eating it. This he seemed to fully appreciate, and always located himself at a certain point in the cage where his defence could be effected with the least difficulty. n.i.g.g.e.r frequently indulged in the most pathetic and touching appeals to his keeper, and went through many of the gestures, sounds, and contortions which will be described in the next chapter, as a part of the speech and conduct of Dodo, some of whose remarkable poses and expressions have been faithfully portrayed by Mr. Church.

[Sidenote: McGINTY AT CENTRAL PARK]

Among my personal friends of the Simian race, there is none more devoted to me than little McGinty, another winter boarder at Central Park. From the first of my acquaintance with McGinty we had been staunch friends, and when I go to visit him he expresses the most unbounded delight. He will reach his little arms through the bars of the cage, and put his hands on my cheeks, hold his mouth up to the wires, and talk to me at great length. When I go into the cage he will place himself on a perch in the cage, where he will sit with his arms around my neck, lick my cheeks affectionately, pull my ears, and chatter to me in a sweet but plaintive tone. When Mickie joins the play, which he invariably does, by climbing or jumping on to my shoulders, and interrupting the _tete-a-tete_ between McGinty and myself, poor little McGinty's jealousy, which is his supreme pa.s.sion, causes him to retire in disgust, and he will sometimes pout for several minutes without even accepting food from me. After he has pouted for a while, however, he will sometimes make overtures of reconciliation and seek by various means to divert my attention. One of his favourite means of renewing favour with me, was to whip poor little n.i.g.g.e.r. He would look at me and laugh, grin and make grimaces, and then dash off at n.i.g.g.e.r and want to eat him up. He did not seem to understand why I objected to this whipping n.i.g.g.e.r. Monkeys do not regard it as a breach of honour to whip the helpless and feeble members of their tribe. They are not unlike a large percentage of mankind. They always hunt for easy prey, and want to fight something that is easily whipped. They are not great cowards, but when once whipped they rarely attempt the second time to contest matters with their victors. [Sidenote: CAGE OF CAPUCHIN MONKEYS] In this cage, containing five brown Capuchin monkeys, it was not difficult to see that Mickie ran things to suit himself. McGinty was the only one of the four in the cage with him that ever contested any right with Mickie, and for a long time it was a question in my mind who was to win in the end.

The next to them in authority was Dodo, who never attempted to control Mickie or McGinty, but always made Nemo and n.i.g.g.e.r stand about. Fourth in line of authority was Nemo, who always resented any offence from others by making n.i.g.g.e.r take a corner; and the only victims that n.i.g.g.e.r had were the little white-faces, which never fight anything and are always on the run. When it was finally decided between Mickie and McGinty that Mickie should be captain, McGinty readily accepted the place of first lieutenant, which rank he has continued to hold without challenge. When once the question is settled among the cage of Simians, the debate does not appear to be renewed at any future time. They never go to court with their grievances, and rarely appeal a second time to force when the question has once been decided against them. Some human beings might profit by studying this trait of monkeys.

CHAPTER VI.

Dago Talks about the Weather--Tells me of his Troubles--Dodo in the "Balcony Scene"--Her Portrait by a great Artist.

On one of my visits to Chicago, in the autumn of 1890, I went to pay my respects to Dago, the little brown monkey in Lincoln Park. He had been sick for a while, and had not fully recovered, although he was able to receive visitors, and his appet.i.te for pea-nuts was fairly well restored. On the morning of which I speak, it was dark and stormy. A fierce wind and terrible rain prevailed from the north-west. I went to the building just after daylight, in order to be alone with the monkey, and when I entered the house, Frenchie, the head-keeper, told me how very sick little Dago had been since I had left him on the day before.

I approached the cage and began to caress him, to which he replied in low whimpering tones, as though he understood the nature of what I was saying to him. Presently he raised himself erect upon his hind feet, and placing his hands on his side, pressed and rubbed it as though he was in great pain, and uttered some sounds in a low, piping voice. The sound itself was pathetic, and when accented by his gestures, it was really very touching. [Sidenote: DAGO AND THE WEATHER] At this juncture, a hard gust of wind and rain dashed against the window near his cage, whereupon the little monk turned away from me, ran to the window and looked out, and uttered a sound quite different from the ones he had just been delivering to me. Still standing erect, he appeared deeply interested, and stood for a few moments at the window, during which time he would turn his head towards me and utter this sound. That the sound he uttered was addressed to me could not be doubted, and his manner in doing so was very human-like. Then returning to me, still standing erect, he would renew this plaintive speech in the most earnest manner, and continue it until another gust would call him to the window. I observed that each time he went to the window he uttered the same sound, as well as I could detect by ear, and would stand for some time watching out of the window, and occasionally turn his head and repeat this sound to me. When returning to me again, he would resume his sad story, whatever it was. I secured a good record of that part of his speech which was made when near me at the front of the cage, but the remarks made while at the window were not so well recorded, yet they were audible, and I reproduced them on the phonograph at a subsequent visit. My opinion was that the sound he uttered while at the window must allude in some way to the state of the weather, and this opinion was confirmed by the fact that on a later occasion, when I repeated the record to him, the weather was fair; but when the machine repeated those sounds which he had uttered at the window on the day of the storm, it would cause him to turn away and look out of the window; while at the other part of the record he evinced but little interest, and, in fact, seemed rather to avoid the phonograph as though the sounds suggested something which he disliked. I am quite sure that the remarks which he made to me at the front of the cage were a complaint of some kind, and, from its intonation and the manner in which it was delivered, I believed that it was an expression of pain. It occurred to me that the state of the weather might have something to do with his feelings, and that he was conscious of this fact, and desired to inform me of it.

About a year from that time, I became quite intimate with a feeble little monkey, which is described elsewhere by the name of Pedro, and of whose speech I made a good record. The sounds of his speech so closely resembled those made by Dago, that I was not able to see that they differed in any respect, except in loudness. Unfortunately, the cylinders containing Dago's record had been broken in shipping, and I was therefore unable to compare the two by a.n.a.lysis; but the sounds themselves resembled in a striking degree, and the manner of delivery was not wholly unlike, except that Pedro did not a.s.sume the same pose nor emphasise them with the same gestures.

[Sidenote: DODO, THE JULIET OF THE TRIBE]

During my stay in New York the past winter, I have been frequently entertained by a like speech from little Dodo, who was the Juliet of the Simian tribe. She belonged to the same species as the others, but her oratory was of a type far superior to that of any other of its kind that I have ever heard. At almost any hour of the day, at the approach of her keeper, she would stand upright and deliver to him the most touching and impa.s.sioned address. The sounds which she used, and the gestures with which she accented them, as far as I could determine, were the same as those used by Dago and Pedro in their remarks to me as above described, except that Dodo delivered her lines in a much more impressive manner than either of the others. [Sidenote: DODO AND HER KEEPER] I asked the keeper to go into the cage with me, and see if he could take her into his hands. We entered the cage, and after a little coaxing she allowed him to take her into his arms, and after caressing her for a while, and a.s.suring her that no harm was meant, she would put her slender little arms about his neck, and cuddle her head up under his chin like an injured child. She would caress him by licking his cheeks and chattering to him in a voice full of sympathy, and an air of affection worthy of a human being. During most of this time she would continue her pathetic speech without a moment's pause, and was not willing under any conditions to be separated from him. The only time at which she would ever show any anger at me, or threaten me with a.s.sault, would be when I would attempt to lay hands on her keeper, or release him from her warm embrace. At such times, however, she would fly at me with great fury, and attempt to tear my very clothes off, and on these occasions she would not allow any other inmate of the cage to approach him, or to receive his attention or caresses. The sounds which she uttered were pitiful at times, and the tale she told must have been full of the deepest woe. I have not been able up to this time to translate these sounds literally, but their import cannot be misunderstood. My belief is that her speech was a complaint against the inmates of the cage, and that she was begging her keeper not to leave her alone in that great iron prison, with all those big, bad monkeys, who were so cruel to her.

One reason for believing this to be the nature of her speech, is that in all cases where I have heard this speech and seen these gestures made, the conditions were such as to indicate that such was its nature. It has, however, every appearance of love-making of the most intense type.

It is quite impossible to describe fully and accurately the sounds, and much more so the gestures, made on these occasions, so that the reader would be impressed as with the real act and speech. Dodo would stand erect on her feet, cross her hands on her heart, and in the most touching but graceful manner go through with the most indescribable contortions; she would sway her body from side to side, turn her head in the most coquettish manner, and move her folded hands dramatically, while her face would be adorned with a Simian grin of the first order, and the soft, rich notes of her voice were perfectly musical. She would bend her body into every graceful curve that can be imagined, move her feet with the grace of the minuet, and continue her fervent speech as long as the object of her admiration appeared to be touched by her appeals. Her voice would range from pitch to pitch and from key to key, and, with her arms folded, she would glide across the floor of her cage with the grace of a ballet girl; and I have seen her stand with her eyes fixed upon her keeper, and hold her face in such a position as not to lose sight of him for a moment, and at the same time turn her body entirely around, in her tracks, with the skill which no contortionist has ever attained. [Sidenote: MONKEYS SHED TEARS] During these orations I have observed the little tears standing in the corner of her eyes, which indicated that she herself must have felt what her speech was intended to convey. These little creatures do not shed tears in such abundance as human beings do, but they are real tears, and are doubtless the result of the same causes that move the human eyes to tears.

It has been my experience that these sounds appeal directly to our better feelings. What there is in the sound itself I cannot say, but it touches some chord in the human heart which vibrates in response to it.

It has impressed me with the thought that all our senses are like the strings of some great harp, each one having a certain tension; so that any sound produced through an emotion would find response in that chord which is in unison with it. Indeed, I have thought that our emotions and sensations may be like the diatonic scale in music, and that the organs through which they act may respond in tones and semitones, and that each multiple of any fundamental tone will affect the chord in unison with it, like the strings upon a musical instrument. The logical deduction thence would be, that our sympathies and affections are the chords, and our aversions and contempt the discords, of that great harp of pa.s.sion.

CHAPTER VII.

Interpretation of Words--Specific Words and Signs--The Negative Sign and Sounds--Affirmative Expressions--Possible Origin of Negative and Positive Signs.

In my intercourse with these little creatures, I cannot forget how often I have caught the spirit of their tones when no ray of meaning as mere words of speech had dawned upon me, and it is partly through such means that I have been able to interpret them. As a rule, each act of a monkey is attended by some sound, and each sound by some act, which, to another monkey of the same species, always means a certain thing. There are many cases, perhaps, in which acquired words or shades of dialect are not quite clear to them, just as we often find in human speech; but monkeys appear to meet this difficulty and overcome it, just as men do. They talk with one another on a limited number of subjects, but in very few words, which they frequently repeat if necessary. Their language is purely one of sounds, and while those sounds are accompanied by signs, as a rule, I think they are quite able to get along better with the sounds alone than with the signs alone. The rules by which we may interpret the sounds of Simian speech are the same as those by which we would interpret human speech. If you should be cast away upon an island inhabited by some strange race of people whose speech was so unlike your own that you could not understand a single word of it, you would watch the actions of those people and see what act they did in connection with any sound they made, and in this way you would gradually learn to a.s.sociate a certain sound with a certain act, until at last you would be able to understand the sound without seeing the act at all; and such is the simple line I have pursued in the study of the speech of this little race--only I have been compelled to resort to some very novel means of doing my part of the talking. Since I have been so long a.s.sociated with them, I have learned to know in many cases what act they will perform in response to certain sounds; and as I grow more and more familiar with these sounds, I become better able to distinguish them, just as we do with human speech.

[Sidenote: SPECIFIC TERMS]

Until recently, I have believed that their sounds were so limited in number as to preclude any specific terms in their vocabulary; but now I am inclined to modify this opinion somewhat, as I have reason to believe that they have some specific terms--such as a word for monkey, another word for fruit, and so on. They do not specify, perhaps, the various kinds of monkeys; but monkeys in general, in contradistinction to birds or dogs. Their word for fruit does not specify the kind, but only means fruit in a collective sense, and only as a kind of food. I am not positive as yet that their specific terms may even go so far as this, but I infer that such may be the case from one fact which I have observed in my experience. When I show a monkey his image in a mirror, he utters a sound on seeing it, especially if he has been kept away from other monkeys for a long time; and all monkeys of the same species, so far as I have observed, under like conditions use the same sound and address it in the same way to the image in the gla.s.s. In a few instances I have seen strange monkeys brought in contact with each other, and have observed that they use this same sound on their first meeting. The sound is always uttered in a low, soft tone, and appears to have the value of a salutation. When kept in a cage with other monkeys, they do not appear to salute the image in the gla.s.s, but chatter to it, and show less surprise at seeing it than in cases where they have been kept alone for some time.

In cases where monkeys have been fed for a long time on bread and milk, or on any one kind of food, when a banana is shown him he uses a sound which the phonograph shows to differ slightly from the ordinary food sound. I have recently had reason to suspect that this difference of inflection somewhat qualifies the sound, and has a tendency to make it more specific. The rapidity with which these creatures utter their speech is so great that only such ears as theirs can detect these very slight inflections. I am now directing my observations and experiments to this end, with the hope that I may determine with certainty in what degree they qualify their sounds, by inflections or otherwise. I have observed that in the phonograph the sounds which formerly appeared to me to be the same are easily distinguished when treated in the manner described in the second part of this work, where I describe at length some of my experiments with this wonderful machine.

[Sidenote: THE NEGATIVE SIGN]

One of the most certain of my discoveries in the Simian speech, is the negative sign and the word "no." The sign is made by shaking the head from side to side in a fashion almost exactly like that used by man to express the same idea. I have no longer any doubt of the intent and meaning of this sign, and the many tests to which I have subjected it compel me accept the result as final.

[Sidenote: SIGN COMMON TO MAN AND SIMIAN]

A little more than a year ago, my attention was called to this sign by the children who own the little Capuchin, Jack, in Charlestown. A number of times they said to him in my presence, "Jack, you must go to bed." At which he would shake his little black head, as if he really did not wish to comply. I watched this with great interest; but it was my belief at that time that he had been trained to do this, and that the sign did not really signify to him anything at all. The children, however, declared to me that he really meant "no." To believe that he meant this would presuppose that he understood the combination of words quoted; and this was beyond the limits of my faith, although it was certain that a repet.i.tion of the sentence always elicited from him the same sign, which indicated that he recognised it as the same sentence or combination of sounds, and gave it the same reply each time. I concluded that he had been taught to a.s.sociate this sign with some sound--for instance, "bed" or "go"; but since that time I have found the sign to be almost universal with this species of monkey, and they use the sign to express negation. I have seen them use the sign in response to certain things which were wholly new to them, but where the idea was clear to them and they desired to express dissent. The fact that this sign is common to both man and Simian, I regard as more than a mere coincidence; and I believe that in this sign I have found the psycho-physical basis of expression.

I have made scores of experiments on this subject, and I find this sign a fixed factor of expression. In one case, where I tried to induce a monkey to allow me to take him into my hands from the hand of his master, he would shake his head each time, and make a peculiar sound somewhat like a suppressed cluck. I would try to coax him with nuts, in response to which he would make the same sound and sign each time, and his actions showed beyond all controversy his intention. I had taught a monkey to drink milk from a bottle by sucking it through a rubber nipple, and after he had satisfied his thirst, when I would try to force the bottle to his lips, he would invariably respond by a shake of the head in the manner described, and at the same time utter a clucking sound. I tried many similar experiments with three or four other monkeys, and secured the same result in each case. In another instance, where a monkey was confined in a small cage so that I could easily catch him in order to tame him by handling, when I would put my hand into the cage to catch him, he would shake his head in this manner and accompany the act by a plaintive sound which was so touching, that I could not obtain my own consent to persecute the little prisoner by compelling him to submit to my caresses. I have found that the little rogue, McGinty, in Central Park does the same thing at times when I go into the cage and attempt to put my hands on him, and especially when he has taken refuge in a corner to nurse his jealousy. While I remain outside the cage, he is so devoted to me that he will scarcely leave me to get something to eat; but when I enter the cage, and reach out my hand toward him, he will shake his little head and utter that peculiar clucking sound. Many of these tests I have repeated over and over with the same results, and, noting the conditions at the time, I am thoroughly convinced that the sign and sound mean "no." I have observed that this sign is always made in the same manner; but sometimes it is accompanied by a clucking sound, while at other times it is a soft whimpering sound, almost like a low plaintive whistle. [Sidenote: SIGN USED WITHOUT SOUND] The sign is frequently used without the sound at all, and I must impress it upon my reader that these results do not always present themselves in every experiment, as much depends upon the mood and surroundings of the subject. I have found that one advantage is to have the monkey confined in a very small cage, as otherwise he will turn away and get out of your reach when you press anything upon him that he does not want. I have also found much better results by having the monkey alone, and where he can neither see nor hear other monkeys.

Having discovered the sign of negation among the Simians, I began an investigation to ascertain how far it could be found among the races of mankind. I have carried my search far beyond the limits of local inquiry, and up to this time I have found only a few trifling exceptions in the use of this sign among all the races of men, and those few exceptions are found among the Caucasian race, and appear to be confined to Southern Europe. I have heard that among certain island tribes of Polynesia these signs are reversed, but I have been a.s.sured by two officers of the English navy and two of the United States navy, who have visited the islands in question, that such is not the case. Among the Indians, Mongolians, and Negroes I have found no noteworthy exceptions.

I have inquired among mothers who have raised families to ascertain when they first observed this sign as an expression among their children; and from the consensus of opinion it appears that this is about the first sign used by infants to express negation.

[Sidenote: THE POSITIVE SIGN]

I have not found the positive sign, or sign of affirmation, by a nod of the head, to be so general, yet it has a wide range within the human family, and appears to be used to some extent among the lower primates.

Seeking a source from which these signs may have originated, I have concluded that they may arise from two circ.u.mstances. The negative sign doubtless comes from an effort to turn the head away from something which is not desired, and that with such an intent it has gradually crystallised into an instinctive expression of negation or refusal; while the nod of affirmation or approval may have grown out of the intuitive lowering of the head, as an act of submission or acquiescence, or from reaching the head forward to receive something desired, or they may have come from these two causes conjointly.

[Sidenote: ALPHABET FOR SIMIAN SPEECH]

This is only one of a great many points in which the speech of Simians coincides with that of man. It is true we have no letters in our alphabet with which to represent the sounds of their speech, nor have we the phonetic equivalence of their speech in our language; but it is also true that our alphabet does not fully represent or correctly express the entire phonetic range of our own speech; but the fact that our speech is not founded upon the same phonetic basis, or built up into the same phonetic structures, is no reason that their speech is not as truly speech as our own. That there are no letters in any alphabet which represent the phonetic elements of Simian speech, is doubtless due to the fact that there has never been any demand for such; but the same genius which invented an alphabet for human speech, actuated by the same motives and led by the same incentives, could as easily invent an alphabet for Simian speech. It is not only true that the phonetic elements of our language are not represented by the characters of our alphabet, but the same is true to some extent of our words, which do not quite keep pace with human thought. In the higher types of human speech there are thousands of words and ideas which cannot be translated into or expressed by any savage tongue, because no savage ever had use for them, and no savage tongue contains their equivalence. The growth of speech is always measured by the growth of mind. They are not always of the same extent, but always bear a common ratio. It is a mental product, and must be equal to the task of coining thoughts into words. It is essential to all social order, and no community could long survive as such without it. It is as much the product of mind and matter as salt is the product of chlorine and sodium.

CHAPTER VIII.

Meeting with Nellie--Nellie was my Guest--Her Speech and Manners--The little Blind Girl--One of Nellie's Friends--Her Sight and Hearing--Her Toys, and how she Played with them.

One of the most intelligent of all the brown Capuchins that I have ever seen was Nellie, who belonged to a dealer in Washington. When she arrived there, I was invited to call and see her. I introduced myself in my usual way, by giving her the sound for food, to which she promptly replied. She was rather informal, and we were soon engaged in a chat on that subject, the one above all others that would interest a monkey. On my second visit she was like an old acquaintance, and we had a fine time. On my third visit she allowed me to put my hands into her cage, and handle her with impunity. On my next visit I took her out of the cage, and we had a real romp. This continued for some days, during which time she would answer me on all occasions when I used the word for food or drink. She had grown quite fond of me, and always recognised me as I entered the door. [Sidenote: NELLIE AND THE BLIND GIRL] About this time there came to Washington a little girl who was deaf, dumb, and blind; she was accompanied by her teacher, who acted as her interpreter. One of the greatest desires of this little girl's life was to see a live monkey--that is, to see it with her fingers. The dealer who owned the monkey sent for me to come down and show it to her, as I could handle the monkey for her. I took Nellie from the cage, and when any one except myself would put hands upon her she would growl and scold and show her temper; and when the little blind girl first attempted to put her hands on her, Nellie did not like it at all. I stroked the child's hair and cheeks with my own hand first, and then with Nellie's; she looked up at me in an inquiring manner, and uttered one of those soft, flute-like sounds a few times, and then began to pull at the cheeks and ears of the child. Within a few moments they were like old friends and playmates, and for nearly an hour they afforded each other great pleasure, at the end of which time they separated with reluctance. The little Simian acted as if she was conscious of the sad affliction of the child, but seemed at perfect ease with her, although she would decline the tenderest approach of others. She would look at the child's eyes, which were not disfigured, but lacked expression, and then look up at me as if to indicate that she was aware that the child was blind, and the little girl appeared not to be aware that monkeys could bite at all. It was a beautiful and touching scene, and one in which the lamp of instinct shed its feeble light on all around.

On the following day, by an accident in which I really had no part, except that of being present, Nellie escaped from her cage, and climbed up on a shelf occupied by some bird-cages. As she attempted to climb up, of course the light wicker cages with their little yellow occupants fell to the floor by the dozen. I tried to induce her to return or to come to me, but the falling cages, the cry of the birds, the talking of parrots, and the scream of other monkeys, frightened poor Nellie almost out of her wits. Thinking that I was the cause of her trouble, because I was present, she would scream with fright at my approach. She was not an exception to that general rule which governs monkeydom, which is to suspect every one of doing wrong except itself.

I had her removed to my apartment, where I supplied her with bells and toys, and fed her on the fat of the land; and by this means we slowly knitted together the broken bones of our friendship once more. But when once a monkey has grown suspicious of you they never recover entirely from it, it seems, for in every act thereafter, however slight, you can readily see that they suspect you of it; but with great care and caution you can make them almost forget the trouble. While I kept Nellie at my rooms I made some good records of her speech on the phonograph, and studied her with special care; but as the province of this work is the speech of that little race, I must forego the pleasure of telling some intensely funny things with which she entertained me, excepting so far as they are relevant to speech.

[Sidenote: NELLIE'S FONDNESS FOR A LITTLE BOY]

A frequent and welcome visitor to my study was a bright little boy, about six years old, for whom Nellie entertained a great fondness, as she also did for my wife. At the sight of the boy Nellie would go into perfect raptures, and when he would leave her, she would call him so earnestly and whine so pitifully that one could not refrain from sympathy. On his return she would laugh audibly, and give every sign of extreme joy. She never tired of his company, nor gave any part of her attention to others when he was present. Some children living next door always found great delight in calling to see Nellie, and she always showed her pleasure at their visits. On these occasions, Nellie made it a point to entertain them, and always showed herself to the best advantage. When I wished to make a good record of her sounds, and especially of her laughter, I always brought the little boy to my aid.

The boy would conceal himself in the room, and after Nellie had called him a few times he would jump out from his place of concealment and surprise her, whereupon she would laugh till she could be heard through the whole house; and in this manner I secured some of the best records I have ever made of the laughter of any monkey. When the boy would conceal himself again, I secured the peculiar sound with which she would try to attract his attention. The sound which she used in calling him or my wife was unlike that which she made for any other purpose; and while it is difficult to say whether the grammatical value of this sound is that of a noun or of a verb, it is evident that it was used for the special purpose of calling or attracting attention. If its value is that of a noun, it has not, in my opinion, any specific character, but a term which would be applied alike to boys, monkeys, horses, birds, or any other thing which she might desire to call. If in its nature it is a verb, it is equivalent to the name of the act, and combines the force of the imperative and infinitive moods.

[Sidenote: EMOTIONS OF MAN AND SIMIAN]

The uniform expression of the emotions of man and Simian is such as to suggest that, if thought was developed from emotion and speech was developed from thought, that the expressions of emotion were the rudiments from which speech is developed.