has gone blind), and three dogs—Rose, Tom, and Limpy. These latter are chosen, not for their beauty, nor yet for their ugliness, but for their malformations. Tom has three legs in front (an extra one growing out of his chest), Rose has three legs behind and two in front, and Limpy has but one leg behind, with no trace of a second; she therefore “ goes limpy,” as her name implies. The unfortunates have not been in any way

mutilated or disfigured; they are all natural cripples,

but very good-natured cripples withal, with free use of their tails. Quasre, do the muscles with which a dog wags his tail so freely in welcoming visitors ever get

tired? It was supper-time when I made my call on “ the family; ” there were sundry slop-basins filled with capital bread and milk, placed in the cage; round one basin were sitting three monkeys, the two ferrets, and a guniea-pig, each and every one of them eating for their lives. The u monkeys' allowance ” in this case was decidedly the best, for the rascals took out first one handful and then another, and thus filled, not only their mouths and stomachs, but also the pocket-like pouches in their cheeks, which were full to distension. They lost no time—they were eating and stealing, stealing and eating, as long as there was any thing to eat or steal; the poor ferrets could only take single mouthfuls, and their sharp teeth did not seem at all good instru-

ments to pick up soft bread and milk; they reminded me of an Englishman eating rice with Chinese chop-sticks. The guinea-pig was not big enough to reach well over the basin, and therefore every now and then tipped it over for his own special benefit. In the rear of this supper-party was the duck, who every now and then, reaching over the whole party, thrust her long neck forward and gobbled up a good bill-full, in the

very face of the supper-party.

One of the monkeys had a private meal served all to himself; he had been doing duty all the evening outside the show, in company with the racoon. These were the decoy animals, placed as sentries on each side of the door, to attract the attention of visitors and cause an influx to the exchequer. This monkey was the show monkey, the best-looking of the lot, but apparently spiteful. On offering to shake hands, he showed his teeth and began a long chattering conversation, with sundry demonstrations of animosity. His master, however, assured me that u he was the biggest bounce in England, and would not harm a fly.”

There was lately in “ the family” just such another monkey who could not be prevailed upon to take any food when offered. It was soon observed that this creature’s great characteristic was thieving; “ kleptomania ” (as the love of thieving is now called) was strongly implanted in his mind. So great a thief was

the beast that he would not eat anything unless he stole it. His master therefore pretended to hide his dinner from him, and, when nobody was looking, Master Monkey would come and steal it, and enjoy it, wliick he would not condescend to do when placed before him in a proper monkey-like manner.

Thieving propensities, whether in man or beast, always, sooner or later, bring the owner of those propensities to grief. One day the master was painting the van with red paint, which he placed for security’s sake in concealment. The u kleptomaniac ” monkey was watching all the time, and when the coast was clear made a meal of the red paint, which gave him such a fit of indigestion that he became a dead monkey—a warning to all thieves, whether biped, quadruped, or quadrumanous. The monkey members of “ the family ” require great care at the fall of the year, they suffer so much from cold.* I saw one of them retire after supper from the bread-and-milk basin, with a ferret, which he nursed in his arms,

The Barbary ape (so called) is, however, an exception. A \rery large specimen was given me in 1849. In May, 1851, I gave ‘ Jenny ’ to my friend J. Bush, Esq. of Clapham; she is still (1867) alive and well. She sits nearly all day on the top of a wall, and has only a common dog-kennel for shelter. She is out in frost, snow and, rain, and is none the worse for it. Her fur is magnificent, and she has a beard, that makes her face positively beautiful—for a monkey; for, correctly speaking, she is a tailless monkey, as distinguished from a true ape.

and the two coiled themselves together as snug as could be. The master always u takes the monkeys out of the cage on cold nights, and puts them in a box together, where they warms one another which is as good as anything.” The monkeys also suffer much from bad tails; the tip becomes dead and mortified, and the result of Mr. Garbett’s experience is that it is no use trying half-measures, and that an operation is the only remedy for the disease. He therefore puts the monkey, in spite of his remonstrances, into a bag, leaving the tail protruding. With a sharp knife he then separates the skin up as high as the joint of the diseased portion, and cuts it off. The bleeding he stops with a hot iron. He then brings the skin over the wound, and applies powdered resin, and a top-dressing of bitter-aloes in order that the monkey shall not lick the wound. “ After the operation, by adopting this plan,” said the father of this “ happy family,” “ I never has no difficulties with my monkeys’ tails, though I has sometimes with their manners.”

Kleptomania, or the love of stealing, is a passion so firmly inherent in the monkey family, that it would seem that no monkey can enjoy anything unless it has been attained by furtive means.

I lately had a little monkey, who was such a great thief, that if he had been a human being he would have been transported over and over again for numerous

acts of petty larceny. T, however, turned his thieving

propensities to good account. Master Jack (and I had him some time) showed evident symptoms of phthisis, or consumption, and I prescribed cod liver oil. It was placed openly before him, on the dining-room table, but he refused it with symptoms of disgust and sundry tail- ' shakings. I then poured a little into a saucer, and ^ placed it in such a position that he should find it! for himself, while I pretended to be reading and not to notice what was going on. The trap took; Jack, thinking that he was stealing the oil, sucked up the prescribed dose, making a face, not implying nausea, but rather high glee at his own cleverness.

This u deceit,” however, was after a time discovered by the artful creature, and one day I found my friend with his long tail and arms tightly coiled round the table lamp, and stealing the colza oil as it dropped down from the wick. He managed to get one of his long spider-leg-like fingers through the brass work of the lamp, and held it till a drop of oil fell on it; he then put it in his mouth and sucked off the oil like a child sucking sugar-candy. How he could manage to gaze at the intense light, which one would have thought would have hurt his eyes when so near the lighted wick, I know not. I fancy however that the light bothered him somewhat, for he used to frown dreadfully while he was waiting for the oil to drop on his finger. (See engraving.) I placed colza oil before him; no, he would not touch it; but nevertheless he had no ob-

HOW JACK TOOK HIS MEDICINE.

jection to it when he stole it for himself from the lamp. He was certainly better and fatter for his medicine, which was so sweet because stolen, and I really think it saved his life. The engraving by Mr. Carpendale re-presents Jack taking his medicine.

Jack, too, had a marvellous propensity for picking things to pieces, and smashing articles that came in his way; strange to say, he never tore a useless bit of paper, or broke a common or valueless bit of goods. One day he sneaked out of his cage, and had a good morning’s work to himself, tearing off the leather and pulling out the lining of an old armchair. He was, after an hour or two, discovered in the act, and taken into custody to be duly chastised for his mischief. He cried 11 murder ” when he saw preparations made to punish him, but at the same time he held out his hand, firmly closed upon something in it. His pickers and stealers were unclasped, and in the palm of his hand was discovered a half-sovereign, which he had most certainly found and picked out of the chair (an old second-hand one), and which probably had been buried in its lining for years. His proffered ransom got him off his punishment, but his investigations into the structure of watches, books, ink and cruet stands, writing-desks, MS. notes, &c., did not afterwards produce

equally valuable discoveries.

Nothing pleased Jack so much as to make his escape,

Jack Sheppard fashion, from the wire cage in which he was kept by the kitchen fire. He would pick and pick, with his long skeleton-like fingers, till he found the staple loose. If anybody happened to look round at him while he was at work, he would drop instantly on the hay and pretend to be asleep. When he managed to get the door unfastened, he would not bolt out in a moment, but push it open as gently and gradually as a burglar. He would then sneak out, and the cunning rascal would carry his chain in a curl of his tail to prevent it rattling on the stones and the servants detecting his pranks. His object was to get to my room, and on looking up I frequently found my friend nestled inside the fender. He came into the room so quietly, that I did not know he had escaped from his cage till he called my attention by a friendly chatter, as much as to say—“ I’ve got loose so cleverly, you really must not scold me for it.” When winter came on I always had a coat made for him, which was sewed on at the back like a lady’s stays, or he would not rest till he had unpicked the stitches and got it off. As it was sewed at the back he could not get at the stitches. Jack’s tailor was the regimental tailor of the Second Life Guards. When the tailor made him his first coat he made him the coat of a ‘Troop Corporal-Major,” putting the crown and four stripes on the right arm. Jack soon set to work and

pulled off the crown, and then one by one the stripes. The coat was sent back to the tailor for repairs, and when it was returned we found that Jack had lost rank, for he had now only three stripes on his arm and was therefore a “ Full Corporal.” These he destroyed, and he was then reduced to two stripes, and made only a “Lance-Corporal.” The punishment however did not take much effect on Jack, for he at once deliberately set to work to “ destroy his kit, contrary to the Mutiny Act.” All hopes of his reformation were then given over, and Jack was reduced with disgrace to “ Full Private,” with no stripes at all, and he remained Full

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