“Yes, Frank, I have also seen them occupied in the same way.  I was quite delighted at such an unexpected exhibition of tenderness.

“Some of the monkeys which are natives of the American continent have the singular characteristic of prehensile tales; that is, of tails which they can more about, and lay hold of branches of trees with nearly as much ease as they can with their hands.  The facilities which this affords them for moving about with celerity among the branches of trees is astonishing.  The firmness of the grasp which it takes of the tree is no less surprising, for if it makes a single coil round a branch, it is quite sufficient, not only to support the weight of the animal, but to enable it to swing in such a manner as to gain a fresh hold with its feet.”

“That is very curious, Uncle Thomas.  Is there any other animal which has this power in the tail.”

“Oh, yes, Frank, several of the lizards have the power, as well as some other animals; the little harvest mouse, for instance; but none of them are possessed of it in so high a degree as the American monkeys.

“I have now pretty well exhausted my stories about the monkey tribe.  I recollect only one more at present, and it occurred to the same traveller to whom Kees belonged.

“In one of his excursions he happened to kill a female monkey, which carried a young one on her back.  The little creature, as if insensible of its mother’s death, continued to cling to the dead body till they reached their evening quarters; and even then it required considerable force to disengage it.  No sooner, however, did the little creature feel itself alone, than it darted towards a wooden block, on which was placed the wig of Le Vaillant’s father, mistaking it for its dead mother.  To this it clung most pertinaciously by its fore paws; and such was the force of this deceptive instinct, that it remained in the same position for about three weeks, all this time evidently mistaking the wig for its mother.  It was fed, from time to time, with goat’s milk; and, at length, emancipated itself voluntarily, by quitting the fostering care of the peruke.  The confidence which it ere long assumed, and the amusing familiarity of its manners, soon rendered it a favourite.  The unsuspecting naturalist had, however, introduced a wolf in sheep’s clothing into his dwelling:  for, one morning, on entering his chamber, the door of which had been imprudently left open, he beheld his young favourite making a hearty breakfast on a very noble collection of insects.  In the first transports of his anger, he resolved to strangle the monkey in his arms:  but his rage immediately gave way to pity, when he perceived that the crime of its voracity had carried the punishment along with it.  In eating the beetles, it had swallowed several of the pins on which they were transfixed.  Its agony, consequently, became great; and all his efforts were unable to preserve its life.”