Mafuca was a remarkable creature, not only in her external habits, but in her disposition. At one moment she would sit still with a brooding air, only occasionally darting a mischievous, flashing glance at the spectators; at another she took pleasure in feats of strength, or she roamed to and fro in her spacious enclosure like an angry beast of prey. She would insert the index finger of her right hand in the opening of a vessel which weighed thirty pounds, climb up the pole with it, and let it fall with a crash and clatter from a height of six feet. This ape would sometimes rattle the bars of her cage with a violence which made the spectators uneasy. She was fond of playing with old hats, which she set upon her head, and if the top was quite torn off, she drew it down upon her neck. Mafuca clawed at people who entered the vestibule of her cage and tried to tear their clothes. She hardly obeyed any one except Schöpf, the director of the Dresden Zoological Gardens, and when in a good humour she would sit on his knee and put her muscular arms round his neck with a caressing gesture. In spite of this, Schöpf was never secure from Mafuca’s roguish tricks, since her good-humour was of short duration. She was rather fond of the keeper, but not always obedient to him, and the whip was often in request, even at feeding-times. Mafuca was able to use a spoon, although somewhat awkwardly; and she could pour from larger vessels into smaller ones without spilling the liquor. She took tea and cocoa in the morning and evening, and a mixed diet between whiles, such as fruit, sweetmeats, red wine and water, and sugar.