During the winter of 1891 there lived in Central Park five little brown monkeys, all of the same kind and occupying the same cage. They were all of more or less interest, and all of them were my friends. I paid them frequent visits and spent much time with them. I have the vanity to believe that I was always a welcome guest. We found much pleasure in each other’s society. As the monkey house was open to the public after nine o’clock, I usually made my visits about sunrise in order to be alone with my little friends. One of the most cunning and happiest of all little monkeys was in this group. His name was Mickie, and he was the boss of the school. He was not very talkative except when he wished for food or drink, but he was very playful and we had many a merry romp. Whenever I entered the cage Mickie perched himself above the door to surprise me by jumping on my neck. He then affectionately threw his arms around my neck and licked my cheeks, pulled my ears, and chattered in his sweet, plaintive tones. The other inmates of the cage were jealous of him, but none contested his right to do as he pleased. I am sorry to say that Mickie was not always as kind to his little cousins as he might have been. He was like some people I have known who are selfish and sometimes cruel; but his habitual good nature made amends in some degree for his sudden fits of anger. Mickie did not belong to the park. He was only kept as a guest of the city during the absence of his master in Europe. He had a genuine sense of humor and sometimes played pranks upon the others, very much to their annoyance. On one occasion Mickie got the tail of another monkey around one of the bars of the cage. He sat down and held to it while its owner screamed with rage and scuffled to get away. During this time Mickie’s face wore a broad, satanic grin, and he did not release his hold until he had tired of the fun. Another one of these little cousins was named McGinty. McGinty was very fond of me; but he was afraid of Mickie, who was much larger and stronger than himself. McGinty always wanted to be counted in the game. He did not like to have Mickie monopolize my attentions. He often climbed upon my shoulders and caressed me very fondly, if not interrupted by Mickie; but whenever the latter came, poor little McGinty retired in disgust, pouted for a time, and even refused to accept food from me. By and by he would yield to my overtures and again join in the play. He seemed always to wish to find something that would divert my attention from Mickie.