Mrs. Bowditch, in describing her voyage home from Western Africa, gives an interesting account of a Diana Monkey which was on board. “We made acquaintance,” she says, “very suddenly, and, to me, disagreeably, for I had not till then conquered the foolish aversion with which these animals always inspired me. It was a dead calm, the wheel was lashed, and all, save myself, below--nothing round us but sea and sky, and I had sheltered myself with a book in a corner protected from the equatorial sun. Suddenly, and without noise, something leaped upon my shoulders, and the tail which encircled my throat convinced me that Mr. Jack was my assailant. My first impulse was to beat him off, in which case I should probably have received some injury; but fortunately I sat perfectly still, and twisting himself round he brought his face opposite to mine and stared at me. I endeavoured to speak kindly to him, upon which he grinned and chattered, seated himself on my knees, and carefully examined my hands. He then tried to pull off my rings, and was proceeding to a bite for this purpose when I gave him some biscuit which happened to lie beside me, and making a bed for him with a handkerchief he settled himself comfortably to sleep, and from that moment we were sworn allies. The amusement afforded to me and others by Jack made him tolerated when his mischievous propensities would otherwise have condemned him to perpetual confinement. He was often banished to an empty hen-coop, but as this made no impression upon him I always tried to prevent it, which he knew so well that when he had done wrong he either hid himself or sought refuge near me. Much more effect was produced by taking him within sight of the Panther, who always seemed most willing to devour him. On these occasions I held him by the tail in front of the cage, but long before I reached it, knowing where he was going, he pretended to be dead--his eyes were closed quite fast, and every limb was as stiff as if there were no life in him. When taken away he would open one eye a little to see whereabouts he might be, but if he caught a glimpse of the cage it was instantly closed, and he became as stiff as before. He clambered into the hammocks, stole the men’s knives, tools, handkerchiefs, and even the nightcaps off their heads, all of which went into the sea. When biscuit was toasting between the bars of the caboose, and the dried herbs boiling in the tin mugs, he would take the former out and carry it away, and take out the latter and trail them along the planks; if he burnt his hands he desisted for a day or two; and he often regaled the Parrots with the biscuit, biting it in small pieces, and feeding them with the utmost gravity. At other times he would knock their cages over, lick up the water thus spilled, eat the lumps of sugar, and pull the birds’ tails: and in this manner he killed a beautiful green Pigeon belonging to the steward, a specimen of which I never saw in any collection. For this he