F. Cuvier observed the early days of one born in France, and noticed that immediately after birth it clung fast to its mother’s stomach, holding on with its fore hands stuck in her fur, and that it did not quit the breast, even during its sleep, for fifteen days. In the first day of its existence it appeared to distinguish things, and to look at them carefully, and the mother was devoted to it, giving it the tenderest attention of a constant and patient nurse. Not a movement or noise on its part escaped her, and her maternal solicitude was quite astonishing. The weight of the little thing did not interfere with her moving about, and all her exertions were managed with a view of not incommoding her young charge. She never shook it, or struck it accidentally against the edges and corners of her house. At the end of a fortnight the little one began to detach itself, and from the beginning of its moving by itself it showed a great amount of vigour, power, and ability to run and jump, which human children of a year or two might well envy. It held on to the wires of its cage and crawled up and down at will, but the careful mother never took her eyes off it, and followed it wherever it went, and even held out her hands to prevent it tumbling when it became too venturesome. Indeed, she admonished the little one by a gentle touch that it had been away long enough, and must come in. At other times it walked on all-fours over the straw, and often let itself drop down from the top of its cage on to the soft bottom, so as to accustom itself to fall on all-fours; then it would jump up the net-work and lay hold and scramble with great precision. After a while, the mother began to teach the young one not to be so troublesome to her, and to manage without her, but still she took care of it, following it if it was doing anything out of the way and in danger. With strength the agility of the creature increased, and its jumps and bounds were wonderful, and it never miscalculated its distance, or made a false step. After six weeks a more substantial nourishment than milk was required, and then a very curious spectacle was seen. This attentive mother would not let the little one have a bit of all the nice things, but drove it away and scolded it, although it was hungry. The old one took possession of the fruit and bread which were for both, and boxed the little one’s ears if it came close and hid up the food. She had hardly any more milk, and the young one was in daily want of food, but the old one did not appear to act from cruelty or gluttony, but wished to train up the youth, like the young Cyrus, to feats of daring and of skill. As hunger pressed, the young one became bold, and stole by art what he could not get otherwise. If he was very adroit, all the better, and he was commended by being allowed to carry off his own. He used to get to the further end of the cage, and turning his back on his mother would begin to gormandise. But even the maternal