They have the cheek-pouches, and the curious callosities on their stern, which sometimes are very large and vividly coloured; and their hair is many-coloured, being long or short according to the species. The tail is curved upwards close to its origin, and then it droops downwards when the Baboon is quiet in mind and body; but when excited, it sticks out and is flourished about with great vigour. Sometimes ended with a tuft, in some kinds it is not, and in one or two of the great Dog-headed there is no tail, or only a miserable rudiment of it. In spite of their brutal looks--for the faces of some are swollen out, or rather the side of the nose, and coloured and ridged in a marvellously ugly manner--they are very interesting, on account of their habits, cleverness, sociability amongst themselves, and their courage. Usually very amiable and full of fun when young, they afford much amusement when kept well and treated with kindness. They like to be petted, and will present their backs to be scratched, and may be taught to beg for food, to hold things, and to play endless tricks. This “jolly” disposition is seen amongst the wild youngsters, who are ever on the watch for an occurrence of mischief and practical joking, the sedate behaviour of their elders affording opportunities for endless mummeries and impudences. What can be more tempting to a young and light-hearted Cynocephalus than to disturb the solemn thoughts of the patriarch of the troop? There sits the elder of elders on his haunches, his tail outspread behind, the long nose slightly stuck up, and the fine long mane, lion-like, encircling the throat and covering the shoulders. Perched upon a block of stone, higher than the rest, he is an object of reverential awe to the elders of the band. But often enough some restless little Ape, after squatting on a stone and mimicking the Nestor of the tribe, forgets himself, and after much dodging here and there, and running to and fro, ventures to pull that sacred tail as only Monkeys pull. All the rage of Thoth is, however, slumbering in that quiet old male. His cares and watchings have triumphed over any gaiety he ever had. Making no allowances for the follies of youth, he pounces without wavering on the offender. Squeals, squeaks, and howls follow the cuffs, pinches, and bites, and the little wretch makes off to the bosom of his mother, who snarls, grins, and shows her teeth, using language awful in monkeydom, and mutterings not loud but deep. The mothers in the immediate neighbourhood sympathise and proclaim their indignation with low grunts and much pantomime suggestive of reprisals, but they all know better than to do anything of the sort, as they have experienced the weight of the paternal arm themselves so often. With age, any amiability of disposition is replaced by ferocity and greedy brutality, and is particularly increased in captivity, as the temper is usually severely tried by the tricks and teasings of the visitors.