One day when Dr Hermes gave his nine-year-old son a slight tap on the head for some blunder in his arithmetic, the chimpanzee, who was also sitting at the table, thought it his duty likewise to show his displeasure, and gave the boy a sound box on the ear. If, again, Dr Hermes pointed out to him that some one was staring or mocking at him, and said: ‘Do not put up with it,’ the creature cried, ‘Oh! oh!’ and rushed at the person in question in order to strike or bite him, or express his displeasure in some other way. When he saw the director was writing, he often seized a pen, dipped it in the inkstand, and scrawled upon the paper. ‘He displayed a special talent for cleaning the window-panes of the aquarium. It was amusing to see him squeezing up the cloth, moistening the pane with his lips, and then rubbing it hard, passing quickly from one place to another.’ Of a female chimpanzee, Massica by name, kept in the Dresden Zoological Gardens, some extraordinary things are told. She 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 inclosure like an angry beast of prey.’ She would sometimes rattle the bars of her cage with a violence that made the spectators uneasy; at other times would claw at people who entered the vestibule of her cage, and try to tear their clothes. 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.