"And now you might just have a look round at some of the animals. Here," said he, as we stood before a cage of very charming monkeys, "are some very clever little animals. They can ride horses in a circus, they jump through hoops; in fact, they are trained exactly like human beings, and can do almost everything but talk. I have just sent people to Abyssinia to fetch me some big silver-gray lion-monkeys, sometimes called hamadryads. I said just now," continued Mr. Hagenbeck, with a laugh, "that monkeys can't talk; and yet I must believe in Professor Garner, for you give me any monkey, you like to name, and I'll guarantee I'll make it talk. But you can only do it by imitating them closely. Take, for instance, that chimpanzee over there," continued the clever trainer, pointing to a little animal fast asleep on a crossbar. "Now listen," he went on, making a peculiar noise with his lips. At once the animal woke up, jabbered a reply in chimpanzee, flew to the bars of the cage, put his tiny paw out ready for the nuts which he knew were forthcoming. "There," said Mr. Hagenbeck, "don't tell me monkeys can't talk." A little farther on we came across a tiny baby elephant, two feet nine inches in height. It was as black as coal, and had just arrived from Singapore. It was very playful, but when I began pushing it about, as one might roll a big beer barrel, it indulged in a fretful growling, which much amused us. Seven beautiful elephants stood in one big stable together, and as I admired their huge proportions and wondered at their entire gentleness, I said to Mr. Hagenbeck, "Is it true, as the great English circus proprietor George Sanger told me last summer, that the Asiatic elephant is far more intelligent than its African brother?" "Certainly not," replied Mr. Hagenbeck. "The African elephants are just as clever, just as gentle, just as intelligent as the Asiatic elephants. There's no difference between them; and I ought to know, for I have had to do with them for thirty years, and in only one year I have imported as many as seventy-six of them." HOW WILD BEASTS ARE CAPTURED. Karl Hagenbeck and I stood in his beautiful gardens, beside the enclosure in which the lions and tigers spend the long, hot summer days so frequent in Hamburg. Most artistically this enclosure has been made to resemble an African desert. In the foreground there are bushes and a few small palm trees, whilst in the far-off distance there rise, towering to a blue tropical sky, grim mountains and sun-stricken rocks. There is thus conveyed to the mind an impression of the great Nubian deserts--an impression whose force and reality is strengthened by the appearance of the wild beasts themselves, basking in the heat of the sun, or restlessly prowling about the enclosure. "I should very much like to hear, Mr. Hagenbeck," said I, "everything you can tell me of the way in which your wild beasts are captured."