The higher animals, such as the horse, the ox, the dog, the monkey, etc., show the emotions of anger, hate, fear, love, and grief so plainly that "he who runs may read." That these animals possess these emotions is a fact which hardly needs demonstration. They likewise have very retentive memories, sometimes treasuring up an injury for days, months, and years, until an opportunity arrives for them to "get even," thus showing that they are revengeful. Thus, a dog of my acquaintance had been severely thrashed last winter by a larger dog. He bided his time, and, this summer, after his antagonist had been handicapped by having that atrocious invention, a muzzle, affixed to his head, he fell upon him, "tooth and toe-nail," and would have killed him had he not been prevented. Again, some years ago my attention was called to a large mandril by the keeper of the monkey house in the St. Louis Zoölogical Garden, who remarked that "That monkey will do me up some day. I had to thrash him several days ago, and ever since then he has had it in for me." Not ten minutes after the conversation, while I was in another part of the building, I heard a yell from the keeper, and, on rushing to see what had happened, found that the man's thumb had been almost severed from his hand by the powerful teeth of the mandril. The keeper had been explaining something to some visitors, standing with his back to the animal, and with his hand resting on one of the bars of the cage. The brute saw his opportunity, and, in the twinkling of an eye, seized it and inflicted a severe injury to the individual whom he regarded as his enemy. During another visit to the above-mentioned monkey house, I accidentally inflicted an injury to a capuchin monkey, "Tom" by name, who was a great friend of mine and who had been taken from his cage and given to me by the keeper. After playing with him for a time, I had placed him on the floor and had resumed my conversation with the keeper. Suddenly, "Tom" gave a loud squall and jumped into my lap, wringing one of his hands and moaning piteously. He held up his hand towards me, calling my attention to it with many a grimace and cry; he even felt it with his other hand, carefully separating the fingers and gently stroking them. On examination I discovered that the tips of two fingers were bruised and abraded; the little fellow had evidently had them caught in some way beneath the heel of my shoe. He quietly and patiently submitted while we dressed his wounded digits, but removed the bandages just as soon as he was returned to his cage, evidently having more faith in the curative qualities of his own saliva than in the medicaments of man.