A correspondent in the "Transvaal Republic" writes that a species of large cynocephalic apes are in the habit of ravaging the coffee plantations there, which therefore have to be guarded. Among the coffee trees there grows a shrub whose fruit the apes particularly enjoy. But a species of wasp had fastened their nests to these shrubs, and the apes were kept from their tempting food by their fear of being stung. One morning fearful cries were heard from the apes, and the following scene was witnessed: A large baboon, the leader of the band, was throwing some young apes down into the shrubs, that they might break off the wasp nests with the shock of their fall. The poor victims, stung by the infuriated insects, were crying piteously, but the old baboon paid no heed to their miserable condition. While they were down below, suffering from the anger of the wasps, he quietly proceeded to regale himself with the fruit, now safely within his reach, and occasionally threw a handful to some females and young a little way off. _Monkeys Demanding their Dead._ Mr. Forbes tells a story of a female monkey who was shot by a friend of his and carried to his tent. Forty or fifty of her tribe advanced with menacing gestures, but stood still when the gentleman pointed his gun at them. One, however, who appeared to be the chief of the tribe, came forward, chattering and threatening in a furious manner. Nothing short of firing at him seemed likely to drive him away. At length he approached the door of the tent with every sign of grief and supplication, as if he were begging for the body. It was given to him; he took it in his arms and carried it to his companions with actions expressive of affection, after which they all disappeared. _Can Dogs Count?_ A gentleman on a visit to Scotland came across some men who were washing sheep. Close to the water where the operation was being carried on was a small pen, in which a detachment of ten sheep were placed handy to the men for washing. While watching the performance his attention was called to a sheep-dog lying down close by. This animal, on the pen becoming nearly empty, without a word from any one, started off to the main body of the flock, and brought back ten of their number, and drove them into the empty washing-pens. The fact of his bringing exactly the same number of sheep as had vacated it he looked upon at first as a strange coincidence—a mere chance. But he continued looking on, and, much to his surprise, as soon as the men had reduced the number to three sheep, the dog started off again, and brought back ten more, and so he continued throughout the afternoon, never bringing one more nor one less, and always going for a fresh lot when only three were left in the pen, evidently being aware that during the time the last three were washing he would be able to bring up a fresh detachment. _Can Hens Count?_