There is good evidence that monkeys of all sorts see, in ourselves, but a larger species of monkey, and even the various expressions of the human countenance seem, in some degree, intelligible to them. The gorilla sees suddenly before him, in the gloom of the forest, a creature of the same general shape as himself—of his own colour, too, for his skin is black, and so is that of a negro—whilst in size it, at least, approaches him. Minor differences, such as an unaccustomed slenderness of build, and an inferior development of jaws and teeth, are, probably, but imperfectly grasped. A peculiarly weak and weedy-looking gorilla, that, no doubt, is the general effect produced; but the masculine character is stamped upon the figure, and its approach suggests rivalry. All the details of the male gorilla’s behaviour, on the occasion of these rencontres—as narrated by Du Chaillu—are explained on the above supposition. We can see now, at once, why he does not seek safety in flight, for such a retreat would both derogate from his honour, nor does it seem to be necessary. If, indeed, he saw and smelt man, as any four-footed creature sees and smells him—but instead of that it is only another gorilla that he has to do with—an inferior and less agreeably smelling one, no doubt—a degenerate—but still presuming to rival him in the affections of his spouse. Upon this hint he acts, and is, in consequence, shot by the being that he takes for a very sorry specimen of his own species. [Illustration: A GORILLA FIGHT IN THE FOREST.] Space will not allow me to supplement this slight account of the gorilla with a few remarks about those two other large apes—the orang-utan and chimpanzee—which, with himself, make the three nearest approaches to the human species. Indeed, there are not very many remarks to be made, for our knowledge of these most interesting creatures is contained, for the most part, in certain horrid descriptions of the way in which they act when shot; complacent accounts—innocently worded, cheerfully told—of what are really little better than so many cold-blooded, hard-hearted murders. Everything, almost, that we have heard at first hand, has been in connection with these barbarous proceedings—how mothers, for instance, behave when shot with their infants clinging to them, or how the infants act when they find their mothers are dead: how one _mias_ or _pappan_ will weave branches together, to sit upon, whilst it is shot at, and another make a shift to continue alive with legs and arms broken, the spine shattered, and all sorts of other more or less important parts injured in varying degrees: bullets flattened, here and there, too—in the neck or jaws—as lesser, though still piquant additions—enjoyable side-dishes—to the main feast of maimings and manglings.