In Charleston, a gentleman owns a fine specimen of the brown Cebus whose name is Jokes. He is naturally shy of strangers, but on my first visit to him I addressed him in his native tongue, and he really seemed to regard me very kindly; he would eat from my hand and allow me to caress him through the bars of his cage. He eyed me with evident curiosity, but invariably responded to the word which I uttered in his own language. On my third visit to him I determined to try the effect of the peculiar sound of "alarm" or "assault" which I had learned from one of this species; but I cannot very well represent it in letters. While he was eating from my hand, I gave this peculiar piercing note, and he instantly sprang to a perch in the top of his cage, thence in and out of his sleeping apartment with great speed, and almost wild with fear. [Sidenote: HARSH MEANS RESORTED TO] As I repeated the sound his fears seemed to increase, until from a mere sense of compassion I desisted. No amount of coaxing would induce him to return to me or to accept any offer of peace which I could make. I retired to a distance of about twenty feet from his cage, and his master induced him to descend from the perch, which he did, with the greatest reluctance and suspicion. I gave the sound again from where I stood, and it produced almost the same results as before. The monkey gave out a singular sound in response to my efforts to appease him, but refused to become reconciled. After the lapse of eight or ten days, I had not been able to reinstate myself in his good graces, or to induce him to accept anything whatever from me. At this juncture I resorted to harsher means of bringing him to terms, and began to threaten him with a rod. At first he resented this, but soon yielded and came down merely from fear. He would place the side of his head on the floor, put out his tongue, and utter a very plaintive sound having a slight interrogative inflection. At first this act quite defied interpretation; but during the same period I was visiting a little monkey called Jack. For strangers, we were quite good friends, and Jack allowed me many liberties which the family assured me he had uniformly refused to others. On one of my visits he displayed his temper, and made an attack upon me because I refused to let go of a saucer from which I was feeding him with some milk. I jerked him up by the chain and slapped him sharply, whereupon he instantly laid the side of his head on the floor, put out his tongue, and made just such a sound as Jokes had made a number of times before. It occurred to me that it was a sign of surrender, and many subsequent tests have confirmed this opinion. Mrs. M. French Sheldon, in her journey through East Africa, shot a small monkey in a forest near Lake Charla. She described to me how the little fellow stood high up in a tree and chattered to her in his sharp, musical voice, until at the crack of her gun he fell mortally wounded. When he was laid dying at her