Minnie's Pet Monkey

CHAPTER I.

JACKO AND HIS WOUNDED TAIL

Did you ever see a monkey? If you have not, I suppose you will like to hear a description of Jacko, Minnie’s sixth pet.

He was about eighteen inches high, with long arms, covered with short hair, which he used as handily as a boy, flexible fingers, with flat nails, and a long tail, covered with hair, which seemed to answer the purpose of a third hand.

Though monkeys are usually very ugly and unpleasant, from their approaching so nearly to the human face, and still bearing so strongly the marks of the mere brute, yet Jacko was a pretty little fellow.

He had bright eyes, which sparkled like diamonds from beneath his deep-set eyebrows. His teeth were of the most pearly whiteness, and he made a constant display of them, grinning and chattering continually. But I ought to tell you about his passage in uncle Frank’s ship.

On one of Captain Lee’s voyages, he touched upon the coast of Africa, where he saw the little fellow in a hen-coop, just about to be carried on board a whaler. The gentleman had often thought he should like to carry his favorite niece a little pet; but as she already had a parrot, he did not know what she would wish.

But when he listened to the chattering of the monkey, and heard the sailor who owned him say what a funny little animal it was, he thought he would buy it and take it home to her.

On the voyage, Jacko met with a sad accident. The hen-coop in which he was confined was too small to contain the whole of his tail, and he was obliged, when he slept, to let the end of it hang out. This was a great affliction to the poor animal, for he was very proud of his tail, which was indeed quite an addition to his good looks.

It so happened that there were two large cats on board ship; and one night, as they were prowling about, they saw the tail hanging out while Jacko was sound asleep; and before he had time to move, one of them seized it and bit it off.

The monkey was very indignant, and if he could have had a fair chance at his enemies, would have soon punished them for their impudence. It was really amusing to see him afterward. He would pull his bleeding tail in through the bars of the hen-coop, and give it a malicious bite, as much as to say, —

“I wish you were off. You are of no use to me now; and you look terribly short.”

When they reached New York, at the end of their voyage, Captain Lee took Jacko out of the hen-coop, and put him in a bag, which was carried into the depot while he was purchasing his ticket. The monkey, who must needs see every thing that was going on, suddenly poked his head out of the bag, and gave a malicious grin at the ticket-master.

The man was much frightened, but presently recovered himself, and returned the insult by saying, —

“Sir, that’s a dog! It’s the rule that no dog can go in the cars without being paid for.”

It was all in vain that the captain tried to convince him that Jacko was not a dog, but a monkey. He even took him out of the bag; but in the face of this evidence, the man would persist in saying, —

“He is a dog, and must have a ticket before he enters the cars.”

So a ticket was bought, and Jacko was allowed to proceed on his journey.

The little fellow was as pleased as the captain when he arrived at the end of his journey, and took possession of his pleasant quarters in the shed adjoining Mr. Lee’s fine house. He soon grew fond of his little mistress, and played all manner of tricks, jumping up and down, swinging with his tail, which had begun to heal, and chattering with all his might in his efforts to please her.

Mr. Lee, at the suggestion of his brother, the captain, had a nice house or cage made for Minnie’s new pet, into which he could be put if he became troublesome, and where he always went to sleep. The rest of the time he was allowed his liberty, as far as his chain would reach.

Jacko came from a very warm climate, and therefore often suffered from the cold in the northern latitude to which he had been brought.

Mrs. Lee could not endure to see a monkey dressed like a man, as they sometimes are in shows. She said they looked disgustingly; but she consented that the little fellow should have a tight red jacket, and some drawers, to keep him comfortable. Minnie, too, begged from her some old pieces of carpeting, to make him a bed, when Jacko seemed greatly delighted. He did not now, as before, often stand in the morning shaking, and blue with the cold, but laughed, and chattered, and showed his gratitude in every possible way.

Not many months after Jacko came, and when he had become well acquainted with all the family, Fidelle had a family of kittens, which she often carried in her mouth back and forth through the shed. The very sight of these little animals seemed to excite Jacko exceedingly. He would spring the entire length of his chain, trying to reach them.

One day, when the kittens had begun to run alone, and were getting to be very playful, the cook heard a great noise in the shed, and Fidelle crying with all her might. She ran to see what was the matter, and, to her surprise, found Jacko sitting up in the cage, grinning with delight, while he held one of the kittens in his arms, hugging it as if it had been a baby.

Cook knew the sight would please Minnie, and she ran to call her. But the child sympathized too deeply in Fidelle’s distress to enjoy it. She tried to get the kitten away from Jacko, but he had no idea of giving it up, until at last, when Mrs. Lee, who had come to the rescue, gave him a piece of cake, of which he was very fond, he relaxed his hold, and she instantly released the poor, frightened little animal.

Fidelle took warning by this occurrence, and never ventured through the shed again with her babies, though Jacko might seem to be sound asleep in his cage.

Jacko had been at Mr. Lee’s more than a year before they knew him to break his chain and run about by himself. The first visit he made was to Leo, in the barn, and he liked it so well that, somehow or other, he contrived to repeat the visit quite as often as it was agreeable to the dog, who never could endure him.

After this, he became very mischievous, so that every one of the servants, though they often had a great laugh at his tricks, would have been glad to have the little fellow carried back to his home in Africa.

I don’t think even Minnie loved her pet monkey as well as she did her other pets. She could not take him in her arms as she did Fidelle and Tiney, nor play with him as she did with Nannie and her lamb, and he could not carry her on his back, as Star did.

“Well,” she said, one day, after discussing the merits of her animals with her mamma, “Poll talks to me, and Jacko makes me laugh; but if I should have to give up one of my pets, I had rather it would be the monkey.”

CHAPTER II.

JACKO BLACKING THE TABLE

One morning, cook went to her mistress with loud complaints of Jacko’s tricks.

“What has he been doing now?” inquired the lady, with some anxiety.

“All kinds of mischief, ma’am. If I didn’t like you, and the master, and Miss Minnie so well, I wouldn’t be living in the same house with a monkey, no ways.”

Here the woman, having relieved her mind, began to relate Jacko’s new offence, and soon was joining heartily in the laugh her story caused her mistress.

“Since the trickish fellow found the way to undo his chain, ma’am, he watches every thing that is done in the kitchen. Yesterday I polished the range, and the door to the oven. I suppose he saw me at work, and thought it would be good fun; for when I was out of the kitchen hanging some towels to dry on the line, in he walks to the closet where I keep the blacking and brushes, and what should he do but black the table and chairs? Such a sight, ma’am, as would make your eyes cry to see. It’ll take me half the forenoon to clean them.”

“I think you will have to take a little stick, Hepsy,” said Mrs. Lee, smiling, “and whip him when he does mischief.”

“Indeed, ma’am, and it’s little strength I’d have left me to do the cooking if I gave him half the whippings he deserves; besides, I’d be sure to get the cratur’s ill will; and they say that’s unlucky for any one.”

“What does she mean, mamma, by its being unlucky?” inquired Minnie, when the cook had returned to her work in the kitchen.

“I can’t say, my dear. You know Hepsy has some strange ideas which she brought with her from Ireland. It may be she has heard of the superstitious reverence some nations have for the monkey.”

“O, mamma, will you please tell me about it?”

“I have read that in many parts of India, monkeys are made objects of worship; and splendid temples are dedicated to their honor.

“At one time, when the Portuguese plundered the Island of Ceylon, they found, in one of the temples dedicated to these animals, a small golden casket containing the tooth of a monkey. This was held in such estimation by the natives, that they offered nearly a million of dollars to redeem it. But the viceroy, thinking it would be a salutary punishment to them, ordered it to be burned.

“Some years after, a Portuguese, having obtained a similar tooth, pretended that he had recovered the old one, which so rejoiced the priests that they purchased it from him for more than fifty thousand dollars.”

Minnie laughed. “I should suppose,” she said, “that if cook thinks so much of monkeys, she would be pleased to live with them. Do you know any more about monkeys, mamma?”

“I confess, my dear, that monkeys have never been among my favorites. There are a great many kinds, but all are mischievous, troublesome, and thievish. The dispositions of some of them are extremely bad, while others are so mild and tractable as to be readily tamed and taught a great variety of tricks. They live together in large groups, leaping with surprising agility from tree to tree. Travellers say it is very amusing to listen to the chattering of these animals, which they compare to the shouting of a grand cavalcade, all speaking together, and yet seeming perfectly to understand one another.

“In the countries of the Eastern Peninsula, where they abound, the matrons are often observed, in the cool of the evening, sitting in a circle round their little ones, which amuse themselves with their various gambols. The merriment of the young, as they jump over each other’s heads, and wrestle in sport, is most ludicrously contrasted with the gravity of their seniors, who are secretly delighted with the fun, but far too dignified to let it appear.

“But when any foolish little one behaves ill, the mamma will be seen to jump into the throng, seize the juvenile by the tail, take it over her knee, and give it a good whipping.”

“O, how very funny, mamma! I wonder whether Jacko was treated so. Will you please tell me more? I do like to hear about monkeys.”

“If you will bring me that book from the library next the one about cats, perhaps I can find some anecdotes to read to you.”

The little girl clapped her hands with delight, and running gayly to the next room, soon returned with the book, when her mother read as follows: —

“A family in England had a pet monkey. On one occasion, the footman retired to his room to shave himself, without noticing that the animal had followed him. The little fellow watched him closely during the process, and noticed where the man put his razor and brush.

“No sooner had the footman left the room, than the monkey slyly took the razor, and, mounting on a chair opposite the small mirror, began to scrape away at his throat, as he had seen the man do; but alas! not understanding the nature of the instrument he was using, the poor creature cut so deep a gash, that he bled profusely. He was found in the situation described, with the razor still in his fingers, but unfortunately was too far gone to be recovered, and soon died, leaving a caution to his fellows against playing with edged tools.”

“I hope Jacko will never see any body shave,” said Minnie, in a faltering voice.

“Here is a funny story, my dear, about a monkey in the West Indies. The little fellow was kept tied to a stake in the open air, and was frequently deprived of his food by the Johnny Crows. He tried to drive them off, but without success, and at last made the following plan for punishing the thieves.

“Perceiving a flock of these birds coming toward him one day just after his food had been brought, he lay down near his stake, and pretended to be dead. For some time, he lay perfectly motionless, when the birds, really deceived, approached by degrees, and got near enough to steal his food, which he allowed them to do. This game he repeated several times, till they became so bold as to come within reach of his claws, when he suddenly sprang up and caught his victim in his firm grasp. Death was not his plan of punishment. He wished to make a man of him, according to the ancient definition, ‘a biped without feathers,’ and therefore, plucking the crow neatly, he let him go to show himself to his companions. This proved so effectual a punishment, that he was afterwards left to eat his food in peace.”

“I don’t see,” said Minnie, thoughtfully, “how a monkey could ever think of such a way.”

“It certainly does show a great deal of sagacity,” responded the lady, “and a great deal of cunning in carrying out his plan.”

“I hope there are ever so many anecdotes, mamma.”

Mrs. Lee turned over the leaves. “Yes, my dear,” she said, cheerfully, “there are quite a number; some of them seem to be very amusing, but I have only time to read you one more to-day.”

“Dr. Guthrie gives an amusing account of a monkey named Jack.

“Seeing his master and friends drinking whiskey with great apparent relish, he took the opportunity, when he thought he was unseen, to empty their half-filled glasses; and while they were roaring with laughter, he began to hop, skip, and jump. Poor Jack was drunk.

“The next day, his master wanted to repeat the experiment, but found Jack had not recovered from the effects of his dissipation. He commanded him to come to the table; but the poor fellow put his hand to his head, and not all their endeavors could induce him to taste another drop all his life.

“Jack became a thorough teetotaller.”

CHAPTER III.

JACKO RUNNING AWAY

Minnie had a cousin Frank, the son of Mr. Harry Lee. He was three years older than Minnie, and was full of life and frolic.

At one time he came to visit Minnie; and fine fun indeed they had with the pets, the monkey being his especial favorite.

Every day some new experiment was to be tried with Jacko, who, as Frank declared, could be taught any thing that they wished. One time, he took the little fellow by the chain for a walk, Minnie gayly running by his side, and wondering what her cousin was going to do.

On their way to the barn, they met Leo, who at once began to bark furiously.

“That will never do, my brave fellow,” exclaimed the boy; “for we want you to turn horse, and take Jacko to ride.”

“O, Frank! Leo will kill him. Don’t do that!” urged Minnie, almost crying.

“But I mean to make them good friends,” responded the lad. “Here, you take hold of the chain, and I will coax the dog to be quiet while I put Jacko on his back.”

This was not so easy as he had supposed; for no amount of coaxing or flattery would induce Leo to be impressed into this service. He hated the monkey, and was greatly disgusted at his appearance as he hopped, first on Frank’s shoulder, and then to the ground, his head sticking out of his little red jacket, and his face wearing a malicious grin.

Finding they could not succeed in this, they went into the stable to visit Star, when, with a quick motion, Jacko twitched the chain from Minnie’s hand, and running up the rack above the manger, began to laugh and chatter in great glee.

His tail, which had now fully healed, was of great use to him on this occasion, when, to Minnie’s great surprise, he clung with it to the bar of the rack, and began to swing himself about.

“I heard of a monkey once,” exclaimed Frank, laughing merrily, “who made great use of his tail. If a nut or apple were thrown to him which fell beyond his reach, he would run to the full length of his chain, turn his back, then stretch out his tail, and draw toward him the coveted delicacy.”

“Let’s see whether Jacko would do so,” shouted Minnie, greatly excited with the project.

“When we can catch him. But see how funny he looks. There he goes up the hay mow, the chain dangling after him.”

“If we don’t try to catch him, he’ll come quicker,” said Minnie, gravely.

“I know another story about a monkey – a real funny one,” added the boy. “I don’t know what his name was; but he used to sleep in the barn with the cattle and horses. I suppose monkeys are always cold here; at any rate, this one was; and when he saw the hostler give the horse a nice feed of hay, he said to himself, ‘What a comfortable bed that would make for me!’

“When the man went away, he jumped into the hay and hid, and every time the horse came near enough to eat, he sprang forward and bit her ears with his sharp teeth.

“Of course, as the poor horse couldn’t get her food, she grew very thin, and at last was so frightened that the hostler could scarcely get her into the stall. Several times he had to whip her before she would enter it, and then she stood as far back as possible, trembling like a leaf.

“It was a long time before they found out what the matter was; and then the monkey had to take a whipping, I guess.”

“If his mother had been there, she would have whipped him,” said Minnie, laughing.

“What do you mean?”

The little girl then repeated what her mother had told her of the discipline among monkeys, at which he was greatly amused.

All this time, they were standing at the bottom of the hay mow, and supposed that Jacko was safe at the top; but the little fellow was more cunning than they thought. He found the window open near the roof, where hay was sometimes pitched in, and ran down into the yard as quick as lightning.

The first they knew of it was when John called out from the barnyard, “Jacko, Jacko! Soh, Jacko! Be quiet, sir!”

It was a wearisome chase they had for the next hour, and at the end they could not catch the runaway; but at last, when they sat down calmly in the house, he stole back to his cage, and lay there quiet as a lamb.

Minnie’s face was flushed with her unusual exercise, but in a few minutes she grew very pale, until her mother became alarmed. After a few drops of lavender, however, she said she felt better, and that if Frank would tell her a story she should be quite well.

“That I will,” exclaimed the boy, eagerly. “I know a real funny one; you like funny stories – don’t you?”

“Yes, when they’re true,” answered Minnie.

“Well, this is really true. A man was hunting, and he happened to kill a monkey that had a little baby on her back. The little one clung so close to her dead mother, that they could scarcely get it away. When they reached the gentleman’s house, the poor creature began to cry at finding itself alone. All at once it ran across the room to a block, where a wig belonging to the hunter’s father was placed, and thinking that was its mother, was so comforted that it lay down and went to sleep.

“They fed it with goat’s milk, and it grew quite contented, for three weeks clinging to the wig with great affection.

“The gentleman had a large and valuable collection of insects, which were dried upon pins, and placed in a room appropriated to such purposes.

“One day, when the monkey had become so familiar as to be a favorite with all in the family, he found his way to this apartment, and made a hearty breakfast on the insects.

“The owner, entering when the meal was almost concluded, was greatly enraged, and was about to chastise the animal, who had so quickly destroyed the work of years, when he saw that the act had brought its own punishment. In eating the insects, the animal had swallowed the pins, which very soon caused him such agony that he died.”

“I don’t call the last part funny at all,” said Minnie, gravely.

“But wasn’t it queer for it to think the wig was its mother?” asked the boy, with a merry laugh. “I don’t think it could have had much sense to do that.”

“But it was only a baby monkey then, Harry.”

“How did it happen,” inquired Mrs. Lee, “that Jacko got away from you?”

“He watched his chance, aunty, and twitched the chain away from Minnie. Now he’s done it once, he’ll try the game again, I suppose, he is so fond of playing us tricks.”

And true enough, the very next morning the lady was surprised at a visit from the monkey in her chamber, where he made himself very much at home, pulling open drawers, and turning over the contents, in the hope of finding some confectionery, of which he was extremely fond.

“Really,” she exclaimed to her husband, “if Jacko goes on so, I shall be of cook’s mind, and not wish to live in the house with him.”

CHAPTER IV.

THE MONKEY IN CHURCH

One day, Jacko observed nurse washing out some fine clothes for her mistress, and seemed greatly interested in the suds which she made in the progress of her work.

Watching his chance, he went to Mrs. Lee’s room while the family were at breakfast one morning, and finding some nice toilet soap on the marble washstand, began to rub it on some fine lace lying on the bureau. After a little exertion, he was delighted to find that he had a bowl full of nice, perfumed suds, and was chattering to himself in great glee, when Ann came in and spoiled his sport.

“You good for nothing, mischievous creature,” she cried out, in sudden wrath, “I’ll cure you of prowling about the house in this style.” Giving him a cuff across his head with a shoe, “Go back to your cage, where you belong.”

“Jacko is really getting to be very troublesome,” remarked the lady to her husband. “I can’t tell how much longer my patience with him will last.”

“Would Minnie mourn very much if she were to lose him?” asked Mr. Lee.

“I suppose she would for a time; but then she has so many pets to take up her attention.”

Just then the child ran in, her eyes filled with tears, exclaiming, —

“Father, does Jacko know any better? Is he to blame for trying to wash?”

Mr. Lee laughed.

“Because,” she went on, “I found him crouched down in his cage, looking very sorry; and nurse says he ought to be ashamed of himself, cutting up such ridiculous capers.”

“I dare say he feels rather guilty,” remarked Mr. Lee. “He must be taught better, or your mother will be tired of him.”

When her father had gone to the city, Minnie looked so grave that her mother, to comfort her, took the book and read her some stories. A few of them I will repeat to you.

“A lady was returning from India, in a ship on board of which there was a monkey. She was a very mild, gentle creature, and readily learned any thing that was taught her. When she went to lie down at night, she made up her bed in imitation of her mistress, then got in and wrapped herself up neatly with the quilt. Sometimes she would wrap her head with a handkerchief.

“When she did wrong, she would kneel and clasp her hands, seeming earnestly to ask to be forgiven.”

“That’s a good story, mamma.”

“Yes, dear; and here is another.”

“A gentleman boarding with his wife at a hotel in Paris had a pet monkey, who was very polite. One day his master met him going down stairs; and when the gentleman said ‘good morning,’ the animal took off his cap and made a very polite bow.

“‘Are you going away?’ asked the owner. ‘Where is your passport?’ Upon this the monkey held out a square piece of paper.

“‘See!’ said the gentleman; ‘your mistress’ gown is dusty.’

“Jack instantly took a small brush from his master’s pocket, raised the hem of the lady’s dress, cleaned it, and then did the same to his master’s shoes, which were also dusty.

“When they gave him any thing to eat, he did not cram his pouches with it, but delicately and tidily devoured it; and when, as frequently occurred, strangers gave him money, he always put it in his master’s hands.”

“Do you think, mamma, I could teach Jacko to do so?” inquired Minnie, eagerly.