A TALE OF TWO MONKEYS And Other Stories

A TALE OF TWO MONKEYS.

The late Dr. John Torrey, of Columbia College, was extremely fond of pets, and expressed admiration for the pretty little Brazilian monkeys with gentle, human faces and velvety, mouse-colored coats. A gentleman who heard it went shortly afterward to Brazil. Upon his return, he presented the doctor with a choice pair. A cage was provided for them, and they soon became members of the family, petted by all, and tenderly loved by the doctor, in whose study they lived.

One Sunday, the entire family went to church and the monkeys were left at home in their cage. When the churchgoers returned they found the stay-at-homes on the top of the folding doors of the parlors, trembling and crying piteously—and for 6reasons, as they soon discovered. The little mischief-makers had forced open the door of their cage, and, finding themselves free, had proceeded to enjoy themselves in a manner that was scandalous.

In the cellar a bag of hops and ten baskets of strawberries were dumped together 7and hopelessly mixed; the pans of milk were without cream, and there was unmistakable evidence that the monkeys had skimmed them with their tails! A cistern in the yard offered a fine opening, and the little mischiefs gathered some clothes from the line, the cook’s aprons from the kitchen, and plumped them all in.

An open watch belonging to a daughter of the house attracted one of the monkeys. He removed the hands, took it down stairs and carefully covered the face with mud, and then brought it back and placed it on her bed. Not so carefully did they pull the cover from her writing table, bringing ink and papers with it, and spilling the ink; and when it came to the pulling down of muslin curtains and bed hangings, and tearing them into strips, the fun must have risen to frenzy, for they proceeded to do up the parlor window draperies in the same style. The dining room table next engaged their attention, and the fact that 8they made a salad of the flowers in the center with the pepper, salt, and mustard may have accounted for their tearful state when they were found perched above the door.

The little penitents were forgiven, for they seemed really sorry. But soon afterward one of the midgets carefully removed the glasses from the doctor’s spectacles, twisted the bows and put them in the stove, from which they both took ashes and sprinkled round the room. Fortunately there was no fire in the stove, for the next thing in order was the discovery of a gross of matches, which they scattered over the floor.

This began to look like danger, so the doctor was obliged to sell them to Mr. Barnum. But, whenever he went to visit them, as he often did, they greeted him with unmistakable signs of delight and affection.

THE OLDEST CHRISTMAS STORY.

What is the most beautiful Christmas story in the world? It is found in the gospels of Matthew and Luke. Matthew tells the story of the wise men and the star, and Luke of the shepherds and the angels; and Luke’s story is the longest, but together they make the most wonderful story that ever was written. It is a great truth, so great that we cannot learn it all, and the heart of that truth is love. God our Father is a great Spirit, filling the earth and heavens, and we, his children, are spirits made in his likeness, living in earthly bodies, and he has made all things that are. When his 10children were forgetting their Father, and losing their likeness to him, he so loved them that he said, “I will go down and live among them, and teach them how to live and how to love.” So he began to live just as we all begin to live in this world, by being a helpless little child. He was first loved by Mary, the mother, and then Joseph and the shepherds, and the wise men all adored him.

As he grew up many wondered at his words, and loved him so much that they left all to follow him. At last he laid down his life for us all. Then his children began to understand who he was and how he loved them, and many gladly suffered and died for his sake, and the 11story of the holy Child is now read by those who love him around the whole world, and they now begin to understand his words when he said, “I and my Father are one.” Is not this the most beautiful Christmas story in the world?

And the hero of this great Christmas story still lives in heaven, and hears our prayers and watches over us so lovingly. He is glad when we are like him and grieved when we forget his teachings.

THE ELEPHANT’S TOOTHACHE.

A dentist tells this story of an elephant that belonged to a circus. He was very good-natured, but one day when his keeper went near him he made a vicious switch at him with his trunk.

The keeper knew the elephant so well that he said at once that the elephant was sick; something was the matter with him. He sat at a safe distance from the elephant and watched him.

The elephant trumpeted loud and acted as though he was very angry, but no one could decide what was the cause of the change in this good elephant’s disposition. This continued for three days. At the end of that time one of the men said, “Why, when Jack” (that was the elephant’s name) “lies down he keeps rubbing 13one side of his head; I think he has got the toothache;” and everybody immediately said, “Yes, that’s what’s the matter.”

The elephant was chained safely to posts and iron rings, so that he could not move, and the dentist was sent for. The dentist looked in his mouth and saw that one tooth was badly decayed. He touched it, and the elephant trumpeted as though in great pain; then the dentist went to work and filled the tooth.

After a time the elephant seemed to 14understand that the dentist was trying to do something for his pain, and he gave every evidence of appreciating the attention. Some weeks later the dentist visited the winter quarters of the elephant and the elephant recognized him. It was rather an expensive operation, for it cost one hundred dollars to fill that one tooth. Doubtless, then, the elephant’s toothache is a larger ache than either you or I ever know when our teeth ache.

There is an old story, something like this, about a lion which showed gratitude to a man who had taken a thorn out of his foot. Do you remember it?

WHERE ARE THE SWALLOWS?

A CURIOUS KIND OF BEAR.

These little animals are called ant-bears, though no respectable father bear or mother bear would own for a cub such a queer, sharp-nosed, bushy-tailed creature as this. The ant-bear hasn’t a tooth in his head, and any little Goldilocks might eat his porridge, sit in his chair, and lie in his bed as long as she pleased without being afraid of him. The Creator has given to the ant-bear a taste for insects—he prefers ants—and has fitted him with a long and prying snout. Out of his mouth he can dart a very long, threadlike tongue, which is so sticky that the ant which it touches is caught fast and must go down the red lane, whether he will or not.

There are various kinds of ant-eating birds and animals on the globe, in feathers, fur, and scales, but this ant-bear lives in the New World only. Can you tell in what part of it we should look for him?

A Pair of Ant-bears.

ROVER IN CHURCH.

“LITTLE PETER.”

The sailors call this bird “Little Peter” because he is always trying to walk on the sea. Strangely enough, he does not care to live on the land, or even very near it. He even tucks his head under his wing and goes to sleep with a wave for a cradle. He is a feather ball, so oily that the water cannot wet him, and so light that he cannot sink. The petrel is sometimes called “Mother Carey’s Chicken,” and follows 21the ships to get the bits of food that are thrown overboard. He is very fond of fat, and so he follows the whaling ships for the bits of “blubber” that are thrown overboard. They get very fat themselves, and the people of the Faröe Islands catch them to make candles of them. Think of it! They draw a wick through the fat little body and hang them up in their huts to give light at night. Poor “Little Peter!”

If you think that it is strange to use a bird for a candle, what do you think of the Indians of Alaska who take a greasy little fish and run a wick through and use that to light their little huts. Those who have seen the candlefish and smelled him burning prefer the electric light.

A BRAVE LITTLE GIRL.

There is a story, in a beautiful book called The Queens of England, about a little girl who saved her father’s life. It happened a long time ago, when a woman named Mary was queen. Lord Preston, the father of the little girl, loved King James, who had been sent out of England, and wanted him to be king again. So there was a trial, and they said he must die. While the trial was going on the little Lady Catherine, only nine years old, was left in the queen’s room in Windsor Castle. The next day after the trial the queen found the little girl in a picture gallery, looking earnestly at the picture of King James which hung there. “Why do you look at my father’s picture so strangely?” asked the queen.

23“I was thinking,” said the child, “how hard it is that my father must die for loving yours.”

The queen was so touched by the reply that she pardoned Lord Preston and gave him back to his loving little daughter, to the great joy of both.

ONE AFTERNOON.

STARLING.