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188
The Speech of Monkeys
·
R. L. Garner
44
Among
my
personal
friends
of
the
Simian
race,
there
is
none
more
devoted
to
me
than
little
McGinty,
another
winter
boarder
at
Central
Park.
From
the
first
of
my
acquaintance
with
McGinty
we
had
been
staunch
friends,
and
when
I
go
to
visit
him
he
expresses
the
most
unbounded
delight.
He
will
reach
his
little
arms
through
the
bars
of
the
cage,
and
put
his
hands
on
my
cheeks,
hold
his
mouth
up
to
the
wires,
and
talk
to
me
at
great
length.
When
I
go
into
the
cage
he
will
place
himself
on
a
perch
in
the
cage,
where
he
will
sit
with
his
arms
around
my
neck,
lick
my
cheeks
affectionately,
pull
my
ears,
and
chatter
to
me
in
a
sweet
but
plaintive
tone.
When
Mickie
joins
the
play,
which
he
invariably
does,
by
climbing
or
jumping
on
to
my
shoulders,
and
interrupting
the
tete-a-tete
between
McGinty
and
myself,
poor
little
McGinty's
jealousy,
which
is
his
supreme
passion,
causes
him
to
retire
in
disgust,
and
he
will
sometimes
pout
for
several
minutes
without
even
accepting
food
from
me.
After
he
has
pouted
for
a
while,
however,
he
will
sometimes
make
overtures
of
reconciliation
and
seek
by
various
means
to
divert
my
attention.
One
of
his
favourite
means
of
renewing
favour
with
me,
was
to
whip
poor
little
Nigger.
He
would
look
at
me
and
laugh,
grin
and
make
grimaces,
and
then
dash
off
at
Nigger
and
want
to
eat
him
up.
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