The Speech of Monkeys

A short time since I tried a novel experiment with the phonograph and two black-and-tan terriers, mother and son. The son was a notorious talker in the way of barking almost continuously at everything, and on all occasions and at all times, while the mother was naturally taciturn, good-natured, and fairly intelligent. I first took the son to a room where I had the phonograph, and I made a record of a number of sounds of his voice. The children aided me in the experiment by getting him to talk for food, bark at his image in the mirror, and by various other ways they induced him to other sounds in the presence of the phonograph. A few days later I had them bring the mother to the same place, where I discharged the contents of my phonograph cylinder in her presence. She gave every evidence of recognising the sounds of the young dog, and in a few instances responded to them. She was naturally perplexed at not being able to find him, and searched the horn and various parts of the room in quest of the young dog. I delivered to her at the same time the record of another dog, to which she paid little attention except by an occasional growl and a look into the horn to see what it meant. She evidently recognised the sounds of the young dog with which she was familiar and seemed to interpret their meanings, whereas the sounds from the other cylinder did little more than attract her attention.