I must tell you of something that happened one day last summer, when I was at the ZoÖlogical Garden in Philadelphia.

Among the persons standing around the cage where the monkeys were kept, was an old lady who had on a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. All at once, a big brown monkey stretched out his paw between the bars, snatched the spectacles, and scampered away, chattering and grinning with delight.

Of course, the poor lady was in distress. The keeper came to the rescue, and, by driving the monkey about the cage with a long pole, forced him at last to drop the spectacles. But one of the glasses had come out of it; and this the thief still held in his mouth, and refused to give up.

The keeper followed him sharply with the pole. Away he went, swinging from one rope to another, screaming and scolding all the time, until the keeper was so tired, that I feared he would have to let the monkey keep the glass. But this the keeper said would never do; for he knew, that, if he let the monkey carry the day, he never could control him again.

So the keeper still plied his pole. The monkey dodged it as well as he could, until the blows came so thick and fast, that he could bear them no longer, when he opened his mouth, and let the glass drop.

Now comes the funniest part of the story. The glass fell quite near the bars, just where the old lady was standing; and a gentleman took her parasol, which had a hooked handle, to draw it within reach. But he put the parasol in a little too far, and it slipped out of his hand.

Instantly a large yellow monkey wrapped his long tail around it, and started off. Imagine the feelings of the poor old lady—first robbed of her spectacles, and then of her parasol!

But her property was all recovered at last; the robbers were both punished; and she went on her way in peace.