Uncle Dick and Lisa's Old Time Animal Tales

Our first pet was a monkey, bearing the not uncommon name of “Jocko.” He was a small creature, very scantily provided with hair, very ugly, but so intelligent that his appearance was voted to be beneath consideration. The little thing was sent to us when quite young, and as he grew, surrounded by children, he adopted our ways to such an extent as to make him appear almost human. He could imitate us, but as my mother thankfully observed, we could not imitate him, and certainly one monkey was enough. We taught him to wash himself, clean his teeth, use a knife and fork, and generally to conduct himself “like a christian.” as we phrased it. He also became an expert in gymnastics and dancing, and learned to wait very cleverly at the hall door, a performance that was not always appreciated by our more timid visitors. Many ran away screaming at the sight of the little black, jabbering creature, and could hardly be persuaded that he was perfectly harmless. Jocko’s grand exhibitions however, were always of his own invention. It was my mother’s custom, after undressing us for bed, to hear the youngest child say his prayers at her knee, while the others repeated theirs in silence and with due solemnity. One evening, while three of us were devoutly kneeling at our bedsides, and little Arthur was lisping “Now I lay me,’ my mother’s eye caught an unusual sight, a fourth little white-robed figure, with black uplifted hands and bowed head, piously crouching beside the others, apparently engaged in an earnest prayer. The sight proved too much for my mother’s sensibilities; she burst into laughter, in which we, at first astonished, speedily joined. Jocko has stolen a soiled night-grown, and made good the opportunity of testifying to his religious desires. This open profession, however, was not followed by suitable deportment, for he daily grew in wickedness. Stealing now became his favorite employment. He occupied a little house erected on a pole in the yard, and being free as air, was able to follow his thieving unhindered. Eggs and loaf sugar were his special delights. These he would steal before our very eyes, watching his chance to sneak into the store-room, only announcing his presence by a malicious chuckling as he retired with a lump of sugar in each cheek, an egg under one arm, and a saucer, though, we could never imagine unless it was to break it, which he always did. His favorite resort after committing a theft was the roof of the house, where he could not be taken. Here he would carry the poor hens and chickens, strip them of their feathers, and throw them half dead, into the yard. Jocko at last became so mischievous and thievish that we were obliged to chain him. But on one sad day he escaped, and was killed by a strange dog that happened by. We heard the poor thing scream and ran to his rescue, but too late: he died before our eyes. We all cried bitterly over his little black, mangled body, and gave him honorable burial. But we never had another monkey.-Canada paper.