it would express its approval or dislike of what was given to it.
The poor little thing would lick its lips, draw in its cheeks,
and turn up its eyes with an expression of the most supreme
satisfaction when it had a mouthful particularly to its taste. On
the other hand, when its food was not sufficiently sweet or
palatable, it would turn the mouthful about with its tongue for a
moment as if trying to extract what flavour there was, and then
push it all out between its lips. If the same food was continued,
it would set up a scream and kick about violently, exactly like a
baby in a passion.

After I had had the little Mias about three weeks, I fortunately
obtained a young hare-lip monkey (Macacus cynomolgus), which,
though small, was very active, and could feed itself. I placed it
in the same box with the Mias, and they immediately became
excellent friends, neither exhibiting the least fear of the
other. The little monkey would sit upon the other's stomach, or
even on its face, without the least regard to its feelings. While
I was feeding the Mias, the monkey would sit by, picking up all
that was spilt, and occasionally putting out its hands to
intercept the spoon; and as soon as I had finished would pick off
what was left sticking to the Mias' lips, and then pull open its
mouth and see if any still remained inside; afterwards lying down
on the poor creature's stomach as on a comfortable cushion. The
little helpless Mias would submit to all these insults with the
most exemplary patience, only too glad to have something warm
near it, which it could clasp affectionately in its arms. It
sometimes, however, had its revenge; for when the monkey wanted
to go away, the Mias would hold on as long as it could by the
loose skin of its back or head, or by its tail, and it was only