He used a napkin, ate his soup with a spoon, speared and conveyed
his sliced bananas with his fork, poured milk from a teapot into
his teacup, and drank from his cup with great enjoyment and
decorum. When he took a drink (of tea) from a suspicious-looking
black bottle, the audience always laughed. When he elevated the
empty bottle to one eye and looked far into it, they roared; and
when he finally took a toothpick and gravely placed it in his
mouth, his auditors were delighted. Several times during the
progress of each meal, Rajah would pause and benignly gaze down
upon the crowd, like a self-satisfied judge on his bench.

Not once did Rajah spoil this exhibition, which was continued
throughout an entire summer, nor commit any overt act of
impatience, indifference or meanness. The flighty, nervous temper
of the chimpanzee was delightfully absent. The most remarkable
feature of it all was his very evident enjoyment of his part of
the performance, and his sense of responsibility to us and to his
audiences.

Rajah easily and quickly learned to ride a tricycle, and guide it
himself. But for his untimely death, through a remarkable invasion
of a microscopic parasite (_Balentidium coli_) imported from
the Galapagos Islands by elephant tortoises, his mind would have
been developed much farther. Since his death, in 1902, we have had
other orang-utans that were successfully taught to dine, but none
of them entered into the business with the same hearty zest which
characterized Rajah, and made his performances so interesting.

We now come to a consideration of simian mental traits of very
different character. Another male orang, named Dohong, of the