this country, and in its branches lived a colony of monkeys. One day
one of the monkeys came down from the tree and ran full of excitement
across the plain, now scrambling along like a man on all fours, then
erect like a dog running on its hind legs, while its tail, with nothing
to catch hold of, wriggled about like a snake when its head is under
foot. He came to a place where a number of oxen were grazing, and some
horses, ostriches, deer, goats, and pigs. 'Friends all,' cried the
monkey, grinning like a skull, and with staring eyes round as dollars,
'great news! great news! I come to tell you that there will shortly
be a revolution.' 'Where?' said an ox. 'In the tree--where else?' said
the monkey. 'That does not concern us,' said the ox. 'Oh, yes, it
does!' cried the monkey, 'for it will presently spread about the country
and you will all have your throats cut.' Then the ox replied, 'Go back,
monkey, and do not molest us with your news, lest we get angry and go
to besiege you in your tree, as we have often had to do since the
creation of the world; and then, if you and the other monkeys come
down to us, we will toss you on our horns.'"

This apologue sounded very well, so admirably did the old man picture
to us with voice and gesture the chattering excitement of the monkey
and the majestic _aplomb_ of the ox.

"Senor," he continued, after the laugh had subsided, "I do not wish
any of my friends and neighbours here present to fly to the conclusion
that I have spoken anything offensive. Had I seen in you a Montevidean
I should not have spoken of monkeys. But, senor, though you speak as
we do, there is yet in the pepper and salt on your tongue a certain
foreign flavour."

"You are right," I said; "I am a foreigner."