Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: childrens' gems
Title: The white lamb
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002176/00001
 Material Information
Title: The white lamb and other stories
Series Title: The childrens' gems
Physical Description: 64 p. : col. ill. ; 14 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Charles, George
King & Baird
New Church Book Store
Publisher: New Church Book Store
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Manufacturer: George Charles. stereotyper
King & Baird, printers
Publication Date: c1852
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Pets -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children and death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Nature -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Hand-colored illustrations -- 1852   ( local )
Children's stories -- 1852   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1852   ( lcsh )
Publishers' paper bindings (Binding) -- 1852   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre: Hand-colored illustrations   ( local )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Publishers' paper bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
General Note: Illustrations are hand-colored.
General Note: Series statement from head of t.p.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002176
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA2350
notis - ALK2333
oclc - 45838689
alephbibnum - 002250586

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page 1
        Page 1a
        Page 1b
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Back Matter
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Back Cover
        Page 67
        Page 68
Full Text

i- L. A .:.



M. m *.-
'g-ATIURC six

A---:' ..*.

The Baldwi. Librai

fRm T 3 Unv =,"F4


N- I




,~I ~


- \1







1 1 Jill

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by


In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States,
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.



"IF your supper had just been set on
the table for you, what do, you suppose
you would do with it ?"
"Why, of course," I think you say,
"I should eat-that's a funny question
to put in a book !"
"But if you had a dear little white
lamb, would you take it something from
your own supper, before you began to
eat, or would you let father or John see
that it wasn't hungry when it went to


bed? I don't know exactly how you
would answer this last question, but if
you look at the picture, you will see how
Willie and Carie and Helen would have
answered it."
It is just about bed time for the little
ones in the cottage. On a nice clean
table in the kitchen, just back of the
figure of the white lamb, is spread the
supper for the girls and boy. Their mo-
ther has called them in from the fields,
where they have been having a grand
frolic in the hay, and they have answered
the call immediately, running in almost
out of breath, and rosy with rushing
against the wind in their pretty sport.
How tempting looked the full bowls
of milk, and the plump berries they had





gathered since school. I can imagine
by your answer to my first question how
gladly you would have set down to enjoy
the sweet, healthy food. But the little
children in the picture, although they
had\ an excellent appetite from their
frolic in the fresh air, did not touch a
morsel for themselves until they each
had takln a portion of their supper and
started o6f in search of the pet lamb they
had loved o much.
They hunted all around the house for
it, and had just come in again to ask
their mother if she knew any thing about
the gentle playfellow, when they met it
trotting through the kitchen, from an
opposite door, just as if it had been play-
ing hide and seek, and had made up its


mind that the children must be tired,
and it was too bad to keep them from
their supper so long.
When they saw the pretty creature in
the kitchen, they gave a merry shout;
and little Willie thought it would be
grand fun to put an eating-apron on the
pet, and set it in his high chair that he
had when he first began to set ap to the
table with his little sisters. You can
see, in the picture, how lovingly they
gave the lamb part of their own supper,
before they had eaten even a little piece
of bread for themselves. Now you can
tell why I asked the questions in the be-
ginning of my talk with you; but I want
to show you further, why these children
were so kind.


There was once another bright face in
the cottage, another merry voice in the
frolics of the field and the woods. And
every night there was another knee bent
before the loving mother, when "Our
Father" was said, to bring the angels
round the slumbering heads of the little
ones in their cots. But the Lord wanted
the good boy for some higher usefulness,
and so one day when the body was very
sick, the angels gently drew away from
it the beautiful soul or spiritual body
that was within, and opened the eyes of
the new-born child of heaven to the glo-
rious beauties of his better home.
Almost the last words he said, were
"Mother, mother, the pretty white
lambs I" and all who stood around him


watching the bright look in his eyes, be-
lieved that in his innocence he was per-
mitted to see the sweet and gentle crea-
tures that in the spiritual world are the
companions of the children who love the
Soon after the dear boy had passed
from their sight to see angels and hea-
venly things, there came a little white
lamb to the cottage, and it began to skip
and gambol round the children, who
were sitting on the grass before the door,
as if it wanted them to let it be their
playmate and pet. It had, probably,
wandered down the. hill-side from some
distant flock, and as there was no mark
upon it by which they could tell its
owner, they took it to their hearts, as if

I'; I
:V1~L I,



their brother had sent it to them from
heaven, to show them always what
beautiful companions the good and true
would have eternally. And they almost
feared that he would call it back again
if they should indulge in wicked words
or thoughts.
If the little creature ever strayed away
so that it could not easily be found, the
three children would talk earnestly to-
gether about it wondering if it had been
called away because they were not in
innocence; and they would never eat
their meals until the lamb had received
a part, so as to show their angel brother
that they were trying not to think of
themselves first. They would say the
most pleasant and kind words to each


other in their play, when the lamb was
gamboling about, because they believed
that Herbert (it was named after the
angel brother) skipped more lovingly
around them, when there were many
kind words spoken.
In a few years Willie was lying on his
little bed with the angels at his pillow
waiting lovingly to show him the home
of innocence, which is near the Lord.
The children had been always taught
that death was not to be feared, and that
they must look upon it as a joyful thing
for the good-so Helen cried but very
little, as she leaned over Willie and
whispered, "You are going to see Herby
and his lambs. Dear Willie tell him we
will try to be very good; and then, per-




haps, you and Herby will be our angels
and help us when we want to send away
the naughty spirits that would like to
have us just as naughty as themselves.
When we have our lamb with us we will
think of you both with yours in heaven,
and perhaps we shall all play together,
although we cannot know each other
only by feeling very happy."
The dying boy looked very willing to
be the angel-guardian of his dear sister,
and he passed with a sweet smile to
" Herby and his lambs."
There were now two on earth and two
in heaven. More and more every day
the sisters thought that their angel
brothers were helping their hearts to
grow warm with the Lord's love towards


all that he had made; and even as they
grew older they could not give up the
belief that their white lamb gamboled
sometimes with unseen company, which
were of the same flock as Herby's and
Will you, dear little girl or boy, try to
live so gently and pleasantly with your
playmates, that you will feel around
your hearts the warm presence of the
celestial children? And then by your
playful words and ways you will bring
about you the unseen lambs, that will
never gambol with little children when
there is no melody of goodness and truth
in their hearts and thoughts, as there
was in the dear good sisters, Carie and



THE morning sun, with a dazzling glow,
Beamed forth on the opening day,
The birds and flowers, from their rest below,
Awoke with its earliest ray.
Clear musical songs, from each warbling throat,
Fill the morning air, as they upward float;
And the flowers, as they open their dewy eyes,
Smile a joyous glance at the soft blue skies.

But the joy that welcomed its gleam, the best,
Shone forth from a boy's fair brow,
As he sprang from his innocent childlike rest,
And scorned to be sleeping now.
"I am glad," he said, "it is clear once again,
We have had so much of that dismal rain;
But the clouds and the rain-drops both are past,
And the clear warm sun has burst forth at last.


"But still it has been of use, I know,
And I'll go to my garden, and see,
If the seeds, my mother helped me to sow,
Are yet peeping out at me."
And away ran the merry, joyous boy,
With a happy face, and a shout of joy;
And his bounding heart was as full of glee,
As only the heart of a child can be.

But the gleam of delight changed to mute surprise,
When he stopped at the garden side,
And the gleam that shone from his dancing eyes,
Flowed bright as a sunbeam's tide.
What magical fingers had woven the spell!
He looked down delighted, but still could not tell,
And if they were fairies, he never had known,
Any fairies before, who such learning had shown.

For there was his name, not a letter mispelt,
Sparkling bright with the fresh morning dew,
And he scarcely could tell, what his happy heart felt,
As they glittered at first on his view.
He would go to his mother, and bring her to see,
And guess if she could, who the charmers must be,


That have wrought such a marvellous fairylike deed,
In the very place too she had planted the seed.

He saw by her face, that his mother could tell,
As she stood by. the wonderful spot;
By the smile on her lips, he could see very well,
That she was concerned in the plot.
And the half-puzzled look, from his fair young brow,
Seemed melting away, for a brighter one now;
As he looked at his mother, his glance implied,
That he guessed the fairy was now at his side.

And his mother's smile, was a gleam of assent,
As she said in a gentle tone,
That she hoped the seeds had a lesson lent,
And had not been idly sown.
As he kept the weeds from his flower-name there,
That it might so grow nobly, and strong and fair,
He should strive with an earnestness deep and true,
To keep the weeds from his heaven-name too.


"SHE is dead Dear, dear mother,
come up from the dark earth and put
your arms around us once again! Per-
haps I wouldn't ask it but once, mother,
so I should know that you loved us just
as much, although you are so silent now.
Georgie is here, mother, your little pet,
and I am here so very, very lonely!
Georgie is in my arms, and I have tried
to comfort him, I love him so; but, oh,
dear mother, can't you throw away the
grass and cold earth from your pale face,
and let me see if you look just like the



dear, pleasant mother, that took such
care of us a little while ago.
"They will not let me take up again
the flowers I have planted, and tear away
the covering that hides you from me, for
they tell me you are dead, and soon will
be all dust. Oh, mother, will your large,
bright eyes, your cheeks, that I have
kissed so many, many times, your pretty
hair, that Georgie hid his cunning fingers
in such a very little while ago, will they
be all dust? Oh, no, no! Mother, the
wicked people have not told me right,
and you will listen, while I whisper low,
close to the ground, and you will answer
your dear Annie, that you will never
wholly go away, that you will never be
all dust."


It may seem strange to my young
readers, that such a dear, sweet little
girl, as the one in the picture, should
have wanted so much to see her mother's
body; or that she could have thought
that it was able to throw aside the
flowers and the sod, and put its arms
around her as her own mother had loved
to do.
But it wasn't strange to -poor, dear
little Annie. Her mother, when she was
alive, had taught her to be good, and
always had made little Georgie obey her;
but she thought her little ones were not
old enough to learn about death and
heaven, and so she never talked with
them much about such things. Now,
the little children in the New Church are


taught a great many things when they
are young, so that.they can receive more
help from the angels, when they are older;
and if they don't quite understand all
that their father and mother say, they
are quite sure that if they listen, and
lay it all up in their minds, they will
sometime know how much help it has
really been to them in receiving good
and truth from the Lord.
As I was saying, little Annie's father
and mother thought it best not to talk
to the children about any thing that be-
longed to death, believing that they
couldn't understand what was said and
it might trouble them. Besides this,
Annie and Georgie had a nurse, who was
always dressed in black, and sighed a


great deal. She never looked cheerful,
because, I suppose, she thought it would
be wrong, and used to tell the children
very often, a long and dismal story about
the death of her father and mother, and
about their being buried together, "in
the cold ground."
This story was generally told while
the children were undressing for bed,
and after the orphan nurse had gone down
stairs, the little ones would talk it over
in their childish way, and almost cry in
thinking how dark it must be under the
green grass,'and wondering if their dear
father and mother would have soon to
be put down there away from the light.
It was not long before they were led
to take their last kiss from the lips of


their dying mother, and afterwards they
put on mourning dresses, so that they
looked like their sad nurse.
Then all the story they had heard so
often came to seem just like their own,
and when they had been to see their mo-
ther's grave, they believed that their own
dear, beloved parent had no other place
for a home than the narrow and straight
bed marked out by the raised grass.
Was it strange, my dear little reader,
that poor Annie begged her mother not
to lie there, but to come to her once more ?
That she whispered to her so anxiously
not to leave her wholly and be all dust?
She had caught something from the
minister at the funeral about the
spirit ascending to God who gave it,"


and some pitying friends had told her
that her mother was in heaven. But
how could the little creature feel any
thing now, but the very truth that the
body of her lost mother was lying very
still under the flowers they had planted.
The darkness that her young heart had
been left to, through the mistaken belief
of her parents, and the talkativeness of
her nurse, could not be changed in a mo-
ment to the beautiful light which comes
from truth. She could not understand
all at once, about the spirit ascending
to God who gave it," to taste for ever
the joy of heaven, when she saw nothing
but long black veils and deep borders of
crape, and the grave of her mother was
so much thought of and talked about.


Annie's father was very unhappy at
the loss of his wife. He could find no
consolation for the absence of one so use-
ful and so dear. He had never kept the
Sabbath very holy, and would not have
thought, perhaps, of finding any thing
in any church to help him, if a friend
had not turned his mind towards a new
hope, by inviting him one day to go and
hear his minister preach upon the "better
home." And, oh! how important for
the little ones was this first hearing of
the truths of the New Church.
If I could draw a picture, I would show
you Annie's visit to her mother's grave,
one little year from the mournful time
she begged the cold body to grow warm
and live again. There would be flowers


on the grave, beautiful flowers, and dar-
ling Georgie on his loving sister's lap.
But there would be another person added
to my picture, and that would be the fa-
ther of the little ones, with his head rest-
ing like a blessing on his Annie's head,
and his face turned toward the bright
east, because it corresponded to the spi-
ritual home of his dear wife. And I
would let you hear my picture talk, as
Annie talked about her sweet dead
"Oh, no! Annie says this time, "not
dead, dear mother. There is nothing
here beneath the grass but the poor weak
body that you did not want to take with
you to heaven. I know it will be all
dust, but it is not yourself, dear mother.


The body that was inside of this, was
what I loved so much, and what loved
me. I cannot cry any more for what
they have put away, for I know that the
eyes you have in your better body are
watching your dear children from heaven,
and the lips you kiss us with are very
pure and soft, and make us stop some-
times, when they whisper that we are
doing a naughty thing. The beautiful
hair that Georgie talks about so often,
even now, must be changed to the golden
kind that comes from the bright light of
Dear, dear mother, we are very
happy now, Georgie, papa, and I, on
earth, and you only just out of sight above
us. We will water the pretty flowers on


the grave of your outside body, for you
used to speak to us through it, and we
loved it very much; but we wont look
in the dark earth for you, mother.
"Father has taught us beautiful things
of heaven and the Lord, and when we
are all baptised as father says we shall
be soon, you will be there, dear mother!
Not coming up from the cold ground, as
I called you once, but stooping a little
from heaven to be glad with us."
Which picture do you like best-
Annie grieving at the grave, because she
thought her mother was really there, all
alone and cold-or Annie happy in her
new and beautiful faith, which taught
her that she might water the flowers-on
her mother's grave, if she would keep


the precious truth in her young heart
that the better body was not there, but
had risen?


MY little girl had a happy face,
As she came at eve from play,
And I questioned her of the pleasant things
That had met her eyes all day.

"Oh mother !" she said, and a glowing smile
Sprang up from her brimming heart,
"There were so many beautiful little things
I can only tell a part.

"The whole long day was a feast of joy
The skies, the flowers, the trees;
But I'll try to think of the other things,
That took their hue from these.

"The first of all that made me glad,
Was the glittering morning dew;
I have seen it, mother, all my life,
But to-day I loved it too.





"'Tis strange that we should ever pass,
Such beauty lightly o'er;
And I'm glad that I've found in the grass,
A beauty unknown before.

"I will learn from it, mother, to look beneath
The surface of what I see,
One day I may find there is nothing too mean
To bear a joy for me.

" Then we went from the sunny, dewy slope,
To a deep and shadowy wood,
We drank at the stream, we plucked the flowers,
We ate of the berries good.

" I cannot tell you of all the joys,
We found in our merry play,
The kindly smiles, and the gentle words,
As the noon-time danced away."

" For every flower had its little charm,
And every bird its song;
And we saw with surprise that the sun was low,
And the shadows faint and long.


So we knew it was time to leave the wood,
And we ceased our merry play
But, mother, the sights of our homeward walk,
Were the best of all the day.

"You know, dear mother, the tiny house,
That stands on the side of a hill,
Where the honeysuckle climbs over the door,
And 'tis always calm and still.

"Well, to-day the door stood open wide,
And we saw in the shaded light,
Two happy faces smile inside,
That made all the cottage bright.

"The floor was tidy, the walls were white,
As floor and walls can be;
And two poor women as neat as they,
Were just sitting down to tea.

The kettle sang from the chimney-place,
With a cheerful, humming sound,
And cups and plates, on wooden shelves,
Were nicely ranged around.


"The teapot was black, the pewter spoons,
The table and chairs so rough,
And every thing I saw around
Was simple, and poor enough.

" But I heard the words of earnest thanks,
That one of the women said,
For all the blessings, a gracious Lord
In her humble path had laid.

"And I saw her honest face grow bright,
With the glow of sweet content;
And our hearts beat more thankfully,
As on our way we went.

"By this, the sun was almost set,
And we saw by the river side,
A knot of sheep with little lambs,
On a common green and wide.

" They seemed so innocent and glad,
So full of peace and rest,
As if a conscious, grateful heart,
Were beating in every breast.


~~1tIT ~



" I know 'twas only a pleasant sense,
Of calm, secure repose,
Of joy in the cool, sweet eventide,
When the day was at its close.
"But still we felt as if something good,
Were living all around,
In the sunset's glow, in the fragrant air,
And as if that glow they found.

"Yet, mother, of all the day has brought,
Of the beautiful, good, and bright,
That cottage scene, in its lowliness,
Has left me most delight.
"For I feel, dear mother, that bird nor beast,
Though their lot is happy too;
Can ever feel a joy so deep,
As the pure in heart must do.
"And as I kneel in earnest prayer,
Ere I go to sleep to-night;
I will pray for a spirit as blest as that,
Which made the cottage bright."



As I was taking a walk one day, I met
a pretty little Savoyard, of about eight
or nine years old. He was a sunburnt
boy, with sparkling black eyes. He car-
ried in his right hand a long stick, and
bore on his shoulders a square box, which
plainly indicated his country and his oc-
cupation. He had in this box a marmot,
which he exhibited to the children wher-
ever he went, thus making a beginning
in the arduous task of supporting himself.
"Do you want to see the marmot?
She is very pretty, sir. She will climb
up my stick like a cat. Will you look


at her ? She will please you very much,"
said he, to me.
I did not care for seeing the marmot,
but he seemed so happy in the possession
of the little animal in the box, and so
full of pride concerning it, that I did not
like to disappoint the poor child by my
indifference. So I asked him to show
me the marmot.
He took the marmot out of the box
and warmed it, by covering it with both
his hands, but the little Alpine animal
seemed to be too sleepy to do any thing.
Little Jacob was very sorry for this. He
shook the little creature and tried to
rouse it by talking to it as follows: Wake
up, Jeannette, wake.up l" for Jeannette
was the marmot's name.



"Jeannette is my youngest sister's
name, and I love to call the marmot by
it. It reminds me of her," said Jacob.
Wake up, Jeannette, and show the
gentleman some of your tricks. Oh, I
know what is the matter with you; you
are hungry. I could not give you any
thing to eat to-day, for I have had no-
thing myself. Perhaps, sir, you will be
so good as to give us a trifle to buy some
food with."
Certainly, my little friend, but put
Jeannette back into her box, for she
seems more inclined to sleep than to
dance. Let her rest. Take this money
and buy some bread for yourself and her,
and if there is any left keep it for some
future time. The boy looked at the mo-


ney as it lay in the hollow of his little
hand, and sprang up jumping and cry-
ing out, My father was right, when he
said, as I took my leave of him, "The
Lord will not forsake you, my son."
Is your father alive ?" asked I.
"I hope to the Lord he is not dead,
sir, nor my mother, nor my grandmother,
nor my uncle Peter, nor Toinon, nor
George, nor Andreas, nor Pierrot, nor
Louise, nor Jeannette. They were all
well when I left them two years ago."
"How old are you, my boy ?" asked I.
"Ten years old, sir, when the sloe
blooms, if I reckon right, which perhaps
I do not; only I know that two years
ago, before I left home, my father said to
me, "Jacob, you are old and- strong


enough to earn bread for yourself, and I
cannot afford to provide for you any
longer. I will give you the marmot that
I found in the mountain. You can ex-
hibit it, and make money in that way.
Be good and honest, and the Lord will
take care of you."
"And you really left home at that
early age?"
I was obliged to go, my father would
support me no longer. My mother and
my grandmother cried at taking leave
of me, and I cried myself; but the mar-
mot was a great comfort to me, for I was
very fond of her. We began our wan-
derings together, and were not very un-
happy, we were provided with a great
piece of bread. When I had walked


nearly the whole day, the snow fell so
thick and fast that every thing was
covered with it. I was tired and walked
with great difficulty in the deep snow
with my wooden shoes; but Jeannette
seemed very well satisfied, although I
was not so by any means, for my bread
had failed me, and I was very hungry.
I thought I must die in the snow, and
this thought grieved me very much. I
took Jeannette out of her box, that she
might escape after my death, for marmots
can live in the snow for a long time with-
out food."
"My poor child! And how did you
escape from this dreadful situation ?"
"I remembered my father's parting
words, the Lord will take care of you,'


and I began to pray and call upon the
Lord in my trouble, and He heard me,
for I did not remain much longer in the
snow before a man came along, and he
took me by the hand and led me to his
hut, which was near, and bade me sit
down by the fire, and he gave me some
soup. I wept for joy and my deliverer
shed tears too. The next day the wea-
ther was fine again. I thanked the good
man for his kindness, and took leave of
him. At parting, he put a few sous into
my hand, so I put the marmot in the
box, and went on my way."
"And have you been in want ever ?"
"Very seldom. If I could get dry
bread and good water, and straw to lie
on at night, I was always contented, and


sang all day long. Now and then I meet
some good, kind person. An old gentle-
man gave me this waistcoat. It was an
old gentleman who lives down there in
that small house. I was very glad to
get it for mine was all ragged, and then
to-day I met you, sir, and you gave me
something. The Lord takes care of me.
My father was right."
Jacob was now very sorry that I had
not seen the marmot dance, and as I
took leave of him, I hoped he would al-
ways be taken care of as providentially.
I told him so. He had no doubts on the
subject, and went on his way laughing
and singing, only disturbed by the
thought of the pleasure I had missed in
not seeing the marmot.


YON butterfly, whose airy form
Flits o'er the garden wall,
Was once a little crawling worm,
And could not fly at all.
The little worm was then enclosed
Within a shell-like case,
And there it quietly reposed
Until its change took place.




I shall miss him more by the fire-side,
When the flowers have all decayed.
I shall see his toys, and his empty chair,
And the horse he used to ride;
And they will speak, with" a silent speech,
Of the little boy that died.

I shall see his little sister again,
With her playmates about the door;
And I'll watch the children in their sports,
As I never did before;
And if, in the group, I see a child
That's dimpled and laughing-eyed,
I'll look to see if it may not be
The little boy that died.

We shall go home to our Father's house-
To our Father's house in the skies,
Where the hope of our souls shall have no blight,
Our love no broken ties;
We shall roam on the banks of the River of Peace,
And bathe in its blissful tide;
And one of our joys of Heaven shall be-
The little boy that died.

* -.. -. I..
- *.. .SI.

r-. !



University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs