Citation
My juvenile days

Material Information

Title:
My juvenile days and other tales
Added title page title:
Who shall be greatest?
Added title page title:
Which is wiser
Added title page title:
People abroad
Creator:
Howitt, Mary Botham, 1799-1888 ( Author, Primary )
Appleton, George Swett, 1821-1878 ( Publisher )
D. Appleton and Company ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
New York
Philadelphia
Publisher:
D. Appleton & Co.
G. S. Appleton
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
176, 178, 184 p., 6 leaves of plates : ill. ; 16 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Sisters -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Social values -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Bildungsromane -- 1850 ( rbgenr )
Pictoral cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1850 ( rbbin )
Family stories -- 1850 ( local )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1850 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1850
Genre:
Bildungsromane ( rbgenr )
Pictorial bindings ( rbbin )
Family stories ( local )
Publishers' advertisements ( rbgenr )
non-fiction ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Title vignettes on plates preceding actual title pages.
General Note:
Bound in brown cloth embossed in copper and blind.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Mary Howitt.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
AAA1920 ( LTQF )
ALH2227 ( NOTIS )
06570032 ( OCLC )
026818623 ( AlephBibNum )

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MY

JUVENILE DAYS

OTHER TALES.

BY

MARY HOWITT.

NEW-YORK:
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BR .DWAY.

PHILADELPHIA:
GEORGE S$. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT-ST.
M.DCCC.L.






AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

CHAPTER I.
OUR HOME.

Ir has often been a subject of regret that so little
is known of the workings of a child’s mind during
its earlier years. Little of this, however, can be
known, excepting in cases of great precocity in chil-
dren; and then the case is not an ordinary one, for
children do not reason at all, they only receive im-
pressions. They feel things keenly, kindness or un-
kindness, joy or sorrow— but they neither reason nor
reflect—the reason and the reflection come later, and
then we draw inferences, and understand the connec
tion of one thing with another. We stand then, as
it were, at the proper distance to take in a general
view ; we stand like the traveller on the hill-top, and
look over the landscape which we have left behind us.
We see there, in a clear perspective, the house in
which we were born; the trees around it, or the
neighbours’ houses; we see here sunshine, there
shade; there the hill of difficult ascent, which was



8 OUR HOME.

painful to our feet, and there the green and sunny
valleys where we wandered with the companions of
our joy, and gathered the gay flowers of every
season.

I stand now on this hill-top, and look back over a
scene which extends through the present century.
The scene widenson every hand, and has broader lights
and shades, and more important action asit nears the
present time, but with it in its breadth and extent
we have nothing to do. We look into ten years only,
and that time lies in a pleasant valley, which will tire
the foot of no youthful wanderer; nothing lies there
but. what is amusing and pleasant, children and
childish sports—and thither let us betake ourselves,
you, my young readers, and myself, and see what we
can find there.

I must, in the first place, introduce you to the
home where we lived. I say we, not in any editorial
capacity, or because it sounds better, but because,
when I write of myself as a child, I must write of
my sister also. My sister was a year older than
myself, but we were so constantly together, and were
so guided by a constant amity of will, that we were
something like one soul in two bodies. People ima-
gined that we were twins, perhaps, because we were
nearly the same height, or, perhaps, because we
were always together, and always dressed alike. My
sister was Anna, I myself, Mary.

Anna was somewhat slenderer than myself, with
an oval countenance, soft blue eyes, soft brown hair,
a remarkably rosy complexion, and an expression
of great sweetness in her whole countenance. She
was, in fact, the most amiable, the most feminine and

*



OUR HOME. 9

affectionate creature I ever saw. I, for I remember
well what was said of me, if I do not remember my
own person, was broader set than my sister, with a
round face, large grey eyes, and a deal of healthful
colour on my cheeks, with a roguish, merry expres-
sion of countenance, which made people think that I
was very fond of mischief. I was not particularly so,
but that was the general opinion, and I heard it so often
said, that I set it down in my own mind for fact.

Our home was one of great comfort, though it was
old-fashioned, with low rooms and small windows. A
court separated it from the street, and its principal
sitting-rooms opened into a pleasant and rather large
garden, which sloped down behind it toa green, plea-
sant meadow, where ran a quick and clear brook.
Beyond this meadow, fields, which had formerly
belonged to our grandfather, stretched upwards for
half a mile into a pleasant region of pastoral farms
and cornfields, which, if pursued for a few miles, led
to the classical world of Bagot’s Park and Needwood
Forest, and thus the landmarks of the horizon were,
here and there, a conspicuous group of trees, a large
barn, or farm-house. It was by no means a grand
view, but it was one of great quietness and rural
beauty. Our father was extremely fond of it, and
pointed out its peculiar features with great pride
to his visitors. I remember once his chagrin and
almost anger, when. on having particularised the
beauties of this familiar scene to a rich and worldly
and not over-polite visitor, she remarked arrogantly,
“You think it pleasant, no doubt—but, from my
drawing-room windows, I look over an extent of fitty
miles, right to the sea.”



10 OUR HOME.

I was but a child: I understood the spirit of the
speech, however, as well as my father, and I was
angry, but acigher he nor I thought at all the worse
of our homely little view.

Our parents saw but little company ; they were
extremely attached to each other, and were very
domestic people. He was engaged very much in his
profession, as well as by some iron-works in Glouces-
tershire.

There was a front parlour in our house, which, in
the earlier days of our childhood, was occupied by
our grandfather, a stern, grave, and, according to his
notions, a very religious old gentleman. He read a
great deal, wrote a great deal, and was a great
collector of herbs, which he dried and ground into
snuff of various kinds, which he considered bene-
ficial for curing all sorts of complaints. He had a
small medical library, and prescribed to any one who
would be his patient; he gave advice gratis in two
ways, for he was one of those good people who think
it their duty to be continually dropping words in
season and out of season ; hence he always was med-
dling with people's affairs, and, poor man, often
brought himself into no little trouble by so doing.

We were rather afraid of our grandfather, and
very carefully avoided making any noise at his end
of the house, for of all things he detested the noise of
children, and, besides this, poor old gentleman,
he had a natural irritability of temper, which,
having once or twice startled us by its unexpected
vehemence, left us ever after a little in fear.

Our house, like all old-fashioned houses, had
no regularity in its floors; we went down a step into



OUR HOME. Bi

one room, and up astep into another. The rooms
were low and rather dark, and were papered with
dingy, old, large-patterned papers, which made them
look lower and less than they were. There were
plenty of rooms in the house, most of them well
carpeted and well furnished; but others there were
with blocked-up windows, for this was in the time of
the heavily-laid-on window tax, and people, for
economy's sake, managed with as little light as pos-
sible ; and these mysterious dark rooms had in them
nothing but lumber or a couple of chairs, turned
one upon another, and a bedstead without hang-
ings, which looked dismal and skeletonlike. These
rooms, from which cobwebs were always fetched if
anybody had cut themselves severely, and the blood
would not stanch, had always in them a certain
horror to my mind, and the established threat of
putting any naughty children into the lumber-room,
or the dark garret, never failed to produce a very
subduing, if not a very salutary, effect.

The back of the house stood raised above the
garden, into which a flight of steps led from an old-
fashioned porch, abundantly covered with pyracantha
and jasmine. Below the pleasant sitting-rooms on
this side of the house lay the lower offices and
cellars. The cellars were dark and dismal places, at
least so they seemed to us children, and in them were
found little yellowish lizards, called by Nanny, of
whom I shall hereafter have much to say, “‘ askars,”
and toads and frogs. We had been threatened with
confinement in these cellars if we ever should be very
naughty ; and in the earlier years of my childhood,
a story being told of a crucl father who had kept



12 OUR HOME.

his unhappy child for years in a cellar, this and the
threat together made the cellars awful places, into
which we only now and then ventured to peep under
the heavy wooden shutter, which excluded the light,
by raising it an inch or two, which was all that the
chain which secured it inside would admit of.

Spite of these terrors, however, and of our grand-
father, who lived on the other side of the house, we
contrived to have a deal of pleasure. There was a
row of fir-trees down one side of the garden, and
a shrubbery under it, where we could play, as in a
solitary world of our own,-and where nobody could
see us from the house. In those distant years I
remember but very little bad weather, and the sum~
mers were as long as three summers now-a-days—
snow, to be sure, there was in winter, and very
beautiful it looked, like a white garment upon
the hilly fields, and hanging feathery upon every
twig of the garden trees; but I remember no wet,
miserable, chilly days, when it was comfortless both
within doors and without—oh no! in the golden
years of a happy, active childhood, such days as
these come not.

In summer there were plenty of flowers in the
garden, and I never saw anywhere such tufts of
yellow and purple crocuses and white snowdrops as
we had; the lilacs seemed quite bowed down with
flowers, and so did the laburnums—but we had no
guilder-roses, or snow-balls, as they were then called.
We had not a single one in the garden, but when
they were in flower, we never failed to go to a
relation of ours in the town, who had a tree in her
garda, that; we might see how beautiful it was. I



OUR HOME. 13

wonder that our mother, v. ho enjoyed the garden so
much, never introduced into it this tree, which is so
easy to rear; but she never did—nor is there to this
day such a tree in the garden, and every spring we
children went to see and admire onr Aunt Summer-
field’s snow-ball tree, and to come home laden with
boughs of its pendant flowers.

Next door to us, on the right, lived Miss Wheldon
and her widowed sister, Mrs. Gilbert, who had one
son, a fine young man. The two families were neigh-
bourly, but not intimate ; they spoke when they met,
but did not visit; but we had always heard our
parents speak with so much respect of their neigh-
bours, that we adopted the sentiment of the house,
and always regarded them as people worthy of con-
sideration. We watched them go in and out, and
saw them walking in their garden, which adjoined
ours, and said, “* There goes Miss Patty,” or ‘‘ There
go Mrs. Gilbert and her son,” in a tone anything but
indifferent. At length, one fine summer's afternoon,
came the sudden, strange news, that young Mr.
Gilbert was drowned—he had been bathing in the
river Dove, that lovely river! and there he had lost
his young life, and his poor mother was _heart-
broken, and how could she help it? All at once it
seemed as if we had known and loved our neighbours
all our days; our mother went in with offers of the
most friendly service—we children peeped into the
garden, where nobody was walking, and felt very
sorry. poor Mrs. Gilbert walking up and down the garden,
with her handkerchief to her eyes; she watched
her go up and down with slow steps, and the

G



14 OUR HOME.

longer she watched the more vivid became her sym-
pathy. ‘What can I do for her?” thought she—
when suddenly an idea occurred. Her greatest
treasures were a set of little play-tea-things which
our mother had brought her the week before out of
the Staffordshire Potteries—she would give her these.
Accordingly she ran into the house, and fetched them
thence, and, with these jingling in her pinafore, she
crept through a thin place in the garden fence, which
she never had thought of doing before; she stood
before the poor lady, and, with tears in her eyes,
said, opening her pinafore, ““Do not cry so, Mrs.
Gilbert, and I will give you these. JI am so
sorry for you, and will give you all my doll’s
tea-things !”

“Bless you!” said the heart-broken mother, and
took her in her arms, and kissed her. She did not
accept the tea-things, but she accepted the love that
made the offer. The child’s pity, she told our
mother, did her good, and from that time we were
intimate neighbours. Anna’s passion was flowers.
Mrs. Gilbert had the most beautiful tulips that ever
grew ; the tulip-bed came down to the hole in the
hedge through which she had crept, and ever after,
when they were in bloom, good Mrs. Gilbert never
saw her in the garden without putting through the
hedge tulips and other flowers for her acceptance ;
she was a kind neighbour, and used to give us
not only flowers, but gingerbread and _ seed-cake
also. |

I remember well the day on which young Mr.
Gilbert was buried ; it was a bright sunshiny day,
like that on which he was drowned, and it seemed to



OUR HOME. 13

me only the more solemnly impressive—death and
summer-sunshine are incongruous to the heart of
childhood.

Such were our neighbours to the right; on the
left of us stood a handsome house, which belonged to,
and was inhabited by, a Mrs. Carpenter, the widow
of a considerable builder in the place. She was a
very proud and stately lady, and had, it was said,
great connections in London. Before she married Mr.
Carpenter she was the widow of an officer in the
East. India service ; she had been abroad, and had
much property. There was, according to our childish
notions, something quite grand about her house;
it was tall and handsome, with lofty windows, and a
large door, and a vast many offices about it, which,
however, were, in her days, rather old and tumble-
down. But the lady lived in the great house, and
we used to see her driving out in her heavy, lumber-
ing coach, or else walking with a very dignified air in
her large, handsome garden, which adjoined ours,
with a huge black calash on her head, and clogs
onher feet. She was very particular in many ways;
her dining-room lay to the street, and the children
of Clowes, the auctioneer, used now and then to
peep in to see the great lady at dinner. One day
she had a party, and Grace Clowes, then about six
years old, a thin, brown girl, with brown eyes and
long. lanky hair, peeped in to see how all was going
on. Mrs. Carpenter, observing this, ordered a servant,
as soon as the little girl was gone, to go to the next
house, and bid Miss Grace come to her. The servant
did so, and Grace, with her wild hair smoothed, and
with her yet wilder heart beating with expectation,



16 OUR HOME.

was conducted into the grand dining-room, where the
great lady was seated with her guests.

‘“* Now, Miss Grace,’’ said Mrs. Carpenter to the
child, who was left by the servant standing foolishly
in the middle of the room, “look about you—here
we all are—and here isthe dinner ; notice everything ;
and when you have satisfied your curiosity, you can
go! But never let me catch you peeping in at my
windows again ! ”

This story, which was told through the whole
town, gave us an awful idea of the lady who would
not be peeped at. Another thing, of a more personal
nature, occurred to excite a little animosity in the
bosom of our family towards her. We, like all
country folks in those days, washed at home, and of
course every five or six weeks our garden was full of
very good clothes to be dried. One day the servant
came rushing into the parlour, where we were sitting
with our mother, exclaiming —-

“ Only think, ma’am, Mrs. Carpenter has sent to
desire you will take in all your clothes, every rag
of them, because she is going to have company, and
it will never do for her company to see clothes hanging
out to dry.”

It was an unheard-of thing! Desire us to take in
our clothes because she has company! ‘“ Give my
compliments to her,” said our mother, “and desire
her never to invite company on our washing-aay ”

Our mother did not mean this message actually to
go, but for all that it went.

Old Captain Buckstone, a neighbour, called at our
house that same day, and our mother related to him
the affront which Mrs. Carpenter had put on our

&



OUR HOME. 17

clothes. ‘‘ The upstart!” exclaimed the Captain ;
“and I have seen her on the top of a baggage-
wagon !”

This somewhat consoled our mother, but she did
not easily get over the affront, nor, though in the
most neighbourly spirit she had all the things taken
in towards evening, when the company came, did
Mrs. Carpenter forget it either ; from that day forth
they were on cold terms.

When the weather was severe, we played in an
upper room, which was partly in the roof, and witha
very pretty little casement window which opened into
Mrs. Gilbert's yard. The room was papered with a
reddish paper, and had a white marble slab fixed on
a bracket by the wall; this, and a chest, which held
our playthings, and two little chairs, were all its
furniture. ‘The window-sill was our table, it pro-
jected very comfortably, and there we sat in the
light on our little chairs. We were very fond
of this room ; it was called “ the little red room,” or
“the children’s room;” on one side of tt was the
nursery, and on the other the second-best chamber,
which was not often used, so that there was but little
danger of our disturbing anybody, and that, perhaps,
was one reason why it suited us so well. There was
but one disadvantage in this room, and that was, that
just under the window there wasa great crack, where
the floor seemed to have shrunk from the skirting-
board. We lost a great many things there, small
pewter-plates and dishes, whole sets of doll’s spoons
and small knives and scissors, and occasionally our
best silver thimbles, which useful implements of
industry, being thus swallowed up, made our mother

c 2



18 OUR HOME.

always say that the floor really should be mended—
it would not be much trouble; only the fitting in of
a slip of wood, and it must be done. We wished it
might, and thought of how, if the board were taken
up, we might discover all our lost treasure, as well as
unknown-of things besides, which other people ane
lost.—But the oor never was mended.

Our mother in the winter spun a great deal. It
was not the custom for gentlewomen to spin in those
midland parts of England at that time; spinning
was a fashion which had gone out for a quarter of a
century at least, but she was from South Wales,
® woman of strong energetic character, who, adhering
to good usage rather than fashion, had brought the
wheel with her, and used it for some years after
her marriage. She spun, therefore, every winter,
many pounds of flax into beautifully fine yarn, which
used to hang in hanks, as they were finished, at
the top of the kitchen, among hams, salted: beef, and
dried herbs. I have now table-linen of her spinning,
and most probably shall leave some of it-to my
own children. She was an excellent spinner, and it
used to be the delight of us children to sit beside her,
and lay by turns our heads upon her knee, which
were thus, as we thought, agreeably rocked, or rather
trotted, by the turning of the wheel, whilst she
repeated to us long portions of Thomson's Seasons, of
which she was extremely fond, Gray's Elegy, passages
from Cowper, and other long poems, all of a medita-
tive and serious character. I can recall now the
sound of her voice, mingled with the busy humming
of the wheel, and it seems delightful.

In the spring, when the spinning was done for the



OUR HOME. 19

year, there always came an annual pleasure, which
gave us great delight. This was the going to the
weaver, who lived about two miles off, to give
orders for the weaving, and to choose the patterns for
it. For this excursion some fine steady day in April
or the beginning of May was chosen, when, as the
country saying is, the crows had picked the dirt up.
It was always talked of for a week or two before-
hand, and brought with it great anticipations of
pleasure. We mostly went in the afternoon; it was
a pleasant walk, though it was along the turnpike
road the whole way, but green flowery fields bordered
each side ; there were lambs in the fields, goslings
and young ducklings on the village and farm-house
ponds by the wayside; the willow-catkins were
all out; the hedges were budding with their young
green leaves, and our mother, whom we loved so
well, and who yet so seldom took walks with us into
the country, was with us now, and to us children,
who lived so much at home, it was quite an adven-
ture to go so far. I remember so well the hamlet,
called Wills-Lock, through which we passed, with
the plough projecting over its ale-house as a sign,
and where, at the juncture of the Stafford and Lich-
field roads, stood the pinfold, and, better than that,
the saw-pit, where, if the men were not at work, the
children always were playing. I remember the Low-
fields Hall, where we never fdiled to wonder why a
place that stood on a hill should be called low, nor to
talk of the horrid deed which not so long before had
been done there; when the groom, going into the
stables, found the four fine coach-horses all with
their throats cut. It was as dreadful as any murder,



20 OUR HOME.

and we looked with horror, yet not without a thrill-
ing interest, that was not without its agreeable
excitement, at the great stables adjoining the house
where the deed was done.

On we went, and into the next valley, where lived
old Master Pedley, the weaver. He was an old
bachelor, and his sister, who was a widow, kept
his house; they were most decent, comfortable
people, who, possessing a homestead of their own
and a little property, never knew the meaning of
that awful word—poverty, and had, therefore, such
cheerful countenances as did one good to look
upon, and, besides which, we always seemed to
be expected when we got there, which would not
have been strange to us children, for children are
not so easily surprised by such things as grown
people, had not our mother called our attention to
the fact.

“I’ve been a-looking for you!” said the old
woman invariably, taking us through the little
kitchen into the still less parlour, with its brick floor,
and its pleasant window, that looked out into the
pleasant crofts behind. And those crofts it was
which had such a charm for us, for they were full of
cowslips and wild daffodils; and whilst our mother
rested and talked with the old people, and arranged
about her weaving, we went into the crofts, and
gathered our hands full of these lovely flowers.
When we returned to the house, we always found
the little round stand set out, and the bottle of cow-
slip-wine, and the seed-cake, and ginger-bread ready,
‘for,’ said the old woman, “I’ve been a-looking for
you these two or three days!”

&



OUR HOME. 21

It was a charming thing, this going to Master
Pedley’s, and, perhaps, what made us think most of
it was, that it only came once a-year. We gathered
plenty of flowers there, for though we had cowslips
nearer to us than this place, we had no daffodils,
and they were flowers that seemed fit for a garden.
Our father mostly came to meet us on our return
home, and then our mother taking his arm, they two
went on together, leaving us two happy creatures
either to go on before or to come after hand in hand.

The maid who had the care of us then was a
relation of the old weaver, and was called Betty.
She was a childish, giddy sort of girl, and was no
great favourite with us. Her father was a tailor in
the town, and as it was the time when the French
invasion was so much talked of, he, like all other tailors,
was busily employed in making regimentals for the
volunteers. Betty brought us home pieces of scarlet
cloth, and we, warm in the general cause, dressed up
a regiment of doll-volunteers. Had we been boys,
we should, like the boys of the town, have acted the
volunteers, and been drilled, and exercised, and
marched about, as they were, to the sound of drum
and fife. But we looked on at all this out of our
nursery-window ; it was something with which we
girls had nothing to do actively. We had not one
single boy acquaintance, for our parents, for reasons
of their own, kept us very much secluded. Boys, I
reinember, seemed to me a wild kind of strange
animal, with which it was hardly creditable, and by
no means desirable, to have anything to do; and
when a stranger once asked—“ Have you any
brothers?” one of us replied with great gravity, and



92 THE FIRST SCHOOL.

a sense of great propriety, ““Oh no; our father and
mother do not approve of boys.” ae

The boys of the town, therefore, played at soldiers
in the streets, and we and our maid Betty equipped
a regiment of doll-volunteers.



CHAPTER IL.
THE FIRST SCHOOL.

- I wave said that we had no boy-acquaintance. I
must go back a year or two from the time I last
wrote of, and I shall then have to mention one.
Whilst our grandfather was our inmate, in order
that he might not be annoyed by us in any way, and
partly, perhaps, at his suggestion, we were sent to a
day-school.

This was kept by a Miss Goodwin, a fair, mild, lady-
like person, such a one as might have taken to school-
teaching from some reverse of fortune—a stranger
would have said so instantly. Whenever I read now
of the gentle lady who taught school in Crabbe’s
Tales of the Hall, I think of her. But she was a
gentlewoman by nature, rather than by birth—one
whose spirit was of pure gold. Our mother made
acquaintance with her when we became her scholars,
and was greatly attached to her during her shot life.
She lived in a small house near to us, and her sister,
Teresa, or Terry, as she was called, who was a little
old-looking woman, and who always seemed to us
somewhat half-witted, kept house for them. She
lived in the kitchen, through which we passed to



THE FIRST SCHOOL. 23

the parlour, which was the school-room, and with her
old-fashioned “flowered” gown pinned up around her,
seemed always to be dusting and polishing the dark
oak furniture.

We soon became very fond of Miss Goodwin, and
she seemed equally so of us. We were certainly her
privileged scholars, and cut paper and amused our-
selves in a thousand unscholastic ways during the five
hours which we spent in school. Our grandfather used
sometimes to fetch us home, but this, for two reasons,
we did not greatly like; in the first place, he always
sat and talked so long with Miss Goodwin and
Terry after school, which we thought tiresome ; and
secondly, because, when in a very good humour, he
would carry one or other of us, and this was ten times
worse than walking, because, dear old man, as he
stooped forward very much, we always felt as if we
should fall out of his arms—but this, of course, we
never told him.

Miss Goodwin took tea with our mother now and
then; she used to come dressed in muslin gowns,
either white, or printed in such delicate patterns as
to look almost white; my mother often took tea in
the garden when she came, because she was so fond
of fresh air, and with her daily confinement in the
school, and her delicate health, she could enjoy but
very little of it. The family was a consumptive one,
and though we did not know what it meant when we
heard our mother say so, we soon gleaned up the
meaning of the fear which she often expressed, that
poor Miss Goodwin would follow her sister, whe had
died. Her sister had married a well-to-do black-
smith in the place, named Steele, and after a year or



24 THE FIRST SCHOOL.

two had died, leaving one child, a son. Sammy
Steele, this boy, was anything but a consumptive-
looking subjeet. We had glimpses of him now and
then in the kitchen, with his Aunt Terry ; to us he
belonged to the race of boys, and was therefore a
creature to be shunned. He was a strong-limbed,
big boy of his age, and we had always an aversion te
him. :

Miss Goodwin also had a brother in London, whe
was married and settled there, and a sister, who was
a housekeeper in the great mansion of some great
millionaire in the metropolis also, and who now and
then, when the family was in the country, came
down to see her sisters. She was a handsome, portly
woman, with an air of life about her ; “she knew,”
as the simple townsfolks said, “ what was what,” and
was altogether a person of consequence, although she
bore the simple country name of Dolly.

Once, in the Christmas holidays, Miss Goodwin
came to our house, to ask if we might go early that
afternoon to play with her brother's son, “little
Johnny,” whom her sister Dolly had brought with
her from London, for change of air. ‘* Poor Johnny,”
she said, ‘“‘ was a very delicate boy, he was very still
and good, and they all feared he would go off in a
waste. Johnny was as gentle as a girl,” she said,
‘‘ and she hoped our parents would let us go.”

We went, and there was Johnny. J remember
well, child as I was, the shock that went through me
as I saw him first. I do not think that I had
perhaps ever seen a child out of health before; he
was thin ; his dark jacket and trousers hung quite
loose upon him ; he was as white as his shirt-collar,

&



THE FIRST SCHOOL. 2b

and his eyes were hollow and mournful. We were
filled with the kindest compassion; we took his thin
hands in ours, and looked at his long thin fingers,
till our eyes filled with tears. No, indeed! there was
no danger of such a dear child as this doing us any
harm! Poor Johnny! poor little Johnny Goodwin !
We both sighed, and began to think what we
should do to amuse him, when in came rushing
Sammy Steele, the blacksmith’s son, full of rude
health, and almost bursting out of his coarse clothes.
We were shocked, but we could not get away. We
drew up close to one another, and stood in dignified
silence, But our dignity mattered nothing to
Sammy Steele; he was overflowing with good
humour and energy; he was bent upon amusing us
all. He had made a’sort of oven—his aunt had given
him Jeave to bring it in, and here it was. He set it on
one side of the fire, and poked the hot cinders under
it, and puffed and blew till he was as hot as any
Vulcan, old or young, and presently the little oven
was getting hot. His aunt Terry had mixed some
tea-cakes, and they were to be baked in his oven;
and more than that, he had himself made a little
bakestone, or “ bakston”’ as he called it, and his aunt
Terry had mixed some batter, and he himself was
going to make some pikelets for our tea. Never
was there such a busy, good-natured fellow. Poor
Johnny's pale face kindled up; he took the greatest
interest in the oven; it baked the most charming
little tea-cakes. Miss Goodwin set out little tiny
china tea-things on a tray, and one of us made tea,
whilst the other buttered the cakes and the smoking
hot pikelets which Sammy Steele turned on and
D



26. THE FIRST SOHOOL.

turned off his bakestone, with the most perfect skil?,
never thinking—not he—about himself, but saying
that he had plenty yet to bake—plenty ! we must
eat more; we could not half have done; he never
saw folks with such little appetites in all his life.
After we had satisfied ourselves, his turn came. His
aunt Terry had allowed him a certain quantity of
lard to grease his bakestone with, and all this he had
exhausted over us—there was not a bit more iu the
house. What was to be done? But it was easy
enough for Sammy Steele to know what must be
done, for he was a boy with resources. He took the
candle out of the stick, and greased the stone. In
vain we exclaimed in horror; it mattered nothing ;
he was not over delicate, and he declared his pikelet.
to be excellent.

Oh he was a rare fellow, that blacksmith’s son !
We could not tell which we liked best, Sammy Steele,
with his hot, red face, and large brown hands, or
Johnny Goodwin, who looked so gentle and so ill.

We went home delighted. Sammy Steele, however,
never came to our house, though his cousin did. He
walked up and down our garden, leaning on his
aunt’s arm, but it was winter time, and he could come
only seldom. He became so ill, too, that his aunts
became seriously anxious on his account. Mrs. Dolly
shortened her visit and took him home, and in
the spring he died. His death was quite a grief to
us. We cried sadly, and our mother consoled us by
saying that Johnny Goodwin was surely gone te
heaven, for there were not many such boys as he.



27

CHAPTER III.
CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

Axgour this time two changes occurred. In the
first place our grandfather left us. He took lodgings
at a pleasant house belonging to an old gardener and
his wife, where there were no children, at about a
mile’s distance from us, and just out of the other side
of the town. Here he had a couple of rooms, and
lived very much to his heart’s content. Here he
heated his room with a chafing-dish and charcoal, and
set up his crucible, and dried his herbs, and pounded
and dispensed his snuff, without any interruption.
Here, also, he could receive his patients of all kinds,
and practise the use of his metallic tracters, which
were at that time the rage, and in the use of which
he was an adept, on all kind of poor, infirm and
afflicted creatures who came to him. He was a great
deal more at his ease after this removal, and so were
we. Once a week we children were sent up with
our maid to visit him, and to take some kind message
or little present to him from our parents, and every
Sunday he dined with us. We were very fond of
visiting the old gentleman in this way, for several
reasons. In the first place, we liked the walk, which
to us, secluded children as we were, had something
quite adventurous in it; we learned to know the
town in this way, and it had much such a charm for
us as the reading of a new book.

There were several ways of reaching the Heath, as
that part of the neighbourhood was called where our



298 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

grandfather lived ; and we were extremely fond of
varying them. Sometimes we went through the
marxet-place and up the High-street ; and amused
ourselves with town-life the whole way. Sometimes we
went round through the church-yard, which in those
days was always kept unlocked and open to the public,
as all country church-yards ought to be, and thus
leaving the town entirely, and, going far to the right,
threaded pleasant alleys that led between the bowery
gardens of large houses, to which we occasionally
went with our mother to make morning cails. On
this side there were extensive views into Derbyshire
and the north of Staffordshire among the hills, whence
in somewhat later years were seen the white turrets
of Alton Towers; from this side too were distinctly
seen the ruins of Tutbury Castle, an object of in-
terest to us at all times. There was a third way, too,
and yet a fourth, and both of these had something
quite terrific to our imaginations. The one led us
past the great wooden barn where a certain Betty
Ball had hung herself, and which therefore was said
to be haunted; and further on to the three lane-ends,
where an unfortunate girl who had committed suicide
was buried, according to the brutal usage of those
days, with a stake run through her body, as if she had
not suffered anguish enough in her life, without her
miserable remains enduring the cruellest outrage in
death. The other road led through the back lanes
of tlie tuwn, where we had uot tne permissiou of our
parents to go; but where, I am ashamed to acknow-
ledge, we sometimes went unpermitted. In one of
these lanes lived the beggars, the rag-gatherers, the
chimney-sweepers, and bone-dealers. Asses were



CHANGES. THE NEW MAID. 29

kept in the lower rooms, and house-doors were fas-
tened with padlocks. ‘The men had a reckless, law-
less, swaggering air about them; they were bronzed
with wind and weather, and had the look of dwellers
out of doors; they wore ragged and greasy clothes,
and had their hats either slouched over their eyes, or
else knowingly set on one side of their heads; and
the women were some of them wretched-looking hags,
or flaunting “‘ young queans,” with black ringlets and
long dangling earrings. But I am not purposing at this
moment to describe the town or its inhabitants ; my
business is now with our grandfather and our visits
to him.

The old gentleman gave us almonds and raisins
when we came, and sometimes a new book. The
books which we had then were very different to those
which children have now-a-days. They were exter-
nally mostly square, and bound, many of them, in
beautiful paper, stamped and printed in green and
gold, and red and lilac. I wonder one never sees
such paper now ;—beautiful books they were to look
at on the outside; but alas !—I grieve to say it—they
were very dry within. At that time the Taylor's
charming Original Poems, and more charming Nursery
Rhymes, were not written—nor had any of Maria
Edgeworth’s earlier ones penetrated into our out-of-
the-world region. Our books bore such titles as The
Castle of Instruction, The Hill of Learning, The
Rational Dame, and so on; and seemed written on
purpose to deter children from reading ; however, we
were thankful to our grandfather for whatever he gave
us. We walked about the pleasant, sloping, and sunny
garden of the house where he lived, and round and

D2



30 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

round the croft at the back of the house, where the
sweetest white and blue viclets grew on the banks in
spring. Our mother’s favourite flowers were violets ;
essence of violet was the only perfume she used, and
all that belonged to her had the peculiar odour of
that flower ; the very tradespeople used to say that
the bank-bills that came from her smelled so sweet
that they could distinguish them from anybody else's.
From the delight which violets gave to her, and the
pleasure which we always had in gathering them for
ther, I have even now, and always shall have, a pecu-
liar feeling towards them ;—they bring back the
ehild’s sentiment of affection to a good mother,—a
holy and a pleasant sentiment.

About the time when our grandfather left us, we
sparted also with our maid Betty, and the immediate
reason of her going was this:—Our parents went during
‘the winter from home, on a short visit into Cheshire;
and, either by permission or otherwise, the servants
of the family were out too for one night. I cannot
tell how it happened to be so; but I well remember
Betty being alone with us in the house in the even-
dng, and because the nursery seemed a long way off,
we all three sat together by the kitchen fire long
‘after our usual bed-time. We had a kitten that was
poorly, and Betty sat by the fire on a low stool and
‘fed it with a tea-spoon, and one of us held the tea-
‘cup of milk and the other the kitchen-candle ; Betty
said the kitten would die, and we cried. An eirie
sort of feeling crept over us; the kitchen looked dim
and ghastly, lighted by its one thin candle; we
thought of all the rooms in the house where there
‘was nobody, where all was darkness and silence; we



CHANGES. THE NEW MAID. 3l

thought of lumber-rooms where spiders spun their
cloudy webs, and of the cellars where were the crawl-
ing things; we thought, and were terrified almost
out of our wits. When the imagination is excited
either in old or young, they begin to tell dismal
stories. Accordingly Betty began to tell of a dreadful
thing which had just occurred up in the moorlands
of Staffordshire: a little child had been devoured by
a hungry pig; and then of something even worse
than that a thousand times,—of a little child in that
same wild part of the country which had been killed
by a cruel female relation, to whose care it had been
committed, and baked in an oven; a neighbour had
come in, and perceiving a strange smell, asked what
it was, and suspecting the fact, had then gone out and
raised the neighbourhood, when the wicked wretch,
who was busy at the wash-tub, was secured, and the
poor child’s body found baking in what was then
called a stein-pot. It wasa horrid story; we fairly
screamed for terror; we knew not what todo; Betty
was as much terrified as we; the kitten fell into a
sort of convulsion, and struggled as if in pain; Betty
said it would be a mercy to put it out of its misery,
but to us it seemed like the woman murdering the
child. Just then, the clock struck— it was twelve!
it was midnight! We had never been up so late
before in all our lives; we dared not go to bed, nor
dared she. At length she proposed that, late as it
was, we should all go up together to her father’s, the
tailor’s, knock them up, and bring her brother down
to sleep in the house. No sooner said than done;
she muffled us up in our little coats, put on her
cloak, and we sallied forth. It was pitch dark ;
there was not a lamp in the town; the sky was dark



32 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

and cloudy, and the wind blew fearfully. There was
to us something awful beyond words in being thus
abroad at the dead of night. The watchman stood
by the pump muffled up to the ears in his cloak,
with his lantern at his feet—asleep.

“Never mind him!” said Betty, and hurried
us on.

Her father’s was at the other end of the town; we
knocked them up, to their great terror, and roused at
the same time the whole neighbourhood ; and after
waiting what seemed to us an immense time, Joe,
her tall brother, went home with us to sleep in the
house. When we reached home, the kitten was dead
—stiff, stretched out on the hearth ; but Betty would
not allow us time to mourn over it; she warmed
what she called a “good jorum” of elder wine, of
which she gave us to drink, and then put us to bed.
I remember nothing more of that night; we must
have slept very soundly and very late too, for when
we woke next morning, all things were as usual in
the house ; the other servants were come home; the
house seemed fully inhabited, and Betty was sitting
by the nursery fire at her work. Whilst she dressed
us she made us promise not to say oue word to our
parents, or anybody else, of the adventures of the
night. To us they all seemed like a wild horrible
dream, and we promised secrecy.

Our parents returned at the expected time; and
we were asked—as we always were on such occasions
—what we had done each day ; fortunately nothing
was said of the night, so we kept our secret. In the
course of a few days, however, some sort of a strange
report came to our mother’s ears of “her dear children
wandering up and down the streets after midnight



CHANGES. THE NEW MAID. 33

like forlorn creatures.” She was horrified, as well
she might be, and asked us so point blank as to the
truth that we were obliged to confess all. Betty
then came in for her share of wrath; she at first
denied, and then finding that all was known, reproached
us for want of faith. Our mother removed us from
this scene of strife, and dismissed Betty instantly.
We were not sorry when she went; for though she
was not wilfully unkind to us in any way, she still
exercised a very uncomfortable and unwholesome
influence over us.

A new maid was now to be inquired for; and as
our mother on consideration thought that Betty’s
faults arose from want of experience, she determined
to have an older and graver person with us for the
future. Many young women came after the place—
for our service was in excellent repute—and we, who
sat entirely with our mother, saw all who came,
though we were invariably sent out of the room
during the conversation which ensued. At length
we were told that a person was engaged, and would
come the next week. She came—a tall, gaunt,
grave-looking woman of five-and-twenty, with some-
thing wild and picturesque in her appearance, a very
abrupt, decided manner, and a speech singularly
dialectical. We knew not what to think of her; all.
our mother’s acquaintance were in the same predica--
ment; but they received for answer that she came:
Lighly recom:nenced as wu must trustworthy, con-
scientious, and clever woman, and these were qualities.
which our mother valued more highly than mere
polish of manner or exterior.

This remarkable person—who lived in our family;



34 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

for fifteen years from this day, and only Jeft us to go
home and die—was called Nanny. Ann Wocdings
was her name; but Nanny she had always been
called, and so she still chose to be called. She wove,
when she came to the house, some kind of dark,
sober-coloured dress, made very tight, in the style of
those days, half high, with a prim linen habit-shirt
under it with a little plaited frill, like that of a boy’s
shirt, round the neck, and a black neck-ribbon; a
cap of white linen, made all in a piece, and called by
her ‘‘a bag-cap,” with a double frill round the face ;
a shortish, reddish-brown cloak, trimmed down the
front and round the capacious hood with old narrow
fur; and a little skimming-dish shaped green silk
bonnet. Such an odd figure hardly ever wasseen. Her
features were large and unpleasing; her complexion
muddy, and her hands and feet remarkably large.
Strange as this woman was in appearance, time
soon proved to our mother that she was clever and
trustworthy ; conscientious, too, I ought perhaps
also to add, but that was not exactly in the way our
mother would have liked had she known all,—but of
that anon; for the present we have nothing to do
but with her outward management, and this indeed
was clever. She was punctual, like the sun. We
‘were in bed and out of bed at the exact moment; we
*were taken to school and brought back to the minute,
‘without any oversight of our mother’s; and then,
-after Miss Goodwin's death, when our mother under-
‘took our education, nothing could be more satisfac-
‘tory than all her preparation and management.
“She is a treasure!” said our mother to her
friends ; and they, hearing nothing but good of her,



THE TOWN. 35

and seeing our neat, healthful appearance, treated
her also as a person to be respected.

CHAPTER IV.
THE TOWN,

Unper the guidance of Nanny, our visits to our
grandfather—go by whichever way we would—were
infinitely more attractive than poor Betty ever could
have made them.

Looking back from that hill-top of distance of
which I have before spoken, I can now understand
many things regarding Nanny, the effect of which as
children we only felt. Nanny was really a singularly
gifted woman, if not a woman of genius. She must
have had remarkable powers of observation, a reten-
tive memory, a turn for all that was picturesque and
traditional, considerable superstition, and a remark-
able faculty for relating anything clearly and effec-
tively. She cast, as it were, a spell over us; we sat
and listened for hours to her histories, which seemed
never to come to an end; and there was something
sO appropriate—so racy and picturesque, in the old
dialectic language which she used, that I never liked
any story told in modern polite English half as well
as hers; they seemed to me to want richness and
picturesqueness. From this cause I trace, even now,
my great love of dialect, and the singularly pleasing
effect which it always produces on me when spoken.

Nanny was a good tactician, too; she did not
Jaunch out into ail her broad singularities of character



36 THE TOWN.

at once—they stole upon us by degrees ; and, indeed,
had it not heen so, our parents must have been
startled, and assuredly would have dismissed her,
Many of her peculiarities in fact they never did know,
and we should as soon have thought of betraying
ourselves as her; yet she never put us on our guard
by enforcing secrecy ; she seemed as bold and open
as the day, and yet she was cunning and wary for all
that. And though I speak now with the full know-
ledge of Nanny’s character, it was only by slow
degrees that she fully revealed herself to us; yet in
the meantime she was making herself not only
agreeable but necessary to us also.

Nothing in the world could be more charming
than walks into the town with her. We knew the
exterior of things before she came; but who, like
her, could pull down with a touch, as it were, the
front of every house, and give us a peep into the
interior, however secret or strange? Who, like her,
was full of anecdote about all the people we met,
from the grandee of the town down to the buyer of
hare-skins in Sinithy-lane @

There, in that bowery-looking dwelling overgrown
with rose and clematis, lived the lady who had loved
a sea-captain, and fought by his side in man’s attire,
and saved his life at the expense of severe wounds on
her own body. A fair and passionately-loving lady
had she been in her youth; but for all that, she was
a very virago in temper now; and Nanny had seen
her box the ears of her second husband as resolutely
as she had fought on behalf of her first lover.

There, in that gloomy house, lived the great army-
contractor A , Whose slaughter of cattle for the





THE TOWN. 37

army was every week so iminense, and who made
purchases all over the country. Did we know that
in an upper room of that house, the window of which,
small and grated with iron, opened on the leads, had
been kept for years, chained down to her bedstead,
his unhappy wife. Wonderful were the stories
which she told of this house—of the busy trading
father, of the unfortunate wife, and the handsome
young profligate son, who, like some character in one
of Fielding’s or Smollet’s novels, went up and down
the world breaking the hearts of, she knew not how
many, young and handsome women.

Mrs. A—— was not, according to Nanny, the only
mysterious captive kept in garrets and secret places
of houses whose outsides looked smiling and cheerful,
with pleasant gardens all around them. ‘There was
a doleful idiot in one house, the mistress of which
came in silks and satins, with her lap-dog at her
heels, to visit our own mother. And there were the
two occasionally insane brothers, the S——s, army-
contractors likewise, one of whom had been in the
West Indies with a cargo of mules, and had gone
mad there, and there had worn such fearful manacles
on his legs that the marks of them remained to this
day. These men were of gigantic size and with voices
naturally powerful, which, when inflamed by madness,
became fearfully terrific. It was with dread that we
looked up to these houses, and listened if we might
not hear awful sounds proceeding from them.

Nanny’s stories were mostly of the wild and won-
derful ; but she now and then varied them by telling
us of such dwellers in houses as the poor organist
Green and his sick wife, whose little chamber was

z



38 , THE TOWN

made cheerful by the affection of her good husband,
and by the balsams and sweet-smelling plants, ver-
benas and balm of Gilead, which she cultivated
with a perfect passion. Then there were old women
who lived in the alms-houses, whose histories were
worth the telling. There was old Alice, or Ales
Emery, as she was called, whose daughter was such
a pattern of filial love, whe took in needle-work, and
died ; but not before she had made a shroud for herself
and another for her mother, which the old woman
kept carefully laid in lavender in the bottom drawer
of her chest, waiting for the time when it should be
wanted,

Sometimes Nanny took us past the old Hall—the
half-timbered, gloomy, desolate old hall; and then
she perfectly revelled in its history. We knew the
lady who lived there—Miss Grace Copestake; for
she occasionally called on our mother, and was, in
our eyes, a singular person, dressed as she was in
yellow or some bright colour, and with a quick
flighty sort of manner which had always struck us
as peculiar, Our parents, when speaking of her, fre-
quently called her ‘* poor Miss Grace,” but we never
knew why till Nanny told us,

The father of Miss Grace had been a speculative
man, and had introduced the lapidary business, on
rather a great scale, into the town. He built ex-
tensive wooden shops all round the large court of his
house, which was enclosed with a high, dreary-look-
ing wall. She described the desolate, weed-grown
court and the decaying shops as they now stood ; for
when it ceased to be the fashion for gentlemen to
wear buckles set with stones, his business fell off,
and he was a ruined man. He died; and Miss Grace



THE TOWN. 39

undertook the settling of his affairs: she sold all she
could to pay his debts, and then was left with the
bare walls of the desolate old house, for she was
compelled to sell all the furniture excepting what
was needed for the few rooms which she inhabited,
and there she lived with an ancient man and his
wife, her sole domestics. Poor Miss Grace became a
little wrong in her head, either with care or sorrow ;
and it was enough to make her crazed to see the
things which she saw night after night in that dolefal
old house. What, then, was the house haunted ?—of
a certainty; what old place like that was not haunted!
There was the spectral lady who stole down the
private staircase now and then, at uncertain periods,
in stiff silks which rustled at every step. Mysterious
hands there were which held a bloody bowl above a
certain closet door, and which not only Miss Grace
had seen, but a most excellent lady—a Mrs. Parker,
who with her daughter had at one time taken a part
of the house for a school; and in consequence of
which and other such eirie visions had been obliged
to leave. And not only she and Miss Grace had seen
them, but several of “the lace-girls” also. These
“lace-girls,” as they were called, were young women
employed by Miss Grace in working lace, which she
received from the manufacturers in Nottingham, and
employed girls to sprig and work in frames. She had
fitted up an immense room in this dreary old mansion
for this purpose. The lace was stretched in a sort of
quilting-frame which was placed on tressels, and one
or two girls worked at a piece. Whether Miss Grace
did this for amusement or as a means of subsistence,
I know not; but there the girls went daily, and,



4&0 THE TOWN.

according to common report, strange were the sights
and sounds with which they became familiar.

One day Nanny obtained leave to take us to see
some horse-riders and rope-dancers who were come
to the town, and were exhibiting their wonderful
feats in the ruinous court, among the decaying lapi-
dary shops, which with their large, broken windows
—where they were strong enough for the purpose—
served as a sort of stand. Of the horse-riding feats I
now remember much less than of the effect produced
on my mind by that scene of desolation and decay,
for the full effect of which Nanny had prepared our
minds. When the performances were finished, we
went to the hall itself, where Nanny—-who was
acquainted with the old domestic and his wife—ob-
tained for us a view of the whole place. It was
indeed a dreary, desolate spot; many of the walls
had been hung with tapestry, and now stood in their
naked brick and mortar, looking worse than the
interior of an out-building. Handsome ceilings,
cornices, and lofty windows, with carved wood-work
about them, made the strangest contrast with the
walls. The lady’s own room was finished with dark,
old oak wainscot ; a few family pictures hung in ‘it,
and there she herself sat in her yellow gauze, like an
old faded picture herself. As she was acquainted
with our parents she received us most graciously,
gave us little cakes to eat and each a glass of wine,
made us tell her all about the horse-riders, and bade
us come often to see her.

But we never went again till after Miss Grace’s
death, when our father purchased at the sale of the
whole place the very vak wainscot of the room where



THE TOWN. 41

she then sat, and had it put up in a house of his
own, where it remains dark and handsome as ever.

There was another house, too, which interested us
greatly. It was a sort of old, low, red-brick mansion ;
and stood, half buried in trees and ivy, within an
ancient wall, over and about which the ivy grew in
heavy masses. ‘There, as our father had often told
us, the Duke of Cumberland had been entertained
by the Gardiner family, to which it still belongs,
when he spent a night in the town in his pursuit of
the Scotch rebels, in 1745, and in fact on his way to
Culloden; and where he received an entertainment
so much to his mind that he conferred upon the
town an exemption for ever from soldiers being quar-.
tered there. This our father had often told us, and
also that the cook who had prepared the supper for
the duke lived afterwards in my grandfather's family,
where, if either master or mistress presumed to find
fault with her cooking, she rose up in a towering
passion, saying that she who had pleased the Duke of
Cumberland never would be found fault with by
man or woman, be they who they might.

But from Nanny came another story. There had
lived here a lady wonderfully beautiful, who yet had
some secret sorrow at her heart that neither her
husband nor any friend of hers could fathom. She
drove about in her carriage, the handsomest woman
of the neighbourhood, but she never smiled nor
willingly associated with any one.

One day, in her husband’s absence, she told her
maid that she was not well and would keep her bed,
and was therefore left alone in her chamber. Towards.
noon, the report of a pistol in her room alarmed the:

‘>
KE @



42 THE TOWN.

whole house; they rushed thither; the door waslocked
and all was silent within. The door was burst open,
and the unhappy lady lay a horrible spectacle in her
bed ; she had shot herself as she lay there ; but why,
no one knew; the secret of her sorrow was buried
with her. |

Nanny spared no details in her stories ; everything
was told clearly and straightforward, and painted in
strong colours. Whatever she told us she made us
‘see and feel, and, as it were, become actors in. We
mever passed this house, therefore, without hearing
in the sunny stillness of a summer's noon the sudden
report of the pistol, and then seeing the bloody sheets
cand the awful corpse.

And then there was the principal inn which we
.passed. Had we never heard of the young and hand-
‘some lady who came there and died ?

It was late one dark and stormy winter night; the
ostler was just going to bed; the last brandy-and-
‘water-drinking guest had left the fat, buxom landlady
-and the bar—when up drove, like fury, a post-chaise
‘to the door, and pulled up suddenly ; the door flew
‘open, and, without waiting to have the steps Jet down,
‘out sprang a gentleman of about eight-and-twenty,
and, rushing into the house, demanded instant atten-
‘tion for a lady who was extremely ill. All was in
‘motion in the inn in a second of time; for the land-
lady, who had a quick eye for such things, saw
instantly that the gentleman, who was handsome and
‘seemed to be in the utmost distress of mind, was rich
‘also. The chambermaid ran up stairs with her keys,
@ waiter ran up after her with a shovel of live coals
‘to make a quick fire, and the sick lady was supported



THE TOWN. 43

from the chaise, principally by the gentleman, and
carried up stairs, where they found the fire burning
and the bed ready to receive her.

She was a young creature of perhaps seventeen—
the most magnificently beautiful creature that eyes
were ever set upon. She seemed to be in the very
languor of death. The gentleman knelt beside her;
rubbed her hands and feet ; spoke to her in a tone of
the most agonized love, but in a foreign tongue, so
that no one understood the words which he said.
The doctor came, but gave no hope. The clergyman
came early the next morning and administered the
sacrament; but the lady spoke not one word. That
evening she died. No words can describe the distress
of the poor young gentleman: he never left the room
where she lay ; ; and never, night or day, took off his
clothes during the time he stayed there.

He ordered the most costly grave-clothes for her,
and the very best coffin that ever had been made.
Nobody, however, knew who they were: the gentry
of the town, full of sympathy and curiosity, made
the most zealous offers of help; but he civilly
rejected all. He saw no one but the undertaker
and the clergyman ; nor could the clergyman learn
from him any particulars regarding them. All was
mystery. He paid handsomely for all that he had
in the inn or in the town, and this made ever yaneny
give him a good word.

She was buried late in the evening, just one week
after they had arrived there ; the gentleman being the
only mourner; and in his heart—-Nanny never failed
to say—there was grief enough for a dozen funerals.
He ordered a post-chaise to be ready at the door on



44 NANNY AQT BOSE.

his return from the funeral, and into it he got, and
fee’d the post-boy to drive as fast as his horses could
go, to Lichfield; and that was the last that was
known of him.

On the next Sunday, the clergyman preached a
funeral sermon for the lady who had been cut down
so young and beautiful, like a flower of the field. It
was a very fine and touching sermon, and left not a
dry eye in the church; and even to this day is
handed about among the ladies of the town in manu-
script. The clergyman received an order from the
gentleman to place a plain but handsome stone over
her grave, on which were to be simply carved the
initials M. B. The stone was raised; all the town
went to see it; but nothing could be made out from
those two senseless letters.

Such were some of Nanny’s stories, as we went
through the town on our visits to our grandfather,

CHAPTER V.
NANNY AT HOME.

Nanny was, as I have said, a most interesting
companion abroad ; but she was not less so at home.
How shall I ever describe the spell of enchantment
which she threw over our nursery hearth! I should
be the first of story-tellers if I had a power like that
which she possessed.

She would sometimes be in a humour to talk about
herself; and then she described her home, her youth,
her many sisters, and her one brother, and her



NANNY AT HOME. 4§

parents, with such a life-like reality, that even now
TI remember all their names and all the particulars
regarding them. She told us of the village where
she lived, and of the families high and low who in-
habited it;—-Lawyer Robinson, and Parson Groves
and his fair daughters, and the farmer's handsome
sons—of the young Bartle Gough the village rake,
and Hugo Alveston Chetwynd the gay village squire
—and of Hannah Jackson, who died for love of a
“false young man,” named Charles Woolley.
Hannah Jackson was a village belle, and lived with
her old grand-parents in a rural cottage that stood in
a garden full of flowers. Hannah Jackson went duly
to church every Sunday with a nosegay in her hand,
and the old people went with her. She was the
light of their eyes and the joy of their old hearts.
All the young men of the neighbourhvod courted
her, but she only listened to one; and in return for
his offered love she gave her whole heart. She was
the dear friend of our Nanny ; and our Nanny spoke
of her with enthusiasm, asa very angel. Her lover
was false to her; and poor Hannah drooped like a
flower whose root has been cut off. She fell into
what the country people call “‘a waste,” and she sent
over to pray that her friend Nanny would go and see:
her. Nanny went; they walked into the church—
yard together, and Hannah chose the place where she-
would be buried. She then showed her friend a
paper on which she had disposed of ail her small.
worldly possessions—her best shawl and bonnet to:
one, her Prayer-book and Bible to another, to one:
her housewife, and to another her silver thimble—.-
and to the old grand-parents her little earnings in:



46 NANNY AT HOME.

money. Nanny promised with tears to be a true
executor; and so they parted, to see each other
bodily on earth no more.

Nanny was in service in the town, and, according
to her account, a few weeks after their parting, as she
lay in bed awake in the early morning, while it was
yet dark, she became conscious of a presence in the
room. All was still as death, and the curtains of the
bed slowly and silently parted; a pale light filled
the opening, and there stood, as distinetly as if in life,
the figure of that heart-broken maiden. She looked
grave, but no longer sad; not a word was said, but
their eyes met; they gazed for a moment at each
other, and then the pale shadow slowly faded away,
and all was darkness and vacancy in the chamber
Nanny described herself not as frightened, but as
solemnly impressed, and she felt sure that this was a
token of her death. She lay and listened; and pre-
sently the church clock struck four. Her friend then
had died between this hour and the last; she could
not sleep again, but lay and pondered on the strange
occurrence. ‘I'wo days afterwards, her father came
with the farmer's wagon to the town, and brought
news such as she expected. At half past three
oclock on the morning of the apparition, Hannah
Jackson had died.

Nanny had the firmest belief in a variety of super-
matural appearances and agencies. She knew the
thouse where a hobthrush had helped the farmer's
‘family for many years, until—as is always the case—
it was driven away by the offer of a suit of clothes.
She knew haunted bridges and stiles. In one case
which she described, a black dog kept ever sullen



NANNY AT HOME. AU

watch there ; in the other, a little old woman without
a head sat spinning. Her own father’s wagon had
been tied so firmly to a rush that the team of six
horses could not draw it thence. There were, she
said, particular places where spirits of the earth, or
fairies, or whatever you choose to call them, had
Supreme power; and such was this spot where the
wagon was fixed. What was the spell which re-
leased the wagon I do not now remember, but it is
no great loss; for as roads are in so much better
condition now-a-days, imps of the road have far less
power than formerly.

Nanny amused us over and over again by the story
of herself and her sister Betty being sent by their
mother to sell two couple of ducks at the Rugeley
market. They had to pass through Armitage, along
what she called the “ cut-side,’ and of which she
always spoke with horror. Canals were not very
common in those days, or rather in that part of the
country. The country people called them “cuts,”
and the people employed on the canals, and called by
them “navigators,” were held in great horror, and
many terrible stories were told of their misdeeds by
the ‘‘cut-side” in lonesome places, and that not alone
at “dark hour,” but in broad daylight.

Off, however, trudged the two little girls, each
with a basket on her arm, each basket containing a
couple of ducks: They had never been by that road,
or so far alone before; and when they reached the
“‘cut-side,’ every step filled them with direful appre-
hension. Tall reeds grew by the banks, and there
were dark watery places, like sullen pools, where
they could think of nothing but drowned men and



48 NANNY AT HOME.

women. Here and there they came to thick planta.
tions of fir and other trees, the fag-end or the very
middle of some gentleman’s place, where the threat
of steel-traps terrified them, or the distant view of
some gray solitary house suggested ideas of loneliness
and terror. Now and then they met the awful
“ navigators, —rough, huge men in ankle boots, tarry
smock-frocks rolled up round their bodies, and red
and blue worsted night-caps on their heads. ‘These
men’s faces, she said, had a sunburnt, lawless ex-
pression; their hands were huge and horny with
handling heavy ropes and hauling along heavy boats;
they walked with a heavy rolling gait, and had not
at all the look of honest men. The two little girls
began to say their prayers the moment any of these
forms came in view ; their knees trembled and their
teeth almost chattered in their heads. But no evil
befell them; they reached Rugeley, and took their
stand patiently beside the little old-fashioned wooden
market-house there. Perhaps their ducks had no-
thing about them to attract purchasers, or perhaps
they were slow to offer them; however that might
be, other people's ducks were sold and theirs re-
mained in their baskets. They were told by their
mother that they were to get half-a-crown a couple,
and by no means were they to bring them back ; no-
body, however, was inclined to give half-a-crown in
exchange for their ducks. They grew tired and
hungry, and sat down on the steps of the market-
house to eat their bread and cheese; and then
quenched their thirst from the little pump beside the
market-house. Afternoon came, and people were
beginning to go home; they waited till everybody



NANNY AT HOME. 49

was gone, and then, hopeless and dispirited, set off
back again.

Evening seemed to come on unusually early that
day. The idea of the “cut-side’ at dusk was horrible ;
they hastened cnward as fast as they could; the
ducks were heavy and they were tired; they seemed
to make no way at all. At length they reached the
canal; all was solitary, and the water looked dark
and gloomy; owls and night-hawks flew about in the
plantations, and cried dismally. The children said,
almost with a groan, what would become of them if
they should meet a navigator! and every turn of the
bank was terrible in the dread of its revealing one in
the distance. In the midst of these horrible appre-
hensions they heard sounds behind them, which
made them look round—and there! oh fearful spec-
tacle !—were two navigators on what she called a
““shog-trot,’ keeping up the while a low talk.

“* What will become of us?” ejaculated the awe-
struck children. To put down the ducks and fly for
their lives was the first, and perhaps most natural
thought ; but fear of their mother’s displeasure pre-
vented their acting upon it. They ran with all their
might ; the ducks fluttered about and quacked, and
made a noise which would betray them to their
pursuers. They were but a quarter of a mile now
from the tunnel, that most awful place on the whole
canal, into which they might be dragged and horribly
murdered, and hidden for ever in darkness. They
must make their escape now or never! The canal
turned round a woody point, and here they hoped to
hide themselves. When they rounded the point, a
watery piece of ground, or rather a shallow pool,

F



50 NANNY AT HOME.

overgrown with broad-leaved marsh-grass and water-
plants, lay between them and the fence of a planta-
tion which was full of brushwood. Down they
plunged from: the canal-bank without a moment's
consideration, right into the water, mid-leg deep, and
the reeds almost met above their heads. There was
no time to think ; Betty’s ducks quacked and scram-
bled about in the basket.

“* Keep your ducks still !” said Nanny.

But the ducks would not be kept still ; the sound
of the navigators’ feet was heard, and the murmur of
their low, gruff voices which boded no good. The
ducks must be silenced ; so Nanny, quick as thought,
set down her basket and wrung the necks of those in
her sister's. On they rushed through the water,
through the plantation hedge, and down into the
brushwood, just as the navigators came up.

‘* They must be gone in here,” said they, stopping
short ; the girls’ hearts almost ceased to beat for
terror. ‘‘ Yes, they must be gone in here,” repeated
one man. “ Let's fetch up the dog,” said the other,
‘and he ‘ll hunt them out.”——*‘ Good '”’ returned the
other, shortly ; and they set off back again, at the
same short trot as before. Their heavy and iron-
heeled boots sounded on the canal-bank, and the
girls had hardly strength to lift their heads. They
looked upon themselves as lost creatures, and began
to cry. Supposing even that they reached home safe,
what would their mother say to find the ducks not
only unsold, but those in Betty’s basket dead! They
were almost out of their senses, when the snuffing of
a dog near to them, and a short, sharp bark, filled
them afresh with new terror; the men must be come



NANNY AT HOME. 51

back again, and with them the dog, and they should
be taken at once. They screamed in a frantic horror,
and the little dog barked loudly, and the next moment
a tall, quiet-looking gentleman, powdered, and in a
complete suit of black, stood beside them. ‘‘ What
were they doing here?” he asked gravely. The
girls looked one at another, and said not a word ;
they had been almost frightened to death, and Nanny
declared that the cold perspiration ran in streams
down her face, and her tongue clave to the roof of her
mouth. However, after the question had been once
or twice repeated, and that without the gentleman's
seeming to lose histemper, they were able to tell the
cause of their terror, and their sad disaster about the
ducks which they had been obliged to kill.

“You cannot reach home to-night,” said the
gentleman, gravely; “so come with me.” They
had no fear whatever of his doing them any harm,
so. they took up their baskets and followed him,
And now that all immediate sense of danger was
removed, the thought of the dead ducks haunted
them fearfully. What would their mother say ?—
the very thought of their trouble made them cry
afresh.

The gentleman stopped and asked what they were
crying about ; they told him; he made no reply, but
smiling a little, as if to himself, he walked on, and
they followed him. |

They went on and on, for a couple of miles at
least, but where to they had not the slightest idea.
At length the plantation opened, and they came into
a park-like space, where old trees grew singly or in
groups, and beautiful herds of deer were quietly



52 NANNY AT HOME.

grazing. The gentleman went on, and they, with
their two baskets, and their tired feet, and frightened
hearts, trudged after. Anon, and they entered broad
gravel walks among shrubbery, which here and there
opened into the most beautiful flewer-gardens. The
sun was just setting, and its slanting rays threw the
most dazzling radiance over everything. The next
turn brought them directly to the front of a house,
which looked to them grander even than the Cathedral
at Lichfield. Tall marble columns, broad flights of
steps ; strange-looking gigantic plants in vases ; long
rows of lofty, shining windows, draped with crim-
son and gold-coloured curtains, quite bewildered
them ; they said not a word to one another; they
felt as if they should never speak again, and on they
went, with their baskets and their dusty feet, and
their shabby little bonnets, past all this grandeur.
Presently they came to the other side of the house,
and winding among shrubbery they entered a door
which led through many passages, where rows and
rows of bells hung, into aroom, where sat an old lady
—the lady of this grand mansion as they at first ima-
gined—behind a great figured screen, before a table
upon which stood seven tall loaves of sugar, while she
seemed to be breaking up an eighth into a large bowl
which she held on her knee. She had a “ flowered
gown” on, and a fine muslin cap, and a fine linen
apron, and had something very stately about her. The
children curtseyed down to the very ground, whilst
the gentleman said something very rapidly to her in
an under tone, to which, standing up, she replied
merely, ‘“‘ Yes, sir; yes, sir;” and then, without
taking any more notice of them, he went out. The



NANNY AT HOME. 63

old lady put on “her spectacles, and surveyed the
children from head to foot for soine seconds, and then,
taking off the spectacles again, bade them set down
their baskets and take off their bonnets. _
_“ How shall we ever get home to-night!” exclaimed
they both in terror. “ You will stop here to-night,” said
the old lady, and again bade them do as she had said.
They felt frightened, and, as if they dared not dis-
obey, put down their baskets and took off their bon-
nets. She then made them sit down and relate to
her their adventures ; and when she heard that they
had asked half-a-crown a couple for their ducks, she
interrupted them by exclaiming that it was a sharie-
ful price, and she wondered how they could ever have
the face to ask it. They felt as if they could not say
another word, they were so much abashed; they
looked at one another, and then at the ducks, and
were ready to cry; they wished that they were but
at home, and felt that they were a very long way off.
After they had finished their relation, the old lady
gave them something to eat for their suppers; what
it was they did not know; but it was something so
very good, that they ate of it till they were ashamed
and could eat no more. They were then taken into
a little room, which was on the ground floor, and
which she called the page’s-room, where was a bed,
and they were told that they must sleep, but not
before their baskets, emptied of the ducks, were
brought into the room and set down, with their money,
as they were told, safely pinned in the cloth, which
had been laid in one basket because the bottom was
bad. The room seemed to them very lofty and
grand. There was some gilding on the bed and the
F2



§4 NANNY AT HOMER,

window cornice, and a deal of fine coloured drapery.
W ondering whatever sort of a book it was, a page of
which needed a bed like a human creature, they
undressed themselves and lay down, and after awhile
dropped asleep.

But their sleep was not easy, and at length Nanny
woke. All was still in the house, and it was just
getting light in the early morning. She felt very
poorly, “so sick and badly,” she said, as she had
never felt before.

‘“‘Oh, Betty,” said she, shaking her sister, “‘ wake,
for Iam soill!” Betty woke in aninstant, nay, she
was half awake already, and she too confessed that
she felt very queer. What were they todo? They
got up and looked out of the window. Their little
chamber seemed to project forward, and gave them a
view down the long, grand front. There, as on the
last night, was the long row of lofty windows, the
marble pillars, and the broad steps.

“Oh, I wish I was at home!” groaned Nanny,
now lying on the floor in an agony of strange pain..

“I do think we are poisoned,’ said Betty, ‘it
must be that stuff that we had last night, that had
been boiled in a brass pan!”

** Let’s get out of the window, and into the fresh
air,” said Nanny, who now felt ready to faint. They
dressed themselves, but not without difficulty, and
then got out of the window.

“ Let’s go home, let’s go home as fast as we can !”
said poor Nanny. “If we shall ever reach home,”
said Betty, dolefully, who had now mounted the
window-sill. ‘ Bring the baskets with you,” said
Nanny, and Betty, who had forgotten them, slipped



NANNY AT HOME. 585

back for them, as much frightened as if she had
been a thief, lest the people of the mouse should come
in and seize upon her.

They were now both of them out in the fresh air—
but it did them no good at first ; they were dizzy, and
faint, and weak, and so out of spirits and frightened
lest they were poisoned, that they both began to cry.

‘‘Oh I wish we were but at home!” said they,
and went on as fast as their legs would carry them.
In awhile they felt better; their quick movement
and the fresh air restored them; and then the
thought occurred what would the people say when
they found them gone, and gone too in that sneaking
kind of way, and they never could know why they
had done so. They knew not what to do exactly;
they were by this time half-way back to the canal
by the way they had come the last evening, which
was very direct. They felt as if they were afraid of
going back, so on they went, and reached the scene
of their last night’s terror, They flew along the
canal-side, but saw nothing; and then the rest of
the way was easy and familiar to them. They
reached home about six oclock, just as their
mother was setting out on her way to Rugeley to
find them. It was a long and strange history that
they had to tell; now their mother grew very angry,
and now she laughed ; but when she heard what the
old lady at the hall had said about half-a-crown
being a shameful price for each couple of her ducks,
she went into a great passion, and demanded, “ Well,
what had she paid?” The children had never
thought about that, and then, quite frightened and
anxious, unpinned the corner of the towel to see



56 FAMILY PURCHASES.

what really had been put in, and then what was theia
astonishment to find not ¢wo half-crowns, but four /

“ The lady must have thought that the ducks were
half-a-crown a-piece!” exclaimed the mother. The
children protested that they had said half-a-crown a
couple. ‘The mother said that the father must go
over and make it all right.

“And did he go?” our young readers will inquire
naturally ; we asked the same question ; but Nanny
did not seem to know, she said that she supposed he
did, but neither she nor Betty ever rightly knew
what place it was at which they had been—for
Hagley and Worseley Halls, the only two which
lay in this direction, at which they had ever been,
were very different to the fine palace at which they
had slept.

Nanny did not sing, but she had a wild kind of
recitative, in which, while she rocked her body back-
wards and forwards, she would pass hours in thus
chanting old popular songs and ballads. She was a
sort of humble Bishop Percy, and she knew by heart
every song that ever swung in the wind on a ballad-
monger’s stall. She would often illustrate her songs
by narratives, and her narratives by songs.

But enough of Nanny; we will now turn to
something else.



CHAPTER VI.

FAMILY PURCHASES,

A vear or two after her son’s death, our neigh-
bour, Mrs. Gilbert, also died It was, as on the occa



FAMILY PURCHASES. 57

sion of her son’s funeral, also a bright summer day
on which she was buried. Our father was one of
those who attended her to the grave, and like all the
other mourners received also his hatband and scarf,
whilst a large packet of burial-cake was sent to the
house, and, of course, enjoyed by us. That, how-
ever, which made Mrs. Gilbert’s death most interest-
ing to us children, was that our mother told us that
our father had bought her house, and that we should
go with her to look over it, and to walk in the
garden. In that garden I had never been, though it
adjvined ours, nor had Anna, excepting on that me-
morable occasion when she crept through the fence.

It was a marvellously old-fashioned garden, with
edges of box to the walks a foot high. ‘There were
all kinds of old-fashioned plants in it, vervain, and
marsh-mallow, and hellebore, and spurge, and tansy.
That which. however, appeared to us the strangest,
was the being in that garden into which we had so
often looked, and from it seeing how our garden
looked—both so familiar, yet now seen from such
new points of view.

Our mother told us, that great changes were con-
templated by our father in this'garden ; it was to be
laid to our own, the separating fence removed, and
thus all this space would be ours. It was the
grandest idea that ever had entered our heads, we
could talk of nothing else. And how would it be?
And when would it be? Would it be done this
summer. or next winter? We were quite trouble-
some with our questions, not only that day but the
next, and the next after that for a week, till at last
our mother, wearied by our inquiries, said she was



58 FAMILY PURCHASES.

sorry that she had told us anything about it, for thus
she saw that she should have no rest. We were
rebuked, and asked no more about it for the present,
though we thought as much about it as ever.

This same summer our father bought a deal of
land ; the sloping, pleasant fields opposite, and some
land also two miles off, beyond those fields, as far off
as we could see. It was an infinite delight to us to
walk to these two purchases in a summen’s evening,
as we often did with our parents ; everybody thought
that there were no walks in the neighbourhood 30
pleasant as these. Those sloping fields opposite we
had looked at ever since we had looked at anything ;
but until they were our own, we had never been at
the top of them. The top of those fields was very
remarkable to me in my very earliest years. ‘There
stood there what seemed to me an immense elephant,
or monstrous beast, thus—



I never saw it as anything else. I was noi at all
afraid of it, for I saw itevery day. Once, I said to
&@ visitor, when in a very talkative humour, that a



FAMILY PURCHASES. 59

great black elephant always stood opposite to our
house. My parents reproved me for saying that
which was not true. I stoutly maintained that it
was so; my firmness seemed like wilful obstinacy,
and I was reproved severely; but I would not with-
draw my assertion, and my parents, grieving to see
such perversity, thought it much better to let the
subject drop. This affair sunk deep in my mind.
I saw the elephant every day as plain as could be,
but I dared not recur to the subject, because it had
given so much displeasure. The fields, however,
were bought, and then we went to the very top of
them, and as I ascended the hill my elephant was
gone, there was nothing at all but two dark Scotch
firs and a slender ash tree growing beside them, thus—





The whole thing was disenchanted, and when I
returned home, though I still by a stretch of imagi-
nation could see the elephant, it gradually became
three distinct trees. J never, as I remember, men-
tioned it to any one, not even to Anna, but it made a
deep im pression on my mind, and-has given me great



G0 FAMILY PURCHASES.

charity with the exaggerations and even the apparent
falsehood of children.

A footpath was now made across the meadow at
the bottom of the garden; a little rustic bridge was
thrown across the stream, and almost every evening
some one or other, if not the whole family, strolled
out fora walk in this direction. The evening was
always the time for recreation with our family.
When we did not go out into these fields, our parents
took a drive some five or six miles into the beautiful
country which surrounded the town, and I and my
sister alternately accompanied them. There was a
little turmdown seat in the gig, upon which we were
seated between their knees. I always enjoyed these
drives, and should have enjoyed them much more
had it not been for the conversations of which I was
the auditor. Strange that the conversation of two
affectionate parents should trouble a little child, but
it was so. My father every morning read the news-
papers, and in the evening detailed their contents to
my mother. Napoleon was at that time in the full
career of his victories. Invasion even of England
was talked of ;. timid people dreaded it as possible ;
prudent ones talked of preparations against it ; brave
ones of resisting it to the death. My parents talked of
the horrors which every day saw perpetrated in the
crimsoned path of the conqueror ; blood and fire, and
outrage of every kind. They talked of this, and then
of its perhaps coming home to our own doors; and
then they counselled with each other what was to be
done, supposing Napoleon, or Buonaparte, as every body
then called him, really should come. Fight, England
would toa man, that was certain. The sea-coasts would



FAMILY PURCHASES. 61

first feel the scourge of his presence; they talked of
the probable point of his 1 nding, of the probable
resistance he would meet with ; and of course until he
had effected a landing and beaten back, if that were
possible, the collected force that would oppose him, he
needed not to be looked for in the midland counties.
Living thus, as we did, in the very heart of the king-
dom, we might regard ourselves as among the safest
people there, but still, after all that the conqueror
had already done, who could tell what it might be
the will of the Almighty to permit him yet to do?

Thus our parents talked to each other. We, as
children, knew the histories of the Israelitish and
Jewish wars; they were to us deeply interesting
but horrible relations, and we now shuddered to think
that such things as were recorded to have happened
in them would perhaps be done on our own thresh-
olds. I told Anna what | heard, and she told me
in turn all that she heard, and thus together we
wrought ourselves up to such a pitch of terror that
our very sleep was broken by it. The worst of it
was that our grandfather, and another old gentleman
or two, who were great readers of prophecies of all
kinds, were always coming to our house and tell-
ing what they thought and expected, and bringing
pamphlets and printed sheets of paper—old and
new prophecies, visions, and strange astrological
calculations and revelations—all of which applied
as they believed to the present times. I have not
even now lost the feeling of awe with which I
heard or read Christ’s prophetic account of the
siege and taking of Jerusalem.

We children, of course, never took part in these

@



62 FAMILY PURCHASES.

conversations ; but we drank in and pondered on
every word. My mother’s callers talked always on
the same subjects; wars and bloody battles, and
death in battle, and being taken prisoner and sub-
jected to all kinds of sufferings and horrors in the
French prisons, were the constant themes of dis-
course. One lady, 1 remember, related how she
had formed all her plans in case the French got
possession of the town; all the plate and valuables
were to be secured in closets in the walls, which
were to be papered over so that no door or opening
should be visible; the family was to be hidden in
the cellars, where provision could be stored, and
where already was plenty of wine. Another lady
said that her little girl was so glad that they lived in
a town, because it would be so much pleasanter to
die in a crowd !

During all these terrors, however, the new pur-
chases were made, and great was the pleasure which
they afforded. We wondered and wondered when
the two gardens would be laid together, but new
people came to the house as my fathers tenants, and
the winter came on without any further change.

But I must not omit here to mention one little
incident which occurred to my sister, and which
made a deep impression upon her. She had, during
the latter part of good Mrs. Gilbert’s life, been
accustomed to receive so many flowers from her
garden, that she began to look upon those which
grew near the gap in the hedge almost as her own,
At the bottom of the border and within reach of the
gap there grew this autumn a very fine prince’s-
feather ; it wags a new flower to us, and greatly



FAMILY PURCHASES. 63

excited poor Anna's admiration and desire of posses-
sion. The new neighbours were a gtave gentleman,
and his wife who had infirm health, and but rarely
came into the garden; he, on the contrary, walked
much in it, with a solemn sfep and in a sad-coloured
dressing- gown, tan leather slippers, and wig to match.
A very different person was this to the kind Mrs. Gil«
bert ; he never once vouchsafed a look, much less a
word to the little girl who stood with longing eyes
glancing at the fine purple prince’s-feather. In vain
the poor child manosuvred ; he walked on and took
no notice of her. The prince’s-feather grew more
beautiful every day; she could think of nothing
else. “If Mrs, Gilbert were alive she would give it
to me,” thought she; “all the flowers that grew
there used to be mine; if I took it he would never
miss it; and of all the flowers that ever grew I
should like to have that!” The neighbour in the
sad-coloured dressing-gown was in his own house—
his wife was in bed—there was nobody near—she
put her hand through the hedge and touched it—it
nodded and shook, and looked grander than ever—
she broke it off, and drew it to her. But no sooner
was the flower on this side the hedge, than a new
feeling sprang up in her heart—‘ If anybody had
seen her!” and “ What should she do with it now ?”
She dared not to take it into the house, or show it
anybody—-it was no longer beautiful—she wished it
was again growing on its own stem. She wished she
could only get rid of it. It was a miserable posses-
sion. She hid herself in an old garden-house and
began to ery. But crying did little good; the hate-
ful flower was before her, and the fear was in her



64 FAMILY PURCHASES.

mind that the decapitated stem would reveal the
theft to the severe neighbour. For the first time in
her life a sense of guilt lay on her soul, and she was
miserable ; in an agony of remorse she tore the
flower to pieces and hid it among a heap of rub-
bish ; but it was many days before she was restored
to peace with herself, nor did she again ever venture
to peep through the gap at the flower-bed, nor to be
seen in the garden when the neighbour was taking
his daily walks.

During the winter we had a large party. Large
parties were very rare things with us, but when they
occurred they afforded us a great deal of pleasure.
In the first place, there were many good things made,
of which, sooner or later, we came in for our share ;
but on this occasion a still greater pleasure was pro-
mised us— we were to sit up to supper, we had never
done such a thing in our lives before ; at eight o clock
punctually we had always been in bed, but now came
a noble exception ; the principal cause of this was
that some guests were invited from the Forest, who
would bring two little daughters of our own age
with them. They had to come six miles, and were
to stay all night. A deep snow fell the day before
the party, but nobody thought much of that; the
next night, however, one of those great snows fell
which were then not so uncommon; the very doors
and lower windows were snowed up. Everything
seemed hushed and silent as death till men came
and dug an entrance to the different houses, and
carried away the snow from the streets in carts.
The roads were all buried in snow, and there was
neither coming to nor going from the town till late



FAMILY PURCHASES. 65

in the afternoon. We were sadly anxious about the
expected guests; our mother had no expectations
that our friends from the Forest could reach us ; we,
however, would not give them up, and made ready
all our little preparations for the children’s enter.
tainment ; and in the afternoon, as our mother had
predicted, a servant came over on horseback to say
that it was impossible for any carriage on tnat day
to drive between us and them. The disappomtment
was greater than we could express, and to consvuie us,
our mother said that, though we had no guests our-
selves, we should be permitted all the same to sit
up, if we would keep awake and be quiet. We
easily made this promise, for we knew that we could
keep it, and then bore our disappointment as well as
we could. The sitting-rooms were lighted up; the
curtains drawn, the sofa wheeled towards the fire;
the tables were all set out in visiting trim, and every-
thing to our eyes looked festal. We thought our
mother splendid in her pale-coloured silk gown,
and we ourselves no less so, as, appareled in our
best, we sat on the stools, one on each side the
fire, with our hair as smooth as brush could make
it, and our hands laid together on our knees. ‘The
company came; what a buzz and warmth there
seemed to be in the room, and how wonderfully
good the tea was, and the tea-cakes and the thin
bread and butter! Children in families where com-
pany comes but now and then, really and thoroughly
enjoy it when it does come. What a luxury to
such children is even thin bread and butter!

It was now after our usual bed-time, and to us it
seemed as if grand and wonderful doings must go on

@ 2



66 FAMILY PURCHASES,

every night after we were in bed. Our parents often
had a few triends with them to spend the evening,
and, forgetting that things on such a grand scale as
this night's entertainment really hardly occurred once
a year, it seemed to us as if the movements of an
unknown and brighter existence began after we were
in bed. The candles looked so white and burned so
brightly ; the fire was so cheerful, everything looked
sogay! We sat together quietly, and people said
that they had never seen such good children. When
we felt a little sleepy, we took out our conversation
cards and sat down to play at a little table by our-
selves. There was a very grave and religious person
in the company, who it seems had the greatest horror
of cards. I remember his coming up to our table
and watching us play, but without saying one word
to us; when he remarked, as if to himself, ‘A nice
amusement — but pity ’tis that they are called cards!”
We did not at all know what he meant; nor did I
really understand till some years afterwards.

But that which more than anything else made
this evening remarkable to us was, that our father
brought out plans, and estimates, and various rolls of
paper, and talked with his friends of the alterations
which he was going to make as soon as the spring
and settled weather began. And thus we learnt that
not only the next garden was going to be laid to
ours, but our own house was actually going to be
altered. Such an idea as this had never entered our
heads; we put aside our cards and listened with all
our senses alive. We could talk of nothing for days
but the alterations which were going to begin in
spring ; the anticipations of these, and the certain



TOWN CUSTOMS. 67

prospect now of the two gardens so soon coming
together, drove for the present all thoughts of the
terrible Buonaparte out of our heads.

CHAPTER VII.
TOWN CUSTOMS.

Two or three of these were very interesting to us;
and first and foremost that which was for the first
time this winter quite a family affair: some of the
land which our father had bought was subject to a
yearly payment of money, or “a dole,” as it was
called, to the poor. Numberless were the applica-
tions which were made by the poor to our parents on
this behalf, and our mother, perhaps, in consequence
of this, began about this time to inquire more than
ever into their state. She often took one or both of
us with her on these occasions, and we began to take
the most lively interest about our poor and distressed
townspeople. Our mother made observations on
paper on all she saw, and then, according to their
wants, they were to receive a portion of the dole.

In another distribution of money we also took a
lively interest, even from the time when we were
very little children indeed. ‘Fhis was on the occasion
of begging Monday, or the first Monday before
Christmas, when the poor of the parish had the
privilege of going from house to house, where they
received money or provisions; such as_ potatoes,
flour, or meal, &c. Originally, probably, this dis-



68 TOWN CUSTOMS.

pensing to the poor had been general ; now it was
only confined to certain wealthy or old housekeepers,
who, for charity's sake, or for the sake of the family
custom, still continued it. It had always been given
in our family, and our mother was no way inclined
to discontinue it, and we children took a most lively
interest in it. On the preceding Saturday there
came from one of the tradespeople a large basket full
of pence, and we were up early on the Monday
morning to be the dispensers of it. After breakfast,
our mother, in her bonnet and cloak and gloves,
stood at the open door, and we two, one on each side,
the one as her right hand and the other as her left,
stood and gave, according to her directions, more or
less, as she knew the applicants to be deserving or in
distress.

Many and many were the blessings that both we
and our mother received on that day. Pity is it
that such a good old custom should ever fall into
disuse.

The third custom of the town was not by any
means as praiseworthy as this; it was the annual
bull-baiting—a practice which our father combated
for many years, and at last succeeded in entirely
putting anend to. This bull-baiting occurred in the
autumn. At the fair at that season a handsome bull
was bought, and a day or two before the baiting was
led round the town decorated with ribands, and
attended by a rude rabble of men and boys. The
patrons of the sport on this occasion gave money,
some more and some less; at our house, of course,
nothing was ever given. We watched with a kind
of horror the passing of this procession from our



TOWN CUSTOMS. - 69

nursery window, and Nanny, who seemed not to
have by any means the abhorrence of the thing
which we had been taught to feel, took the liveliest
interest in it, and even once, to the great scandal of
the whole household, threw out a riband for the
bull’s horns. On the morning of the bull-baiting,
towards four or five o clock, the inhabitants of the
town were awoke in their beds by the bull’s chain
being struck violently against the walls of their
houses and on the pavement before them. In the
early, chill grey of the morning it came—a sort of
yell and a banging of this heavy iron chain, and a
rattling, and a grinding, another yell, and then they
Went on. ; |

Again the bull, decorated with garlands and
ribands, was led round the town, accompanied by
all the rabble of the neighbourhood, hallooing and
shouting like so many savages. We always watched
the procession go by, and always felt a kind of curd-
ling horror. At teno’clock the bull was fixed to the
stake in the market-place, and such of the higher
class of the inhabitants as patronised the sport occu-
pied the upper windows of the houses, and the
market-place itself was thronged with people, leav-
ing a space in the middle for the poor creature and
his tormentors.

Whilst we were playing in the garden on the
three days that this lasted we heard the barking and
the yelling of the dogs, and the roar of the bull, and
the shouts of the people. Sometimes, too, the creature
broke his chain, and ran furiously through the streets,
driving everything before him, and often doing much
damage. If the bull came as far as our house, we



70 GUESTS.

never failed to see it, for to us, of course, this was a
very fearful, but interesting spectacle, and furnished
enough to talk of for a week.

After the third day’s sport the bull was shot.
This seemed to me like a sort of murder, and I
remember very innocently saying what I really felt,
that I wondered that old William Woolley, who
shot the bull, was not afraid of being haunted by
his ghost. I said this gravely, meaning what I said,
before grown-up people, and I could not conceive
why everybody burst into a fit of laughter.

CHAPTER VIII.
GUESTS.

In the early spring we were told that we were
shortly to have some playfellows, for that a distant
relation of our father’s was coming to remove with
his fainily to this town, and until they were settled
would pay usa visit. It was a great happiness for
us to think of playfellows ; we could talk of nothing
else. At length the day came when they were
expected ; they were to be with us at dinner; the
guest chambers were prepared for them, and we had
our new and best printed frocks on for dinner.
Their name was Shepperley, and the children were
a boy and a girl ; we wondered indeed how we should
ever manage with the boy. At the expected time
they came. ‘They were unlike any people that we
had ever seen; from the first moment there was



‘GUESTS. 71
something quite overwhelming about them. The
father and mother were large people, who talked
loud, and some way or other gave one the idea of
taking up a great deal of room. As he walked up
and down our sitting-room, holding his head very
high, he made one feel how short and narrow it
was, and seemed to bring down the very ceiling. He
was one of those persons who depreciates one’s posses-
sions. Hurriedly glancing out of our window, he
said to our father, ‘ that he had a pretty little look
out—a pretty little place altogether; but that the
rooms were small and low;” and then he turned
round again and began to walk, and held up his
head as if he had hardly room to breathe. ‘ Every-
thing looked fresh and nice,” he said, ‘‘in our house 3
but things always did so in the country,’ he added,
as if afraid of complimenting us in any way. The
wife lay on the sofa without changing her travelling
dress, and declared that she could eat none of the
dinner that stood on the table; “she had a very
delicate appetite,” she said ; “‘ the breast of a chicken
er so, she might have eaten, but lamb and such
things she could not touch.”

Our father and mother exchanged glances; they
were both bursting with chagrin and anger, but they
said nothing ; and our mother, who was naturally so
polite to all her guests, did not even offer her a@ cup
of chocolate.

If our parents had vexation with their guests, so
had we with ours. The boy was Bob; a fair com-
plexioned boy, with prominent eyes and a large
mouth, and was full of all kinds of mischievous
pranks. His sister, Rosaline, rushed into the bed-



72 GUESTS.

room, locked the door, and began to tell us how Bob
was the plague of her life ; and ail this time Bob was
kicking and thumping at the door, and demanding
admittance.

“ You'd better undo the door, miss, and give me
my things,” said he; ‘or I'll make you repent of it.
I’ tell about you and the port wine, miss, if you
don't.”

On this Rosaline unlocked the door and threw out
the bag which contained what he wanted, and then
hastily re-locking the door, she began to take off her
things; but long before she was ready the active Bob
was heard loudly whistling down in the garden.
Rosaline was a handsome, well-grown girl, with a
deal of light-brown hair and a fair complexion ; she
wore trousers, which we did not; and went with one
shoe down at the heel, which was a thing we never
had dared to do. We thought her very free-spoken
and very much at her ease; we felt almost as if we
were the strangers and she at home; as if we had
nothing to say before her, while she was remarkably
fluent and unabashed. We could not tell whether
we liked her or not.

Rosaline’s father thought that we were very short of
our age ; made his daughter measure against us, and
found, as he had anticipated, that she was taller
than either of us, although in age she was exactly
between us.

Master Bob was not forthcoming at dinner-time ;
he was found among the barrels which were in the
yard in preparation for brewing, and came in five
minutes after we had begun. On this his father rated
him soundly ; called him “Sir,” and said he would



GUESTS, 73

teach him better, or he would flog him to within an
inch of his life. The’mother, who lay on the sofa,
interfered for him, and said that he had so much
spirit, it was quite exeusable. Our guests seemed to
have all the talking to themselves at dinner ; our
parents, like us, were unusually silent, and our guests
perhaps thought them uncourteous, and therefore
talked to each other.

After dinner we children went into the garden,
and Bob, with sundry winks of his large eyes, and
upward noddings of his chin, invited us all to follow
him into the yard, to those very barrels which had
occupied him before dinner. ‘The barrels were stand-
ing without bungs, and were full of water. He
drew his sister on first, and pointed into one, when
she exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, for shame, Bob, how could you!”
“Jt is a new, patent bung,” said he ;. “Sand now you
look,” added he, drawing us on also.

We looked; and oh! what shall describe our
horror! there was our own tortoise-shell kitten
erammed in as a bung! We could hardly believe
eur eyes: of course the kitten was drowned ; it wasa
deed of wanton cruelty which exceeded all our ideas
of possibility. We cried and would not be comforted ;
“and made,” Rosaline said, “such a piece of work
about it,” that she took her brother’s part, and
endeavoured to make light of it; but her attempts
only made matters worse: we stormed and raged, J
have no doubt, famously, and treating our guests
with very little ceremony, told them plainly that
we wished they had never come.

Leaving my sister with them in the garden, I
went in to make complaints, as seemed to me no

x



74 GUESTS,

more than right, to our parents. Our father had
taken Mr. Shepperley to see his new purchases: the
lady was asleep, and our mother was alone. She
heard my story with what I thought very becoming
indignation ; but desired me to say nothing of it to
our father ; this was a very unusual injunction from
her, and it struck me as singular. There was no
use, she said, in making our father angry with
our guests ; she did not think they would stay long,
and she desired while they were here that we would
try to keep peace, and she herself would speak to
Bob.

Our father showed Mr. Shepperley aH his pur-
chases, pointed out whatever he thought worthy of
observation throughout his little demesne; took him
to the part of the garden where he thought the best
view was to be obtained ; showed him how the fence
between the two gardens was to come down, and
opened to him sundry plans which floated in his
mind for the future, more especially regarding the
piece of ground which adjoined his late purchase of
Mrs. Gilbert’s property, of which he designed to
become the possessor ; more especially because, as the
situation was beautiful, he feared it might sometime
be purchased for building land, and would thus
entirely ruin the view from the house, which he
liked so much, as well as take from the whole place
that character of retirement in which he so much
delighted. All this I heard, as, having not again
Joined my sister and our new friends, I found my
father and Mr. Shepperley in the garden after having
returned from their walk. I slipped my hand quietly
into my father’s, and without saying a word walked



GUESTS. 75

along with them, listening with delighted amazement
toall that was said. The idea of our possessing that
large piece of ground beyond what had been Mrs.
Gilbert's, was something quite new and magnificent.
My father seemed to have had it all arranged long ago,
for he drew his memorandum-book out of his pocket,
and his pencil, and made a plan of the whole place
as he should like it to be sometime. Here would be
shrubbery; there lawn; here he would bring in
water ; down that side he would build a fruit-wall ;
here he would have a conservatory ; and down at the
far extremity he would have a little farm-yard and
a gardeners house. Mr. Shepperley looked very
large, and listened with much apparent interest ; this
subject was our dear father’s hobby. His passion
was to make a perfect little place, according to his
notions—and how natural is such a desire ?—and
nothing made him so happy as to have a listener.
To me the subject was quite as interesting as to him-
self, and therefore I, perhaps, felt the more angry
when Mr. Shepperley suddenly interrupted him in
the very midst of his subject, by turning abruptly
to me and saying, “ Weil, little Twopenny, and what
has that scapegrace of mine being doing? Has he
been pulling your wig, or breaking your dolls’ noses ?”
I was quite taken by surprise ; [ did not like to be
called “little Twopenny ;” nor did I dare to say
what Bob had been doing ; besides which I thought
that he was very rude for interrupting my father. I
did not say one word, but hung down my head, and
felt that I was looking very foolish. |
“Your mamma should teach you to speak when
you are spoken to, miss,” said Mr. Shepperley.



76 GUESTS.

‘¢ Cannot you speak, Mary?” said my father in @
tone of vexation, as I thought. Icouldnot. I held
my head down lower than ever; the blood seemed
tingling up into my ears, and I felt that I looked
like a simpleton, and would have given anything to
have been away. No more was said to me on the
subject: Mr. Shepperley and my father talked of
something else, but from that time I never liked
him.

It was sometime before the Shepperleys left us.
It was a long time before they could suit themselves
with a house; my father gave up looking for any-
thing for them at last, and we had workmen in the
house beginning the long-talked-of alterations before
they really went. Our parents felt a great relief
when they were gone ; there was a show of friendship on
the part of the Shepperleys towards us, but in reality
there was none. They were at last offended that
they were obliged to go. Our parents had introduced
them to many of their oldest friends in the town, and
with these they made vehement leagues of friendship:
there were such visitings ; such making-up of parties ;
such pic-nicing here and there all that summer.
People were so in love with them; talked to us of
nothing but them and their doings: they quite cast
us into the shade ; and had not this been a very busy
year in many ways, our parents would perhaps have
felt that kind of annoyance which on such occasions
makes the heart, as it were, bitter. ‘It is a bad
thing,” said our mother notwithstanding, “ to place a
third person between oneself and one’s friends ;” and
she said that which was very true.



CHAPTER IX.
AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

Our house was now literally turned inside out.
The garden was full of old bricks and lumber of all
kinds; we had no use of any of the rooms towards the
garden. We lived in the front parlour which my
grandfather had formerly occupied, and had _ not,
through the whole summer, a spare bed to offer to
any one. My father was quite in his element. He
entered body and soul into everything which could
improve his place. He was with the workmen
directing and inspecting all day long, and as he was
with them so much, so were we too, The sitting-
room floors were lowered, and thus the rooms were
made more lofty, and new and modern windows were:
put in. We took the greatest interest in all that
went forward; we learnt the use of all the workmen’s.
tools ; the various names for their different kinds of
work ; and even made essays at joiner’s-work our-
selves; we made save-alls, little boxes, dolls’ tables,
and little houses. It was an active, happy summer,
and we had as much delight in the alterations as our
father himself. Our mother went out very little all the
summer except for the customary evening-drive, and
then as usual one of us accompanied them. A _ per-
fectly happy summer it would have been, had it not
been as usual for the talk of the French.

“ Run down to the bottom of the garden and see

H 2



78 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

if the French are not coming over the New Bridge?’
was the often-repeated ruse of old James Rotherham,
the joiner, when we bothered him for his tools or
were in his way.

“The French are coming; are really and truly
coming !” said James Dumerlo, the half-silly painter,
in the wantonness of a mischievous spirit. ‘* They
have burnt Lichfield down to the ground, and have
killed all the women and children, and will be here
to-night or to-morrow morning at farthest!” And
these threats, though they had proved themselves
false so many times, never failed, in conjunction with
the gloomy conversation we heard continually from
persons whose opinions we respected, to cast an
unpleasant damp on our spirits.

After many weeks of discomfort, the house began
to get into some degree of order; the roughest lum-
ber was cleared away ; the coarsest work was done;
the floors were all down ; the windows in, and the
new doors hung. One could get an idea of what
the rooms would be when they were finished ; the
plasterers came, and the finer painters; the little
lobby was floored with its diagonal squares of marble,
and our parents began busily to talk about the new
papers and new carpets, and the new bed for the
best room.

Whilst things are progressing to this state, we
must interrupt ourselves to mention what had in the
meantime occurred. Old Mrs, Carpenter, who lived
on our left hand, died, and her body went up to
London in a stately hearse to be buried ; and shortly
afterwards was the great sale by auction, not only of
the furniture, plate, linen, and pictures, but of the



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 79

house and the whole property altogether. JT never
heard that our father’s desire for purchasing ever
extended to this place, or towards the left of our own
house at all. Our mother did not even attend the
old lady’s sale, nor go, as the rest of the gentlewomen
of the town did, to look over the house and all that it
contained. One morning, however, before the sale
we were told that a gentleman and lady were exe
pected to take luncheon at our house. They came;
he a stately looking man in volunteer uniform; she
a most quiet and elegant woman, and with them
came two sweet children about our own age, a boy
and girl, We were charmed; we took them into
the garden; into the one which had been Mrs.
Gilbert’s: the fence was taken down, and though
we have unaccountably omitted to say so before,
had been so ever since spring, and now, like the
house, was beginning to get quite in order. We
told the children, with whom we became directly
familiar, that our father meant to buy the next piece
of land which went quite down to the road, and there
we were going to have a greenhouse and a fountain,
and we could not tell what; in return for all this
communication on our part, they informed us that
their father was going to buy Mrs. Carpenter's house ;
that they were coming to live here, and that we would
be very good friends when they came; they said that
they had worlds of play-things, doll-houses, and
books without end. These children were very unlike
our late guests, the Shepperleys; no one could be
quieter or better behaved than they were: and then
they seemed so pleased with us too, and made such
ready offers of friendship, that we adopted them ag



60 AN EVENTFUL VEAR.

once into our very hearts. We took them into all
our favourite play-places; behind the shrubbery ;
up into the stable-loft, to which we scrambled
through a broken manger-rack to the endangering of
our clothes if not of our limbs, and showed them
various objects of interest, which they, like us,
thought quite worth the trouble) We swung them
in our new swing, and had the pleasure of seeing how
properly they admired our little gardens with their
palisades of peeled willow-twigs, with a gate made
like the most regular of gates, all being secured
together with minikin pins. Anna was very clever
at this fairy-like fencemaking, and contrived with her
little pins, which she bent for hinges and hasps, that
they should open and shut, and could be fastened with
the tiniest of padlocks. The Shepperleys had made
sad devastation in our little gardens. Bob had
walked in them—and they were only in proportion to
our dolls—and had done infinite damage at every step ;
he had proposed sundry alterations, all of which
tended only to disorder and ruin, and then would do
nothing to repair his ravages. We had, however, at
this happy moment just made all right and straight
again; the palings were white as snow, and the
Liliputian beds full of small but gay flowers. Our
young neighbours elect were in raptures; they had
lived in a distant town and had had no garden; they
thought that, they should be in heaven when they
came here, and so near to us.

Our father went with their parents to the next
house, and presently we saw them all three walking
in the garden, in that stately garden into which we
had hitherto hardly dared to peep! The children



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 81

ealled to their parents, the parents answered, and the
next moment the father, in his volunteer regimentals,
came to the hedge and said that he would lift us all
over. He was a very good-natured man, and jumped
us high above the hedge till we seemed to be flying.
And now we were on the very gravel-walks where
Mrs. Carpenter in her calash and clogs had so often
walked. ‘* And now run off with you,” said the
merry-tempered father, ‘‘ run off every one of you ;”
and we, glad to have permission, scampered off, and
peeped into all the holes and corners of the old lady’s
dominions.

In the afternoon our visitors left us; and our
parents only echoed our own opinions, when at tea
they said that they thought we should have very
agreeable neighbours in the Taylors.

The sale took place, and, as was expected, Captain
Taylor bought the place. In a few weeks the
gentleman and lady and their servants came, but not
the children ; they were now with some friends, and
were to come later when the house was in order.
This was at first a disappointment to us, and would
have been more so had we not been so much occupied
by our own affairs. It was now getting towards the
end of summer; the newly-laid out garden was.
really beautiful ; there had been a good deal of rain
in July, and the new turf which had been laid down.
had grown nicely. Year-old hollyhocks had been
planted, and were now in full flower; there were:
China asters and French marigolds, making it quite
splendid with their gorgeous intermingling of colours,
Our mother often walked In the garden, and so of
course did we; and I remember that autumn being’



82 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

first awoke to the beauty of the garden as a whole,
not looking at it, as I had hitherto done, as it were
piecemeal, with childish eyes.

Sometimes, but not very often, the Shepperieys
came; our parents evidently did not like them;
they were always very handsomely dressed and
talked a great deal, but nobody ever was sorry when
they were gone. They had become, as I said before,
wonderfully intimate with the friends of our parents,
and always told how one and another of our acquaint-
ance had formed a party to go here and there, and
they, the Shepperleys, quite expected to have seen
us there. “lt was a pity we had not been invited,
for it had gone off delightfully ; Mrs. So-and-so had
driven her, Mrs. Shepperley, over to Lichfield, to see
the new monument by Chantrey there ; our mother
ought to see it; she wondered Mrs. So-and-so had
never driven her over.” So talked the lady in-doors ;
whilst the gentleman, who never failed to find our
father among his bricks and mortar, mostly drew
comparisons between the small scale of things with
us, and what he had been used to. Our father was
not lightly to be put out of conceit with his place,
however much he might be stung by occasional
invidious remarks. But the garden was now our
father’s pride; it looked somewhat finished, and
showed that his notions of things, after all, were not
much amiss. Mr. Shepperley talked of the handsome
grounds he had had; our father of those which he
meant to have, whenever he could buy the adjoining
piece of land; never failing to add, that he hoped it
never would come into anybody's head to build or in
any way block out his view. The idea of this being



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 83

ever done, was the bugbear that troubled our father’s
peace.

After Midsummer, the young Shepperleys went to
school ; to schools which our parents’ intimate friends
had recommended, because, said Mrs. Shepperley,
they were so charmed with the idea of their own
children having such delightful companions as Bob
and his sister. We children could not help feeling
vexed at everybody being so taken by the Shepperleys,
though for our own sakes we were glad to be rid
of them.

Owing to the state of the house this summer, and
to another cause also which we then did not understand,
our parents saw but very little company ; our mother
was often indisposed, and it seemed to us as if
Mrs. Shepperley had taken her place with all her
friends. Nanny, who never could bear the Shep-
perleys, vented high indignation against them con-
tinually. ‘‘ There she goes, stuck up like a turkey-
cock!” she would say, ‘ta mischief-making, interloping
thing! I’ve heard what she has said of our missis, and
she not good enough to carry our missis’s shoes after
her! I wish I could only let her feel the length of
my tongue. But pride goes before a fall!” said
Nanny consolingly.

In the autumn the town was in a state of great
excitement, from the circumstance of the first stage-
coach passing through it. We children had never in
our lives seen a stage-coach. Pictures of such things
with their four gallantly prancing horses we had seen,
but an actual coach never. The letters came by a
boy, who fetched them daily from a neighbouring
town, through which the mail passed; he rode a



84 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

little lean horse, and notified his exit from and
entrance to the town, by blowing a shrill tin horn.
Often he came with blue and red ribands streaming
from his hat, at unusual speed, and blowing his horn
louder than ever, for then he brought what was called
““ good news,” news of some victory over the terrible
Buonaparte ; and then, within a quarter of an hour
after his arrival, the bells were loudly ringing, and
the gentlemen were‘hurrying off themselves or sending
their servants full drive to the post-office for their
newspapers, being too impatient to wait the slow
mode of ordinary delivery. Not less exciting too,
though in another way, were the times when the
same Mercury came speeding in, and wildly sounding
his horn, undecorated with ribands, announcing some
great defeat—some terrible advance of the great foe
—some city laid in ashes—some ten thousand gallant
men cut to pieces; and people then hurried along
the town, asking in fearful eagerness the particulars
one of another.

Nothing more enlivening than this passed, in an
ordinary way, through the town, when at this time
every creature was alert with the thoughts of the daily
passing of the stage-coach. It was to travel from Man~
chester to London, and went through Birmingham.
It made quite an excitement; it had been talked of
for some weeks, and now the day was actually come
when it was to be seen for the first time.

Our parents ordered Nanny to take us opposite the
inn, that we might see it come in, change horses, and
then set off again. Chiljren who have seen stage-
coaches all their lives, can have no idea what an event
thisfirst stage-coach really was. I never felt so excited



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 88

in my life as when it came dashing down the street all
covered with ribands, and flags flying, and a French-
horn blowing, for in those days stage-coaches had their
guards. All the town was up; people hurrahed,
and waved their hats, and were quite enthusiastic.
Horses, now-a-days, are changed in a coach in three
minutes, but it was not so then; they must have been
a full twenty minutes over it, but that was all the
better, for there was the more time to notice every-
thing thoroughly. But in time all was ready, and
then off it went again. The horses galloped, the
ribands and the flags streamed gallantly, and the flou-
rish of the French-horn playing “Rule Britannia,”
almost drowned the rattling of the wheels.

All that evening we could talk of nothing but the
coach; we could play at nothing but the coach.
Fortunately the new papers were come for the rooms,
and the next morning the floors were strewn with
long strips which had been cut from the edges of the
pieces of paper ; some were red, and some blue—they
were ribands for our coach ; we tied them on a stick,
and carrying this in one hand while with the other
we held the reins, one of us acted the four horses,
and the other the coach. To our fancy it was com-
plete; we ran round and round the garden, and
imitated, the best we could, the triumphing of the
French-horn. Whilst we were thus in the midst of
our glory, a most welcome sound, all at once, arrested
our career, “I say, we are come!” sounded from
the other side of the hedge; and the two heads of our
long-expected neighbours were seen peeping over.
The coach flew round to that side, and the most hearty
congratulations followed, But what was our astonish-

I



86 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

ment to learn that they had actually come by the
coach on its upward journey this morning—actually
and truly had come inside that beautiful coach, and
could tell us all about it! Their uncle had brought
them—and nothing in this world could equal the
delight of riding in a coach. It must be, however,
we all agreed, very dangerous riding outside; they
said there was somebody on the outside that screamed
once, but everybody laughed ; they wished we could
all four of us go together in the coach! For many
days nothing was done in both gardens but driving
about the stage-coach ; they had paper streamers like
ours ; we arranged our inns at the same point in the
hedge, we cut up cake and apple for dinner, and
were most gloriously happy. It was an understood
thing by us, and by the other children also no doubt,
that without especial permission from the parents, no
invitations were to be given to come over or through
the fence. We brought little chairs, on which we
stood, and laying a board on the broad well-clipped
fence, managed all our business as at a table. We
never were so happy in our lives; we left the work-
men to get on with their papering and painting : we
troubled ourselves not at all about the making of the
new carpets, new curtains, or the new bed ; we hardly
gave ourselves time to eat our dinners, we were so
anxious to be together again.

For the first time in our lives, we now had intimate
friends of our own age. John, the brother, dissipated
all our prejudice against boys—we began to think
what a charming thing it would be to have a brother.
Sara, the girl, had tastes just like our own, but she
knew a deal more of the world than we did, had been



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 87

to a boarding-school, at a dancing-master’s ball, and
had read endless little novels and tales about fine
officers and ladies, and was exceedingly fond of telling
them over and over again. She opened quite a new
world to us, and we could not help wondering
why our parents did not let us do as she and her
brother did, for there really was something remark-
ably charming in it. Much of a woman as Sara
seemed to be in comparison with us in experience of
life, she disdained none of our simpler tastes and
amusements. The fact was, these all came with
the full charm of novelty to her. Above everything
were they both bewitched by the passion for gar-
dening. They must have gardens just like us: a
larger garden and a smaller one, quite a fairy concern,
with its palisades of peeled osiers, and its little
gate that opened and shut. Nothing but the garden
hedge and the walk on each side divided our gardens :
the hedge grew ever thinner and thinner—it was
really wonderful how low and thinit grew ; we could
now see each other at work ; we needed no chair or
stool now to give us a view ox each other’s faces, we
could easily have gone backwards and forwards before
the summer was over, but as I recollect we never
did ; each remembered the command of their parents
and adhered to it. Our parents often said, as if we
had nothing to do in it, that the hedge was getting
remarkably thin and that it must be mended, but
fortunately they did not often come down the side
walks, so it never got mended till the next spring.
The autumn went on—we ate apples and cracked
nuts together, and as the days grew colder came out
in warm spencers and woollen handkerchiefs, and now



88 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

and then received an admonition, not always very
welcome, not to keep standing so much; that it was
getting damp and chilly in the evenings, and we must
not go out after tea.

The Taylors were completely settled in their new
house ; we had paid the family acongratulatory visit,
which to us children was an infinite happiness.
Sara Taylor had whole drawers-full of unconverted
finery for her dolls—she was munificent in her pre-
sents to ours. John had a rocking-horse, and the
evening we spent there was a delightful time indeed.
Our house too by this time was in complete order ; it
answered everybody's expectation ; the new carpets
and new furniture had quite a handsome appearance
—and our favourite neighbours came to return the
family visit. All our parents friends called, but we
were told that for the present there would be very
little visiting.

Our mother did not spin this winter; indeed after
this time I believe that she did not spin at all. It
was now November—dull, short days, and as we
could not see much of our neighbours in the garden,
we amused ourselves by reading the books which they
lent us by the nursery fire. We had all the more
time for this, as our mother, as it seemed to us rather
singularly, required us to do but very few lessons,

One morning, I shall never forget it, it was the
most remarkable morning of our young lives, and
only exceeded in interest by a morning which
occurred later, and of which I shall have to speak in
its place: one morning, in November, we were
saluted on waking with the astonishing news that we
had a little sister born. If we had been told that the



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 89

sky had fallen, it would not have surprised us more.
We had never had the slightest idea that there could
be more children in the family than ourselves, and
now there was another little sister! We sprang out
of bed; dressed ourselves with the utmost speed,
hardly, in fact, stayed to finish dressing, and attended
by Nanny, who was very solemn in her manner,
were conducted to our mother’s chamber-door. The
sound of a baby’s voice reached our ears as we
approached ; we had hardly ever heard such a sound in
the house before, and a feeling of love and joy rushed
through our hearts. I felt as if I was choked, as if
I really must cry; I looked at Anna, and she really
was crying. The next moment we saw the little
stranger lying in the nurse's lap, in the lap of that
old woman who had of late been going backwards and
forwards to our house, and we never could imagine
what was her business.

The stage-coach ; our gardens ; our new acquaint-
ance ; our dolls, all seemed insignificant and worthless
in comparison with the darling little sister. No young
mother was ever so pleased with her first-born as we
with this little unexpected stranger, who we were
informed was to be called Emma.

We waited a long time impatiently in the garden
that day for our neighbours, to communicate to them
the happy tidings. At last their voices were heard ;
we set up the established signal-cry, and our friends
were with us instantly. ‘Oh, did they know what
we had to tell! We had got a little sister ; a darling
little beauty of a sister! We should never care for
dolls now ; we should give all our dolls away !”

What was our astonishment when Sara said that

12



90 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

she would tell us a secret which their maid had just
told her, when the news had come that we had a little
sister; and that was, that they too would have one
most likely before long! But we were to be certain
sure never to tell anybody, for it was a very great
secret indeed !

What a strange thing this was! and how delightful,
too, that dear little brothers and sisters came so unex~
pectedly, when one thought about anything but their
coming !

The occupation—the charm, of this winter was the
baby ; but there was a grief in our house nevertheless,
Our mother was ill for months—was not able, indeed,
to leave her room till spring. The woman who had
made her appearance before the time of Jittle Emma’s
birth, never left us through the whole winter; and
true to our volunteered promise, we gave away our
large dolls to the little niece of this nurse—a child
about whom we became much interested. Her father
was a soldier, and had been a prisoner in a horrible
French prison for somé years; and his wife main«
tained herself by needlework.

When our mother recovered from her illness, and
was again able to pay attention to us, she informed
us, to our no small sorrow, that it was no longer her
intention to continue our education herself, and that
after many plans had been thought of, it was the
decision of our father and herself to put us under the
care of a lady who was just coming to the town—was
in fact coming to lodge at the very next house, where
Mrs. Gilbert had lived—and would have the daily
care of us.

Of course, we had nothing to say against this; but



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 91

Jong was the discussion which we had between our-
selves on the subject. We were as rational as people,
either old or young, mostly are in their discussions —
we found that there was a deal to be said on both
sides. We should lose some liberty, but then there
was novelty in going to school; the lady who was to
teach us might be cross and disagreeable, but then on
the other hand she might be very charming; and
seeing that she had been chosen by our parents to
instruct us, the probabilities were that she was so.
We consulted our friends, the Taylors, on the subject;
they said that their mamma, too, was talking a deal
now-a-days about schools and governesses. John
said he had made up his mind that he should have
had to go to school after Christmas, and he wondered
he had not—for his part, he should like it; and
Sara was generous enough to say, that now we
were going to have a governess, she should like to
have one too.

One evening, our mother told us that the lady who
was to teach us was coming the next day to dine
with us. Of course, this was very important infor-
mation. We should thus sce what she was like.
Her name, our mother told us, was Parker—Mrs,
Parker. What, that Mrs. Parker who had formerly
lived at the haunted old Hall? The same. Was it
really she! Nanny had told us so much about her—
she was the cleverest lady in the world—had written
books, knew Latin, and Greek, and botany, and was
as learned as a clergyman, and drew and painted!
Nanny had seen a large screen which she had
psznted with flowers—poppies, and anemones, and
cs~aations, and tulips, all scattered about as if some



92 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

one had thrown over it a handful of flowers; and
Nanny had told us that her history was like a story
in a book—was all this true? Our mother said that
it was all true. She was indeed the cleverest woman
she ever knew, and the most accomplished, and per-
haps the best also. She was a lady of good family,
and had once been a great deal richer than, in all
probability, we should ever be; but she had been
very unfortunate—had been. connected with people
unworthy of her, and she had known much, very
much, sorrow. Our mother said that she told us
this, not for us to talk about, but that we might feel
respect for her, and show her kindness, and endeavour
to profit by her very superior mind. Nothing, she
said, would give her greater pleasure than for her
children to find a friend in Mrs. Parker. We were
very much impressed by the earnest manner in which
our mother spoke. An ideal of what this latiy must
resemble filled our minds. To me she seemed a tall
figure clothed in white—a sort of beautiful angel,
looking wise and kind at the same time. Whilst I
was thus imagining the exterior of a heing so gifted
and so good, the door opened and our moiler rose,
saying at the same moment—‘ Mrs. Parker.” I
looked up; my tall figure in white had vanished, and
I saw my mother holding by the hand a rather short,
rather broad, rather brown-complexioned woman,
dressed in very plain black. This, then, was our
future teacher—the model we were to copy—the one
whom we were to make our friend! I was a little
staggered,

On our mother’s introducing us to her, she took a
hand of each of us, and looking fixedly into our



AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 93

faces, smiled kindly and said, ‘“‘ We shall, I trust, be
good friends by and by.”

We sat down by the table after dinner, and listened
to the conversation of Mrs. Parker and our mother ;
it wasareal pleasure to hear them talk. She had
been into many parts of the world, and all that she
related was lively and graphic; and then, too, when
she turned and talked to us, not, like a formal gover-
ness, about multiplication tables and the conjugation
of irregular verbs, but about flowers and pleasant
books—how she recommended herself to our hearts!
She looked at Anna’s flower-drawings, and commended
them ; and said that we would all walk together in
summer evenings and gather flowers, which she would
teach us to press, and to imitate also—not by the
pencil alone, but to make artificially. She told us of
the wonders which the microscope revealed—of which
we knew but little—and all she told us had such a
clearness that it seemed to us as if we could see
and understand at once all that she described. There
was, too, something so gentle and kind about her—
so love-inspiring, that I found, after all, my lofty
white-garmented figure was right in spirit, if not in
outward form.

We were charmed with our new teacher ; the
impression on both was the same. We were quite
enraptured to find how much alike our sentiments
were regarding her. Nanny had a deal of trouble to
get us to bed that night; we were so eager looking
up school-books, and paint-boxes, and slates, and
pencils, that we might be ready to begin.

“A new broom sweeps clean,” said Nanny, almost
angrily; “take my word for it. that you ’ll be sick of



94. AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

school, spite of all this flower-painting and flower-
making, before you are a month older!”

At the appointed time, we began our school-life in
earnest ; but yet that earnest was not downright hard
drudgery after all. As far as learning went, we were
put into Mrs. Parker's hands, and she was to do with
us as she would. The mere learning was not amiss ;
but the really pleasant thing was when we had Mrs,
Parker to ourselves, out of the regular school-hours,
and when there was no formal teaching; when she
took us out into the fields, and talked about whatever
might present itself. I never heard any one talk as
well as she did ; she would take a little flower in her
hand, and preach such a sermon from it as would
make the hearts of her young auditors burn within
them. She saw the love which we had for nature ;
she had it too, and she sympathized with us. Seeing,
too, the ardency of our minds, she gave us, young as
We were, an aim to our desires. She, noble-minded
woman, sowed seed at that time which has sprung up
since then to bear, 1 trust, not bad fruit. She called
forth the peculiar faculties of our minds, and gave
them a bent which they never lost.

Our mother was greatly pleased with the influence
which she soon acquired over us; and she had her
wish in seeing her become the friend of her children.

From this time, for two years and a half, we were
under the care of this excellent woman. My heart
glows with love to her memory as I write this page.
How beautiful is the character of such a woman! It
seems to me, on reviewing it, as if all graces of mind
and heart were combined in her—intellect. accom-
plishments, amiability, piety. So humble. yet so



VARIOUS THINGS. 95

gifted—having suffered so much from others, yet full
of love and kindness to all. Her meniory is to mea
sacred thing. I keep yet the little drawings which
she made me, little exquisite groups of flowers which
she cut out, and the letters which, when we left home
for a distant school, she wrote to me. Yes, indeed,
it was a happy day when we were put under her care ;
and Nanny’s prediction was triumphantly proved
wrong—that we should be tired of school before
we had gone there for a month.

In the early spring, as had been predicted, our
neighbours also had a little sister ; and just about the
same time, the young Shepperleys had a little brother.
Whilst our mother, as the warmer months of spring
advanced, only slowly recovered, Mrs. Shepperley was
quite well, and was driving about and looking as gay
as ever. As usual, she paid us occasional visits; and
never failed to bring tidings of one kind or another
that vexed us. Her little boy, she said, would make
two of ours, though he was so much younger. She
evidently looked down upon our baby ; and her dis-
sentient opinion annoyed us more than other people's
praise gave us pleasure.

CHAPTER X.

VARIOUS THINGS.

Our father, as I have before said, had a perfect
passion for improving things and places ; and, having
now done the best he could for the present to his own
individual possessions, he began to turn his mind to



96 VARIOUS THINGS.

the improvement of the town. The town was
wretchedly paved, and the streets were full of the
most awkward projections and irregularities; there
were no lamps, there was a pinfold in the town-
streets, and the inhabitants were indifferently supplied
with water, whilst the finest of streams ran idly by
the town. All these things suggested to his mind the
design of improving and benefiting the place. He
formed plans and made suggestions ; te talked with all
his friends and acquaintances about them, and every-
body acknowledged how desirable it was that these
things should be done, but where was the man with
public spirit enough to see after their being done ?
Would he do it? He was one, the whole town de-
clared, in whom everybody had confidence; if he
would but undertake it, the necessary funds should
be raised, and he should be empowered to carry out
all his designs. He undertook the office willingly ;
and now, through all this midsummer, nothing was
thought of or talked of but improving the town,
The ‘work went on rapidly under our father’s eye;
unsightly objects were done away with; regular
pavements were laid down: lamps hung here
and there; old deformities and obstacles removed,
and corners, which hitherto had been nothing but
nuisances, were given up to the adjoining inhabitant
to add to his garden or his court. In the prevailing
spirit of the time, people built up new walls or put
down new palisades. The aspect of everything
improved daily. People looked on with surprise ;
they called our father the public benefactor—the
most public-spirited man of the place. To him it
was a labour of love, and his best reward was



VARIOUS THINGS. a7

now to see the approbation which his work was
winning.

To us at home, too, all was equally satisfactory.
Our neighbours were as charming as ever, although
neither they nor we had as much time to play this
year as the last. Both they and we had our daily
lessons to do; and they were as much delighted with
their little Mary Ann as we with our little idol,
Emma.

Of the Shepperleys we saw less and less. They
had gained the intimate acquaintance of a great many
people, and had enough to do without having much
time to spare for us. Nanny maintained her old
opinions of them and her old dislike, and dropped
many hints of the mischief they were doing in many
ways. That, however, which perhaps annoyed us
the most, was the undeniable fact that the young
Master Shepperley was unquestionably a finer baby
than either ours or the Taylors’ ;—for the first time
in my life I felt the bitter feeling of envy and dis-
like. I hated to see their nurse come to our house
with their baby, and more than all to hear the nurse
—who seemed to have the spirit of her mistress—
draw invidious comparisons betwecn the children.

“A great, heavy, lumpish thing is that Shepperleys’
baby,” said Nanny, who was influenced by a spirit of
malice, “it will go off with the croup ox the hooping-
cough; and good riddance of it !”

“Oh Nanny !” we said, “it is not right to say so.”
And yet, J am afraid that we ourselves were not in
the most Christian state of mind.

It was about this time that we first read Robinson
Crusoe, and Sandford and Merton. ‘They made quite

K



98 VARIOUS THINGS.

an era in our knowledge of hooks; they were the
most interesting that we had ever read, and we were
never satisfied with the reading cf them. Again and
again we went through them, and found new beauties
each time. Our friends, the Taylors, read them too;
but on them, who had already been acquainted with
works of fiction, the effect which they produced was
less vivid. The next delight in our experience of
books was in “Evenings at Home.” The little
dramatic sketches in these volumes had an incon-
ceivable charm for us; they placed everything so
livingly before our imaginations. We soon knew by
heart “Alfred in the Neat-herd’s Cottage,” and
“Canute and his Courtiers ;’’ and enacted them, as
we thought, with all the spirit of actuality. It was
about this time, too, when we began to compose little
poems, and relate, rather than write, tales in prose.
Many were the histories of joy and sorrow, according
to our small experience of life, which we thus put
together—telling them over, night after night, till
they were made as complete as we thought them
capable of being. It was not till three or four years
later that we were able to commit our effusions to
paper ; and then they ceased to be joint labours.
One afternoon this summer, we had been out with
Nanny and our darling Emma. She was now a
sweet little blue-eyed creature, with a grave little
mouth, that relaxed all at once into a sunny smile,
with yellowish silken hair, and a complexion like
alabaster. Ob, how we loved her! Our father and
mother, too, had taken a drive that afternoon, and
we were all to be honie again to tea at seven. We
vere a little after our time ; and when we returned,



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31d1d2baeedf2e00542c44c23df197ef
15ce919aa9cbb89628c0ae01774bc9948d06ef2f
'2012-06-28T20:37:31-04:00'
describe
'1772' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYK' 'sip-files00025.txt'
317ed23fd93153146256d37e73cf7670
a441955295d2919390a9d143d9dfbc4a8b3a1bda
'2012-06-28T20:30:15-04:00'
describe
'76548' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYL' 'sip-files00019.QC.jpg'
94f4c05733ef13fac3ad1854fbf408f1
cdc12c58f4a57a2450c018ff2579f4b20e53ec92
'2012-06-28T20:38:16-04:00'
describe
'775176' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYM' 'sip-files00119.jp2'
e351691ef9830ffbc8f554be0744bb5e
c5e6a3b2c04566d4da54c401c84080bf4407fac9
'2012-06-28T20:28:48-04:00'
describe
'155915' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYN' 'sip-files00071.jpg'
7e10b0aaa2e3c889d2da15984190e1fc
ec7ab10c400a89adf092c182b740996c6032ff3f
'2012-06-28T20:35:14-04:00'
describe
'36167' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYO' 'sip-files00142thm.jpg'
9945a32264471eb062e58f93c217cdc5
8f6c2c83c35c8d912ff558ae82acc56f67491f95
'2012-06-28T20:34:25-04:00'
describe
'535' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYP' 'sip-files00182.pro'
f42907045dddc3d171f31936e5e62ec6
b3c29d11f7e9aa4a38072862c51c778289fa6f4f
'2012-06-28T20:36:25-04:00'
describe
'175331' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYQ' 'sip-files00095.jpg'
09dce789e0f60b776cc6ec7e7a30b693
c91bc63cab7154435ebd2cbe675e6306dda3b419
'2012-06-28T20:37:01-04:00'
describe
'36118' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYR' 'sip-files00186thm.jpg'
7f2c35f6e36b10ee371432c1881ced7c
3741c8a0f48274c90b9bb6e3b41086dbb444237a
'2012-06-28T20:33:16-04:00'
describe
'6224004' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYS' 'sip-files00103.tif'
f285450ac77672fb6b39828cde7b49b9
a90a71298a3012827e7ba928a3b6179a1abd3d49
'2012-06-28T20:31:30-04:00'
describe
'1748' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYT' 'sip-files00172.txt'
dff04c73215f805bbc6f3c6f3a272e01
be6e529f87c565fb5fa28c85ce9f6fdc5c83e8b0
'2012-06-28T20:35:10-04:00'
describe
'6223648' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYU' 'sip-files00088.tif'
584bb9791c0b5014ee5f31e7176e15cc
b6de95085ea025b097a755ef0c69e889eeac6ee2
'2012-06-28T20:36:02-04:00'
describe
'161313' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYV' 'sip-files00028.jpg'
fdd5bede7cf6f68cb6bb35c4f0dc78e7
cb2509400ae5f40cccb28b020f028f7885e6e469
'2012-06-28T20:27:49-04:00'
describe
'34390' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYW' 'sip-files00173thm.jpg'
3ae09e36d53f8488abd7a41533fbfd89
a3e3f85c55fc32286e72398e25cc4b0f3d77ff2f
'2012-06-28T20:31:14-04:00'
describe
'1758' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYX' 'sip-files00147.txt'
f18cbd3197d105196704de21cc568a98
180e17656d2261607b2ffd4c62a3606008c71972
'2012-06-28T20:34:06-04:00'
describe
'37342' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYY' 'sip-files00164.pro'
4008900043336a1c6e6fd5d3b1dd54bc
9643b0377b5eb5c0a35947aaabe1570b029f71b1
'2012-06-28T20:37:07-04:00'
describe
'34025' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARYZ' 'sip-files00108.pro'
d6b92f18c75851598ed16dd8f9f0ac91
371cd50d1c3f510be84d1e1c6537735bce207fbf
'2012-06-28T20:35:48-04:00'
describe
'74041' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZA' 'sip-files00156.QC.jpg'
ca534c9c8c3d0b8c901982ec100609c9
f16b96f9852a8e5b2a2fee4a25d2c1422a3c0492
'2012-06-28T20:28:11-04:00'
describe
'36136' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZB' 'sip-files00197thm.jpg'
fbd2a4eac3a2db858b11b1b2ba5ea3eb
43b122a5ab35aa41686ec8da53d7b966065d3d5c
'2012-06-28T20:33:50-04:00'
describe
'42084' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZC' 'sip-files00040.pro'
eb1cb3e8868036e83a9ecbda2d0ab1f1
7bc2131f2b63df7150940c5c7cae9952ab074c7e
'2012-06-28T20:37:47-04:00'
describe
'33117' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZD' 'sip-files00174.pro'
3309da0ef1619c162e33dde7a76cb525
d3faa6a71b5412fca8a3d4064bf89ef8d188fb50
'2012-06-28T20:30:14-04:00'
describe
'1684' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZE' 'sip-files00210.txt'
86699d104e3f49b1ca01e47e653687a6
634780a6de3c8caa6fea1c41222d0c23537db914
'2012-06-28T20:29:35-04:00'
describe
'1385' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZF' 'sip-files00215.txt'
df81ec8593a9752b16f6a0265b5848bb
e4fd563b0e7398bac9338df0a35d34dc467038dc
'2012-06-28T20:27:24-04:00'
describe
'35745' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZG' 'sip-files00201thm.jpg'
eadeb20df5903a1138dfa575f119ef47
a990fae9c74961a73b36601d91b82a24feef2239
'2012-06-28T20:34:11-04:00'
describe
'38129' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZH' 'sip-files00111.pro'
3a31e7f6a3a33b5d38ce2870329729c7
519f36f0199ef93c2385b0cb800577e65e653498
'2012-06-28T20:36:27-04:00'
describe
'775127' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZI' 'sip-files00023.jp2'
da894c35aa9c2b5655cb58a2c7b30314
7fb91acbd9b6d917ac3c9c2d6657495ac1ff32d2
'2012-06-28T20:34:30-04:00'
describe
'775150' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZJ' 'sip-files00155.jp2'
4c086a47666729525ec1bf9b3fd9ebcb
1f49f941ae22c11cb7a03ae2a16a84721029df37
'2012-06-28T20:29:42-04:00'
describe
'775172' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZK' 'sip-files00161.jp2'
aa91200f171dee990a6c8c1114a39e2b
9b72dadc10984b351f74c0b4d56b22ca18c25eed
'2012-06-28T20:28:29-04:00'
describe
'76058' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZL' 'sip-files00148.QC.jpg'
b4c6790deeab036a3342e466e863c94e
1f19ae7f96b874d1a46181a3a9a296d9de62a9df
'2012-06-28T20:35:09-04:00'
describe
'36134' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZM' 'sip-files00110thm.jpg'
3adc4aff1576b4b1e6390b1de1142f21
fa5660cd575e1847f2cb12a7c10408ecc2ceee22
'2012-06-28T20:38:38-04:00'
describe
'32427' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZN' 'sip-files00074thm.jpg'
d2ad01be533298af5616963554b63fe8
1eae5ce7ceb94f3faf6e45ef43b1e6f83a569c11
'2012-06-28T20:27:17-04:00'
describe
'74896' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZO' 'sip-files00122.QC.jpg'
755f8de950583d8dc409d9dda94ed038
ba1400fe87b5ff4e5a233100615831b316f005de
'2012-06-28T20:38:37-04:00'
describe
'775164' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZP' 'sip-files00038.jp2'
7c0f1356f7c55a0faf426d5c5619474b
7617ab6206892c9d2bdb10c4ca605228b4ba8045
'2012-06-28T20:27:57-04:00'
describe
'182623' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZQ' 'sip-files00096.jpg'
4613e9387421e15643429ee148351b98
9461dcfdfb25309e6bed0dceda024480e92d1e47
'2012-06-28T20:33:48-04:00'
describe
'75964' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZR' 'sip-files00201.QC.jpg'
c7623d8fad2d6bd83e6d4536ae572601
0fb39b07245456f7c870449bcfda66cfeab490a3
'2012-06-28T20:38:53-04:00'
describe
'40868' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZS' 'sip-files00134.pro'
4e0b82ec48dcf38edf8a9e8a41abd85f
0cd8daa12fba7262a049bec9ace4fe0f26d6dc65
describe
'118362' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZT' 'sip-files00008.jpg'
80d96019de4d0586b35142f02e32ee30
09ee3287cfa401c2da045a99a94afb80696d9fdf
'2012-06-28T20:35:52-04:00'
describe
'166475' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZU' 'sip-files00076.jpg'
f6847a204ff28bdbab22155f95c1c69c
acd37d262447782fa6db07f3d2f7c24a00adb748
'2012-06-28T20:35:56-04:00'
describe
'184804' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZV' 'sip-files00201.jpg'
c50406d6995573991e8c818b5f6c77f8
648a36c733ec41865033a7feb83025a7bc307c91
'2012-06-28T20:36:09-04:00'
describe
'36621' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZW' 'sip-files00086thm.jpg'
13af166df462b77b4a50cd3d84255154
3e9bf6fd1ee01b7d19600a2840b689c905dbdf53
'2012-06-28T20:27:36-04:00'
describe
'1689' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZX' 'sip-files00192.txt'
562835f929e71255924a3ac89bcb0caa
ddb01da499e734758c8620950e51cb2f401eb178
'2012-06-28T20:35:08-04:00'
describe
'775170' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZY' 'sip-files00014.jp2'
8a82a479dad90c14b696e90d0dd0de30
46bea0f10d564fd5e30f35dd45664b2f5132c5b0
'2012-06-28T20:31:12-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAARZZ' 'sip-files00178.tif'
a4d31b6ea560e959e2e600551eeca3ba
5297eaf2d66882c0a8152ce3fed7af3826da9449
'2012-06-28T20:33:44-04:00'
describe
'188298' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAA' 'sip-files00194.jpg'
dd04e1e9e37e7c7edc1afe47e38e73a4
7f22966871aabcbd9ed199a11673e1d87c7c8862
'2012-06-28T20:36:46-04:00'
describe
'36557' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAB' 'sip-files00130thm.jpg'
c3f6dcb7b51b2a8259dfc17449f1d380
e2f4e441ecb34776ed586dfedba7ce80ae2e0877
'2012-06-28T20:29:49-04:00'
describe
'775120' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAC' 'sip-files00074.jp2'
19f7a522c2bbdfd3bfa65d3bc824e92b
cbc6afb348969e776ed0996626bfa89ad101a1a9
'2012-06-28T20:29:28-04:00'
describe
'19493' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAD' 'sip-files00008thm.jpg'
dad79705952835e458804cb57d4593c5
67e381cac301a0106fa11205505eaf69622a5967
'2012-06-28T20:31:50-04:00'
describe
'38299' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAE' 'sip-files00018thm.jpg'
4b87ea139f37c463a27cf570a7bb6bf3
3e8ab807693aea5d1b9e3f4cba1dc7080ec8862e
'2012-06-28T20:29:26-04:00'
describe
'78709' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAF' 'sip-files00194.QC.jpg'
f9386c842f71bedbe0476402750c98ef
0367a55d2bde3d27f254b29ee1938ce38df97678
'2012-06-28T20:28:01-04:00'
describe
'775168' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAG' 'sip-files00045.jp2'
e8c32a7f5212340f216b4e4e73b35869
abed73b15f260e8452e60771abfb71d3d572951a
'2012-06-28T20:33:40-04:00'
describe
'40815' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAH' 'sip-files00165.pro'
3cb36290285155940774bdc19ad5ba34
d2ffd7f3ccdae2ff0404b539f65409c97204687f
'2012-06-28T20:29:39-04:00'
describe
'185383' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAI' 'sip-files00192.jpg'
01c50185df651f18a666d6b90fe7446d
8cb4bb1f04dc770b4f266283820a7f7d7862678a
'2012-06-28T20:38:56-04:00'
describe
'6223836' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAJ' 'sip-files00153.tif'
e92ce8d402d309d8a721a0c2830f1da4
731c5f6e6b5c022a113096fd103d3ffe07614510
'2012-06-28T20:28:27-04:00'
describe
'38800' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAK' 'sip-files00058.pro'
acff465b3f74b4db332b44e81d25ef2e
803689f4f346774a9fd41c83dd7aac2b9abfbba4
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAL' 'sip-files00081.jp2'
5b1521029b6fe24588bcef14922b87fc
8e2fda9f617bd7c47ff5f15c04229813adf8e26b
'2012-06-28T20:32:20-04:00'
describe
'1436' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAM' 'sip-files00209.txt'
0e8a611e3ef375e7e5cd346d18b735d1
4a5aadaa5082708efe0bfc813d0313c94d5d8253
'2012-06-28T20:37:38-04:00'
describe
'74112' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAN' 'sip-files00171.QC.jpg'
cec2ece5a252c4bd39437f2dc6b1a079
6b65a2169701d3608fb599b4525b5c0a46158826
'2012-06-28T20:27:44-04:00'
describe
'172558' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAO' 'sip-files00097.jpg'
bf8e7b8043cfd664c8dae85f730897a7
5be14d75ce9bb83431aec0b5f91e690bbf623a2b
'2012-06-28T20:28:04-04:00'
describe
'182299' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAP' 'sip-files00034.jpg'
485e5a11492dfe559c3835590d4e02f9
99ef0ac1fb76761f3c2595f5585bef58f7b7c999
'2012-06-28T20:28:09-04:00'
describe
'53741' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAQ' 'sip-files00002.jpg'
fc998b3612274dcac7ebefd62868e194
a97aac0fb0af3143f85d09706679751b93aba188
'2012-06-28T20:32:16-04:00'
describe
'775114' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAR' 'sip-files00163.jp2'
dcd073ab626754cb08019814a79eacdd
fddc5a7cc0bf4a96e7208853401b386a83a05e0c
'2012-06-28T20:38:19-04:00'
describe
'36009' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAS' 'sip-files00076thm.jpg'
8d8387c6ac9bb40ef9204bf6fbd70151
261936ca6bf86c8bf736fb124d321cb4742dbecd
'2012-06-28T20:31:28-04:00'
describe
'775131' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAT' 'sip-files00013.jp2'
0f709533ef8b5c7ad5321edd77498e0b
d7aff1916e987ef2b24e4717bf580a41f029de84
'2012-06-28T20:31:23-04:00'
describe
'1715' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAU' 'sip-files00097.txt'
1669c88a14fbf70b90b1403974cffd4f
594475cd0ba1c7b95cef760e834259a27f535eb6
'2012-06-28T20:34:12-04:00'
describe
'35957' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAV' 'sip-files00121thm.jpg'
386f59fd2473673b78709c573cee67bd
7d2305550a5aa840cbff7f781771b8002ae9d980
'2012-06-28T20:36:06-04:00'
describe
'775155' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAW' 'sip-files00089.jp2'
4bd5be4bd29560f2e630bd245cb2a351
f732eaad60e7595b31fee449e8ac92060c664828
'2012-06-28T20:27:23-04:00'
describe
'1676' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAX' 'sip-files00154.txt'
4915da6f850065e9af41957ed258081c
7341ce1d665f55613f61ad8d9f23cab39498e2f8
'2012-06-28T20:35:30-04:00'
describe
'80158' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAY' 'sip-files00207.QC.jpg'
27c85a8e0acb4899d187c50c5be668ba
9553826f5c65e900ba5cdbf00a36614f55845e21
'2012-06-28T20:36:54-04:00'
describe
'175587' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASAZ' 'sip-files00027.jpg'
3fb2900ae7ef53b857de1d43ea8e5b47
5e1d370967e67d30097e0158a3f2cedb721decfb
'2012-06-28T20:38:18-04:00'
describe
'6223476' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBA' 'sip-files00064.tif'
0c4ea079f1f3534bba2ac3e973dcca6b
7a77a7d24d2becf2460ff4c6d9ad27f8476c5fa5
'2012-06-28T20:31:47-04:00'
describe
'33426' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBB' 'sip-files00209.pro'
615bb1ed8fe4bf0bc9d954dd678f04d1
a3e0bba732e4203dd17be690bbfa4d9ddc2f275f
'2012-06-28T20:36:15-04:00'
describe
'36806' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBC' 'sip-files00098thm.jpg'
db4e0f273bd19f25857b447d6d1db436
39ab523234eb0a5871dbe8d93d5c25833db845a9
'2012-06-28T20:34:39-04:00'
describe
'31782' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBD' 'sip-files00011.QC.jpg'
d8b2cbccfc0ab99f58753975499d4aff
2eea33ae4bff8398b74cd5794b05cd67010dc2ab
'2012-06-28T20:32:29-04:00'
describe
'75598' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBE' 'sip-files00034.QC.jpg'
8bc26fb384ffb2a9153c0f65d481b9ee
179f1b77cd1debdea8a4f673c55b0b3d88849eb0
'2012-06-28T20:36:38-04:00'
describe
'33315' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBF' 'sip-files00028.pro'
ed630f751e00b9fb5f8b85580df77ab7
4ab6103d3633bf258db1951f8bf1218f0b9d25e0
'2012-06-28T20:36:22-04:00'
describe
'1753' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBG' 'sip-files00132.txt'
39ad8e2a583d2c0a7d469e64eee32325
7159562d044631037799ba4412bf5bc6314dd3bc
'2012-06-28T20:34:05-04:00'
describe
'77185' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBH' 'sip-files00209b.QC.jpg'
46d4b5df45d95b0d5a41d46f1565828b
e1e95b49e6987bd8314630c84ebb8dfc3e335862
'2012-06-28T20:37:34-04:00'
describe
'187307' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBI' 'sip-files00204.jpg'
9ff3ec66a724f96f4cd31b6ca0f6c75d
297e22ca8b481061c047fb0cbf5689a4935b4822
'2012-06-28T20:36:26-04:00'
describe
'41329' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBJ' 'sip-files00126.pro'
3628a07d9b3c320ba6246a4b2c0748a7
ea7a64ef4b545c770ad0a4ce30b24bbb3f88c904
'2012-06-28T20:34:57-04:00'
describe
'1457' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBK' 'sip-files00198.txt'
ed2631155544ceb49815e6979bc76eaf
1eb7e758afb771bd8a8cfa8d38c42e25107be22f
'2012-06-28T20:34:18-04:00'
describe
'6224288' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBL' 'sip-files00026.tif'
dff7189907f03d6ebbca82518263c479
205035e7f44f65d8bdce539b0696bb6e64fe0c97
'2012-06-28T20:37:49-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBM' 'sip-files00168.jp2'
5d0122b6a206723ab0b132b37c11eb0b
588adeadb2b6d4a0984e1e5879599c014264db14
'2012-06-28T20:32:21-04:00'
describe
'6223712' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBN' 'sip-files00179.tif'
16b3486d0548b5a46da82c29fdf499d7
3b1a520112038d5639ad3d8b107bb12392e20595
'2012-06-28T20:36:20-04:00'
describe
'1697' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBO' 'sip-files00018.txt'
af8c12031ceef7454c926c9f7306042d
e19af252e04f1450c2e7fd70a60e3c30398324e1
'2012-06-28T20:30:03-04:00'
describe
'152849' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBP' 'sip-files00143.jpg'
a63ba25e933f2d254d60dd72bc70627e
78b20deb07fcc6885dae0f43bf5c9322861897fa
'2012-06-28T20:27:43-04:00'
describe
'40876' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBQ' 'sip-files00199.pro'
fe0cf450c04bb3ea90bcb50d0fc31bfd
5a0417f12fe3ba372ffe210cb7148989898f93f8
'2012-06-28T20:38:15-04:00'
describe
'39990' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBR' 'sip-files00075.pro'
55c5e51df59a597b69a5508b0354db17
ec88edfed00a26d49488914054e600ed4ab2d682
'2012-06-28T20:32:25-04:00'
describe
'40666' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBS' 'sip-files00190.pro'
0699a776a402f680fe2cb525cbec884c
0233ba5472050b158c957c550e687fc283ae27e2
describe
'154191' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBT' 'sip-files00062.jpg'
364cd224fb8042e32c2ab767a51d7614
c34b72f503415a78d08ead60edc04a50fae8e311
'2012-06-28T20:36:14-04:00'
describe
'6223884' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBU' 'sip-files00169.tif'
3ed6f2b592f519bcaef6903ad10f770c
4ed847ed85abc6e64bf7f5d0239d605c01452539
'2012-06-28T20:28:30-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBV' 'sip-files00142.txt'
323ad63cb63b3fb860f55a06f2441fda
b000816c5c79252f1455e20fef599cd6c4b46930
'2012-06-28T20:29:18-04:00'
describe
'171323' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBW' 'sip-files00105.jpg'
093edee07d29d97ec8545751707afdc6
7b50173f42207b8a01d0f7b9321a61333fe9a428
'2012-06-28T20:35:05-04:00'
describe
'775167' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBX' 'sip-files00128.jp2'
a59ab52cddc5559cf68c1245888954c3
99e8704338b377ec5f808c59cb5298e23d046b54
describe
'6224180' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBY' 'sip-files00020.tif'
27a3c3843ec8a7108b338ae7db608ab9
ee168d96c942a21f2348bd5fa553f114b8db1f6d
'2012-06-28T20:28:49-04:00'
describe
'68251' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASBZ' 'sip-files00143.QC.jpg'
2ad346370ce8a8c3de342a346defba4d
74c7a4ce7e797303916df93763998b12012dc9b1
'2012-06-28T20:28:13-04:00'
describe
'42496' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCA' 'sip-files00118.pro'
72303ba61172745dd0ac5a505fc66f35
505af2a9a0eeaa393b12b5688cca9fabc735f2fb
'2012-06-28T20:38:51-04:00'
describe
'775175' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCB' 'sip-files00068.jp2'
80db245345b255dd1b51ac64faeb94be
95e07483175b51149964470aff92ac8f470a6fb1
'2012-06-28T20:30:12-04:00'
describe
'220' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCC' 'sip-files00009.pro'
8873dc6c5f7ba7f209ea96498c19ac8a
5269879c485bfd429e5b97bbf0ca813f2b4f822d
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCD' 'sip-files00042.jp2'
b899f99381e70265c20a576a611b807c
2b370860197a09694512396b635e7044b8542458
'2012-06-28T20:32:36-04:00'
describe
'6223680' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCE' 'sip-files00192.tif'
efbc8b377c35627801010b50804007e4
cd38d0438507f6acb9192d88e70c3e258814d944
'2012-06-28T20:37:39-04:00'
describe
'775142' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCF' 'sip-files00130.jp2'
97f0ea3d8a2616983f4853a977bedb3d
a5fa98baef6468422ff7169a2063ff07e28befc2
'2012-06-28T20:34:47-04:00'
describe
'69216' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCG' 'sip-files00116.QC.jpg'
19ca07805dea0c267849afc029012282
103437e5d26d56dcc2c6cb57a6f05f5c7687753c
'2012-06-28T20:36:31-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCH' 'sip-files00121.jp2'
f63c7a3c0a3e0ef554b8550870cd5b92
10c3cbbb32de78d90eaa5c5ad9cf7625673485a6
'2012-06-28T20:28:16-04:00'
describe
'37495' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCI' 'sip-files00212thm.jpg'
24f723faa7ef7db973c66a94ab759905
926b811ca2c139bf9ff9fee21f130120e3c71089
'2012-06-28T20:27:34-04:00'
describe
'775148' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCJ' 'sip-files00051.jp2'
6c4efb8e7022fdf98458647712415495
0e325b46ffa74d3aa8973574833e8853387e651e
describe
'6223556' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCK' 'sip-files00213.tif'
560684a1639c5f2351bfa599659e8b38
bb85726537668a95b264e3e42c9229d5ebfe9fce
'2012-06-28T20:30:28-04:00'
describe
'36708' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCL' 'sip-files00038thm.jpg'
6d074133e62ad12ba53badc3b2cd9a3c
d67dd208540e43fb69718021d7e6da71b68019e0
'2012-06-28T20:28:53-04:00'
describe
'1133' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCM' 'sip-files00185.txt'
d12c45c856bc8c1f8a9c2152475407ff
72f02770466470bb1f0b09215de73bc7afb677c5
describe
'1724' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCN' 'sip-files00051.txt'
e8fc5c97d641555ab7dc97e4ade014ae
ce6cf7699ac3293862a8f70300ea44e2614c218e
'2012-06-28T20:30:52-04:00'
describe
'6223804' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCO' 'sip-files00028.tif'
7ccac060c6266889aecccfd028e7227f
5a4a317c6fc7429b1212ff29479521896b64030a
'2012-06-28T20:29:25-04:00'
describe
'775154' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCP' 'sip-files00064.jp2'
54eb9647cd2111ad5e8641a860d8bd41
00bd62f5057a15d68ee71a6710a86fbb63e7d57a
describe
'71651' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCQ' 'sip-files00167.QC.jpg'
c838f144282814e2d4c137cc34f7942b
c9627dea8ddf701d1c2a2261750d3411b29a1c1d
'2012-06-28T20:27:33-04:00'
describe
'775158' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCR' 'sip-files00189.jp2'
72fa4c3ba6bc791aa020e8328785a79f
53bf3c31171838f6ed68d4e952914556fc0f092f
'2012-06-28T20:38:48-04:00'
describe
'188523' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCS' 'sip-files00030.jpg'
88554c4631a97adc994ae4fe250302a1
25af27f18b26a7ff0219412e7de37a5f1536d004
'2012-06-28T20:32:48-04:00'
describe
'79380' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCT' 'sip-files00189.QC.jpg'
2fd6a1b371bb47e796b0c41e2988e5d5
06e6b26900bb832409dfaddbd65f9fe7fea9a85f
describe
'1749' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCU' 'sip-files00040.txt'
5c44a13e71661d8a60c5fb60704db605
76d0e382542eb36623cfbb04e6b22dbf8aa80de4
'2012-06-28T20:37:55-04:00'
describe
'77915' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCV' 'sip-files00102.QC.jpg'
466a16f6a4423ed203e7e68443512b3e
02dcd6a138878c989aa9fe6bee450908302dd4b7
'2012-06-28T20:34:33-04:00'
describe
'775118' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCW' 'sip-files00143.jp2'
0490590d325675be5109522bc31ef0eb
d2606a667767e8a2ae451342d7675e854536e989
describe
'36724' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCX' 'sip-files00214thm.jpg'
243a54016d31b7004e1c003f46e25015
20b0d060eb51768c62802520e25b0ff9f38cd230
'2012-06-28T20:38:24-04:00'
describe
'6224044' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCY' 'sip-files00056.tif'
c8ba979c2422e5f4113260f0dffdd50e
886123f3412d2ee7c22defcf29a049e1a23a71f8
'2012-06-28T20:32:46-04:00'
describe
'41374' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASCZ' 'sip-files00178.pro'
3a432acfcacca45fb983de2d9aea4e1c
5e419c9bd76841a52258ace42e0b5bb80377ab84
'2012-06-28T20:30:23-04:00'
describe
'8555976' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDA' 'sip-files00002.tif'
94d6fa1b2af11a0cac03b154d84f6f03
a6c5862f6d8cd5098db9e246ac807a93982771d6
'2012-06-28T20:36:41-04:00'
describe
'1696' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDB' 'sip-files00149.txt'
533a8bbc774e80fc7768778d307efe31
468dce62ba4e243cbf5e0924c50636e82d4866b7
'2012-06-28T20:38:11-04:00'
describe
'775161' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDC' 'sip-files00102.jp2'
494d52e70c15fa294c9baee116e07ad0
684cbd0dc9e9b00b692345e675ae9a1b9315aef9
'2012-06-28T20:35:58-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDD' 'sip-files00207.jp2'
ce63bc3e758f3a273fe03594cd6d286c
317914b8ec329fb67e381a3a2fb31a2fef339fc4
'2012-06-28T20:34:44-04:00'
describe
'75575' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDE' 'sip-files00188.QC.jpg'
244d28c952f7eceed3a4ac97afe506bb
d38c294f76f7a3d9830931d38bc53082b4d81b9c
'2012-06-28T20:31:07-04:00'
describe
'1783' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDF' 'sip-files00146.txt'
59601f2274fe4210c3983a980115439a
9870cc3d97f835c8c5c23a8b1977022425e90312
describe
'6223148' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDG' 'sip-files00143.tif'
d771aaf7b1fb7147d5bf297b7f5cb6b6
258428c8df7f55673731d4eeb132b6153f27108e
'2012-06-28T20:30:13-04:00'
describe
'181639' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDH' 'sip-files00055.jpg'
85d1693b2ed7c9aaf4091fad62556426
b022c84db220167770c01cfac7ccdc2f9b2745c7
'2012-06-28T20:36:07-04:00'
describe
'7658352' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDI' 'sip-files00008.tif'
ff7f0070c9760162b32ca35312531ae5
3268a0f8d8a4835edafca3e938dae3f241f1cc3f
describe
'177603' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDJ' 'sip-files00021.jpg'
8c97010e77d3053735c5ff5429cbf56b
b2bee0ac2b3be11c3199d4ccffadc46e4ff86c12
'2012-06-28T20:38:49-04:00'
describe
'178592' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDK' 'sip-files00078.jpg'
46d126c39b46dde03052665559403a73
c788c3bba3885c451eeea252da2a235c50f38385
'2012-06-28T20:27:48-04:00'
describe
'35341' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDL' 'sip-files00064thm.jpg'
d8ec3a7767d2809941b886a159588c34
f256ad665c76381ce651425fa9fc86608f366eec
'2012-06-28T20:35:22-04:00'
describe
'186988' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDM' 'sip-files00199.jpg'
fefbd76115bc2868ca39267d064f7e94
8c2e8f8b3ccb25b4cd4188ed8892f9cf1fd6c79d
describe
'6224232' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDN' 'sip-files00046.tif'
d2dbe3fb3485c63815d9de4e656d8f4a
1475c61e452254bc823c3014f62d596d47a7be9d
'2012-06-28T20:37:58-04:00'
describe
'1730' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDO' 'sip-files00121.txt'
9eb001a7e8e88046a17c01e367488c83
8e98d9960d59fe5155adb8662e1a8b9770fa0924
'2012-06-28T20:38:45-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDP' 'sip-files00133.jp2'
bc4a097304a16d37a76f6be8a8de12e1
8b461c069ecb91ab70bd235e1cbbf021b7c68dcd
'2012-06-28T20:35:46-04:00'
describe
'173871' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDQ' 'sip-files00039.jpg'
c6d22d25403002e0901f75c30c078d9b
78007b49906322fafcf0a6978686c658f46068ed
'2012-06-28T20:33:20-04:00'
describe
'6223968' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDR' 'sip-files00138.tif'
fec07c4e3a8fe5a722d7ea3752d5e8aa
33e1dd7730b9e8ceedd68df64cd48c9a0f9d857a
'2012-06-28T20:32:53-04:00'
describe
'158123' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDS' 'sip-files00167.jpg'
0ef3c44f31364de84c3818f003c64452
186851887ac81dbca75366bfb66e780045713bac
'2012-06-28T20:32:58-04:00'
describe
'33734' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDT' 'sip-files00099thm.jpg'
26c6409bbaa47be8d8ad620b604db65a
4b79d7a69e659e8e2d09df6e674d4d151a0e143f
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDU' 'sip-files00170.txt'
ecefebe73509e4c2298b4138a04e1b01
0090c0e6b5606df6da57eadcfaf9e23f8d4a95c2
'2012-06-28T20:37:18-04:00'
describe
'180581' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDV' 'sip-files00015.jpg'
b54ff55cab569a7045ebfc0fa735ffe9
7d507e729c9137c86ada1211383742774c13e61c
'2012-06-28T20:33:21-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDW' 'sip-files00054.jp2'
3686645d786e843beec5f23691fdfb59
599ffb82a62d45399d042f0513b3b28c69760af6
'2012-06-28T20:37:44-04:00'
describe
'34839' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDX' 'sip-files00099.pro'
855dc2409b936f991a63d593d9d639f2
81d6fc49a453c65bcad2f65040606967b940f711
'2012-06-28T20:31:00-04:00'
describe
'6224476' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDY' 'sip-files00018.tif'
99eb4a88b1784953c69be5e59ba7304d
5c010df29843344ab7bfc3b0b3bac6e2d64e6a26
'2012-06-28T20:30:47-04:00'
describe
'775144' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASDZ' 'sip-files00095.jp2'
3126a27abf792d8e56a84525f8bb5a86
d8b2491bbb815a325c53881abb6592b0732371b2
'2012-06-28T20:29:11-04:00'
describe
'627' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEA' 'sip-files00008.pro'
2c1682d9af0d6b216ec9437385b584d0
e0622822c0475f1b91f145d05797ecd177fa7d90
describe
'1454' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEB' 'sip-files00108.txt'
9193931ea08c76614be3cacfc6ee5ff4
6b82119bf2a4727665027d376b8867e8cf8a06d1
'2012-06-28T20:30:39-04:00'
describe
'43388' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEC' 'sip-files00117.pro'
2ceacc90242a130bcdcab761128994fa
041a66aef337536c2d6917880121d9836f461bcb
'2012-06-28T20:35:35-04:00'
describe
'79547' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASED' 'sip-files00211.QC.jpg'
81ed9bc9b7dc48877a24554469e43cb1
ae46608a9417983c65e9b6b8fac6ccb8332ad637
describe
'36839' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEE' 'sip-files00171thm.jpg'
b98d51f2972002ade573b130e2e19778
a3bf53223a1bfb47a3861aafac90c78d0d41df9a
'2012-06-28T20:29:36-04:00'
describe
'36369' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEF' 'sip-files00177thm.jpg'
85b861c03e1a8a00fa135952862bf6fc
0c961e8a5e9fccafcc1bfd20acf3dc22844871eb
'2012-06-28T20:27:58-04:00'
describe
'79232' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEG' 'sip-files00056.QC.jpg'
4452e101109e761218857ba9771c6dc6
5167ef572fa6ebc64987b956de3de00352b4ab68
'2012-06-28T20:32:26-04:00'
describe
'36291' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEH' 'sip-files00176thm.jpg'
543d52e234aadd09840de71e53fbe3e6
3e04dd48bb270ccc21d798c18945b38531a5356f
'2012-06-28T20:34:03-04:00'
describe
'34894' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEI' 'sip-files00060thm.jpg'
1a41842813f88164ab21f28b49faa885
d10074240e88a81f0b0bb999eeb4a0cca42e4555
'2012-06-28T20:30:58-04:00'
describe
'77584' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEJ' 'sip-files00095.QC.jpg'
da9f9fffc5865499855a0c23e8949336
0d674f07b943364b260ca134a1a9f9793d4d19d4
'2012-06-28T20:31:17-04:00'
describe
'40974' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEK' 'sip-files00204.pro'
59ce9dc7e66747d7aaf08a7405a266c5
ba38f54065f10f6dd085a9de326d0d3b4816d844
'2012-06-28T20:33:13-04:00'
describe
'36182' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEL' 'sip-files00061thm.jpg'
132e5840af309a6e710445825f5011ec
20c3af6705cfaca1e27e663a12770d99261a0fcb
'2012-06-28T20:33:37-04:00'
describe
'40178' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEM' 'sip-files00153.pro'
6af1ea90df702e0a6da5067d095e0106
496434e9a4ca842a285cd680880ba2243e1dac8c
'2012-06-28T20:33:02-04:00'
describe
'40' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEN' 'sip-filesprocessing.instr'
ccab69f3ae5a0bbe4e2d5ee5ee487d3f
18d279877d29ce958db7407a7fc358d4005816ba
'2012-06-28T20:29:54-04:00'
describe
'77649' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEO' 'sip-files00147.QC.jpg'
fb02aa193b679767a180ac7555ed7606
4b4162586dc89d6bb2ebd3bd5f72726678f11316
'2012-06-28T20:38:52-04:00'
describe
'1680' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEP' 'sip-files00055.txt'
fc0b4288c4fcd6295b7dd58ea33ec5ec
086c15518326ae86e3ead362508a911668e44eb0
describe
'180532' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEQ' 'sip-files00092.jpg'
81518fbf18dc230af4bc6e02973dbf3d
532f21e45bf2cee847e7bd87ecebda6b656d0353
'2012-06-28T20:30:32-04:00'
describe
'32797' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASER' 'sip-files00215.pro'
409029258b8e6f532a2d915d775f43ba
23768c7464f21c5b6a5aa0fc326ed158e3b36ca5
'2012-06-28T20:34:13-04:00'
describe
'1752' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASES' 'sip-files00093.txt'
1a1794b280af0947cf99654d19c3536a
b5e6d37a1606f31d4e42d2da8a0cd9f164eec567
'2012-06-28T20:37:06-04:00'
describe
'183263' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASET' 'sip-files00043.jpg'
ac03fe041b3288ee046586fc670d5825
7ad5c4d3bdcc5d71c86ab1482c713a08874f3bad
'2012-06-28T20:27:54-04:00'
describe
'191954' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEU' 'sip-files00036.jpg'
4bbc6b804f42a0f48f8331a2a2bf4743
3f51fbfe00afb470674ff3020e22a1295ab8928f
'2012-06-28T20:32:59-04:00'
describe
'37224' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEV' 'sip-files00050thm.jpg'
15577d0f4a88e56dd467d3ca74346239
b73f167cd91ec706c3da9b6879f869f5f8e6bfa5
'2012-06-28T20:31:16-04:00'
describe
'775139' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEW' 'sip-files00035.jp2'
eafd36c948f206aeb3f9ec19cdd28e39
f94edb44ff777f1dae0e50fea6f94e1796bf7e94
describe
'775098' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEX' 'sip-files00215.jp2'
da81bc4756c42fda485b768f7f64eba8
f6fd6186366575ac4dbd4c43beb91f4c25c18cb3
'2012-06-28T20:37:36-04:00'
describe
'183898' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEY' 'sip-files00045a.jpg'
2c201070c321a9ae04fb91b89c16774f
6eee6db3e421c2481285f77608301534d8935467
describe
'41702' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASEZ' 'sip-files00027.pro'
288dd898ae3135c2f9b03a4aca9e5835
85491a76cfc145e74f13da07b24de4e37cfd7a8a
describe
'6223572' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFA' 'sip-files00080.tif'
f453b2deefdccef508bc581095ef1949
e361cd236b3d8da14e656dd86e1800cb1fc55076
'2012-06-28T20:35:01-04:00'
describe
'78404' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFB' 'sip-files00202.QC.jpg'
0233e1123e4a0c16cc7ff2cfe0cb2f02
e495593995761d5219ada342463b80d6afd1386e
'2012-06-28T20:36:11-04:00'
describe
'41889' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFC' 'sip-files00189.pro'
aaac8ff7258d656209b3f8102a0ffef3
2e2a5905f194f9674ad6a741c3954b16bc1902b7
'2012-06-28T20:37:25-04:00'
describe
'194655' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFD' 'sip-files00211.jpg'
f110e013333a44fe77578e8e8bae4f7e
c0d90ad8ade377d12684491f57d2c35a3c8b5e2a
describe
'76959' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFE' 'sip-files00168.QC.jpg'
fc4ceb4a12618993ca1a0768912aff94
82e44d5a190f735b4e43729005a2ccf2a0fcce0e
'2012-06-28T20:30:46-04:00'
describe
'775085' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFF' 'sip-files00149.jp2'
f79f2ec88a5e13743f568f266609ff81
8346cba0a627ea0992b64602f9ab776bb0e92683
'2012-06-28T20:38:55-04:00'
describe
'6223992' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFG' 'sip-files00155.tif'
6a1b4f4fd8d543cab3eb964df4a995c9
fb84df248ed4457a2f7025f332da234ad6074cc4
'2012-06-28T20:33:58-04:00'
describe
'1750' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFH' 'sip-files00104.txt'
90565402778598e6e60fd546e8b8e0f6
7cd38d67d45cb53c83f40b5e51f3017505489538
describe
'775143' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFI' 'sip-files00046.jp2'
df7370be6659848d41888c69420eddc0
b559ac198cc1e9da1203a14f64c1ad45a365f03b
'2012-06-28T20:33:22-04:00'
describe
'38798' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFJ' 'sip-files00135.pro'
c9e0267c0cce43fe50729d47454849e3
0fffb4aef59a4e8e9f9534f0bef8fd13a4703d84
'2012-06-28T20:37:23-04:00'
describe
'775174' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFK' 'sip-files00049.jp2'
9a92e9314b4b3943ebcc82389c8763c8
56f32338220d84b4090e7d981ef7423bcbb31959
'2012-06-28T20:28:55-04:00'
describe
'40378' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFL' 'sip-files00156.pro'
8ae1edbc6994c0d0e3595755628024ce
4656e2f356bea104719a0f2794818f795d81ce8c
'2012-06-28T20:32:50-04:00'
describe
'6223620' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFM' 'sip-files00200.tif'
1da079cf2f2a8fc121ef65c0b80cde3a
71acb29f9ff0e7ee384a70b088ac7fa9caa98b88
'2012-06-28T20:33:33-04:00'
describe
'6223740' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFN' 'sip-files00038.tif'
8a0d9c93aa0e10528edb04492b15b85c
bdc86fc2ebe42a553aef2ef44ed8a352bf3a6c6f
'2012-06-28T20:29:48-04:00'
describe
'174299' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFO' 'sip-files00082.jpg'
cfa0c3255ec062760aae2c6588d353bb
007a2ab3e8288b5dc9392a9e34ef61e6a478d5c5
'2012-06-28T20:35:23-04:00'
describe
'181608' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFP' 'sip-files00025.jpg'
df3691c1a0ef5d1cd122edc3c66d99d1
2cc6f24e84ce5a1818a31341fae1a3d8c9af5fb1
'2012-06-28T20:33:27-04:00'
describe
'183223' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFQ' 'sip-files00026.jpg'
8969386894b029be68db3a9446ab34f3
1b2c1e73308db6347fa4306bd83d26ab3ee8f7d2
'2012-06-28T20:34:10-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFR' 'sip-files00078.jp2'
2d7972dbf278058bfde54da3bfd1d6b5
8374f0ade84c10ab984226fce13c5c670ba7dc2e
'2012-06-28T20:38:34-04:00'
describe
'42099' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFS' 'sip-files00015.pro'
84feb49744336507adbb8798987636b5
d0b908b9b91cbd41ac5626c3c89bd5e7df327877
describe
'38182' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFT' 'sip-files00037thm.jpg'
d689ff9154012741d987e2cf253331a2
468c1d722379faa84420b6ae290983c38dfea4e3
'2012-06-28T20:33:01-04:00'
describe
'61867' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFU' 'sip-files00206.QC.jpg'
b58dec212e6f320246aab21fb8d212e5
6d43ce32d17d58e14329bab71ef42b597dd04b2d
'2012-06-28T20:31:01-04:00'
describe
'75490' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFV' 'sip-files00055.QC.jpg'
b778215b6f4e100980428ed1bc841f49
1fe3b4ea34f3d839b18e3baf33c1c2f8e21c6435
'2012-06-28T20:29:16-04:00'
describe
'39806' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFW' 'sip-files00160.pro'
e3bbe45b68a80c63e87606a9ec9ffe90
d4f913b0b30225aca7bf5bd03dc792e20a90bc8f
describe
'6223464' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFX' 'sip-files00198.tif'
bb3d28c98ef07134862df3e002ce4ef8
5ff86eda13fdf44ac59a14d28ee8079591ee2e1a
'2012-06-28T20:29:20-04:00'
describe
'775165' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFY' 'sip-files00072.jp2'
0a6b55e7fcd6379d5d9b630bbafa9327
57eb2c34a20f35bf1fc204469247673dece0fc00
'2012-06-28T20:32:55-04:00'
describe
'775160' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASFZ' 'sip-files00141.jp2'
f13711da13a5cba49c4c77f0e39fdb60
ce3840bc49991354bc99e5f6e763a4b9e65b077b
'2012-06-28T20:27:39-04:00'
describe
'41119' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGA' 'sip-files00121.pro'
4aa1a3b390ab465739236fd730a1fa30
ab71cdc6548cf36e4ca7dbf38f320b9cd5fce631
describe
'20237' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGB' 'sip-files00007.jpg'
4f3cb526aa645b07631892e2f4ff7582
e189605651156c5ae44e07818c1fbe129b2b344a
'2012-06-28T20:32:43-04:00'
describe
'72460' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGC' 'sip-files00016.QC.jpg'
1f06344f7a49da8dfe0190f6361071d2
0d7949306cbf3e24f12f4d663db0b3a77b1ec3ca
describe
'58730' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGD' 'sip-files00062.QC.jpg'
c14cd5d5d88778231346b01e568adc94
0c4117cb464da753e7bcbfcee2e5f4570c916a4f
describe
'180401' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGE' 'sip-files00175.jpg'
06af0ce3749da74d1593366ce20d40c0
bc7079501d5bb13e4e96d3ad723ee2f224928f45
'2012-06-28T20:29:10-04:00'
describe
'37214' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGF' 'sip-files00078thm.jpg'
5ab5e4221e46736307fcf59b33551083
de6e29d495475bbd4623d61accd6ca3e2064716e
'2012-06-28T20:35:36-04:00'
describe
'41822' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGG' 'sip-files00083.pro'
752fc4bb5a20a1c16d53c6fa1233e013
7ad05da45a480d417082be5f395c67cdd3808a6e
'2012-06-28T20:32:06-04:00'
describe
'37892' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGH' 'sip-files00022thm.jpg'
da02f372f02271173ec0cad981c3be31
862e91059cffa7f3a888d00b9f4dd693701029cf
'2012-06-28T20:29:21-04:00'
describe
'39633' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGI' 'sip-files00214.pro'
2d600492ff047995ee45e66b55785682
48681e602703e0a6c7dac57b59ee4b7c9ee273f2
'2012-06-28T20:32:28-04:00'
describe
'1157' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGJ' 'sip-files00062.txt'
7cb2893a469395807b45fd4f8fd49b1c
3c5772be66893ebe359ef8211c823163ec8f56c8
'2012-06-28T20:37:56-04:00'
describe
'6224088' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGK' 'sip-files00031.tif'
f59ead7b54ae422b377d0571c51a7eb8
0f376ac781956c374f9f58252e2eb40970219d26
'2012-06-28T20:37:32-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGL' 'sip-files00075.jp2'
566780ea4b34e4f74f370d462dc294fe
62180974e1180003340edd47f5968e058f1fa961
'2012-06-28T20:27:25-04:00'
describe
'40954' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGM' 'sip-files00136.pro'
ec3113f4bc48df7c233fcb74c98dd81e
a2b4e483bbba51f1164681f2459b8455cbb333ca
'2012-06-28T20:30:09-04:00'
describe
'268' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGN' 'sip-files00011.txt'
c2f1ab8064d4ebb77a78fe87bf0d40e4
498dc470ff453a3ff0a5bbb1ac36437065292028
'2012-06-28T20:31:08-04:00'
describe
'179251' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGO' 'sip-files00141.jpg'
d66aeae81c7400182d5dc5f68282766e
da4dad3ba471c892b041ce3bf5cf53dd522e89c8
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGP' 'sip-files00058.jp2'
fa769f82a5d3c531f13c6e914f76249b
253e3c3320a04541b8d0d85e68585fff0c53c422
'2012-06-28T20:33:32-04:00'
describe
'76188' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGQ' 'sip-files00176.QC.jpg'
59d5095436e275cff4873dfb541bf433
2880cbc6160ab6d90940bdff252ec2f0c0c3c70b
describe
'68569' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGR' 'sip-files00081.QC.jpg'
368c18a83162428048616650cecdef64
c8762d400a41dc42b26e4ada13b3002c08b790c6
'2012-06-28T20:36:08-04:00'
describe
'40857' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGS' 'sip-files00053.pro'
06bba34f348ebc66c56e3415ec5d2bf3
3168c04feb8afe4b382ae7f2d9b6e121b2a405fd
'2012-06-28T20:36:44-04:00'
describe
'775113' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGT' 'sip-files00100.jp2'
fd0601e9b4d5b86eea90cada93ac85e3
cd93dfa44366b6d41224ac8103872f8e281a625a
describe
'36814' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGU' 'sip-files00189thm.jpg'
4d1a310f2f755b6581b749fd0f58b2a5
1a490c2f3160caaf041ecbb3f8b489adc0aa4d2b
'2012-06-28T20:36:36-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGV' 'sip-files00067.tif'
d8a15849b5f8a4487a3c5ab6717628af
f846b941b2da9e21c39e501ef80c841634379157
'2012-06-28T20:31:51-04:00'
describe
'186938' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGW' 'sip-files00084.jpg'
912e369664fefff64aaab4067fc79497
2d511eb0b0bd6100d534af9c578930c88d29257f
describe
'924899' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGX' 'sip-files00063.jp2'
9d0d3f07d9e1c895ed3191177e237a75
bd7df83830e92ac61c6ac198be93eb948e3e938e
'2012-06-28T20:29:51-04:00'
describe
'36337' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGY' 'sip-files00203thm.jpg'
8f5803ac9c97e63017eba010b58677b5
8873bd86673a7a6099f00f832b4692f62dc828e5
describe
'36949' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASGZ' 'sip-files00042thm.jpg'
2939f1c0de102598d76def69e7b19272
a587be5adacdd3978d7bbe1dfaeb797dde70901f
'2012-06-28T20:37:45-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHA' 'sip-files00023.tif'
60e17ee2c1a48c56ee20c0c1b45cabdf
955c0a7f0129ac18c8087a15395daa4565b3c65e
'2012-06-28T20:38:21-04:00'
describe
'36821' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHB' 'sip-files00117thm.jpg'
3ccb6ab5d15dc8c9f2d819aa1735ea54
bed7f944741ec6c56a585e405faf68dbab15eac1
describe
'26945' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHC' 'sip-files00062thm.jpg'
b731c8f1c53fb3b6af15515487b2921b
0194654e71ad8a93ef283e74a14a0a2c9516f9cd
'2012-06-28T20:32:08-04:00'
describe
'117802' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHD' 'sip-files00013.jpg'
908350071f31dcfcbea878bf56cae375
01da9a081ea5715795996546cf3f65a018338f25
'2012-06-28T20:38:26-04:00'
describe
'1700' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHE' 'sip-files00145.txt'
82f6cc8319c1b956c5d8f1dd3c53441d
2c514f8054410351d6936ef73a20d1d5dcdd3bcc
'2012-06-28T20:36:34-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHF' 'sip-files00203.jp2'
cb5b95cf3961a7d00ff43b7959ae2cea
d641753420b2e60fb0f2da79899463e21c715140
'2012-06-28T20:34:46-04:00'
describe
'66408' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHG' 'sip-files00174.QC.jpg'
4d298f920e84d6160b5d26bc75b00cdf
a821005a732a93dcbb864fd80e45f547361d4222
'2012-06-28T20:29:24-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHH' 'sip-files00098.txt'
09b1304382759b25f056ad28576b7a9d
d68e849397adceec2729842388f9ad013f2b8970
describe
'1742' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHI' 'sip-files00024.txt'
ee81fd92dbf7cc6065799319ee4a1517
853c512095fbd144ec6e042fc6aac3bbed1143bb
describe
'6223664' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHJ' 'sip-files00061.tif'
b6ad8616fd45464eb09ea4f3fcac2df7
a6fd192499c11d510b0f68ba2ff909d4bcc31614
'2012-06-28T20:28:24-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHK' 'sip-files00166.jp2'
669b9429a5643d889bc72521495c958e
1581a7ed654403940b4ad6649fecc26cddd3d54d
describe
'7420984' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHL' 'sip-files00063.tif'
0b4b9657ebb1b7382f4b6f9cdec25ab1
3b04707c77869455cc6b2e06ddc399ccf89978c0
'2012-06-28T20:31:44-04:00'
describe
'1603' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHM' 'sip-files00187.txt'
c683663b7bd0ea201ccd658d81113bde
713871f55830944695d350f6820b37914574fa0b
'2012-06-28T20:36:33-04:00'
describe
'6224660' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHN' 'sip-files00014.tif'
6e68bb2eb98f6f87b1cb443a134512c3
764bef33ae44c2099c15531008c96c377f73781c
'2012-06-28T20:37:12-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHO' 'sip-files00036thm.jpg'
1436d612d6ec83fc32ba88ba70108039
303bb6a0d7f6771367a769dcdab37c33293e547f
'2012-06-28T20:31:29-04:00'
describe
'42071' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHP' 'sip-files00172.pro'
653100f430d8655f61d5e6c083e0777f
6bebaa8ef4d37458acfe3dbfffbe0442951c1ea0
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHQ' 'sip-files00101.jp2'
054365f26c5be8c0974a0244a1ada01c
735cb51d7a02a6b4048343f3d67396bef6fc906a
'2012-06-28T20:39:00-04:00'
describe
'775116' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHR' 'sip-files00028.jp2'
4918c82d775a900c317d6d9957dacdc6
e426ec01036a43c6302ef39ea5f186e5d756e2c1
'2012-06-28T20:38:29-04:00'
describe
'77516' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHS' 'sip-files00093.QC.jpg'
8cd250cebadfb650378d34d803d4b09c
d78096cc7a0833e27e5597030d246311a0c0fd99
'2012-06-28T20:38:39-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHT' 'sip-files00209a.jp2'
9d9ef485fc7317d58fd1808a0bcc3781
08496a813bb90a99e905a0ff2ef29eda0b78881c
'2012-06-28T20:31:54-04:00'
describe
'6223044' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHU' 'sip-files00099.tif'
7a76b574d40df35fcbd0d26cdefc9b6f
d8b3a45cf081f35f99a3fb4d9dce0a60256c0cd3
'2012-06-28T20:29:05-04:00'
describe
'177337' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHV' 'sip-files00073.jpg'
97cadc8f104d4af65ac4913f5d4948b3
ec74a00a83ad5c70467e900bdce486252ea3ff5e
'2012-06-28T20:34:50-04:00'
describe
'1717' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHW' 'sip-files00085.txt'
4ce3ff5cc6800f8535ee391e2100a7c5
55b3e503ab0b272bee2f06585b74505c25b5a7af
'2012-06-28T20:32:05-04:00'
describe
'775128' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHX' 'sip-files00129.jp2'
12829d111089796ccc46b757a5ca39ed
347702627baffa93c55fc50d3df2e6e3311d134e
'2012-06-28T20:37:43-04:00'
describe
'33719' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHY' 'sip-files00071.pro'
1f63863bd0def019fb094cbdfb31e9be
5e91dcec54b7e00e9152146f33083dd351f13dec
'2012-06-28T20:30:48-04:00'
describe
'775104' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASHZ' 'sip-files00169.jp2'
9986dc825684f742a800d57969a6bc69
6022568c5e3ff646d34b54d171d0628bcc118ae0
'2012-06-28T20:38:08-04:00'
describe
'27141' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIA' 'sip-files00062.pro'
9bad3247e8f4a5a6ce981ed5bbeea18f
78c84a6a5d7f9e26cd3f13adfc5c457197e13d8f
'2012-06-28T20:31:56-04:00'
describe
'40213' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIB' 'sip-files00030.pro'
832e646078b609454e3d51b2fafa8a7e
6ec8bdffca8e7778f1efb5ff9b580e3ea525eefc
describe
'1740' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIC' 'sip-files00169.txt'
1d6dc9dbed52824c1d795106eea65d36
53c3cb52ad8dfbf7f55ee62197ccb7ae5b295b3d
describe
'6223896' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASID' 'sip-files00095.tif'
41e7f037d9f01ec1310b485e8207090b
1bed5f84bc4ba3d19ba79e8f516423d53681cebd
'2012-06-28T20:32:02-04:00'
describe
'158615' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIE' 'sip-files00135.jpg'
72fe57b88c8d1c7484084d4e092549fa
8c051aa2bd2b1cde814427041366e09cb64b7386
'2012-06-28T20:27:59-04:00'
describe
'30637' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIF' 'sip-files00013thm.jpg'
c0bc283b4eadbd7bbe74376eedfe9a68
23e9909b1f6581db9f820d373949a19a76a0ef24
'2012-06-28T20:31:34-04:00'
describe
'182022' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIG' 'sip-files00186.jpg'
e2667972ea2d97ad68b2be9fbeb4fca0
9adf2464834b5c85e156639ba40e0a353cc7170d
'2012-06-28T20:30:44-04:00'
describe
'6223448' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIH' 'sip-files00122.tif'
e74481c76b1e87c711e0961f8b17c5d6
564d77e7db1aa4a01aedec39401efe9b90ada567
'2012-06-28T20:34:38-04:00'
describe
'76027' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASII' 'sip-files00088.QC.jpg'
24e8274feddc6f4c712d579d01bfb317
c0544182a75107ec897166ad10c1f16cd5a898f0
'2012-06-28T20:39:02-04:00'
describe
'6223788' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIJ' 'sip-files00040.tif'
bea411777b2f78dc9beb2a234c59d2c1
581d643b9cae888b007974105e2f6092744fc88c
'2012-06-28T20:38:59-04:00'
describe
'196' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIK' 'sip-files00002.txt'
14e7b9b3ab67eb67d0ee1019f52f2bff
20a85c680cf0cf2db8b9d53083d8af68bee73ce6
'2012-06-28T20:30:29-04:00'
describe
'182761' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIL' 'sip-files00133.jpg'
939978f37170d65cfb78fce250dcae3f
4a85aeaf329029c4f992bcc333fa9214468285a5
'2012-06-28T20:37:41-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIM' 'sip-files00032.jp2'
041dc7478d82fa5b3079056d7e8181cb
28a7b0645f805863583f0e62fb0bed502d34d821
describe
'37571' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIN' 'sip-files00195thm.jpg'
1b59b13b1d9bc74853e4dfdc21f33041
b9182a00faa431af3788719d0f28f3a268bbc9e0
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIO' 'sip-files00115.tif'
475a7a658b6ea1540ebe5fe65e0522ee
ddffa8184cd380eda8af757c1e9b4de3134c73d5
describe
'41625' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIP' 'sip-files00031.pro'
21def3cd832cd98183ff9f88fdd62756
bc15f3a8cdd2e4750c1e7c32fcdfcfa0d506f085
'2012-06-28T20:38:05-04:00'
describe
'775137' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIQ' 'sip-files00024.jp2'
046f7677727d33e4a5d428fe90f35d42
15389df67148686027bc90304ce0eb76739b8208
describe
'1744' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIR' 'sip-files00088.txt'
e15480fb0bac98b1f3cf3cf41cb5f1aa
6d368bcc39fe97f2098508f6df2dba750791b636
'2012-06-28T20:33:49-04:00'
describe
'78964' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIS' 'sip-files00140.QC.jpg'
a2f962d8c0825250a28a84b03ce1c74d
0a1995d8ebe9e940cf60fbfd29d3046cff80646f
'2012-06-28T20:36:30-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIT' 'sip-files00177.jp2'
e55816d4b603af4884b048d4e359226a
c168a00ae3ee9ff1aba1431a673184632bb758c3
'2012-06-28T20:31:57-04:00'
describe
'1645' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIU' 'sip-files00194.txt'
975d2c8eec18a3a9e96baf48db6daee6
b2fda950866a18b947b8f695c1f8257f1c49aeec
'2012-06-28T20:34:23-04:00'
describe
'1654' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIV' 'sip-files00094.txt'
edc8d2473078455916e39a4d658f98b6
2872e39e0d2284a2b9fb1e7359bf72bf1e0d7b6d
describe
'775169' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIW' 'sip-files00147.jp2'
b48f2347194652b23c5503c9f0bf37af
e42f2d3f4b42b6f3e14d487b23b98c76f25aa334
'2012-06-28T20:27:32-04:00'
describe
'36347' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIX' 'sip-files00204thm.jpg'
6bfa00d6b56f4bda1454363d256cd95f
571ba886c38bc4318781abe7dbf2cc8c9f5f4f91
describe
'775132' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIY' 'sip-files00039.jp2'
7d99a0ff5e9d9f5d7c2d92c422d8fc42
826a99c07032d9f3785784c76d0adc623dc93aa0
'2012-06-28T20:30:24-04:00'
describe
'37620' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASIZ' 'sip-files00020thm.jpg'
ad8d18b66539ba122f6cd90795b1af8a
25698afa8834feef248f8c8a857a9b656e02179b
'2012-06-28T20:35:26-04:00'
describe
'6224352' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJA' 'sip-files00136.tif'
a6e16cf9a585a2547effdde55a872778
8f3d161609930f98dac8ab7fe28e09f941b5b2ac
'2012-06-28T20:32:33-04:00'
describe
'41513' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJB' 'sip-files00079.pro'
02dc1a83f7fe22b354c052365dddd353
8193afa0c34d2799b7d01a6a8906889caadaff44
describe
'73126' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJC' 'sip-files00058.QC.jpg'
ad57c8ac46404e94d0a17bc22d96c23f
21e6e7fa63823b0553eb9380c6060c0cbe946b37
'2012-06-28T20:35:41-04:00'
describe
'36370' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJD' 'sip-files00172thm.jpg'
8838c656a945059fc9f5cc00cfd56b57
6030a4e5126f6d40e3774760bfe7ed698e179b47
'2012-06-28T20:33:09-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJE' 'sip-files00026.jp2'
21caa41e46b1756738f10d0eca1a645e
4588a7222a84445a60e92a838bbb9e36a9dd1d08
'2012-06-28T20:28:50-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJF' 'sip-files00156.txt'
88678f87b18eb4e8146f04613be005eb
a0ca1cfcd9e228a8bd635c417ff8d930284f80ce
'2012-06-28T20:33:14-04:00'
describe
'41265' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJG' 'sip-files00021.pro'
95fe4128f95daea31a2915a3446b870e
91045d5514851474811e247e8c475bc54da8b843
'2012-06-28T20:30:19-04:00'
describe
'6224116' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJH' 'sip-files00133.tif'
a047ac04f3d8d55e8aed5373d0457f5d
9d1aa8722dba9f4332cdff9c7115aaa5f9f0dc8e
'2012-06-28T20:30:16-04:00'
describe
'40278' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJI' 'sip-files00066.pro'
f32643351a0b448c15eb96488ed0229e
0eac98713cf4496c709a0138be531855fafdeded
describe
'76784' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJJ' 'sip-files00078.QC.jpg'
126f9e24a8c17b48f80ee5483ac0284f
e5ee904337da7f5588168cbcb8fff5e4819847cd
describe
'172357' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJK' 'sip-files00187.jpg'
6cf1944fd45551def15d644eb2c31a49
c312221cd0e2672c4144250246efdd7edf514f3d
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJL' 'sip-files00053.jp2'
ae148a557edc45c08f4f86b79ac1b8ab
f1785a249a899da47a762166f0d6ccd90972867c
describe
'36436' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJM' 'sip-files00179thm.jpg'
b4eaf7d2024d7b9f65f34c78e9356ee3
7eab6a20d03d9131196cdf94acd9ecf096ed2fee
'2012-06-28T20:35:57-04:00'
describe
'775121' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJN' 'sip-files00086.jp2'
61791c9ec2bb0317b26dc94f13da0284
82dbf1c6cc90f2a2d106a0f7f78f0b556fde38cb
describe
'70166' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJO' 'sip-files00209.QC.jpg'
28cb2073f59132ae379d796dde7753e6
23a032237a6cf7ca3013976b14894a4556d34868
'2012-06-28T20:34:59-04:00'
describe
'41363' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJP' 'sip-files00127.pro'
993fce521bdf3ad5d1f1277387dee667
e650f8b74370487cd89d8831a8f8e73a984574ce
describe
'181086' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJQ' 'sip-files00170.jpg'
9ee2671d5e15bb51d0782bfc13147d6c
8001f1505dc256861796b742bf18b879daa9e48a
describe
'51639' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJR' 'sip-files00011.jpg'
a3af935ae89e2e8983e7c1c42c0aaf12
7e71a3205cb18a84012998ea75e04e479338f181
describe
'75799' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJS' 'sip-files00125.QC.jpg'
e24483f123d07c7c7c67d0182e8816c6
9025945c74c0a249408cc546aefe08bf8e14edc3
'2012-06-28T20:33:31-04:00'
describe
'79138' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJT' 'sip-files00195.QC.jpg'
26df85b84dfbdd69c3c4b7599388f265
c1a4d433576a40356e24f1c9356988c8d158cba4
'2012-06-28T20:34:40-04:00'
describe
'75300' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJU' 'sip-files00121.QC.jpg'
12fc6d8e0127b39c6fd70ddd3e7b6561
3aae88990c1840117c16426aaa8a6bcd76fb2602
'2012-06-28T20:38:17-04:00'
describe
'6224280' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJV' 'sip-files00132.tif'
df39046fe8aa92d568eb18731a2d190c
b894a27ceab5f2057744e1994d2f5c244daf6405
'2012-06-28T20:36:58-04:00'
describe
'32693' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJW' 'sip-files00206thm.jpg'
f90876e8e7861dd7d4ece763b3d6f42d
ccf2261c8575b8061736ccb71a2fa577294a6e0b
'2012-06-28T20:28:57-04:00'
describe
'42293' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJX' 'sip-files00064.pro'
a2ae38a71577f7d18aa6b7abfcfa2dd1
a2ba6c62ae541d60ff0ffc7a55ae8c78cf72e871
'2012-06-28T20:31:33-04:00'
describe
'775156' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJY' 'sip-files00111.jp2'
f892976a507e59d6a055929dcb6ddf87
7dc461ab911d8af2a0cb82a147243d75e5403647
'2012-06-28T20:37:00-04:00'
describe
'1737' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASJZ' 'sip-files00125.txt'
c77a4e2aa69b780611351c6ca978b291
2308a901ecd5a8015aff8d2aafb5647b76dce504
'2012-06-28T20:27:46-04:00'
describe
'6223904' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKA' 'sip-files00125.tif'
aa56eb1ca8c3d3e9741e530dda143e2a
9efef800265035f18c376672356f8a366ae34de3
'2012-06-28T20:38:04-04:00'
describe
'40527' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKB' 'sip-files00124.pro'
9bc05a6583a1792779888fb876b2b117
a926c975d2a99b955b8c092471cab86bd7f6a577
'2012-06-28T20:34:54-04:00'
describe
'1747' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKC' 'sip-files00017.txt'
1bdf710832dd59a2a75ad756f3634b83
b21b81efdef5a8da1e630af9c37674f39cb6ee4c
describe
'6223800' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKD' 'sip-files00126.tif'
6d3ab7f76c937af01c0d01598eacde9c
8de2868c55e0b3405cc9d4e97e0ce242a42f83e0
'2012-06-28T20:31:46-04:00'
describe
'74836' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKE' 'sip-files00085.QC.jpg'
5aae2581584fedd753c0afb3a6130075
7aa75b3cc9149093cd7471422cb255d76f164462
describe
'6224172' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKF' 'sip-files00191.tif'
8e2a9628ce3e47f79f227af3eeba0177
f441a4029a64ad0887314d2764bf08c5378fbe25
'2012-06-28T20:30:26-04:00'
describe
'38032' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKG' 'sip-files00031thm.jpg'
e516dc8bc60c31b24628ad9acf48b30c
5c42f1c13d0fab4e2f619f58f5a189b1a228d93e
'2012-06-28T20:32:30-04:00'
describe
'6222776' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKH' 'sip-files00206.tif'
1a4f103a30d9fa87d2060881c3ae4e73
3eb8b60dbbff5a1865b178798022cc87926108e7
describe
'6224556' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKI' 'sip-files00030.tif'
89869e5c22ed4d03345fca184132f2a3
861631fc70a30ab0afb85092af4208318fd3741f
'2012-06-28T20:31:31-04:00'
describe
'40765' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKJ' 'sip-files00155.pro'
3ad334339ec45a1b60453b09f183f4ba
bb17994f05e74e1b03a3ad8ad95929962ecfb05d
'2012-06-28T20:28:42-04:00'
describe
'36989' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKK' 'sip-files00146thm.jpg'
c87c0552d0619efe53610f77c380d656
850583d90d0aa9d4075728c1ab5f281d2b9bd8a4
'2012-06-28T20:36:01-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKL' 'sip-files00056.jp2'
8f220c579ada5d8b7e156d91f0cba7a2
9e54864ba75277947d338d29b53b7d07792e33e7
'2012-06-28T20:37:54-04:00'
describe
'172' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKM' 'sip-files00183.txt'
5f65dfcb61ba174d1a278551a42edc72
5ebf769aaed0e7bd8e85e3f6f31abfffdd45d608
'2012-06-28T20:36:48-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKN' 'sip-files00207.txt'
78317988484f685edce303bfe0a044c8
1ecadfc6dc9ffa5359fffaaca3c6fbe3755c0c4e
'2012-06-28T20:28:21-04:00'
describe
'177313' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKO' 'sip-files00023.jpg'
aa64facdc9e2e0f7f1a728f032a4e807
753df1b2ac73172146fe39cfc67d6f00fe63f89c
'2012-06-28T20:29:22-04:00'
describe
'1704' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKP' 'sip-files00050.txt'
2946bf018bfa7663e807533966fd8174
9cc332c8046b6956e0795b23e6b6e31fd3db2a62
'2012-06-28T20:28:05-04:00'
describe
'40686' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKQ' 'sip-files00107.pro'
03c14cc198457cf000c1f6501cfc6a27
2f52be57e980d9d4be7bed6ef25c4c560aa129af
'2012-06-28T20:33:52-04:00'
describe
'187268' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKR' 'sip-files00140.jpg'
4167c618eb6ca5f998b1103531b212b9
eec9c612273091643738071efc76829f6ab4a160
'2012-06-28T20:32:39-04:00'
describe
'175068' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKS' 'sip-files00169.jpg'
d8ba022be205299b561df29b5a0c1215
1430a4b22443d202b3ddc41ef6439e10b04d9e62
'2012-06-28T20:38:10-04:00'
describe
'36281' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKT' 'sip-files00129thm.jpg'
4d0fa33befcf63ca2a5498e4b6b1f464
ce762c9b8096cbbe0f74cb2549cb4bc0eaa80c6e
describe
'41078' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKU' 'sip-files00175.pro'
55a465611f3e579884c23a8595903535
a4e978b728561aa09caf50e5eb47eecfb94c365b
describe
'41377' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKV' 'sip-files00140.pro'
1345db41b72ad3fccac08a31d23b5523
efb6eab51fb6d5c5b23a9631d7382dbcb8e70fff
'2012-06-28T20:32:44-04:00'
describe
'42235' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKW' 'sip-files00025.pro'
23e4617b88e33da19b1ba1768bf2118e
bb16e29329e27843e3e33b8eeae1b1dd27b77c18
describe
'37120' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKX' 'sip-files00066thm.jpg'
f516782e45aa29d599c34e493ff34139
d29209e9e384fac2fbdc91998666cd8cb3c3f04e
'2012-06-28T20:32:37-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKY' 'sip-files00195.tif'
494f7b89b77c27a79a57e287999ea4dd
c3a9f0acb20df3211cea7ca317f4e8c125757688
describe
'184328' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASKZ' 'sip-files00069.jpg'
09d92db8afc83db33ca49285444dcf47
8409f6f8b8c8b2b4ec4c9683d72be1689e2a0323
describe
'78885' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLA' 'sip-files00025.QC.jpg'
7e5dfe27bc6781c49f69b77fc0db0608
6d00ceeb0c1fb5fde907fbc37bf9896ac1c469f1
describe
'1707' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLB' 'sip-files00136.txt'
a1a34bfb2cb4c1b347b13b7d89ac291e
06019500364a678ecd66eaefb231a4dbb238c4f8
'2012-06-28T20:30:56-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLC' 'sip-files00021.jp2'
569a812fae94fc9b98508c81ece02fb8
c8900318c57a1e6bb45c50e6734c816972b4903c
'2012-06-28T20:37:02-04:00'
describe
'775107' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLD' 'sip-files00091.jp2'
525ed307173501f1d2626b394a196178
065af97baef6b15a17627679914c2dfac25ed350
'2012-06-28T20:31:45-04:00'
describe
'902' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLE' 'sip-files00180.txt'
c3b8b4403a865381192232fb6688f89a
e7ecc054f37643d8691b51bbc31c8e1f26f923c8
'2012-06-28T20:33:24-04:00'
describe
'76016' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLF' 'sip-files00107.QC.jpg'
03d7f616519e09ce9ee0026ad3a4961e
c6c21389a08febce69285b6dc1bfdcd29c5f166a
'2012-06-28T20:34:17-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLG' 'sip-files00193.tif'
907f439bbfda60844158b1885882dc7d
f2bdc92db5937f7a69b2c6af0bddde0e5251b76d
'2012-06-28T20:35:31-04:00'
describe
'36457' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLH' 'sip-files00112thm.jpg'
12432b53e4d4f6d7efaed42747c9e631
12e9b71d8f0f3004d0086a658b37126755c56c28
'2012-06-28T20:30:36-04:00'
describe
'1659' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLI' 'sip-files00214.txt'
b62bce637e05ec6cb0f5cfa512d8193e
20b99bd98347b466df94298ce325b7bc4e4840d6
'2012-06-28T20:33:00-04:00'
describe
'36472' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLJ' 'sip-files00157thm.jpg'
827f2c89073441f854241bb1010dbe9c
43fdf72d2d0b943dd903c9597715f743d830c7c3
'2012-06-28T20:35:13-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLK' 'sip-files00202.pro'
d723958d21c1adb14d093db9ff647a55
91c2236c438ec3e70960a4c6fa6c276ec1b3348a
'2012-06-28T20:34:52-04:00'
describe
'77786' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLL' 'sip-files00214.QC.jpg'
1245df37bd37cf3491f87b4e503b418e
7c48b770be5ffc19a0478bc41317fcaddcb32fe7
describe
'6223984' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLM' 'sip-files00053.tif'
075a17a0fd292a63a70ccffe68863d40
f5e69c8f499a2317035fc81135d2423c280166f1
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLN' 'sip-files00102.txt'
86c748aaf76e8faa665d47fb851478e9
fe0d0055633fc8027e4f553441a1dac73b8e58bf
describe
'79588' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLO' 'sip-files00132.QC.jpg'
3c0b895acd23b205c0e2e52a06b2e21e
c081b7c3f85957d44af158363196ac704ae38672
describe
'185830' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLP' 'sip-files00214.jpg'
bfa07208dedea96da4f08c5fa5dd234b
42a2315c215a0a8082e0d4694d539715aed7baf0
describe
'79843' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLQ' 'sip-files00067.QC.jpg'
b8e3aceb38c09402d30d8534199bd5f9
c270efe6dde707f11978d7933a35fdfd27936641
'2012-06-28T20:35:11-04:00'
describe
'1726' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLR' 'sip-files00131.txt'
32d358afddd0c5f5500158aa5e7ef240
9fb37f4a1801cb227fb3ebaa88a37056c61f552f
describe
'38434' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLS' 'sip-files00032.pro'
706ea24be4ea81aac29e876bc47d0fff
f369132d08e93e59cf05c26a912b7dd590ca82a3
'2012-06-28T20:33:05-04:00'
describe
'6223224' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLT' 'sip-files00205.tif'
261e471cdcad6816b328d9cbb7d2d1f9
56a9d47245710c53fe9ee6eb7ee4ab8aadcb6d16
'2012-06-28T20:38:09-04:00'
describe
'6223824' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLU' 'sip-files00059.tif'
caafd7fe2dffe8fcd85827e5a6801caf
99fed09fd2c4c2e513f968e3d513d1cc3e4a3c88
'2012-06-28T20:38:22-04:00'
describe
'6224228' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLV' 'sip-files00207.tif'
dcff345a7417fe9472f12497e46562cd
e0480fb0a9882e9b73b6bb1d9cc7548217fbd926
describe
'775147' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLW' 'sip-files00197.jp2'
52680595e244589cafa61b2d89e654c1
3cdd476d0a34d98d913683a984381f2c71d9016e
describe
'1762' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLX' 'sip-files00070.txt'
c7edaaf05bcce0ac11cd145845857566
d4a1f12ad36fab0aa291ec596264b41af5b70df9
'2012-06-28T20:33:38-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLY' 'sip-files00107.jp2'
195b7cc9236591c6f2fc66821fdaf448
532c7c54c591cff0c11d9b20f8c09cf3fdeb1229
describe
'775115' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASLZ' 'sip-files00080.jp2'
77da02a9404947eb5c7e6ac0c4d663f0
fe4cc4cf42f23840ca00016b520d6c559ab1072f
'2012-06-28T20:38:44-04:00'
describe
'1683' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMA' 'sip-files00078.txt'
ff1420092ae3dda60b9232121e4e1016
650356edb4286c13f491496a9bdc03dc5a4e7025
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMB' 'sip-files00194.jp2'
41852da029b08974f678bc2884ed722e
d27c3f3cb49b952dbbd7c30272c8a21585c131e0
describe
'36843' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMC' 'sip-files00075thm.jpg'
253e7f0a61f4b20f9d5733ed0208e3a2
eed91e0d1f4984136169174eee27ca4f21964157
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMD' 'sip-files00107.txt'
bf4582e2fe87add723ec9a4e45cdbd95
28c66f144440ff554c40c938cc07078642bf405f
'2012-06-28T20:27:18-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASME' 'sip-files00088.jp2'
3b763ee4e08a0ae7a34247cad836687e
5c4305a9d27c32912333b7a89f4655142ef7406b
'2012-06-28T20:28:12-04:00'
describe
'182256' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMF' 'sip-files00042.jpg'
44f1d1c49b7693336e65b5f9438b5b11
3e51ef761bea7b7cb0e7193c30686d8acf674886
'2012-06-28T20:29:14-04:00'
describe
'29426' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMG' 'sip-files00180thm.jpg'
addccbf4dcea17694ef5daa3ec170c86
e6e576551c97560f67e591cf6d85bca318b2dc43
'2012-06-28T20:34:16-04:00'
describe
'37406' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMH' 'sip-files00104thm.jpg'
5f298a02a46dbe4dcdb228a2cfaf0d60
fc5084e2aaafbb6cf7159ecd93a9c68b209d4d19
'2012-06-28T20:37:16-04:00'
describe
'41051' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMI' 'sip-files00045a.pro'
975765504633ec9d415928075144e2f7
9ad3d439d06e06d807376d15ec77000aff9a2126
describe
'180056' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMJ' 'sip-files00148.jpg'
f6f6e848e4347dc31e876710edfeaefa
c48df9f4e4ad75d2ff52836a3f970c18e1532a23
'2012-06-28T20:35:44-04:00'
describe
'6223700' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMK' 'sip-files00090.tif'
d6e1600c0f89bbe4057624d5e7bdfaf9
3f2c75e95d5f8d623a56ac0b9979d1ebe032a3a2
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASML' 'sip-files00148.txt'
309d838236634057ba6befa4014a95b8
9e9b55806f41cb32bc8631323eb8288a03507003
describe
'1729' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMM' 'sip-files00150.txt'
9fd77d2efdc8725f216a35efe6d7fd15
20c75b3306a4ee92dd1134f7c6a76faead56bd88
'2012-06-28T20:38:50-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMN' 'sip-files00067.jp2'
4d64ceb84df87e50b894274d9e8aa23e
9827577fa555304534fe38b4a31465ab9d2736cb
'2012-06-28T20:36:16-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMO' 'sip-files00047.jp2'
fc4a629dfb9c26fbbd0c62595e426a34
5ae44092e8c0581832178cedf40551489e090a57
describe
'18412' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMP' 'sip-files00181.QC.jpg'
abb06fa99fd336d5b0961e83cbf51dee
d180d207a9db9a7a31eb1584de9c02995c5f2348
'2012-06-28T20:34:20-04:00'
describe
'70713' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMQ' 'sip-files00028.QC.jpg'
5ce96b2719d0851fa3b2149eb9acb711
10a1deb8957e57c6d1a789cb32e97dfec96b3650
'2012-06-28T20:35:53-04:00'
describe
'775163' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMR' 'sip-files00079.jp2'
a2b507940c6dea4ab3356cc9289f261c
82479e932f17dc82d5734e2dcebfcc4e97315939
'2012-06-28T20:33:51-04:00'
describe
'37940' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100525_AAASMS' 'sip-files00200.pro'
e0a7e9e7c60456453223b20901f1048e
12106982d3d7f665d2c85dbb67c0906d58cb7b13
'2012-06-28T20:34:09-04:00'
describe
'6223000' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAA' 'sip-files00159.tif'
19524b3e1a22950c68835dbaad29a975
865e96d070806c48c404da603ccda7d27719213f
'2012-06-28T20:37:53-04:00'
describe
'36601' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAB' 'sip-files00167.pro'
a74f4cd86b4e1d6c7d7335286abbf602
1e53670d081d9407f4c22aea38fe4b7b5bfa4869
describe
'78132' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAC' 'sip-files00177.QC.jpg'
bbca0c3a4dcb05328ab0b6093f980f2e
33ad8057cf278adc0fac31034b723ca9880c9b2f
'2012-06-28T20:36:32-04:00'
describe
'44017' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAD' 'sip-files00037.pro'
76c125136319b925fa6a9ba04c088b6a
91873eb5023f24beb43697f4fc224db25d2d9d3c
describe
'36676' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAE' 'sip-files00115thm.jpg'
32e1d99fb9cbb464c52272bfe617b119
c3e70a9bc6f6817fef60a225ffa8ed80d78ab29f
'2012-06-28T20:32:47-04:00'
describe
'6223640' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAF' 'sip-files00176.tif'
c39f8523ef17c8a688715365139e668b
a6a098564e7c00d8f0126fb9e2110b1e85d81c7a
describe
'775125' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAG' 'sip-files00045b.jp2'
957e7a1dc53207c48b4dc93396a1476f
e3830e3ac09fdf28a065098706f6722962a98eae
'2012-06-28T20:28:06-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAH' 'sip-files00120.jp2'
ae3467c1efbbaa1971b2fe75945cc81d
f14b0705c1fe6b3f8cc3fd58b541e73de577ade7
'2012-06-28T20:36:53-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAI' 'sip-files00094.tif'
5e1fe9732356bdce8321a5ae6cdafbb5
ffc2f9068b866c434f6c3b9b9deb619fd5f11fbf
'2012-06-28T20:33:34-04:00'
describe
'35987' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAJ' 'sip-files00072thm.jpg'
6acee1a2d2e0657131defb1717f4e65d
10b2a568a222d34c54b9e4527c57809154d58b3d
'2012-06-28T20:35:29-04:00'
describe
'6223308' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAK' 'sip-files00116.tif'
d0e52ed9a64dd4ed95084924fbaf4820
d0845b5666511cf059682ce431677429fde73aaa
'2012-06-28T20:32:04-04:00'
describe
'37119' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAL' 'sip-files00163thm.jpg'
138d68147532700b11230368e5ff575f
d13ace5534fad89bea8cdcd059d907239369e6c0
'2012-06-28T20:35:03-04:00'
describe
'77430' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAM' 'sip-files00141.QC.jpg'
8f7d066ad799b368131c1c921035dc9b
ff76851e5d4a104cfa6c1af0ce7a1ea647d50e3d
'2012-06-28T20:36:12-04:00'
describe
'76689' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAN' 'sip-files00163.QC.jpg'
dfff9d844913b57905465d844cd9e5e3
a0c9b1ed9cfd8644a33d061069cd9db5cbce23e5
'2012-06-28T20:38:32-04:00'
describe
'138' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAO' 'sip-files00182.txt'
7bb6f2988a2b9fd92025c262f5494a04
fc1b1fc3b39fd0297c34ffd9b4a550eb49487709
'2012-06-28T20:33:36-04:00'
describe
'159971' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAP' 'sip-files00033.jpg'
8d8f55663d01cfd171fceb3386b9407f
abea0cf3f83f8072ebb335ba9561ee8357785502
describe
'42011' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAQ' 'sip-files00148.pro'
fb2be3c9d57d3f0d1f35530b9ab88ae6
c95a64655c42682ba6423a59f7884ea755b1ffee
'2012-06-28T20:35:00-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAR' 'sip-files00191.txt'
7a0a0dba18ad79c77689563dbeed7776
4fb66c956892efcc0d65e04d4579b3d3f5288801
describe
'67758' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAS' 'sip-files00048.QC.jpg'
70d878b35b3bb622d2f85d19b1bf3d90
93440a589ed7fb79332148de47e8557073018c92
describe
'79362' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAT' 'sip-files00104.QC.jpg'
461ae4fecd1fdc19830bbdb0deb59e36
a5c3e4409dcdcfe61c0c11dc57837c2416b47fa1
'2012-06-28T20:27:21-04:00'
describe
'176013' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAU' 'sip-files00029.jpg'
2b2c551952e006655ec172703c5d4de6
30cae3b6985195cab85e105954c8e7863fbbe601
'2012-06-28T20:34:21-04:00'
describe
'78866' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAV' 'sip-files00035.QC.jpg'
b2da2e4a63cc908ccca30e42a43d86c6
1585512e2e0f4f5c02d9d254aa5b04f6eadfd6db
describe
'36934' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAW' 'sip-files00147thm.jpg'
272e3581f48f59196a85b4e17ba7a394
0aff93f9bcda550886ca92df26ae0cdc63f13d7d
'2012-06-28T20:32:13-04:00'
describe
'1761' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAX' 'sip-files00069.txt'
cdef70ce2bbb7a317427f256232c4d0c
5ee54e13649ff19436215f33f1c7c59155c85174
'2012-06-28T20:36:35-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAY' 'sip-files00134.txt'
fea9940833323a0d4cf13a04cfa46edf
7468e02993e8043d6d99c570d12e2a950724e490
'2012-06-28T20:33:57-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAAZ' 'sip-files00100.tif'
dac1ab95241c82ee96ac68ef9feab49c
9f14e44b0874f0b9a8083c3925dc8486861cbab6
'2012-06-28T20:32:54-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABA' 'sip-files00187.jp2'
2c10fefabb08cf75eb3858c9bb07a7f7
02fcb8de0c707763d022f544cbf21142e123a624
describe
'40086' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABB' 'sip-files00130.pro'
6fb4051e4b6ab78cc52f487473b9d7e6
f9a31f48a426408a12bc7d2e14bbd4f854f97cc1
describe
'40757' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABC' 'sip-files00085.pro'
e8571b93bb3f00c5fd9141a8b3358800
669211c0e13111592b27e79cec34d015d405e147
'2012-06-28T20:37:24-04:00'
describe
'36658' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABD' 'sip-files00125thm.jpg'
014cb2b8b05e65ef64f7475e7bf6060c
5eda7cd1426b20aab8b380285641d6ba9f0614e5
'2012-06-28T20:28:19-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABE' 'sip-files00194.tif'
5c5401a2e0f4e611d6f5fd3c41ef1811
ef85f91e9eec9f62aad029494718a2398115e504
describe
'6223360' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABF' 'sip-files00201.tif'
c149b2403aa88740edeb5b86ac286872
de514a30b6a4ba63d202b97566977482c1207842
'2012-06-28T20:32:10-04:00'
describe
'6223832' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABG' 'sip-files00168.tif'
abeba47877a9e11e854b87e46188d332
e7d5582d8170a54a9646941a7a7374cad3cbb35b
'2012-06-28T20:30:59-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABH' 'sip-files00152.jp2'
3bdc69453465517189f594d66842f2f5
6889c5085a053b7e0f24268acd925afb5a9989a1
'2012-06-28T20:28:32-04:00'
describe
'6221768' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABI' 'sip-files00180.tif'
2acdb84ae308afecd4367589a6e852ff
022d8205b1d5d4a2c7996983f557445ec8ba7551
'2012-06-28T20:36:18-04:00'
describe
'180343' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABJ' 'sip-files00061.jpg'
0a0ce9dd4990703b4e859e44e83abc62
0bf8ed34c2abc3050436199944697b2b7084acd5
describe
'184664' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABK' 'sip-files00040.jpg'
be4c3a4dfe474a6e71ff3c87f3c165c6
38fdaf783cfd66438cb036f336201007b4a922d9
describe
'40215' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABL' 'sip-files00210.pro'
dfbe148e9395326be889b0fd1fddacbb
aaadb39c5c4a24b3a1ed94b0b702019f8a4f53a1
'2012-06-28T20:27:53-04:00'
describe
'76187' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABM' 'sip-files00126.QC.jpg'
508f4bf164bb8a24ed8c4c841588611b
402f860f27ad020a9ed3366c3b99a33ba16f65f5
'2012-06-28T20:30:00-04:00'
describe
'76992' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABN' 'sip-files00086.QC.jpg'
74603e8b995ee0d949568b56b945ffc7
26f61b22fb9bea047d214a941c2372862a7e038d
'2012-06-28T20:27:37-04:00'
describe
'174288' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABO' 'sip-files00121.jpg'
f1cfcb15621c04dd0cc75c5b9f57ea98
d24afe05e35aa0a4446bb67038075ea990a8bfa2
describe
'174438' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABP' 'sip-files00165.jpg'
46c2afdbe9821a78c29ec9848f61c565
fa784e988da08cbbbc5858f44966bc423ece6107
'2012-06-28T20:30:37-04:00'
describe
'6223636' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABQ' 'sip-files00045a.tif'
91d6efa561d838c6d0632d1a5320deff
69c6fdf68e717a0c1be121abd84670f0a3561fb6
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABR' 'sip-files00043.txt'
37cc1da69c79a0dc2a2e5aa85529cde7
4d02d3a289dacb02bb5ba8af7da7a9e7f9bfdd42
'2012-06-28T20:31:39-04:00'
describe
'41694' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABS' 'sip-files00142.pro'
c90e7ecfb744ec37693a98472f6710fe
91abeec1f57fe56079a439605cd51ae022b906c3
'2012-06-28T20:34:29-04:00'
describe
'21422' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABT' 'sip-files00182thm.jpg'
b6fd0a9035f567da5f67cdc833176c71
952f6bd49a1f12e9bff308b540980ba655e7c3fd
describe
'6224024' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABU' 'sip-files00131.tif'
6d39b44e8a732e3c25df0b610a609794
c559d49335d39e7bfe30c5d994b6eb7070311c47
describe
'160417' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABV' 'sip-files00081.jpg'
bb69eaaab188a0b7a5f6196ea3e74194
8c09ce6e140e5b3b9828763ce98aae0b30b3fce9
describe
'183648' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABW' 'sip-files00110.jpg'
7647b9b63448c8e18f278df87730157f
1f50ae37218ae2d4dd3dd016a0a2c32162ed083c
'2012-06-28T20:29:44-04:00'
describe
'6223960' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABX' 'sip-files00149.tif'
d0b8c2d48a7372219fd2b2fcafa02857
f4b1f85bcbf7cf9d54caf400b7c144b90a4984f1
'2012-06-28T20:32:23-04:00'
describe
'37440' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABY' 'sip-files00187.pro'
3d2a4d9c01e1cd0076dfed8111cf2b50
05e45b169bb4a650177d88407ec76fd5d40efccc
'2012-06-28T20:36:10-04:00'
describe
'1638' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAABZ' 'sip-files00186.txt'
5aa29dcbff4e9774f309da8da338f5be
f93a5c8484a73fb50ccc44fc75699151e4c8d3a7
'2012-06-28T20:36:37-04:00'
describe
'76547' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACA' 'sip-files00090.QC.jpg'
0877525777d526ee97c4858c06387b61
4f1291e081e996d464575152a1d4234522d4021a
describe
'36433' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACB' 'sip-files00105thm.jpg'
7d565dec36e3a5aa740f0bc459302126
1d1a9c9627d41be0f6f23906cc6ef52bb3129a8b
'2012-06-28T20:27:38-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACC' 'sip-files00172.tif'
e2ced53aed89c36349f445eceee248a4
173a8efafe3b454878423f5a65b6443cd4813d66
describe
'39332' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACD' 'sip-files00020.pro'
1d520e747e2050daf649909b965448c2
e17881b9c4de5abc84b9ad8e559724f03b96387d
'2012-06-28T20:37:17-04:00'
describe
'76234' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACE' 'sip-files00142.QC.jpg'
fe3fd102d251d203310e6806f1a87a7a
1f45b782139aad261cc9c7ea7d12c48241fb4491
'2012-06-28T20:37:22-04:00'
describe
'78305' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACF' 'sip-files00040.QC.jpg'
13b9d54b056fac289d41fc389dd89142
11fcbf685dc85b83f42dabb8f7735e94d46cb310
'2012-06-28T20:33:06-04:00'
describe
'176530' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACG' 'sip-files00115.jpg'
d7be284ff0e724199f3a73d9d2bc0e96
33acfb67e614877575a4febc0638d563e62501e1
'2012-06-28T20:36:05-04:00'
describe
'40684' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACH' 'sip-files00029.pro'
4421616b2bacc5114b56d517c903801f
a70d7a9e8ed938c2f1d7587f90a4966985a949f4
'2012-06-28T20:31:38-04:00'
describe
'72379' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACI' 'sip-files00205.QC.jpg'
95370e72b9d4d88221dabeb25bc96c36
09d08bf6d3e1c107945fe02f8b956a7c6b9a8409
'2012-06-28T20:29:52-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACJ' 'sip-files00152.tif'
c679a037f18d21c704a65195bf694206
53f3f3a3774bdcb70e1d3e6eea23981e105958f3
'2012-06-28T20:35:02-04:00'
describe
'42679' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACK' 'sip-files00151.pro'
814f19f6d3fe46d3290db3d0bcba2353
b45f634b4c3a1b80ed6b77c32cfc0928292b90b0
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACL' 'sip-files00112.jp2'
6760bfd9de454582fe8dcbc687a58b44
ebd1521d3cd971cbbaf6c42e164c29b1b0644b68
'2012-06-28T20:28:39-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACM' 'sip-files00098.jp2'
d9185127ea0d23ddb4faec75a1a950f9
1435b3ca2c9e8dad8be2fb561974a6b269ac567e
describe
'39893' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACN' 'sip-files00201.pro'
e7d27a04fcfb9bd86c12512e46785996
4a9efaee5141ac75205225fa524419ad28425261
'2012-06-28T20:34:24-04:00'
describe
'180403' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACO' 'sip-files00045b.jpg'
d8d4172e2b08be783f276b67ae8a05b2
c52671f8856cda4ac61af12e0da3aaa73fd68fd8
describe
'1155668' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACP' 'sip-files00001.jp2'
6da61b71bf183ee5bffcae1b6f91e302
d932487c90e6fb84ebe03abaa8465b89c9ffef5d
'2012-06-28T20:30:18-04:00'
describe
'146047' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACQ' 'sip-files00159.jpg'
afddd2af5c8b4c2454f5cc55036fb5e5
95e78fbd959ae9b2ee5fa21a4b375e1a56996010
'2012-06-28T20:29:03-04:00'
describe
'169023' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACR' 'sip-files00171.jpg'
7f9ac1b7e041e533052ae95298d38ee3
c2e62e86bf6a5d5dbc37f1f793bf477cecd3f88b
'2012-06-28T20:37:09-04:00'
describe
'76890' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACS' 'sip-files00139.QC.jpg'
8aa90ee4ca4cc82916e7eb82d3d12804
876feac95d54795c4991a5088ab108d2222250e6
'2012-06-28T20:34:01-04:00'
describe
'170761' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACT' 'sip-files00068.jpg'
41c6ef5221917168ba2fc9cf0293945a
772c4809be826ea57b7d57601bfbc5c64950fc85
describe
'6223932' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACU' 'sip-files00212.tif'
e1bcf8dd2c405e3c8b77b7c3f3fb48c2
5063081bf61b326b2534260c79bfb192930bbed9
describe
'18481' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACV' 'sip-files00001thm.jpg'
a1332cda56aef41ecff518f86a922bb3
38468475f6451d757662be21b00d7d5c4e3a5c0c
'2012-06-28T20:35:34-04:00'
describe
'775105' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACW' 'sip-files00105.jp2'
000b5036aa1e76d5df2a5a9cfb5ab60a
07b9a946dbb97a09e0ee0f47f375af0f0b6a47ab
'2012-06-28T20:33:45-04:00'
describe
'34600' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACX' 'sip-files00128thm.jpg'
e180cb79bc81889e1e8e254ef6310a3c
23296e619ca846db214a1ab8f55b442c5094068d
'2012-06-28T20:28:54-04:00'
describe
'6223708' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACY' 'sip-files00129.tif'
628d02afd8acdeb724845e5bf6b5155d
469ce47bf8782dbdd5f764c755b2620982f4604f
'2012-06-28T20:31:35-04:00'
describe
'36698' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAACZ' 'sip-files00149thm.jpg'
23bc22e8790acac91df53055c606fc19
d6709aabfefb7ee29749d3cbb991d44840dbd825
'2012-06-28T20:27:29-04:00'
describe
'1725' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADA' 'sip-files00126.txt'
6884f3255a073b049f7048dc1cc41d75
92ada1be2926892abc7bb4738915a81df161982f
describe
'6224196' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADB' 'sip-files00037.tif'
8f6be1582a01aea743c2b08e2e64c819
ee04fa6e5ba5f23bd7695df88d8abac14178fca1
describe
'6223288' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADC' 'sip-files00128.tif'
cee6a47ea26bd36ec3910f411b40c332
cbeedd976233101911d9d792381f335ea5bf7721
'2012-06-28T20:29:38-04:00'
describe
'6223964' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADD' 'sip-files00123.tif'
ec4e946be7ca4accc621cfe028f18dcf
c952b80ae244cddd296e85c26ca09f145a5dc119
'2012-06-28T20:28:17-04:00'
describe
'775083' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADE' 'sip-files00029.jp2'
ef78d3ae8ce7a324d4f64cb9c904fcb0
b403b647e06daa5bf2129b70a7885c8234551527
describe
'1600' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADF' 'sip-files00032.txt'
8e3f1334c51415ec1c84c07c03879921
cfec5ac2496825bc9a9486124a6e08bd27b42d72
describe
'6223320' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADG' 'sip-files00068.tif'
cf1913b2387b4668098f74dc07cbde60
189c25832e63e93183f9aaa96311d16784f757d7
describe
'155374' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADH' 'sip-files00041.jpg'
563a457ee47110546e2692535f7c6f3f
751a3b26ba03613f6c33383e805ad8b03c4c3005
'2012-06-28T20:30:27-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADI' 'sip-files00161.tif'
2527ee8e1559fdc9948b6993a56f1ef6
664121acf34434d919eca2e4bab574a0efa3aba8
'2012-06-28T20:33:23-04:00'
describe
'36476' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADJ' 'sip-files00106thm.jpg'
6383bab2f27efa53bac324d3a708acdf
8909c6c45c00002ed0f02ee2cba6fd39cce52ee3
'2012-06-28T20:38:20-04:00'
describe
'6223376' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADK' 'sip-files00135.tif'
fb36294e68848123b234fbfbfe93228d
3ed06ea17ebd0f68322312d200df484214997865
'2012-06-28T20:28:18-04:00'
describe
'177855' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADL' 'sip-files00109.jpg'
79c2470f3f064abd227d56411ab85ca0
9f647287d009a1a290488a3223ebb5d52533e4b4
describe
'77026' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADM' 'sip-files00017.QC.jpg'
d449eee6976301164d1ed327dde8e1b0
a4e452e05635d16c1ed9954a0af800075c43ef9e
'2012-06-28T20:33:12-04:00'
describe
'182683' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADN' 'sip-files00176.jpg'
7badace62f96e13e1162c61ba6c0611b
e31dbade293a516f997ffea9b729db2c41f7e616
describe
'35889' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADO' 'sip-files00058thm.jpg'
00f91425e2210d1ca6684f7946d3a64c
6403f49dbf3b9b807b465e15306c0b2f51e4f74e
'2012-06-28T20:28:22-04:00'
describe
'33735' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADP' 'sip-files00159thm.jpg'
7591d25ebe1231c86f3eb806bee1d433
e88ec4d6d010904b89cb245c32343347edeacdaf
describe
'1650' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADQ' 'sip-files00020.txt'
29a7f39c4b912f805fde5261c5e2983e
409d7e57912ab425f5c59dd04ff6e11f7e9d0865
describe
'75393' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADR' 'sip-files00145.QC.jpg'
87c46b3e6bd05016d8b989eb594b817d
85f41d56d421a0e3588ce7ef486c875e8e115112
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADS' 'sip-files00077.jp2'
2965da414901c517ee9331c56c64dc9b
241e415777888de9f32a44fceb5836dc77d9c12c
'2012-06-28T20:33:28-04:00'
describe
'186702' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADT' 'sip-files00177.jpg'
32c4117bcd25fa43ca504d3c7209dc9b
6b1aa8001667429c2f88b745bef06c617ce7aa6c
describe
'183180' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADU' 'sip-files00188.jpg'
6353e3fb02cbc1a9ee62fddf2041fd32
f1c34b064bc0cee248338e3d0b9167e911d213ad
'2012-06-28T20:38:35-04:00'
describe
'775162' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADV' 'sip-files00044.jp2'
29610c0ee8473725b86c5fd1d63b411c
598965615a69f627a2d3c6df72398d8b787ac2da
describe
'1718' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADW' 'sip-files00059.txt'
e574815fa06205903207608a9ff6c0b2
f46ead25eeeda7620066da4644a88eb7506f4fc8
describe
'6223676' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADX' 'sip-files00214.tif'
7c2256777284ed5cfe9076c44f26a615
9594f7df71afa2dcf720a7555e159b21f87f24b3
'2012-06-28T20:32:15-04:00'
describe
'176063' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADY' 'sip-files00019.jpg'
83a1fecf01ac9a56d70479e48eafa671
8ac6488b547ee2699cec3042ed7e301354ca4c11
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAADZ' 'sip-files00054.tif'
effa246c8d7cf6806cc20c0ad7155dbe
2a9c827c6eb0b7d8b203bfa22374e0837bcae1b1
'2012-06-28T20:30:06-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEA' 'sip-files00035.pro'
f18daa63ac13cad0105859b5a820c45a
4af21d223c1e66ff60c48a677d33c90b0887e65b
describe
'42238' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEB' 'sip-files00090.pro'
5a65ee1c2c41f011494a6406c36ee6a5
6144ab3a77fe1f902cb5440ce78ae86f55ef83e1
describe
'192815' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEC' 'sip-files00207.jpg'
c7cdc844c51388a6974304207478a41e
42936a913cdf1f44122402042e1babc4d3137db1
'2012-06-28T20:34:55-04:00'
describe
'35090' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAED' 'sip-files00033thm.jpg'
a105caaa8906cf47d7ef331755306528
eec1f23d9810686bf3fe6c8af8f6bd383df38d9c
describe
'1723' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEE' 'sip-files00140.txt'
aa89a22a063b61d2dc985d82a8e0f3fa
3b4330a579d24741d624c8c613225b969a9fc61d
describe
'174439' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEF' 'sip-files00107.jpg'
f25974974712a5c6806c997bf6aec4bd
5f12802fc2ca40d782e132491d1b3c07b1b7e4cc
'2012-06-28T20:30:53-04:00'
describe
'77287' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEG' 'sip-files00169.QC.jpg'
5e66ada1daae69cefa5fedf4a9ba3537
fc62e72700d3610c0e0ca89d0308cf43f9dba6b0
'2012-06-28T20:35:37-04:00'
describe
'36289' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEH' 'sip-files00148thm.jpg'
68012638bfc84556949520c2201b3876
81adeed61061cf4d988edee0c0ca8e566bbba60a
describe
'77338' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEI' 'sip-files00123.QC.jpg'
14be089976558c29f47d574ea86c09f3
fb299756b5fffdece1d66ad8f24ca6fb79db7e3d
describe
'33946' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEJ' 'sip-files00009.QC.jpg'
cc79c1c45dcc8e4c72d10bcaca5f4d08
4e0b9b231ba6d45875bcaea5e1c65b4dc1b4ba98
'2012-06-28T20:28:28-04:00'
describe
'32330' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEK' 'sip-files00063thm.jpg'
1297a443fe857ef1c6c99a5edbdd5975
3316fdd43b96eb6f297f65d7bc3eeae474e4261a
'2012-06-28T20:35:42-04:00'
describe
'1605' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEL' 'sip-files00076.txt'
6f879db460191c3a394a7f0f3c1e1260
437be80396e5a444938d98737724b92a63c6c539
'2012-06-28T20:35:04-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEM' 'sip-files00114.jp2'
093ae7613a70e891f83472eeecb69a1a
9264e36e7d50b899722f62ac140c8ae07c991fbe
describe
'78310' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEN' 'sip-files00046.QC.jpg'
55b154114ea4cbcaa90d2909b8d3ce83
667d86d8e00454251a321c1f13b6c2391cdcb828
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEO' 'sip-files00020.jp2'
3fb736188ff1bbf7a0dabc5da17accf7
9cd2bc85370d4b1a26603136c8251bdb40adbe43
'2012-06-28T20:37:28-04:00'
describe
'6223356' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEP' 'sip-files00209.tif'
d4be3edfe5b879bd098c2a4df2ee9024
5b049b1b1f0ae76903b2aa9d4c0d903f0bd47272
'2012-06-28T20:31:19-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEQ' 'sip-files00097.tif'
b0f0c7c35d2bb0c957e4768cc5885347
48dee95d2a51cc9c0c76addf8e9a31c548e3a405
describe
'203136' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAER' 'sip-files00191.jpg'
b1d966a7d3a00455e656d0ed83b8979e
fe71e5bb79eef483fac1b588a8fa6362182b504b
describe
'1671' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAES' 'sip-files00130.txt'
b6b555d5d5fdc195977320d231d025e3
cf763b62091b89b92a46d108bcfe83e074d7a4d5
describe
'41484' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAET' 'sip-files00069.pro'
5c7b5cc4f947e1191361b8daea365d37
549f69b968dcab3299acbdc0609e9398f6a69e01
'2012-06-28T20:37:30-04:00'
describe
'6223764' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEU' 'sip-files00072.tif'
a105b90a29303f6c7b65178998fe10cd
04db41ec1bd114e8d0916025f990794e8c4de888
'2012-06-28T20:29:33-04:00'
describe
'1751' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEV' 'sip-files00079.txt'
1cde9924978c875ec7846e19ab85681f
be0ec572cb6e9a1f0df08f7647e6522f789c9a9f
describe
'41860' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEW' 'sip-files00170.pro'
d9a83336214e299f9ab25a37ef3eb820
95a14fc373a6ef04a2d17b1cc431506120c66dbe
'2012-06-28T20:27:20-04:00'
describe
'175967' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEX' 'sip-files00127.jpg'
ea7493904204a2459224e69683c5805a
5d91c18346ff3a73b64040333fcaebc4d8585be9
describe
'6223736' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEY' 'sip-files00114.tif'
ced86676d5a1dbd5eebc748d74ce61e1
921eb23672ef54ddf1f507ce853385b250bd129c
'2012-06-28T20:38:23-04:00'
describe
'6223996' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAEZ' 'sip-files00163.tif'
1a7a4915cbb00fddd5d32938c53a89a9
8c2fa4d4c2d1ab5f975a7e007af47844dbf45395
'2012-06-28T20:28:38-04:00'
describe
'80350' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFA' 'sip-files00030.QC.jpg'
833c33292796528a3361a9bfe9b95db1
e44747f43a910fd0a64c4219f7b0d597298864eb
describe
'174435' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFB' 'sip-files00085.jpg'
d4ed33b7ebc3b593db591814dc9eba4d
81fe490ad7873f85b21e08f9816c53c7be6ae68f
'2012-06-28T20:31:41-04:00'
describe
'192755' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFC' 'sip-files00210.jpg'
4e2a17b803cef52306e1448e8ba12b18
9936df162a6615bbf2d583b000c8529697a68e8b
'2012-06-28T20:29:37-04:00'
describe
'40057' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFD' 'sip-files00154.pro'
f1740e26cd9a6f452310a61938eeec56
4c2d9cd89739f44156df31eed11689110a6e1b75
'2012-06-28T20:38:46-04:00'
describe
'169272' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFE' 'sip-files00101.jpg'
fbe4867b14362db5b405c57fc1e81ae4
2bb2a56277f8337afc855a5f0d4482b44c2d5665
'2012-06-28T20:38:27-04:00'
describe
'1738' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFF' 'sip-files00199.txt'
1ea1223ce0478f7d77c80ab0e7c11d7a
d50e3305ff3aece7f4e20d944ac94dbb5dce9330
describe
'36661' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFG' 'sip-files00096thm.jpg'
11cf4e3a8d63fc3e3e321576d6301f08
db3c4a8fac0d50b6381c7ad2706c87fc8951f81c
'2012-06-28T20:37:50-04:00'
describe
'3' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFH' 'sip-files00009.txt'
bc949ea893a9384070c31f083ccefd26
cbb8391cb65c20e2c05a2f29211e55c49939c3db
'2012-06-28T20:33:35-04:00'
describe
'1695' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFI' 'sip-files00179.txt'
f5c1e90ed67f797523482ef52891ebd4
0d30d3c57c2264ef51b43c952173c45c03245907
describe
'41787' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFJ' 'sip-files00065.pro'
292276cf92e51e5cad0283ab3481491d
7096c02d372daa8b1318e0e40c81ae1239767e73
'2012-06-28T20:37:59-04:00'
describe
'33401' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFK' 'sip-files00158thm.jpg'
c76b393e6fca9f410d4fb6406d4ed75d
1f2090397616dd29cad69f97571a671a2370b82b
'2012-06-28T20:36:28-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFL' 'sip-files00142.jp2'
0f9c37bdbcfa5ee6bde4c9fcefa449a1
a6c733b17fb87fc63dd6be601a1dc20a61ab0a99
describe
'6223624' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFM' 'sip-files00177.tif'
afab56c86a70e23f2d426ee5a5bd0632
49ddf29234ee6870f1530222f81c86fe8240c3f6
'2012-06-28T20:28:56-04:00'
describe
'6220688' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFN' 'sip-files00011.tif'
eaef1e79d00ddf09fa6c3a8753d01817
c45b64051b318a2fa018d8c8db5d0c3ace9a1793
'2012-06-28T20:29:13-04:00'
describe
'41429' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFO' 'sip-files00084.pro'
9db941503117665c388acff666b2d9f6
b5446065afffc15eaf243c82d8094754f1592ec5
describe
'1674' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFP' 'sip-files00030.txt'
9b19fa009eca8266f3fa248d7756821e
93ccb48df7c746f3f13da2d6d41d89ad2b0c1e5c
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFQ' 'sip-files00022.jp2'
3285111a9a6803e6547f90f4e5b7f16e
a4709ba0d2289477327732755ac632c337b357f2
'2012-06-28T20:34:27-04:00'
describe
'33864' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFR' 'sip-files00198.pro'
3e0d39b6e3c024c0ed7a29fc246264c5
dde6a855d85d4588175d176e6716ecf4837dbe2f
'2012-06-28T20:36:49-04:00'
describe
'173139' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFS' 'sip-files00080.jpg'
8d14f2bed3bf2e944a678727a1bd922e
7aea6490a10e2c3a68f20b0b5a95b44d74acbd06
'2012-06-28T20:38:42-04:00'
describe
'775134' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFT' 'sip-files00196.jp2'
87bf9459a87bdba07dcdff89f48ca826
1c5ef38322b56a17d0002cb980eefa9e122f6867
describe
'189758' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFU' 'sip-files00104.jpg'
53ba565290fe14c562f2a9ddf72d432b
7d216aeeb7f90b27b0b82db52e9125d83d8a885a
'2012-06-28T20:34:00-04:00'
describe
'183469' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFV' 'sip-files00112.jpg'
56e428f7ee797ed72fefbe8caee82820
19ee8fe999fd1ee3103dbc57445b2745fe94c8af
'2012-06-28T20:36:21-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFW' 'sip-files00154.tif'
ded3ef534d0475893175e30ddf32ea82
19ee8fb1aa92411bea1e330d1816592f5b964710
'2012-06-28T20:34:32-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFX' 'sip-files00184.jpg'
fc129b4ab39a80c347bb02350b3fcd8b
84cf0bacb9ba6f887091eecee627a4d92ed5b1a3
describe
'183840' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFY' 'sip-files00044.jpg'
f14734d4ca506e863dacd4c02e7bc761
b6bdeb5b6f4fdcac7f544fa22aa0a4d2498e1abb
describe
'41398' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAFZ' 'sip-files00176.pro'
e932f81edb5c90b085b9a7012e10eb05
a9843e46c9c5ef08078642a26541b501b19503ef
'2012-06-28T20:32:31-04:00'
describe
'191854' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGA' 'sip-files00056.jpg'
e6bf3b604944303609c4dc53ca231414
a54914265ddb064838b43508e6d6a108a188df54
'2012-06-28T20:35:54-04:00'
describe
'37746' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGB' 'sip-files00208thm.jpg'
525f95f6c8415271fc906923bbbf049d
156071bf9014b3f70ab1951369355659ca645c50
'2012-06-28T20:34:02-04:00'
describe
'37135' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGC' 'sip-files00131thm.jpg'
a67ad43fe1f05fffe02e4f3ff4e6846f
250e4b06b7242f06dfb2ee408ae229be46b535a3
describe
'36202' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGD' 'sip-files00145thm.jpg'
54ee7216436c1af4c6e40495fdbf8937
0f0978a454f06189b16ff54aa5abf07b74a2fbd8
describe
'38610' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGE' 'sip-files00014thm.jpg'
b4d3c65d7def6a38d7f47585f39b9ccf
f06785c8a17aa5ca935a2c413e917d087e5b63a7
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGF' 'sip-files00131.jp2'
1f4d790df637240cab0e8227074f44e0
02c2fafb840d2897a253113a72b7563c21573866
describe
'1757' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGG' 'sip-files00119.txt'
84d97cee5f95d6a7dc0f026f7cb62853
a7fdf83c008518a9b53e7760d6c5f31263622521
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGH' 'sip-files00027.tif'
a7ee09a86fa86801de987fa901e8a523
896b031e603c4beb2a57305306ef89817f1fc15c
'2012-06-28T20:34:04-04:00'
describe
'41835' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGI' 'sip-files00024.pro'
15f5324285ac1db6a4aef60feb36ba2d
0c8feb2bb03d44fdf79a2c34dc96e94255b1b95a
describe
'1732' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGJ' 'sip-files00109.txt'
7ef9feb84cb4f93cc9981c3a9dfa418d
7b08d8e8b68e95e658ae0210a71569ef5ae5e18a
describe
'40359' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGK' 'sip-files00016.pro'
52d1a5fb59df3884e7a862f313905a50
ead80f35341dfe0c957bacedbc727a6ab875676a
describe
'189580' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGL' 'sip-files00136.jpg'
1bd9c308aa15f8a8d9e077a4353312bf
6b0272bd8806ecfd2396ef62124aca62ce625936
describe
'1745' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGM' 'sip-files00052.txt'
b99872b8bc5e118aeb775da84b2617ce
2ac0de6b0779ba79cc1af48ee454d55fcf4fea02
'2012-06-28T20:34:42-04:00'
describe
'36886' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGN' 'sip-files00196thm.jpg'
424614288ef43d1a29df186b19a68e59
898c8f861829468f26fef8285c761fd86577a4cd
describe
'322869' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGO' 'sip-filesUF00001893_00001.xml'
2b863c9801f27db712aca95c292e67ce
cf13ab15d7518c26809c3a3002ea6f2c4fb1346a
'2012-06-28T20:31:20-04:00'
describe
TargetNamespace.1: Expecting namespace 'http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/sobekcm/', but the target namespace of the schema document is 'http://digital.uflib.ufl.edu/metadata/sobekcm/'.
'2013-12-10T04:16:51-05:00' 'mixed'
xml resolution
http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/sobekcm/sobekcm.xsd
BROKEN_LINK http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/sobekcm/sobekcm.xsd
WARNING CODE 'Daitss::Anomaly' The element type "div" must be terminated by the matching end-tag "
".
TargetNamespace.1: Expecting namespace 'http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/sobekcm/', but the target namespace of the schema document is 'http://digital.uflib.ufl.edu/metadata/sobekcm/'.
'171727' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGR' 'sip-files00001.jpg'
fbf841924f5527db353dd3225dd630e9
51bd0fa062aa671de66d0fd3fa2b4fc0f4459674
'2012-06-28T20:38:33-04:00'
describe
'47346' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGS' 'sip-files00003.jpg'
b16277ab0496f5011035b35409bb6c69
e42d7d7fb829cc489687c2569bdd134d234f84ee
'2012-06-28T20:33:39-04:00'
describe
'83414' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGT' 'sip-files00009.jpg'
51d5678080188a5e704c493fe96d85d0
c315d2a704532439ec5f603560a9995ca81c9f98
describe
'20435' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGU' 'sip-files00012.jpg'
be2cba8881881060e50ed21ec97b89e5
33db8c7de0d4834754687aaf7b458d2c910217ed
'2012-06-28T20:27:30-04:00'
describe
'188500' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGV' 'sip-files00014.jpg'
471e9f3c2d080b05d2164955539b761a
3edb9b4276accc1894f4c5f8613709fb47ae24d6
describe
'169776' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGW' 'sip-files00016.jpg'
97eb7538b02f2b60f37513aeda87d52e
c9c6effdbe9941487b8b30833c55c8384c299a8a
'2012-06-28T20:31:09-04:00'
describe
'176403' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGX' 'sip-files00017.jpg'
8d0bc5e91196ead3a42c0bd1989e2c50
dc1690c7b51115e8b23e78ea28e09a771478af28
'2012-06-28T20:33:07-04:00'
describe
'187437' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGY' 'sip-files00018.jpg'
2585ef50eaaf24c329253151846a4e3e
777a79d7931c716102e7739a740bb8f2771fd85c
'2012-06-28T20:34:14-04:00'
describe
'184527' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAGZ' 'sip-files00020.jpg'
12c3b97d21039d1d988a906514fd7409
b75c3f1ec0df5e7a5d856f5a05240a17438a897a
'2012-06-28T20:29:30-04:00'
describe
'180738' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHA' 'sip-files00022.jpg'
2b69dcfe4f386f5688fe35d307265169
c23ad84f982f895722d77cf852f5e833aaae21a7
'2012-06-28T20:35:50-04:00'
describe
'192418' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHB' 'sip-files00024.jpg'
be544c070b38c641b0ec68d20c309b53
65ce907f9042f8fec6bf6becb6bc807b24416240
describe
'184825' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHC' 'sip-files00031.jpg'
9a21ce4bad1172f0b343f7526282b887
c8fd2e27237c5a4375cd19454b2b1745b43ebb99
describe
'178738' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHD' 'sip-files00032.jpg'
97f9e6c9f3a04b83dca0bd963b3ad039
d3aad2e879c6dbae700854917de45e306c6f21ad
describe
'182999' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHE' 'sip-files00035.jpg'
f1386cb39d15e9645b90bd1820bcd936
441792a25f00fc8c85d746a165f11695f0dbd0a6
'2012-06-28T20:28:35-04:00'
describe
'190035' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHF' 'sip-files00037.jpg'
386b6ce40e3898f93101c61889e8bd88
3df54582ae3adc319d352cc70c98c7327ea96435
describe
'180710' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHG' 'sip-files00038.jpg'
973a37807f614653cbe1dd986691eebd
5e2a6b2cad1889b09b55a932483859af5eacde26
'2012-06-28T20:37:35-04:00'
describe
'187410' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHH' 'sip-files00045.jpg'
50a608cd8a55684e7f8c776fe401f0b3
20ac6579f9630a89ebc7457c515844d59d820145
'2012-06-28T20:36:43-04:00'
describe
'181369' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHI' 'sip-files00046.jpg'
881b563103c2662bdc19697595874bfd
aa51625a2cdf5afdb733e6b6b5e96b6593b05351
'2012-06-28T20:27:40-04:00'
describe
'187297' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHJ' 'sip-files00047.jpg'
efe270f748444f107dd42399781fc6c6
f20b3961c1d4f0f3391730a3169adc29f251db9e
describe
'151012' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHK' 'sip-files00048.jpg'
0f4b5dbd9411efa2cdd40117cbeecf43
ee84d9cfcf9c3871122fd5cbe44f412f3a0a1a6b
describe
'187210' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHL' 'sip-files00049.jpg'
dcfd9ac0bc88dd18bfb175e9f3128712
c4a6753c7b5a6a35400cebf3cd5ee5a87164f502
'2012-06-28T20:29:46-04:00'
describe
'181285' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHM' 'sip-files00050.jpg'
d0b35523f7b48f08f51b93e29cbb7960
1aababe61b9d781b02759db2129a46bf863c9db8
'2012-06-28T20:37:11-04:00'
describe
'182642' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHN' 'sip-files00051.jpg'
2869e4ffc74dfb53e01f331cb09479db
5165e3ce07ac5a2bdbc2fb6d9e6114ea2d11ef6a
'2012-06-28T20:32:38-04:00'
describe
'184656' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHO' 'sip-files00052.jpg'
2f3448f57330bf825d847cb975a31c74
f2a104c555a20b162ba12c55590df6919e5dcf8e
describe
'188063' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHP' 'sip-files00053.jpg'
10be626627d40b69d0e907108e79b481
f88d8412390786453ff66a6c28af28369a7d9146
describe
'176978' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHQ' 'sip-files00054.jpg'
2f730658e5ab8e1ed77aed6fbc0b427d
1b068e2efa32e2edde0ed6a3fd74a25bc68e2dd9
'2012-06-28T20:32:12-04:00'
describe
'193250' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHR' 'sip-files00057.jpg'
b7ee50bdbb5b65beb81ea32b768a27fe
fe3a364df1f8799262dff847c33674763f79ccb2
'2012-06-28T20:32:00-04:00'
describe
'167573' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHS' 'sip-files00058.jpg'
c1d78c1eb295f9b5131b4bedd4fd9861
38c689b98f1bb2be762c503ac0acb16735fe58f9
'2012-06-28T20:29:29-04:00'
describe
'179555' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHT' 'sip-files00059.jpg'
de2327c82e435948a1a05822bfd16cb3
31379efaea573950024096730742bc0a8d1cbf12
describe
'180062' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHU' 'sip-files00063.jpg'
a2b4c491f79e3c3903192e8bf13f720b
8f8363b73392a154b3ae7c116bdbdfc3ac0a5285
describe
'172340' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHV' 'sip-files00064.jpg'
11e16089b072e42cd35fb69b3a618edc
58bfe990a1767782af43f07be99d76b7db352769
describe
'188422' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHW' 'sip-files00065.jpg'
8c63f255cbd89f5d84e02150994aecb5
32e1f61ea4c13931b10bc73fe7d407002f892c6c
describe
'174571' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHX' 'sip-files00066.jpg'
b6405f57e0bbf4437434cbf42c0d6b53
bd559b92afde4535745040193d7c749267e97163
'2012-06-28T20:34:22-04:00'
describe
'191364' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHY' 'sip-files00067.jpg'
f00c1cdc47b3a3684f81e1d9b56e95da
3980bcc5d17ee557a63749d36ce763a0187c9677
describe
'182908' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAHZ' 'sip-files00070.jpg'
cc8bac84bb33490462def2c1e01d7eb4
26851e82a03d196e571b7d4cb97c8389160e3e36
describe
'172769' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIA' 'sip-files00072.jpg'
d06e10275b829c280ddcf37f8c453a4c
f1561adcdd619b0d4c0b781579850ee8cef922b7
'2012-06-28T20:27:31-04:00'
describe
'137288' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIB' 'sip-files00074.jpg'
6c084af0a3b0130b765ed5ec0dbfa305
8d51623e00777742156de6bcaa6849116f16e537
'2012-06-28T20:31:52-04:00'
describe
'180944' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIC' 'sip-files00075.jpg'
8a00395d3106fdb11148f7c06efd3f0d
b59071b518d4e7d70673bf5a15316c44d7361595
describe
'177938' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAID' 'sip-files00077.jpg'
1b665f78e71b5a50e27658bf12a9b962
4a9a8ad9fb50cf4c42a1dfcd612128c29813c7b6
'2012-06-28T20:35:12-04:00'
describe
'188822' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIE' 'sip-files00079.jpg'
92487fa232dca10163899911a7e17127
797c0dbd719a17d1e2e07ac9cae113bf592b15bd
'2012-06-28T20:33:25-04:00'
describe
'177794' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIF' 'sip-files00083.jpg'
ce2f68f01509a3d5a11c183c3c584f18
88d4c138354a79febad976702e81f2085f4d1c4c
describe
'184011' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIG' 'sip-files00086.jpg'
d7712b3c1cb396a896c7b14e57d5d511
12a10a620c7fff8386b465917fcda9147a33b213
describe
'170230' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIH' 'sip-files00087.jpg'
14bd96542783203f5c13ac4bc32d15eb
b9e44747f7b006b06d775e4a336c72a5143f3492
describe
'181264' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAII' 'sip-files00088.jpg'
e82e8c92e8adc8a22d1a9b71ed0b4d3a
1378a1c15cfb8b59d415490b4c1d344f93f305f0
'2012-06-28T20:35:18-04:00'
describe
'181245' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIJ' 'sip-files00089.jpg'
d96f769887338726f7d7e83a4e8b318d
5f3478de730497c950969d2d453152b647788d26
'2012-06-28T20:29:56-04:00'
describe
'180076' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIK' 'sip-files00091.jpg'
036bd896151520444c984103fe88f74d
b2266419bd0e4d1dbe331e3621cb5818ec003b5f
'2012-06-28T20:33:11-04:00'
describe
'178966' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIL' 'sip-files00093.jpg'
d48e1751bab2f979f6e1f383dd3727d4
016cdf8bb54511b7532a0f0243ec57180edf96a0
'2012-06-28T20:28:52-04:00'
describe
'173590' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIM' 'sip-files00094.jpg'
e9d0b7a369bca8ad151a4fe797ce2b9d
1ed9a6d628a3ad9ed793085d93ca1f4cf281824e
'2012-06-28T20:36:23-04:00'
describe
'184582' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIN' 'sip-files00098.jpg'
cdf4a9b315a6daae7928d6af875fd558
bb8e24623ec02d97cb5b610d733cfa8993e3818c
'2012-06-28T20:30:55-04:00'
describe
'151602' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIO' 'sip-files00099.jpg'
74e0c897bae943a42ddd379395ddf177
299fe7c54d21bd394630b03dacc3c35e9fd1a50b
describe
'181472' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIP' 'sip-files00100.jpg'
5dcbbd9d1a90ade77e68d41edd250a45
eef7008b5ab5cf1f3f747dbfa02c99c82893af84
'2012-06-28T20:37:26-04:00'
describe
'180912' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIQ' 'sip-files00102.jpg'
e945c44256867d269b55d63a7b2d3d58
e05ec6a5a7ad2f5659f939f6f354b1b732d1c8e9
describe
'176662' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIR' 'sip-files00103.jpg'
5097611aa93563d43790446f6c29b38f
dceec9c89293342f2e2c4edbaebff2544555f741
describe
'173135' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIS' 'sip-files00106.jpg'
e76bb5782aec3dd534b9a00b877149c5
9f3b97bc41d35e08b1b68aab2c934f87dc83ad89
describe
'156831' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIT' 'sip-files00108.jpg'
82ff19cc01a45efa389a797baa239d0a
56c98319c560a10f688fb51a4435b069a6f2350e
describe
'162653' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIU' 'sip-files00111.jpg'
0d535802595d0a97249654b77d4707d2
7881468cc6530b554d74639f7b241c7d7a58f182
describe
'180384' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIV' 'sip-files00113.jpg'
bc4e413f063c81ba510393e9bb268263
6e7e40d99fd9d8124fbf51405b4821ff44746bb0
describe
'184592' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIW' 'sip-files00114.jpg'
a886c50bbe108b326a6e46e779439db6
95fb7d8f534f601dd6b4d4ef5c3c70389efdb052
describe
'156635' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIX' 'sip-files00116.jpg'
d2adf393e32bb87e5e6c0f5cc768d37c
b91f06a44bb728ead9b937e74c24b339b2909f18
'2012-06-28T20:27:35-04:00'
describe
'183688' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIY' 'sip-files00117.jpg'
5a7f3fdd159c266ac8b5d0fd6450d6be
8996302ae9b809476e3d8ffe4bab9c6aa797aa76
describe
'192086' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAIZ' 'sip-files00118.jpg'
1020e390ba6c0935872696a6955fb4b7
01a4da770f7f9cccfdb8eb26e8989609d17240a3
'2012-06-28T20:31:21-04:00'
describe
'169755' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJA' 'sip-files00120.jpg'
aa8924fe0ab862c35c5c8263817cd562
12ba57696216833c87f6f9bba0778811b3c77971
'2012-06-28T20:35:43-04:00'
describe
'176602' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJB' 'sip-files00122.jpg'
0cc3d31453d0b549713dd0adc8ab423e
1316068bbdc87955a366eacd89f9320d5bf115f5
'2012-06-28T20:29:45-04:00'
describe
'180754' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJC' 'sip-files00124.jpg'
e765ed1ab14740fb0603318fa6744c21
48af45355757fe4c9e907e454ceb16f9b27351de
'2012-06-28T20:28:45-04:00'
describe
'171433' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJD' 'sip-files00125.jpg'
cfdd61dc73f19f995f25edca26e99c89
c432b04ae028692f4df08518bdbf4b9c33aac8c4
'2012-06-28T20:35:24-04:00'
describe
'178786' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJE' 'sip-files00126.jpg'
265bc5816364ffcf3b5edc2cdd82f5d7
d5eb35f40e7b1bfa37e92356a61e54fea52358a6
'2012-06-28T20:38:01-04:00'
describe
'156497' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJF' 'sip-files00128.jpg'
43996b64a99af666fead8c93cdbc6162
0556bdc723d51b74cf30e308c55329d582d09f37
describe
'170788' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJG' 'sip-files00129.jpg'
899b44fd5514a96c2429cb6a5e09b2f9
29928fc7d6375297986ed52af8af912c121b43ea
describe
'179892' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJH' 'sip-files00130.jpg'
1e9666d10af44539613b41c080d3557f
2221fc48325291e10d5563f675e1f5fc0958576c
'2012-06-28T20:33:47-04:00'
describe
'179625' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJI' 'sip-files00131.jpg'
7683a907faad3cf25f0e901111c3b454
a6084159b8d252dc62c8b098d10992e92aa9a30f
'2012-06-28T20:36:29-04:00'
describe
'189272' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJJ' 'sip-files00132.jpg'
88ec0e9cfe98763a2542632e50ffd272
0eaac8257c713c080bf2968946c30b475f4cd2ee
'2012-06-28T20:37:33-04:00'
describe
'184558' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJK' 'sip-files00134.jpg'
636c60d0d1fe3e6940574b2645a9fec3
3eb5f8c9ff5fd3393f5188ac1cc273a9ad35de75
'2012-06-28T20:28:58-04:00'
describe
'167454' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJL' 'sip-files00137.jpg'
2bdea6e49d8542fba623dea4b39bc6ab
5f55625851c3113c288cdf7bd7b3d6b2ce6aab36
'2012-06-28T20:37:29-04:00'
describe
'182266' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJM' 'sip-files00138.jpg'
3806d8409c1bf3a36b066e3c86782540
6e04f7038dd51f59130ae9e90a183b1f35cad2af
describe
'174674' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJN' 'sip-files00139.jpg'
8b607bf68d279d2c69c8010238b31322
2207ef87a716557375757f94751db4b69d00c1db
describe
'179608' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJO' 'sip-files00142.jpg'
bbde47930e2631a7aad527f244134ffc
0e4ab27be783d539e7781b16036f32e2032bd27b
'2012-06-28T20:32:17-04:00'
describe
'182212' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJP' 'sip-files00144.jpg'
40b5888f6568fdbff9cea2c811d909f1
5cfc9166233718ac1b909b99b194b50a21ea61d5
describe
'173335' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJQ' 'sip-files00145.jpg'
43822fcc9c3bc565d6ceab1296c9c0ef
42593bd04cfb2ca657a725d5e3db6e0bae537f69
'2012-06-28T20:34:45-04:00'
describe
'179609' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJR' 'sip-files00147.jpg'
0baf759fd8a3a268800d2656e205ae37
c67ff5e96c0f3817c4becfe0b225740bfd5cfecb
describe
'172544' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJS' 'sip-files00149.jpg'
09de4e724849b6a14467cd07aef5eb06
7942553b32e0de729b30cdf111ad1dfc10b887de
'2012-06-28T20:31:24-04:00'
describe
'181690' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJT' 'sip-files00150.jpg'
727b56602dfbf2d68ae1a0e3bbc7ecbf
b0d8d44df0350ab77ef4411a330b02bab7fe8175
describe
'182455' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJU' 'sip-files00151.jpg'
1ce68a501486442e3c16448c759a73ad
4a7dc76f899cb34ba151a21df54e411506914e76
'2012-06-28T20:31:37-04:00'
describe
'180871' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJV' 'sip-files00152.jpg'
ed372b7447797640b17f0614ca5a802f
af2b125a0eaf87f20491f880ddd30382277a6f4b
describe
'175511' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJW' 'sip-files00153.jpg'
f5e1fd4d6cb1b06dfe9d2a9cf4edb04f
51a653ad74959cf314df5558902f57fe7ebbc00d
'2012-06-28T20:32:22-04:00'
describe
'186368' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJX' 'sip-files00154.jpg'
441797c19eb4a6324639167da9289aa4
8806c41ad65e1b0c86b522ce6d808258055f5d2e
'2012-06-28T20:36:40-04:00'
describe
'177854' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJY' 'sip-files00156.jpg'
7f07f77d379ba0d557965cfa452fa936
90e32dbd186db3aa4bb15ecd3567267be74218f1
describe
'177047' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAJZ' 'sip-files00157.jpg'
5a4371754001627e71521d6b4e6800fc
4315832df77217f9207a75bc931309899bfcd692
'2012-06-28T20:34:36-04:00'
describe
'154190' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKA' 'sip-files00158.jpg'
02699b7cb8e4384cf32628d4bff55a02
b723f09aff7a282eeed06f03b66c84184c640d1e
'2012-06-28T20:29:47-04:00'
describe
'175718' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKB' 'sip-files00160.jpg'
71cdf6a66e4545fd8e27e7147590e4e4
e2712781e9e7fcd08b2d4b122667a1b5f4cbe0d9
describe
'176378' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKC' 'sip-files00161.jpg'
e547e5eb6de8f5a390130d662981993c
e142e8fc49282d4c08855eb01431eccda82e4a43
describe
'172898' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKD' 'sip-files00162.jpg'
a8b6aef04c76ce429c76644691816490
af145a41842a6778c3bb9ae85998b7167f99ec8f
'2012-06-28T20:28:47-04:00'
describe
'177907' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKE' 'sip-files00163.jpg'
f438ac203379278f1f5457487775d5c5
76f7e9418dafb865a3b9c4372dfe78d75bacece6
describe
'174400' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKF' 'sip-files00164.jpg'
040ca8062bed3d31ba99e43a6440cb4e
6d415c330142627b39d5cdc87c27abc3b7e10433
'2012-06-28T20:34:26-04:00'
describe
'174369' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKG' 'sip-files00166.jpg'
a7a1d554ad8b8dd4dfb7f224add0fea5
ba8c37751882e6eab67908baec13f2e865ad8bd4
describe
'182777' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKH' 'sip-files00168.jpg'
692ee7d1a6648d785bfe66f2aee000a6
c287f58bf226cc8baac4016854e4a64a41247511
'2012-06-28T20:38:57-04:00'
describe
'181625' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKI' 'sip-files00172.jpg'
eba9389c9c415843fd69868c77ce7855
958451d15f560e726fd3569cc39f31547270e255
'2012-06-28T20:29:19-04:00'
describe
'156631' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKJ' 'sip-files00173.jpg'
a039dd9a3e8957b814d8e18b893caedf
1b7610f5fcce0f3b2e97af1e05e9040967f7174b
'2012-06-28T20:36:59-04:00'
describe
'153485' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKK' 'sip-files00174.jpg'
0123f28e4b572877e31543497f6c2c26
d7569e5bde77326812746fef5438fce49a89ebca
describe
'182809' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKL' 'sip-files00178.jpg'
d29f7b62ea7e6168ba15593b07d5b166
c975ac9cceda25afcfc73874c747be32f9c1e861
'2012-06-28T20:32:49-04:00'
describe
'177605' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKM' 'sip-files00179.jpg'
0941ada14cb25e90a6a1679262e0cd63
48c3b6ef76a662ac77b91571c5d0d55a54f95947
describe
'109738' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKN' 'sip-files00180.jpg'
eb22a1379202ee63d9d150cfc604a6d1
0a5c4d93dec467ca15d0d537d904840120439d96
describe
'20191' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKO' 'sip-files00181.jpg'
b5656d0820f35f39ff46b6dfc1028f8a
15653bfc4cc1c2dd1673ef67495a615502b466b9
describe
'149157' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKP' 'sip-files00182.jpg'
0475614e2b34a252f882f87374e17868
6a598d2069f45520e319abf93e5185a3ea4bba74
'2012-06-28T20:35:47-04:00'
describe
'96041' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKQ' 'sip-files00183.jpg'
22e754f196ae58a1fbd8027f3f8f2c45
bd36c2bdc5e1dd8e5dff9cecdaec3e75767dafd2
'2012-06-28T20:36:04-04:00'
describe
'142138' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKR' 'sip-files00185.jpg'
9fee93007cb3d14bcd691462858e601c
ebff924b09bfe2745a6abf214e16d57088584701
describe
'194783' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKS' 'sip-files00189.jpg'
8bb989257113dff6044adf1a427700cb
19c0e54e16191e542d6223cb8e775a40e32c6fe0
'2012-06-28T20:33:53-04:00'
describe
'188288' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKT' 'sip-files00190.jpg'
ccb5050aa83e9ca2a0aafbb878c6121d
424a800dbc463f1d4a8d78a9c186683e9ac759d1
'2012-06-28T20:36:42-04:00'
describe
'196906' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKU' 'sip-files00193.jpg'
8fc40bb7e1a154f6f41dd34173652c3b
21770662d71abef9ad1872f86f926e72f44a7abe
describe
'190490' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKV' 'sip-files00195.jpg'
9f8e92aa6be192220f896696df43d2be
79534d0c4c6f1fd205acfa679a10a5e9cf14e0e4
describe
'192402' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKW' 'sip-files00196.jpg'
80d8e160b1cfc267e244aa2f75460a70
99e7f2b4a52586fbd96c2b5ad784a30648f72307
'2012-06-28T20:31:06-04:00'
describe
'191419' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKX' 'sip-files00197.jpg'
d3b8c132676f8feb0efb99b29c5d4fd7
fd38b2b28683d783b6c075d985b3e0966ceef2ed
'2012-06-28T20:33:55-04:00'
describe
'166032' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKY' 'sip-files00198.jpg'
36a71fdb7ce77a3991818f6f7121dac7
12e6956160c46f5ba3c0e010a992e641e4cba9f7
describe
'190926' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAKZ' 'sip-files00202.jpg'
42eb4061b7425fc4f9cf7b257926309a
950e60c8fb111cd7cde1edb71f55536ae5458752
describe
'186656' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALA' 'sip-files00203.jpg'
b75407a480ecd144070cd2f80c15062f
dbe75c67edb90af5af1b1e5971cfea4a0d119390
'2012-06-28T20:33:18-04:00'
describe
'173510' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALB' 'sip-files00205.jpg'
c4c4844e5952f28dc11cd43cf4a21047
2b5a3169a26eb5a5584dd7b93adde6b888b7bc98
'2012-06-28T20:31:58-04:00'
describe
'143631' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALC' 'sip-files00206.jpg'
5dc06bcf0ebe2645219391b22d54ed40
a302887eabd50a6bfb50046c1b222bcd7a305722
'2012-06-28T20:27:27-04:00'
describe
'192118' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALD' 'sip-files00208.jpg'
9230ccb9fcca443cc1405de8c54d4677
358e764160e0413790f1e7abe26352fdab466685
describe
'191351' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALE' 'sip-files00209a.jpg'
c5a4601437c22b7862bb97f7b94ddf46
2b6afc0f00932b8233d6d8aac018a7dda2cee360
'2012-06-28T20:29:17-04:00'
describe
'185176' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALF' 'sip-files00209b.jpg'
85c8f5cc3150a2cb26b878b688bcc145
e5759655304a89adaf9921eb86da69335dec678e
'2012-06-28T20:32:56-04:00'
describe
'193992' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALG' 'sip-files00212.jpg'
4b6e7eb4cfe69fc162baa937ac05953e
fe67f0c44701260d375fb6b00614924f485e27cb
describe
'187002' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALH' 'sip-files00213.jpg'
c3cab5b18673412503d079c794d97ff9
63b89fb3b04e8b0e1e6d9e6ef23d698bb7a4c342
describe
'161864' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALI' 'sip-files00215.jpg'
225c2e181fde04b82b5d4ec855227d54
9ba5494f751fb9c936a49f4c5eeacf263dd27f5a
describe
'546490' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALJ' 'sip-files00002.jp2'
eabc8ed3a742a03a67247bf90bfbfe7b
82d6604109335f5a54f3b7f3bb6a9f13c273e4b2
describe
'200952' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALK' 'sip-files00003.jp2'
36d7fae4a57d267af6e1f3e9f971bc7d
632de6a2babe27793ad9c1fba41ca0cb1dd87859
'2012-06-28T20:37:21-04:00'
describe
'3543' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALL' 'sip-files00007.jp2'
cbca1981da9ebb185f643bd721cbedab
7450d8ef3900dca5dc6e3e1c04072c6ef228b279
describe
'955682' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALM' 'sip-files00008.jp2'
34b4cf32fe9d5a7928b78232952fb27f
32ea91279bfa3b65b5bc2557faeeedc010a8d0d4
'2012-06-28T20:33:41-04:00'
describe
'987493' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALN' 'sip-files00009.jp2'
2ac11c7d5b585f57e93de01c4db69415
205347a04d470af6081a1d4f66a310a5f9df4c47
'2012-06-28T20:33:30-04:00'
describe
'251513' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALO' 'sip-files00011.jp2'
b7d04490322cc72213b99a9529992694
f9d357d7e7090d6cc694bdc3321169ab19337532
'2012-06-28T20:37:05-04:00'
describe
'2624' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALP' 'sip-files00012.jp2'
36a38f1794c3c6503ecbdfd2c79ab6c1
4181e216a2c7dbfabdb00a66308006d0314e5f3d
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALQ' 'sip-files00015.jp2'
10b0bddbf88f04e95391773781d607d7
0313f371e59246d7d3b2ddf192e0bc3170d709b0
'2012-06-28T20:28:15-04:00'
describe
'775136' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALR' 'sip-files00016.jp2'
5317de9cda4dd53e87e68c9d1bfc7e89
29381cc6e05addf5d12014064d97fe89803fd24f
'2012-06-28T20:28:03-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALS' 'sip-files00017.jp2'
4fd59f7167fafb65640fa7e538c0b9d9
d5a3357c1feca015af399919bd62e6e4a62a4bd2
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALT' 'sip-files00018.jp2'
35a992685bcffc36f563c752b83acde6
eb53fba6f9be6c179027be355052aa7b18055c2b
'2012-06-28T20:34:07-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALU' 'sip-files00019.jp2'
cc5072f3d2df4a3b96dfb3f4f27551d2
c4a56432dad3c5e8b5630f26bde4083e6b25a964
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALV' 'sip-files00025.jp2'
6877b906e2d4b9348264dbd1acaa8ae1
fde62bf831028fbbc4575f22f74a3b46e5b66479
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALW' 'sip-files00027.jp2'
54361951acd384de327672b363c81ff7
1e0d7588d62760c1fcbc1c8ba969095fee08add6
'2012-06-28T20:27:55-04:00'
describe
'775110' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALX' 'sip-files00030.jp2'
710cc3a2cfa33e487a227f1603ab3ccc
97e68d577ef7824037293f38cf533a5711f4c6e2
'2012-06-28T20:30:57-04:00'
describe
'775119' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALY' 'sip-files00031.jp2'
cf338e7761f178810ec37ff17c028037
56f411b0291b8cbd4fba028d9c9402974eb018d6
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAALZ' 'sip-files00033.jp2'
c15c8dfb929b572877defff4d09a10b4
c374c7d4588acc59bb1e0341583a8ad2b4e025b9
'2012-06-28T20:29:32-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMA' 'sip-files00034.jp2'
3e3e9d065b0862f416937cd110489dd4
a71bd7486684efe53ccbf2b331a5db00e7099289
'2012-06-28T20:29:53-04:00'
describe
'775133' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMB' 'sip-files00036.jp2'
5e6d989ef29f447100391e6e6669c25c
6f04b52a492d0d69ffc650ac27c74915c615084e
'2012-06-28T20:33:43-04:00'
describe
'775135' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMC' 'sip-files00037.jp2'
0db17ce3f1dafcc0c771e13563625f32
0be76e7cf26654257d64b1dc124222c836c090e9
describe
'775166' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMD' 'sip-files00040.jp2'
7a95d74a8c0277423a93c6bbc5b55203
5cd2256584af9fae3604603997632bd1a0b3dbd3
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAME' 'sip-files00041.jp2'
aec1e5589d17c642917aa97daf79aeb0
678c7c388bf39a064e20ba3dcd73d3661f4bcad0
'2012-06-28T20:29:27-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMF' 'sip-files00043.jp2'
3011e8694d457a78681bfb874b19ea05
48e2491e17d7b764fdc58a8caee2c60c8eba4f68
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMG' 'sip-files00045a.jp2'
afc9e683596ce3050df876feb97b9d8f
9f8f61fa68c0d92932d6c62341bee2337586f226
describe
'775157' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMH' 'sip-files00048.jp2'
ea4a86da11e15e8a0c0e8145a7c47e80
5cba06cb314b8c9d4b81df4b0beae8f2790e2e64
'2012-06-28T20:37:13-04:00'
describe
'775103' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMI' 'sip-files00050.jp2'
f0a869d306e18ba5fb099ccdbcb2d8c8
53286de1a76219a6ec373ddcd68de580a4a8e6cd
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMJ' 'sip-files00052.jp2'
01c18502779dba77fab42d9bb06e3a9c
401f97c6aed486991fe2b49a45b573c00f86699d
'2012-06-28T20:37:27-04:00'
describe
'775122' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMK' 'sip-files00055.jp2'
ded47b7ddd08f423992a65f09e61c010
c00f8978a082630b3016cc2a33639c7d41d479f2
'2012-06-28T20:38:06-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAML' 'sip-files00057.jp2'
c8a17c33f3cb0e12fc0829a9115ee7ca
b4bab8f359f2cc07d0f55db9b709a52430f7d298
describe
'775159' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMM' 'sip-files00059.jp2'
cfa8ff31868d7c6390a1843589e33938
5550f5751cc12126d521099d3d88b00a203955d7
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMN' 'sip-files00060.jp2'
2662661ed534017069de536c3f5cbf77
7fcb243ef6de794dbbf35df9c70106ba96dcae89
'2012-06-28T20:35:17-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMO' 'sip-files00061.jp2'
0abf35aad0dc944d897c8c15e7e881ed
5950d83333b390bb1cce6d56f65c969e058415c9
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMP' 'sip-files00065.jp2'
669e091b5c4f14d9d7e333577b016022
a7e06d48da961de01ec09fd6972584359dbfca0a
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMQ' 'sip-files00066.jp2'
37ed8c06742b73e89a003f703ee5dab4
da752ecfb7e88546fbe91b37eafbe3634f006c42
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMR' 'sip-files00069.jp2'
9bc44c3b3ce74c95ebec5d936c28ccae
d2ec958709567cb273d0cf54535e456e7fd51209
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMS' 'sip-files00070.jp2'
47e161b84587af7b7869eef2b1de9b64
e95685e67835da1ccb739c817fac47a140716bab
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMT' 'sip-files00071.jp2'
605303f15514bbed9478b2b7edea670f
619cbb1dff8706bcccfa3d54a71946a76a0ba191
'2012-06-28T20:32:41-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMU' 'sip-files00073.jp2'
07c079a11d2dadcb370d408813ad813a
03257b32821d4bfb56ca92eca6592f970869d7ca
describe
'775102' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMV' 'sip-files00076.jp2'
a505c98868dc2a57a4eaf3e5b36af44c
c43337f8828ee5c4b964df519b042cff6dbcca61
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMW' 'sip-files00082.jp2'
6a9d622f6c0f1acd5c42b63365483187
2d60daf927aaf7e36edae72fc33a76f5fe00929a
describe
'775094' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMX' 'sip-files00083.jp2'
84c5910913ac9f41caecdf923a53ea2d
ca6a2b6aa4b17ab8865ea54b05bc303139f46ebc
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMY' 'sip-files00084.jp2'
aa7ffda85597ec02cc7121e11ace0c7c
fb19a98a80ec5e2949b32a83dd64b898d6d2487d
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAMZ' 'sip-files00085.jp2'
d129cb1a11c792671f904c86b53c6b8a
46b6a0e4609ddd0b641410eb298b71443db07b28
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANA' 'sip-files00087.jp2'
a40c51734c7f0bdb6c4da8fb295f073d
1efd7f5458d63120819295453a20cb1c8d63b244
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANB' 'sip-files00090.jp2'
104df4e4bcb9d5f3f9446dbe119502ae
aaf419f4522e5652bd0b3a71eab2878edb773ef8
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANC' 'sip-files00092.jp2'
c00c98261863103171ed6cb4e512d589
93ea39f994aca798e3cb39461bb45e7c03954a2b
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAND' 'sip-files00093.jp2'
75d864838505148f12fbcff326e6d0f4
10f89b0d802e56042e14cb305ee09e82c8568fdb
'2012-06-28T20:33:56-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANE' 'sip-files00094.jp2'
4b199d9d486928d3b022f86eeea586bb
4fe9431710e00ffe073bb4c2520545aeab722613
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANF' 'sip-files00096.jp2'
d457a01528d93ec7bd126e76a51f6f30
02c450725c336271a3930c8d4fc0b58dd590f840
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANG' 'sip-files00097.jp2'
b76658a399a28398f6926bbe76385587
c1580f353b4e19b9c5d4572adbe347fbf515881a
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANH' 'sip-files00099.jp2'
2a92bcb6df9da54b47bcb856f0c031ac
9b767a9729df05b669b9c574092e4f00f6049219
describe
'775045' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANI' 'sip-files00103.jp2'
0f6b7c77c5dc8e49a0996a5c79a60150
335d4dd460a54748a9bc3dd8a2d6d6086d65c820
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANJ' 'sip-files00104.jp2'
1f15a17286d2f7d457f38cffcc4d7405
0a96cb4b459f49907ea87a99e723d7fdba96add6
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANK' 'sip-files00106.jp2'
9c8fa6b08b04eaa552d3f7a570c4a4bb
8729504c2a0dcee34e3d69c932eed361ef8fe8b7
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANL' 'sip-files00108.jp2'
9a8c6ce831f6b2348df38edb6e282ed1
3a48ba35eaa53df89539ade224cf519bcabf37ca
describe
'775129' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANM' 'sip-files00109.jp2'
14f4bfd7c70e92785e4bc49edae343e0
7a856bf1512fb9fb947af04182aee0a58a42ccf7
'2012-06-28T20:31:04-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANN' 'sip-files00110.jp2'
0b4e2bb98cd6f183d9859d64b9cc3e70
8a51a98fb2280097dc0292f421e07da8d9f86768
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANO' 'sip-files00113.jp2'
5efd6046d43c5318917f36b2d39d3cd6
58ff42a254fb9ff83514fd51ee7d8e10f169fff1
'2012-06-28T20:29:40-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANP' 'sip-files00115.jp2'
eff4dd2335e280878808f23e7aa423da
7320cd0fd03e122a03ca11bad373870ac93d5f90
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANQ' 'sip-files00116.jp2'
b2594fc05d483218b913d8a20ffda934
6ec978270d7d7393e6dfa04c70f078202fbbb5cb
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANR' 'sip-files00117.jp2'
3d715b4384f0e6b8e1cc673dcd76017a
463e51ed9c276ff56a69fdfb09e33e7c58b28668
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANS' 'sip-files00118.jp2'
ca9690517eb279e76fda70ab9427d174
0727a79f742832acc5bb8e707817e080ba3ab66d
describe
'775097' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANT' 'sip-files00122.jp2'
c541134c53afa7c5fb0e7f1e6fd96d3a
bd9d9f2dc1bbe316834964cab69f77302db4affe
'2012-06-28T20:28:14-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANU' 'sip-files00123.jp2'
f0d4148e185a8a7555135e8efa165c14
82dffc3b628aabd95ad587cca86c6cc16e8a2047
'2012-06-28T20:31:26-04:00'
describe
'775099' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANV' 'sip-files00124.jp2'
8a59ebb79acd52bfabd84549b93bea3c
5a6f6bcda9e61e7749db7cf1e7805f9ad9c63b73
'2012-06-28T20:30:43-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANW' 'sip-files00125.jp2'
710e7bfcbc3ef6914e5d9b6c00696d9f
f5da627f47325c1473098385cea462f064209333
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANX' 'sip-files00126.jp2'
3404a9c52aaacdce23bcfdc24a726ce5
075245c51bfa6bf292e172175bdf6e1bf5d28412
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANY' 'sip-files00127.jp2'
0075cb3f5c7d2564a6bb1eaf1c180678
cc7ace1b39e23cb31d5fe8c6bd7ecb2fcca22bc5
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAANZ' 'sip-files00132.jp2'
84876abceb9f44e294dfbbbe7ba0a1f2
323d71a973a597147267d7054068f26574d857ca
describe
'775146' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOA' 'sip-files00134.jp2'
6bed75abf89dd7128782db85fd36af70
d0d611f7dbbf064a4ae992cdb23d61858efd164a
describe
'775064' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOB' 'sip-files00135.jp2'
a004e7c03efc9e48087c9755dfca9f37
9c50f6f04852a26d7778e38f544439371bec4414
'2012-06-28T20:31:03-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOC' 'sip-files00136.jp2'
8bb3a6ea7c58aaacaaba7cd364dcc80e
fb66cae6e8c6204875abe4c5f3ce7e40e86c763e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOD' 'sip-files00137.jp2'
7574dc3d6e9d3fd89074b73afdfa49c2
a5cfe3bec2665c1622e7ddfdd968c43143aac58e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOE' 'sip-files00138.jp2'
e60c01fa9e4541c71fd95e17362c2d4b
d4df51d58cf026aaedb42fe49e913563d4912b25
'2012-06-28T20:29:34-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOF' 'sip-files00139.jp2'
c29be30b4cfaad65608ec6101e35abf3
88c50092325a1ef4a0fda7ec892cf61de34b4b13
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOG' 'sip-files00140.jp2'
f078ba681f9112dc627d456cedf2d048
eca6dc68aa646ed784a8f8263151ae6a4ecd0f3c
'2012-06-28T20:31:02-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOH' 'sip-files00144.jp2'
4aba925b9a320d49db51e91985bda47f
baa27b8fa869eab21fe61efd29eae61dbb0215ae
describe
'775124' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOI' 'sip-files00145.jp2'
7ab2500268d57dea5ce8a81852d9dffa
7cc8228fb6b75b5f3cc86b6c330184e13f007ed9
'2012-06-28T20:31:13-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOJ' 'sip-files00146.jp2'
250918bef84851615a1dcec527cd05a9
73fbd8c61eff6c5f164c05ba365cbb85106bcabc
describe
'775117' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOK' 'sip-files00150.jp2'
d8de85907ddb8b3f1c43183f84eb1e45
30c9184a250445a39c193b76e5789dbd6056c596
'2012-06-28T20:31:11-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOL' 'sip-files00151.jp2'
70a861b3b8c6cb1c4928692424153dd5
75ad7c3944bbfa62ee476d9e30be40eab318056b
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOM' 'sip-files00153.jp2'
1115bd4cabc32af03981bd8807ff6a8c
bd4798acaaf42fe5da22921deca51191fe15838b
'2012-06-28T20:30:25-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAON' 'sip-files00154.jp2'
9b31afed43762b2096b89683b790b717
7edba5be700363307a73222aa1dce236779516b4
'2012-06-28T20:30:11-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOO' 'sip-files00156.jp2'
f970a5069c6479325fc30c305c3b94c5
8608eb7a5bd2f7816b9a85fd355ec3d48cd85e14
'2012-06-28T20:38:40-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOP' 'sip-files00157.jp2'
9d52550c296d4c2501087bef206e162f
b3c820ea79d5f80b270a9975fb6fbeb765cf4a0f
'2012-06-28T20:29:02-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOQ' 'sip-files00158.jp2'
a08e9b3e288c15638260cb99055e6582
b2ea8ba4bf8dd65c478a4cb487c80d36930c6933
'2012-06-28T20:29:09-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOR' 'sip-files00159.jp2'
bd5057053367aae524a4bfd850bdc1eb
9c86a76aae77479fbb58cc2675ce6700b46d2f9b
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOS' 'sip-files00160.jp2'
73991c67c93b7375379fa426b2683d2b
fd6b936621fb50f8c8f1dd400fa86b45c6d92a20
'2012-06-28T20:33:03-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOT' 'sip-files00162.jp2'
87b2ac1c162884a0cbb8a24b3d8403e4
d4013aa03b3f2608811996b3eb4d10803f171778
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOU' 'sip-files00164.jp2'
881904a688aea3824dcc4bea621e4da2
a48fec3273480a84b3449054886922e122e2be59
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOV' 'sip-files00165.jp2'
9bb2f83925b27b9c0efd382c675744aa
72768d7ef4addd7b63ef66b2257dbde421ea2080
'2012-06-28T20:37:46-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOW' 'sip-files00167.jp2'
b663fc1a8550413fd55f2ad1e9d1a072
400deb91d3913cba1ad36540818ebfae96d051be
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOX' 'sip-files00170.jp2'
534b5a390dd28d7aaddb5063236348aa
3c2a42568e68fa12d33435f72e463da2fe01b60b
'2012-06-28T20:33:19-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOY' 'sip-files00171.jp2'
406c621987c2dac81bf7e657d3153b3b
1099dc8c2659b92f640e2bb4ff34586eaef3e3de
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAOZ' 'sip-files00172.jp2'
c09c7b3a432c27474057eabe12385ef3
90490a61402d143aa019c08a6600e4c5b34112bd
'2012-06-28T20:28:41-04:00'
describe
'775074' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPA' 'sip-files00174.jp2'
a71330d94b36d0f8ea26440640df55b5
d50ac26f6de186611ab16eca2f731a6f535c9649
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPB' 'sip-files00175.jp2'
679b6d04f4cda8c90fd8b4d9071dcb7a
92e0983f286a8509c60179b93629036a5433c4be
'2012-06-28T20:36:45-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPC' 'sip-files00176.jp2'
d57b3233407e3e0aef984724a7c2485d
e5c80d072827d537c556a80f74c810ad15a2a210
'2012-06-28T20:29:58-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPD' 'sip-files00178.jp2'
bb9c68e588a857cf2424a5e3d212e978
6aed840669a7e21009c8a9e40040eb40f09b295a
'2012-06-28T20:30:34-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPE' 'sip-files00179.jp2'
f8edd86ad968927250249a3d3014b0c3
d18ef753046bcaecdffb6f04144580c91de94e98
'2012-06-28T20:38:25-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPF' 'sip-files00180.jp2'
72617a3f87bb6ac23df794330a9df7e9
80eea37fc7834dfe5503bf8e8a2ce750f54f43c7
describe
'3520' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPG' 'sip-files00181.jp2'
2703895264523d2e6a7724f8489c3daf
edd62a2a0f045b346a7a4b6765e90fecb34af54c
'2012-06-28T20:31:27-04:00'
describe
'960793' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPH' 'sip-files00182.jp2'
30a52dbb9f421f5dcba5edea99ad631b
e6aae2d18da8118923ccf82fba1a581c022cce76
'2012-06-28T20:30:05-04:00'
describe
'3502' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPI' 'sip-files00184.jp2'
a00b9ef1deb43bcf424f989790519bd2
d405be929dbb05678e8de6f4dd068e79a55299dc
describe
'775140' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPJ' 'sip-files00185.jp2'
8449e48aa11793adb710655914470227
32b62a70db0e562c6fdbc8b9980aa6d63df6cf3a
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPK' 'sip-files00186.jp2'
59e7dfb019750e2562890f80837dbd99
39d7933fa3891ff53441e422fc2faaca9c575e51
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPL' 'sip-files00188.jp2'
042424bda50d275e110ebd90551f3ba4
7326345078e2bb8becaf41f1979d9dd740ce937e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPM' 'sip-files00190.jp2'
1fa4e710eaf355fa12be2b29642f0eb9
74b962a2df52752a8c54c6563c5df13ca9a72915
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPN' 'sip-files00191.jp2'
fc1149af9ea1cf4be5afe22d78477ee7
0d3359b54ce161ffd7e4dcb5abf704e11fff509f
'2012-06-28T20:30:31-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPO' 'sip-files00192.jp2'
28e98a5b1bdc076c8e09380ee79bf724
5447593ccf8c16528add8d20ef2cd25647004e2e
describe
'775075' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPP' 'sip-files00193.jp2'
19c207d744381486e2322e4e196e8b5a
263810c0e865ad8949b5ec861604466cb59f3972
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPQ' 'sip-files00195.jp2'
b998766c65d53d9927339a119ea4313d
3de56eed5b3318d6cdbe4b28b9b08841931fb8f8
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPR' 'sip-files00198.jp2'
1d72666aadf6f559649ad1138045f496
914b96a85892a664d7c79bd9d4ecb941745b25e3
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPS' 'sip-files00199.jp2'
fc2d23478df11a6362b905d1733cb065
c4fed22c395e0c880a2d160a2834a453f9764f70
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPT' 'sip-files00200.jp2'
7621c451389d47053a5bea9c0498be32
0c9dd06d4addf98e4da064a1ba297880f06fb7f3
'2012-06-28T20:29:06-04:00'
describe
'775145' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPU' 'sip-files00201.jp2'
bb4c4e9e3bdd6a3cea500e5bceedf633
a098634163d9e983c5c36258ef99945ae5f4bf72
'2012-06-28T20:31:42-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPV' 'sip-files00202.jp2'
a258166673aaaadd5c7cdec7eae391f0
0a21eebf1008279147f78f8caaf45e7857249f02
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPW' 'sip-files00204.jp2'
e1219cb3191789dfe249497dc396af5f
4f0bd3a8c0b387d5a5d1cad073773276fdcabada
describe
'775092' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPX' 'sip-files00205.jp2'
d331c82df9ef6efaba5c4028086cfd93
1a0015c6439bff3f871fa4ddccd2355566e3d945
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPY' 'sip-files00206.jp2'
f01fdaf136eedaf4ff560032329264d6
acf4515230c9da843aadcf6fc9d14ddeec056114
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAPZ' 'sip-files00208.jp2'
2e14166d76af843b72fafcecfb92a890
984d7b2e0bee65156abc73dd385f967935d17c26
'2012-06-28T20:33:26-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQA' 'sip-files00209.jp2'
18bb3ec63e8e9ae19eaca447e8c2a500
86ccb62c3fa0900758701d8143952e67c8593723
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQB' 'sip-files00209b.jp2'
9d21dc6b2818e5f25a828c2bbed05f3a
ade617a3c84d135c01262a705797ce4bdd0c9070
'2012-06-28T20:32:03-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQC' 'sip-files00210.jp2'
c03b0c5e8b4a9f30262f9849bdd62d1d
9261790fdf19faac6f9696c26e9f55d2e5e5eb8e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQD' 'sip-files00211.jp2'
e9b0442fe58680909ee658726c9f928d
af1fa391ba2b582ce49e231aaf2f889a4719b2b9
'2012-06-28T20:31:43-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQE' 'sip-files00212.jp2'
d586c1c78378f7fc683d5b15d5f945ed
a78e14af7c0f99a1d3868e6efb3d72f611647795
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQF' 'sip-files00213.jp2'
3b41294f3cf96957ef03cddc482c8e19
d6d6c1565f731ac9e337328ad639ce8281426db2
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQG' 'sip-files00214.jp2'
e1cfd0b52bcafd631ccccfd41fb2522f
fbd5d3e8a3c3c4606e7f86fa8153302e418c7672
describe
'27746932' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQH' 'sip-files00001.tif'
12984c1c4863b196a7e4fc3fb3db2af0
a9e780324deb4555689a61fef0803a03fc22fe67
'2012-06-28T20:34:41-04:00'
describe
'2173720' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQI' 'sip-files00003.tif'
8780e6d9af05d76459c3c6860c8da1d4
f0305e3483985d0407fd2901f39df94b8a86aacd
describe
'7929320' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQJ' 'sip-files00007.tif'
249fe1c80cb2d78c0d91c1db9e90cf29
a2f2475c50001c14f5661e3905a338d3a2cfa794
'2012-06-28T20:30:54-04:00'
describe
'7920800' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQK' 'sip-files00009.tif'
55dc558cb235b6a5b555fd85796c2df0
0f88a43e8647537956ee8a010677ec661d84f645
'2012-06-28T20:28:23-04:00'
describe
'6218824' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQL' 'sip-files00012.tif'
9df236626a49625761a459fc0a94b430
7ae0e0dff57dd4977fa2ac4a191d87f3bbbba566
describe
'6222176' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQM' 'sip-files00013.tif'
846e91f940bc8ed41baf82c45f22e32b
0ee1e2e14626cc63e035b1f5487349bc30a71a01
describe
'6223840' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQN' 'sip-files00015.tif'
b99469ba05f84e7c35ae04534b7fd0af
290b6be7dbcf7d6bafa9784dde82b97c77a7c9ef
describe
'6223332' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQO' 'sip-files00016.tif'
6d0caa793af8caddca8e4ffb73e94a63
896e51dc57fb4798292c3dc6781532921838be02
'2012-06-28T20:27:41-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQP' 'sip-files00017.tif'
da11cdc44dd22af29911d3b4435008dc
9c221596a31dbd567e88aa0448a427ce5c0be777
'2012-06-28T20:35:07-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQQ' 'sip-files00019.tif'
702977919f465cee1296aad4400980bd
9faf0ea36e5177694fcf409daeaba37822954acd
'2012-06-28T20:36:51-04:00'
describe
'6223976' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQR' 'sip-files00021.tif'
4667ad9d73a58b90b0f9ad13f5f2bc16
c57d5bfe71293da427fe11db4ad1d2442fb48c56
describe
'6224304' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQS' 'sip-files00022.tif'
c4ac61d2946da9fd7a0f9e31f17ab0f7
c3902bc442ced1ba509b59b0773c4020ef78a7a7
'2012-06-28T20:30:41-04:00'
describe
'6224308' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQT' 'sip-files00024.tif'
eee7f4da0bf4caf139530034e088c289
2f011fffa663327fdb82ebe03bfffd182dd07e6e
'2012-06-28T20:32:18-04:00'
describe
'6223952' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQU' 'sip-files00025.tif'
db26fb67498b1f371ef82bf89d78653b
c02a834c15c835235972f76b7f842a3d14d80a32
'2012-06-28T20:28:33-04:00'
describe
'6223944' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQV' 'sip-files00029.tif'
fc55ddc6faec8d8c14e69d57e57881f9
97839ef458f019c6f4dbfd20e71c2e16b28a6f7f
describe
'6224068' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQW' 'sip-files00032.tif'
46848bcd093190d7d3c50c981aa5263c
3e6d5ff513c03372e485232692445c7186873ced
describe
'6223492' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQX' 'sip-files00033.tif'
89c1c4ff82978201ee266a643d53371c
7407d0dbd856d1f0dbea356b7c20eabcba048b6e
'2012-06-28T20:38:43-04:00'
describe
'6223516' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQY' 'sip-files00034.tif'
a070a83aa25e9d52218991364385e53a
9f029c26c74891772146395f35e469f69348b57f
'2012-06-28T20:38:30-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAQZ' 'sip-files00035.tif'
f597aa7c02f8b112d920bb66e32b29d5
b909d4fd202c4c148c069db2ddd7715eda92c34f
'2012-06-28T20:35:32-04:00'
describe
'6224188' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARA' 'sip-files00036.tif'
4047ef720007734634a750faf6b12fb5
18995b696598658fa2fd5b811c2c0184ac529feb
'2012-06-28T20:29:23-04:00'
describe
'6223300' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARB' 'sip-files00041.tif'
8b2158df4b4f15af659e3440b2f91ea2
fd61404560fb432df0cdc40ca8cc74d83e8a5a49
'2012-06-28T20:33:04-04:00'
describe
'6224028' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARC' 'sip-files00043.tif'
182f1532c71accfdc97a68b2e7628363
8da93f74786b74a5f9219b017235bc1ea66d81dd
'2012-06-28T20:28:59-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARD' 'sip-files00044.tif'
ace47cde027b87ae9e458570e288e161
164dc329d896bc58eaed9aabeffa1525523b34d5
'2012-06-28T20:31:18-04:00'
describe
'6224072' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARE' 'sip-files00045.tif'
1f95797b19a6ec77781132135d53548e
9d064630ca228b2051dd13ae69c73e4d27e762c4
'2012-06-28T20:28:25-04:00'
describe
'6223900' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARF' 'sip-files00045b.tif'
c17b5d66ecdae6097fc00baa9f3eea6f
26fdf632f141580d13cf7ed0e715e9c434a86574
describe
'6224168' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARG' 'sip-files00047.tif'
b106750e306cbf8d07d78dab833801fd
71543583ccd176870c9cc08c7a3ad0a4974a3edb
describe
'6223272' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARH' 'sip-files00048.tif'
901f577bee42ff9a641a0b0dca721500
915f8d08a4449c11b8527c97248d313f2fd123e2
'2012-06-28T20:34:58-04:00'
describe
'6223908' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARI' 'sip-files00049.tif'
e5e22cebed32fcb4241d4ebcb75d1a44
f677008d9935c1cb550306d7ee21887c7ce68503
'2012-06-28T20:36:57-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARJ' 'sip-files00050.tif'
d731354ea5e2f84120f78d66f238b765
0fe73d0c9d8066804fbf33a2d2203be3af9c3d1e
'2012-06-28T20:33:42-04:00'
describe
'6223856' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARK' 'sip-files00051.tif'
ca11ffd02d541183d40db2dac5386a05
c84b994e63a9412ddaa5943f8431202e0b965956
'2012-06-28T20:38:36-04:00'
describe
'6224100' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARL' 'sip-files00052.tif'
ca0fdcc9d5bb11985c64beb287c16559
d0f786ea7502c120171d2b3dbb00d49e86e66429
'2012-06-28T20:28:44-04:00'
describe
'6223948' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARM' 'sip-files00055.tif'
1829a8c1407f81b4d45760e20f892211
1e0f88918d0007e68dfa373cd6ecd96dd252bc54
describe
'6223988' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARN' 'sip-files00057.tif'
955c0878a19ded78c8f643e27a58a145
be99b0383956b818e907b95c879afc0724d26849
'2012-06-28T20:31:05-04:00'
describe
'6223844' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARO' 'sip-files00058.tif'
bcd4fae053512ae6c20d42896cfdcd2e
5f1db59cd947e6752d122179a44633df71f8f0fc
describe
'6223528' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARP' 'sip-files00060.tif'
5a0bd2f3a36392f944534a570007e2f2
846376274d251551a13f3389384a3e1645823e37
describe
'7525600' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARQ' 'sip-files00062.tif'
8d3d4928f442db65b8d8b5c438a84770
f776b48d42386e2b277cfaedb29a5abef38e3a05
describe
'6223720' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARR' 'sip-files00065.tif'
ce2f2e04692664f23513690cb9f9eac0
4501cbde27188857ba82310be74d145ebe7edce2
'2012-06-28T20:34:56-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARS' 'sip-files00066.tif'
f41c56e81c6fe71c92c2ee8037b9f423
9afaaf28fd93b65c3c417e0a63eae26149786dde
'2012-06-28T20:31:22-04:00'
describe
'6223852' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAART' 'sip-files00069.tif'
f59e2d874b0b128216ee8540a017af4e
f8ee1d76bc9163b2bf16cc8be09ba4bee54a1b39
'2012-06-28T20:37:10-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARU' 'sip-files00070.tif'
ac83ffb38b4852557e4df8f269b71322
8c72f5818df14de0a0433d7c1ad4057154042c6f
'2012-06-28T20:27:42-04:00'
describe
'6223316' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARV' 'sip-files00071.tif'
a633d72fba2684fc816a8b02939001d1
70eaff5c8e717a6315b7bc79ed1e660a9bdf81ee
'2012-06-28T20:29:00-04:00'
describe
'6223632' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARW' 'sip-files00073.tif'
b7a4f8f3ce0322322fcd2c2585bdfb85
65e50324a27a41e0ee6af5c084557e6ab70e0771
describe
'6222684' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARX' 'sip-files00074.tif'
1f2c32073c345031579d2a8c0bb9da37
9196542eb57c06922afa6c79e83d1ab7c430ec5a
'2012-06-28T20:39:01-04:00'
describe
'6223872' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARY' 'sip-files00075.tif'
6adb3118bbe05e5b83be90372b186cc2
e26b873566b926d0e16f312038e798c319fe2fec
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAARZ' 'sip-files00076.tif'
303fc84fe6cc10c1a7e38e0771394d5c
0b43fd0940b9f12240269b634ccc531350efdf5b
'2012-06-28T20:36:50-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASA' 'sip-files00077.tif'
2bda4c21fda07ad1e209087c0e9abba1
562c9ad6538c05a0d397c65129c7dfc7e29e0d34
'2012-06-28T20:30:21-04:00'
describe
'6223860' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASB' 'sip-files00078.tif'
cf96c3604d21117dba89f2f13f12c69f
0404c4f92c56318c981246514956bd07dad5b529
'2012-06-28T20:29:43-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASC' 'sip-files00079.tif'
1eab6597cdae6c5004e0e09cde890071
403709918bc9d0991297cc31dbf5d3018fcb5edb
describe
'6223268' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASD' 'sip-files00081.tif'
be2d12151a08c91ef679add71f735025
e2ea7723513095d4b28113c3e870ce958fb201b6
'2012-06-28T20:37:40-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASE' 'sip-files00082.tif'
c11e73cd706a0120aa0369f5175d1913
a1c824019a5cfd513b6458aa2108487654b22a32
'2012-06-28T20:38:02-04:00'
describe
'6223364' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASF' 'sip-files00083.tif'
53a2a77eed21c08f25574a4164c7b9e6
655427a83638bbd3ff32e38f57f855fd46ddf369
'2012-06-28T20:36:56-04:00'
describe
'6223916' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASG' 'sip-files00084.tif'
478eaca946d9fa7ffcbc278dbbb49bb7
c56b1301157dcd223c05f67a7688e00344cc98d5
describe
'6223488' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASH' 'sip-files00085.tif'
ab22a2932495dc26589bf228fd87a60c
b2d83232b7a42c6c995df89d4e3850b68a896ca2
describe
'6223848' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASI' 'sip-files00086.tif'
8836caae52a8d73c768512595bda8cbe
4bf331e5016b84fb3770223c265be3f04a627fa8
'2012-06-28T20:30:35-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASJ' 'sip-files00087.tif'
f3456573c15877123c648b858c8109dc
edc0a42eff545f56d825190422ba6829204e2873
'2012-06-28T20:36:19-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASK' 'sip-files00089.tif'
24c0668e41727b45a8f9a41515b80f95
2fd750f16d0c7f588d8ce4b8b8226e0a629c34f0
'2012-06-28T20:28:43-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASL' 'sip-files00092.tif'
42556f92e4974666bbf93e637fcede73
98a0e198f66b1aec80cf44895e6c1be5bc0de20e
'2012-06-28T20:37:04-04:00'
describe
'6223772' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASM' 'sip-files00096.tif'
4b49230f27117c019e896cad2e5653f2
f47207d2ce8b55bf4b07d6069e9e0c896d9f75fd
'2012-06-28T20:35:59-04:00'
describe
'6223768' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASN' 'sip-files00098.tif'
635b9f7455f94018c485927357d41f74
69c40893d8245850b3fea37418c5a6e7f09c9e9b
'2012-06-28T20:28:02-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASO' 'sip-files00101.tif'
d8422da05f54be94126467742da9407e
77146934258407ef02abd956395cd11478e2496f
'2012-06-28T20:36:00-04:00'
describe
'6223792' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASP' 'sip-files00102.tif'
921f40b67e8e34183c5ce2e1b4949249
98fdd1ea9509cc10107a64828e0693482d6e7f29
'2012-06-28T20:29:04-04:00'
describe
'6224204' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASQ' 'sip-files00104.tif'
7d97d38e2c96b35276b9408f42ac9886
0c3c87c9da070da489de1d45c64e656bb0368796
describe
'6223704' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASR' 'sip-files00105.tif'
fe7da79c03c041b68468cf6b4209e432
daf9ead093f39c4acc436bc12c808680efcda6e3
'2012-06-28T20:34:31-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASS' 'sip-files00106.tif'
494dd5c63265689a7527ef6301a7e53b
96abce35cea2e242633c4ccb1848bd3db80363ab
'2012-06-28T20:30:22-04:00'
describe
'6223752' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAST' 'sip-files00107.tif'
58f795c3b70e4bad9bad95da896ce665
fe6e0ef0747aaabed954062219bb34bc70ea194f
describe
'6223392' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASU' 'sip-files00108.tif'
af2b08dc066f77b37c4a152fdcc81105
423a46b80ece5fa7d000cd8e6bf808a621be68ff
'2012-06-28T20:37:52-04:00'
describe
'6223688' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASV' 'sip-files00110.tif'
15c1b8932886f387753d9067cd5e695a
577dbe4b103d71eaace3c9882686518da5f89c38
'2012-06-28T20:38:00-04:00'
describe
'6223660' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASW' 'sip-files00111.tif'
47a1635d30cb6b6a99264181a6a2ab3f
f85815be410e926a793e3f74a8b3fefa0d85ae4d
'2012-06-28T20:34:08-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASX' 'sip-files00112.tif'
68a34060dd2e6d769f58730efed6832f
60b12669c7e43bfdb6cf4aa417f36a7d6699c5cd
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASY' 'sip-files00113.tif'
bd7dd49de2b5291cdfdf94302ec70fbc
94e9f852fd49cd8e5f926b136db94b1d62064e2c
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAASZ' 'sip-files00117.tif'
8350380c2d7e28bda89a29aaefe9c3a3
6ba8a4662e9fcc5bdb6d3efa86f5b53f2ba2accf
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATA' 'sip-files00119.tif'
8e61e066afd74c2969f69509f5952e73
c22d7a555ea1e3ecba88b140265a4deeb106432e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATB' 'sip-files00120.tif'
df7bc9cbcbe8cbfd5247323c677cfeb3
46422dde39b65acf5caefa8e445032ac8166e2d1
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATC' 'sip-files00121.tif'
52fa927c507219c17e5f9655b151b2b5
cc78ae598a0aa0e6a2340c2464dcf6026073abd2
describe
'6223892' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATD' 'sip-files00124.tif'
3f434e02435c4efeef9bda7959ee5a71
0f8b7ccf55bfa8ca00174bae8c5a678cc5bbf57e
'2012-06-28T20:38:07-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATE' 'sip-files00130.tif'
cba1a0474c95fbfe5b4651f9b649a5f3
b68dd1f90612ee1901dfdd5314c61c816b2a659c
describe
'6224124' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATF' 'sip-files00134.tif'
12094fb83c28adf2fe0936fb3ea4b95c
04c4e3286579dbe59cb8ff7955913e49106d6e98
'2012-06-28T20:35:33-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATG' 'sip-files00137.tif'
497a035f322619310ceac6f03fee4232
8a1d48edd1ebb1828ddb60040690e6e426c5cc14
'2012-06-28T20:30:01-04:00'
describe
'6224008' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATH' 'sip-files00139.tif'
b2ab4fff6dfc72b9b050f4146451f7c3
7147d84b4a162b86c078daa981c788c48b360daf
describe
'6224000' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATI' 'sip-files00141.tif'
6502f3505240ff2b8c9ecea1d946bae8
7ef2909e0bdb668a59df20593e8619e6352ea4c1
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATJ' 'sip-files00142.tif'
c9b4e796f536a214b07f00d0f58d847a
4395ec190664f8b2ae84f5c247d0d89cead523f3
'2012-06-28T20:29:41-04:00'
describe
'6223876' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATK' 'sip-files00144.tif'
1cc0764829434e8fea277003f207210c
486c8739267198722c544a808de2c105af25dfd8
'2012-06-28T20:29:07-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATL' 'sip-files00145.tif'
a28f298cf9ac5ff16942c0d62f58e68f
d0a201669f1fab0e9a09db2147c290744a827e2e
'2012-06-28T20:38:14-04:00'
describe
'6224060' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATM' 'sip-files00146.tif'
157e142f3d8f93a60b888fec78ea6dc1
fe82a97bbb2d0fafd34f248024463b6ed762b780
describe
'6223684' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATN' 'sip-files00148.tif'
34934ef0281b6e25833e00c79cb0e300
e563bd6b1590775001f4392ae84f6761f2fdbec3
'2012-06-28T20:32:42-04:00'
describe
'6223828' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATO' 'sip-files00150.tif'
8a5f2ed62218ac58eaac519c8f37e19d
0891b116bb7907e883a303369f385b8b0a1c371b
'2012-06-28T20:32:57-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATP' 'sip-files00151.tif'
5b423949f77ecce4aa92ad0df4055aac
19d238344823420e8ddde29438ec0da9ee365079
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATQ' 'sip-files00156.tif'
2cd112bc7e300fc5136884fe0d4fd454
cbb9a478d03aee5f5cc0af1e170ae932498ae1f6
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATR' 'sip-files00157.tif'
d2c3e327443a08673281e94620a622a8
6f9e7c426780522d383c1d481d234b96a9b93857
'2012-06-28T20:37:14-04:00'
describe
'6222820' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATS' 'sip-files00158.tif'
73512126f17966306bdc2231806e8af0
06e66ed98d6503f0486956a8f22c14a9aafe7f9e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATT' 'sip-files00160.tif'
30a2458d3da0251713d1a039d339ad47
4f98fd7e6bac4f3dac9c951fde3a560cc57e98b1
'2012-06-28T20:35:21-04:00'
describe
'6223428' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATU' 'sip-files00162.tif'
0491efb696aeb9e67698d8ade956bccb
04ff7f4030cc55272b3864a7c0de8ddc747e45f0
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATV' 'sip-files00164.tif'
f35377d4f142b1e928d3cbd86cb5d898
c3686b57bbe0fb056c75c759acede95e7f623311
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATW' 'sip-files00165.tif'
acbf14d0ca69c6f978bc3edca4673b3e
ad8d71f07ad1fa12ba7f40ae7f12518fd7380f27
'2012-06-28T20:31:59-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATX' 'sip-files00166.tif'
2850ca840851b248784c9caca8a31774
471d567f47a673e147d9c253e3454ec6aed7126c
'2012-06-28T20:32:09-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATY' 'sip-files00167.tif'
35eaf40a6caeac2b76d0e6b362e98bd5
27f8fd479345a6bd9840441e87690275a3e3ecba
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAATZ' 'sip-files00170.tif'
791dee8cdb4f3bd048dfdb62f04b91f2
0dc5392c2fed1102f5ae5ef6fb94539a2cfee50e
'2012-06-28T20:30:49-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUA' 'sip-files00171.tif'
c49ffd9cc50f1f7dc69fb34a10a68a72
47a48411e8894f578aa9f8ffa43f9b5ea4cbd3e4
'2012-06-28T20:29:50-04:00'
describe
'6223252' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUB' 'sip-files00173.tif'
5b91cc9f56679e386b9920c25defba98
047f717599c55619b35896af6e89571069d6a705
describe
'6223064' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUC' 'sip-files00174.tif'
97df9fe7c40902db50bbc1960c8ea92c
e67c589c730a40b18343de812df71fd9bdff8bd9
describe
'6223728' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUD' 'sip-files00175.tif'
55848a9642778a0a48e63602d68fc765
fa13f5eaa8a2de72cf8ef636fd99b1dc1c363877
describe
'7435456' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUE' 'sip-files00181.tif'
e8ddbe5a384b098b2eb2941e264e5898
38a05a5673951568fe123d9b97788239fc3e7986
'2012-06-28T20:37:42-04:00'
describe
'7701172' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUF' 'sip-files00182.tif'
827d1ff94cd37dd083fd2bc547d290dc
c71297b83c9c23c7350c2b1e0714ccfd7953b1e4
'2012-06-28T20:36:55-04:00'
describe
'7485360' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUG' 'sip-files00183.tif'
6c104fdb46a9b78849421ee6f0cd906f
ab1785d7448bca30f889aab36c9fe8530c286a59
describe
'7349848' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUH' 'sip-files00184.tif'
8d180868c03459d744641ec987d5416a
e1ced2466b579073f0b65b7a3222f51945c8576f
'2012-06-28T20:34:34-04:00'
describe
'6222732' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUI' 'sip-files00185.tif'
9b60f987422eef07591af2991b51b7a2
77d3270da5ef3029f9e3a6013c9a49a04f4bf83d
'2012-06-28T20:36:03-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUJ' 'sip-files00186.tif'
6fd93fb5b2152f47b6d445c28535b545
0447791801c1dcb7bf5dd35751c67af23334ad01
'2012-06-28T20:37:03-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUK' 'sip-files00187.tif'
5e77dec85e7a9e4100b96eacbbb30944
26ade13a72a5db839fe62ab74a5dbd081aed9203
'2012-06-28T20:30:10-04:00'
describe
'6223340' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUL' 'sip-files00188.tif'
1b1557315fc95164599ad42511dd28cb
ab75e61af6a4f85c648002cb494e0743150ef89c
describe
'6223612' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUM' 'sip-files00189.tif'
1308f1a474336deb4f22058c3c1e15b0
34b2921af72de18917aef515154632081add1817
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUN' 'sip-files00196.tif'
ee8dc0c417d91d558ec3fbe20e036370
13fe6af52802ae90f89afaafac1879aef9c47eee
describe
'6223404' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUO' 'sip-files00197.tif'
5abac5855122128477cfba4f3d059917
e14facb533311a1b91c93b70db819b1738c9b585
describe
'6223532' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUP' 'sip-files00199.tif'
a43ff43fb1ff7485d13071c197a38c83
8122ef2974a0962a1aa2559a0afd60df446115ef
'2012-06-28T20:31:49-04:00'
describe
'6223760' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUQ' 'sip-files00202.tif'
905b8eb28194a171c17eb9813c0d6d12
28fdb8fad099bf0c320638b4dd77f69bab129faa
'2012-06-28T20:35:16-04:00'
describe
'6223568' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUR' 'sip-files00203.tif'
3f6382f6ad42edfcbca31d323fbb333a
6eba88cf5547bfe4a3935de52c3c6ae3300ffdc5
describe
'6224020' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUS' 'sip-files00208.tif'
7f4b16d614bc0bb622305a5b74e2a3eb
eb3b8d2018e385bf8111f39104bcb9e28605db5e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUT' 'sip-files00209a.tif'
39212bdeb8ebe7c32f39b55c00169903
76aa56e0e32f23d9b97197d52c7bd85772b2c492
describe
'6223672' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUU' 'sip-files00209b.tif'
73536a0aa7e9d4088be8c3809665fec5
7a9a6a255fe9b412a7477281b6b0a26023362ba1
'2012-06-28T20:37:37-04:00'
describe
'6223972' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUV' 'sip-files00210.tif'
8ee92ed4e761293a7ba316e79ad73f40
5129a1fcf712ebde7f801d24918ab354dbc6ca60
'2012-06-28T20:30:17-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUW' 'sip-files00211.tif'
1d79cda4a893d2bfd57d2006f9f10c33
1e79cf7448333a6c3583f2087e16285391492069
describe
'6223152' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUX' 'sip-files00215.tif'
365786ea2cc2747c032894f4d0779268
f355cdbd3933a7f5ec87c3d577bb6fba2b4692ab
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUY' 'sip-files00002.pro'
3ea16774d87c0560b3ec5b18628b1b2b
7e47a7b325a70a18a79431a2fa59183f2e899aca
'2012-06-28T20:35:06-04:00'
describe
'2542' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAUZ' 'sip-files00003.pro'
02302af5e4f336629abdb528d4612ab3
de2d88626b8754b4773c62f8b7b56fc13552181e
'2012-06-28T20:28:46-04:00'
describe
'4147' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVA' 'sip-files00011.pro'
d3d287828b9b2ef3fb32b9749a539967
232eba644ebfb156020253e2fc5994d33501cf00
describe
'24500' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVB' 'sip-files00013.pro'
16cd68b7200d9346d12634f5c9b0958f
234b7c4bee2bac24a2e47083ff282e24c80d8662
describe
'39984' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVC' 'sip-files00014.pro'
7fb9dddabf5998d625828e012a001225
6789a779e78b286c96debc1f9c63175c86dd33f5
describe
'41541' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVD' 'sip-files00017.pro'
069aa13c6458d9cba29f934ee3f324dc
4e85eb2406d0c427befd782b67b269aae041e05b
describe
'40488' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVE' 'sip-files00018.pro'
63e8dfbacdf3b7e6997dc6452961193b
2e32b1a7b6bf1f8f14e801a80e930c6e2208bc91
'2012-06-28T20:33:46-04:00'
describe
'41089' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVF' 'sip-files00019.pro'
2be131024f8a5b0b319e2398db900b0c
0e6201ad13a8ca5e3405621d3040991b562d7918
describe
'38796' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVG' 'sip-files00022.pro'
d382ac9494ffc83d917ef597a47a5d51
6caecabd0954a212d5956fbf2bcf0ad6614d4390
'2012-06-28T20:32:45-04:00'
describe
'40709' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVH' 'sip-files00023.pro'
1be91a0447e8855a1b2172fdd7957acf
645b9409964c190a71ce4f1db1d96221d01f3fff
describe
'39269' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVI' 'sip-files00026.pro'
702fb28cccb938a54432e318bc6fcb51
4d5d46e700228297f1c7aacff02399c57ee9e505
'2012-06-28T20:29:31-04:00'
describe
'36587' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVJ' 'sip-files00033.pro'
7d36fe1fe83120599409bee428872797
cecc6d71607283398179300f63ccf52656c92075
describe
'42705' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVK' 'sip-files00036.pro'
89954b4d4739fa5c66bae9d8d17d6ebc
a35d76d131368119a80d2931717773d9f974afd3
describe
'41207' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVL' 'sip-files00038.pro'
9022d4b20b87115c96503b3d93dcb761
9bcc3f23d13aa678f311de1850e058f0e2c07cea
describe
'40388' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVM' 'sip-files00039.pro'
98986a50997f587ac1d58a1b0e3d8515
ac4adcf1f08020b90cc4d2796de8b716337c9f26
describe
'34437' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVN' 'sip-files00041.pro'
36acb3e0b3c442e6cd6d667b2d4e9f68
638788c9b6e69297ec8369b81ae394a6eba4ea96
describe
'40901' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVO' 'sip-files00042.pro'
4c98fb83ec6c002b4bf258a1c2c72e85
8d2a1f06a0b10dc41314e7c760e03a117d420934
describe
'41594' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVP' 'sip-files00043.pro'
ce5164697abd5cf33a17da8b363c9f95
37624fa23d92a227d64418af75f3912c29b40ed0
describe
'41591' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVQ' 'sip-files00044.pro'
a641e28db08eff8c9df6846fc8ebbf66
b14bd4e70c8b817bd69551c5219ef4b4275b6da9
'2012-06-28T20:33:17-04:00'
describe
'42652' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVR' 'sip-files00045.pro'
e791e96418989e751fed0356061becd7
8ed813882aef9465f75f52e8ca99c6aaba029570
describe
'41378' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVS' 'sip-files00045b.pro'
7ec0ab24005cce1e57a66e0db434d634
632d95d632f44f00ba9dafdde3856d64269e6e54
describe
'40766' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVT' 'sip-files00046.pro'
eace6b663ba0fc27a7cff601369aa8e6
5ac3f21ac7de8d87140b6420a6336bd221b54835
describe
'40454' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVU' 'sip-files00047.pro'
df0c8ffe92e33c36b3e24f4a9bf67722
039190a52b502e0231474e9a9b1e6b78230d0d6c
describe
'32845' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVV' 'sip-files00048.pro'
f26dafe334f6b0548cfbc230ad4928bf
2eb9dc50e8a667ddf555b981b19e1c38831626be
describe
'41670' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVW' 'sip-files00049.pro'
80cd13cca6dc017af4cc161c98f632b4
27808d7f332da6a1b379f1bb27f9ed45624f1a1f
describe
'40871' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVX' 'sip-files00050.pro'
d9857f01e30a1d29784b8b02b79e2a1d
4185e356842b39b0c44581a5a51501e1c61caad3
'2012-06-28T20:29:01-04:00'
describe
'41007' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVY' 'sip-files00051.pro'
170d5f909562315888e7bc20f296d688
f240710f73b0837c7bbe3cd3254c87622d2ac49e
describe
'41895' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAVZ' 'sip-files00052.pro'
846fa8d9d5115addbb8bff14d337498b
4c91445d98ff004635481236ef153f1c0be1bafe
describe
'41218' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWA' 'sip-files00054.pro'
1dcc26b49448cc2a160746d8fbe33590
aa328cc831b18cfbe1c76c3d76976878e834bf20
describe
'39814' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWB' 'sip-files00055.pro'
3ac988b182e16f80003e3c760ed89f03
b01555e2c9baa11a350a30d92f6155ed6a01391b
describe
'42729' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWC' 'sip-files00056.pro'
cf30de7a967ff09ad8e3ef6ef1619add
e45bd3003be5dcbf3ab79e2fac19d218f09f71d2
describe
'42594' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWD' 'sip-files00057.pro'
5269616038de1950a2c9c0c846424e9e
2d052a5a7cc297bd46883586ddcc12bc3f0d4b0d
describe
'40843' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWE' 'sip-files00059.pro'
a2ba15f526e1f434bf53aed86bc9fab1
7ff1b93dcd8befe6e557ef348885d0520b75560f
describe
'33672' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWF' 'sip-files00060.pro'
a7bae0a4afb952acd0680e9795337d5e
4e23376fd2cb32aecb7dafe64393056e7dadac80
describe
'41260' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWG' 'sip-files00061.pro'
12d02780b95ddca4b6bc3f9a53b3ab5f
e6ac87ee5e7331c36e79795b694198baaee3a892
describe
'27383' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWH' 'sip-files00063.pro'
b7245e0406fa639cf4fd76026a0860b9
4cde99c01eb9bf9f7ab9232ea74f6eea374c3c10
'2012-06-28T20:35:39-04:00'
describe
'42253' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWI' 'sip-files00067.pro'
c3d7e8a1e25d9023556503ff449039cf
4d8e2222bc51187a842bffc81cab8e222c535767
describe
'41277' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWJ' 'sip-files00068.pro'
102b46d4176f784e9531ec9b295a2d5a
194be83539c8d341b614d1f1e889de2853b041b7
describe
'42311' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWK' 'sip-files00070.pro'
944e6c9914cb18ebabb1171a98b8087b
9f01fa8430bdf92cb4ac1716268a32e51a4e213a
describe
'39836' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWL' 'sip-files00072.pro'
193f2433e34241148bb848f46606eace
a64c281c60d8877107896009c88ebd275185950a
describe
'40234' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWM' 'sip-files00073.pro'
9cfe706cd336fad064f7fd6226412bf9
aa821e3a509d4e0bf41a65c6660821c8ecb5897b
describe
'32141' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWN' 'sip-files00074.pro'
cdf33de773a12086093790563a7698b2
c839261894a50b5c36b3cccee165208ad810e59c
describe
'38345' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWO' 'sip-files00076.pro'
e564f5d43db2dbbe5b8bd564a3171230
c4bac70ffcd53c82ffa7832cb59164d8ada281ba
'2012-06-28T20:36:52-04:00'
describe
'40025' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWP' 'sip-files00077.pro'
670727cbaa543c89b5dca7fac9efa4f7
c2bb787a47637c73399117fda9690cc532f1277b
describe
'40445' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWQ' 'sip-files00078.pro'
2740175062ce8a72ef4d31473e35d79e
36882988e3cc8abb201b7d33f68a643756420773
describe
'39526' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWR' 'sip-files00080.pro'
a7b36c2ed30267db5bb4a9f2e283887a
26eabc7d413882e7266e6d416143f601f3013b62
'2012-06-28T20:32:40-04:00'
describe
'33659' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWS' 'sip-files00081.pro'
f491bacd420cf370786bd46605afa2f7
13ac767c80aae8a95a666f36f27ffd10f5290cc0
describe
'39795' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWT' 'sip-files00082.pro'
d49388bc3f32f9765bfdeeb87ec2d287
82827f48d819bf802014ddc5d39dfb88abe53001
describe
'41691' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWU' 'sip-files00086.pro'
d660e5e660b33fc84fac27c313d75c5a
13b7a553be3b2b0aaad6e743f85e7e77ea26ef1d
'2012-06-28T20:38:13-04:00'
describe
'39562' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWV' 'sip-files00087.pro'
5c7fad94738cd920d2c235bdeb2f8655
a3d569989e5af1cbe280585f68a6fefb6f77628a
'2012-06-28T20:27:51-04:00'
describe
'42049' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWW' 'sip-files00091.pro'
cd01304e10a24afc0140c63902b9b206
3ebd3d7f66b75efd3297150b526287df9c8f926f
describe
'40667' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWX' 'sip-files00092.pro'
d92044d1ffff6ed7758a0fe4240354aa
eaf0f52d0f359a75a29ca382ee40c7ef54cedb0f
describe
'41510' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWY' 'sip-files00093.pro'
a060c4a6e5132661d4380e10bfb9495b
0f1e3e2f3146dbcd7a785114932a3e30dd0741a3
describe
'39524' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAWZ' 'sip-files00094.pro'
8649abe641e6f91a34aada957bd83adc
e964a3edfd86c73578b311981539158cb8e2e4aa
'2012-06-28T20:30:30-04:00'
describe
'40770' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXA' 'sip-files00095.pro'
764d2487e1733ae6949ad9bf645557ea
8d58daec08b87121470c2755a4c5858e7097e5ec
describe
'40718' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXB' 'sip-files00096.pro'
6264915ccbe7ab2581b50cc127f5478c
1685b9cc27f7d00733fdc415f30a7903f5308d9b
describe
'40806' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXC' 'sip-files00097.pro'
d50823067bdbc20112963a90a953fc7f
0b3a00c9689fab83937850905d299ae216c9d3b1
describe
'42137' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXD' 'sip-files00098.pro'
bbc5829df8cee1b34d297884af0d84b3
30263b937b1b3b5e5cf101ccca0998d3fc4b4352
describe
'41705' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXE' 'sip-files00100.pro'
9559ac7822cbb8b1381d455623787e65
e6bb8da4320a576af5d2043a5146ec5ad9ccaeff
describe
'39026' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXF' 'sip-files00101.pro'
859e3316eb0f77c7ec0b04eeb1c2d1fe
387751a473e4ae91d474693353d2c5f570055d79
describe
'41898' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXG' 'sip-files00102.pro'
36b731e1c3485cd3e5ce999364d2d41f
c7e0d00e255a3779bd53f79276524c194d98fdc8
describe
'40660' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXH' 'sip-files00103.pro'
fb2168737a46655e071a7ddb3ee4eed8
a7e142c651ec4ba9653e76848eed1ffe0ceebed5
'2012-06-28T20:28:36-04:00'
describe
'42217' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXI' 'sip-files00104.pro'
f9006d47ec469239c23c98a5225c1560
55e07cd8530d45ca91d9273523d009522fde2cfc
describe
'39163' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXJ' 'sip-files00105.pro'
ba5fe74880fd8bc97fb58dede2ed1ba1
468328a0368a5c866b932e7dd84735f409670d94
describe
'38828' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXK' 'sip-files00106.pro'
00144a8186ded3bd47a290e992038e3d
3c47a42a9aca7e6fba2432b8f7efb86831745913
describe
'41371' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXL' 'sip-files00109.pro'
5c38b2d2c1e87e2e9e6507783dc630cc
e329134ab6544998d005e3dd3fd8a3128dae9f57
describe
'42076' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXM' 'sip-files00110.pro'
76029ce7800cc7f28f23b208aa7a2432
d1a610d33acb8041e15565c0aa0a7517cd4a0a8a
'2012-06-28T20:35:20-04:00'
describe
'42044' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXN' 'sip-files00112.pro'
9d1d8dbcc703e4a284b9a9303fe680ad
806bffcc85868e1b8a74b77bee1310138616e555
describe
'42769' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXO' 'sip-files00113.pro'
e0380d7f78abdebd8fe3715bc27f5e16
3c1bdf5b96e796e6aa260f72a86cfca14d5bccb9
describe
'41906' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXP' 'sip-files00114.pro'
2b02d8a595287c96dfbd0ac76b50dcfc
72d7fe39926b878b8765afc8f4c8708c536d3757
describe
'41536' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXQ' 'sip-files00115.pro'
8ee1cef6d983e38c120970ef1b047ebb
2bdbce33ce07659d194d8068d49d18dd669b567b
describe
'41765' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXR' 'sip-files00119.pro'
548750b5df2fd83c4b9b988c4e4ebcc0
fdcb5ae18c95b523fdfe152f1d75e29c81f74dc3
describe
'35947' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXS' 'sip-files00120.pro'
519f407fde1463ba28ff7a86845b8c17
47c80a72ececeacf98a2e23f5abc1bc11f80715f
describe
'41366' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXT' 'sip-files00122.pro'
4c17435db636e9627af5a01cd18738c6
114a5d89fb8d85547b122ef619795541b7381910
describe
'40802' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXU' 'sip-files00123.pro'
a62d2aae23d06a8e42b43ac672cc88e0
0b2f48e983f6833ed7c60b241267d46ec02775f2
describe
'39923' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXV' 'sip-files00125.pro'
94661018ca43fca3613778e8ba16c262
cc7eecc0f985ab170bcbf35639ebcd48497d91cd
describe
'33324' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXW' 'sip-files00128.pro'
1bd4f475381996354c34cefd34672845
9afffb35ced64b58ba30ad4e1cdf00eb246e1b91
'2012-06-28T20:30:50-04:00'
describe
'40023' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXX' 'sip-files00129.pro'
07a3a6236b313137af9310df44f5baf5
d0709c99189e3910f3829a101e736a717d3d22ce
describe
'41118' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXY' 'sip-files00131.pro'
ce595c21ae4a5a1bb7c3c5f909f60328
fd765782559836f5cbbdd612527c042eac6b8da0
describe
'42017' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAXZ' 'sip-files00132.pro'
c0885914751331e3ade23ef4649d75ab
36d78da953054a0d3afba5aa213c843afb0d127c
describe
'41804' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYA' 'sip-files00133.pro'
8c3b11a4c79d38afc5ad8096a5d64ecd
4be4c288a92d59d93cfc90570601ef926605bb2d
describe
'41297' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYB' 'sip-files00138.pro'
0f975d4845d3db4b4b219443d35283c5
e9424bddde23ab3f4482cbb73cf9729ab3b05a1a
describe
'41257' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYC' 'sip-files00139.pro'
d3658d3adc0bc90539c22aea53638b54
9df5b215efa25d68e21f14609c17ad5e94e4eb15
'2012-06-28T20:34:15-04:00'
describe
'41449' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYD' 'sip-files00141.pro'
70433894b0c856fdee9b56c15415cae1
988fba9bec4acce0d6c9d8530998f830496e5f72
describe
'34221' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYE' 'sip-files00143.pro'
3830ce39a454bc9e3a57ec64ab22c8da
158d5c0361993862b67744516c88d61fc4d0e830
describe
'41103' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYF' 'sip-files00144.pro'
07b92e684e736a2fe28ed9b232f0f642
866af41bf5c358331b1edd56d2ce0e50e1414207
'2012-06-28T20:30:02-04:00'
describe
'40969' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYG' 'sip-files00145.pro'
2fe0640973290fbfbff94aac41e5cbe3
bd4cf52be5e38efeca26543170533ac1f1bd4a63
describe
'43024' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYH' 'sip-files00146.pro'
304693d5a8d17094da5ea60db280359e
05cc72fbf1de6d78284c74bc12d46b3985a581bc
describe
'41981' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYI' 'sip-files00147.pro'
9ec894dbfeaf1db1dc5c9a7c22e62062
32fb2a0b94d81c8d5397d9b4df64caa680dd594c
describe
'40238' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYJ' 'sip-files00149.pro'
2828b6df64128346dae365ca6c33eb41
2d08a2fa1bfe33642f65e6a1c9abe483b5b241d8
'2012-06-28T20:30:45-04:00'
describe
'41457' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYK' 'sip-files00150.pro'
8e36b610073d89f25b579442d156284c
d74754e21f6313ef41a28f15c422a412121879fa
describe
'41000' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYL' 'sip-files00152.pro'
d5ad56b83299d5594e5f866bffab7d51
7ea8aba362d9145c13600968777c145f23b62668
describe
'39953' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYM' 'sip-files00157.pro'
2f292c3e8160f0263be90aba0ce8ebc6
9e278924a2d95b54ab2503db520c5bd20465eec4
describe
'35350' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYN' 'sip-files00158.pro'
c9e2f69e7f8812771c6914f932c8570d
4d4986bd56afee21b887ce85ea77db1886da6f32
describe
'33518' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYO' 'sip-files00159.pro'
202cf289b237d5e428d280575c028a0b
86b107edebb66696f00e9781927c84497e51051d
describe
'38873' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYP' 'sip-files00162.pro'
1b2fd920cc46bcd3cefb302c57759876
46d2e1e4f400c06f0b6f8efc7051e9bf5af38f48
describe
'40698' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYQ' 'sip-files00163.pro'
9d8fb365c31efc4983419988b71a0ea9
48352651da76b15d158b45aca493b75c67593e93
describe
'39946' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYR' 'sip-files00166.pro'
dc6c88d1fc05ea07d99953b86f86670e
08e86479f6e82dc00c32eee1fb2b3b75c0925b4b
describe
'42587' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYS' 'sip-files00168.pro'
d5cac82135091056964f4f7711e486dd
86fba7f0ef9bb8989ecacc108758f30781455356
describe
'41445' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYT' 'sip-files00169.pro'
8faab973503774c346193c9ed07c8672
420b07361fb93f4dff3e468a79418c81ff5148bc
'2012-06-28T20:28:00-04:00'
describe
'38753' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYU' 'sip-files00171.pro'
a6c0f822d7ef25f020977ed7de541bec
5768f97c41f959ab524e31afe34e38b86323e8ba
describe
'32744' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYV' 'sip-files00173.pro'
d0ef56c900391a2c7175996acf6ee120
354241c17df30229eee64845a44080545da5623a
describe
'40050' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYW' 'sip-files00179.pro'
4ad8457ea277baff0a1c493493e7537a
12a6b37a3bf711321e04338a5fa699985efb2284
describe
'21250' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYX' 'sip-files00180.pro'
4b2f8fa289c435c288656e03dd08de29
05b1c42986c30a386fb5f07811bb1d46bde7f7a5
describe
'407' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYY' 'sip-files00183.pro'
4ed374667fcc8391124d280921b4bfcb
e1e9184986acc46d4e5d4e7bc2d32f3e7a49b229
describe
'26290' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAYZ' 'sip-files00185.pro'
593dc9d0be707630f90ae01dc7d8e58f
ccbaf584c029c34d58f492d26d18a5c41c20719e
describe
'39364' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZA' 'sip-files00186.pro'
42136092e6b2c467067cf9fc5641971c
baf8aab34dab43af402f4b7dc8f1779e7b363505
describe
'40518' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZB' 'sip-files00188.pro'
1de48b52bee17c20f207753e418488a1
5b796b94b315285f2c5a2f63c7c190e339970a3c
describe
'41239' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZC' 'sip-files00191.pro'
5f3b46ffd47a313e3d2c0382a2b2aebc
742d07e84935693461ef9b3b10cc3eebb0d61ead
describe
'40143' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZD' 'sip-files00192.pro'
20e6b9140c43d16f4ef53e12cd5333c3
124f48a7dfd414b0060ac4e9c61bd50cf354967d
describe
'41342' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZE' 'sip-files00193.pro'
7fdd8ac6f8abd191a7487d5011d82e66
121ae9240f2440a6c455c98cec9008d36853217e
describe
'39105' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZF' 'sip-files00194.pro'
c689a54b57660adfa4d683e88b8e38bb
07ad7feb8db4950e9673c5c2ced43ce601e20fe5
describe
'39922' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZG' 'sip-files00195.pro'
0c2f0a8f9349910d33d7aeaa90a8d4fa
01be2ee86608a621db10326ef175698dc2172e84
describe
'41321' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZH' 'sip-files00196.pro'
7a7a03f61d32c958b5481990ceaa8857
d182bbcb21d60c3319ec0ad63a27768ec5774b3d
describe
'41157' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZI' 'sip-files00197.pro'
a1b2af296ced617bef04b533a6f039f9
700a6f38f486dca31173f2e391c74b96e1d09d57
describe
'39344' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZJ' 'sip-files00203.pro'
482d6e21329a213c6a6b2bf49d02a6f0
c694230f0d075fa44d192024b1ae0c07697a7c56
describe
'36721' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZK' 'sip-files00205.pro'
bc4cfa472830aff5ecd1196c97b89c7c
b0a343d1a5611cf1fbc7a78364a3478e05d47bcd
describe
'31258' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZL' 'sip-files00206.pro'
20678e59545b342f3a37c09aaba2747e
d4eab0441555ed048973ba077abd5a9cb721faee
describe
'39940' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZM' 'sip-files00207.pro'
851e9d0784d538df368d372e4aaf3044
8af5fef55385ab6c6fe2765440aa8acded27567f
describe
'38900' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZN' 'sip-files00208.pro'
36b22de76d6fcb844bd8a4fb4b8f94eb
b1a1913ebb8dbe41df6f0682b32608574f80723c
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZO' 'sip-files00209a.pro'
3f1cc69acffad26a512e7884e82cb959
8b05be09d8bcfe1b0f22b4d967f025f500bcbeb6
describe
'40123' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZP' 'sip-files00209b.pro'
e62363b3a6eac88996942d8d08ea2205
e0a77059e44d3ab1340dc8a2b5d2d40660bae7e7
describe
'40167' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZQ' 'sip-files00211.pro'
36688c5969facbbd9f444dad1c7cc7fe
4ef1e3a55146f64dcf18650e8230267de5e83989
describe
'40434' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZR' 'sip-files00212.pro'
a72725abbc43b57485495795b83afa4f
b4332666cc2107cd1c72b849a750bf94bc2bfe0d
'2012-06-28T20:34:51-04:00'
describe
'39656' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZS' 'sip-files00213.pro'
43664ef37ab7c5f2b3391c3f14de7acb
9abd5d2a26e6e53ede48fc852caa64645e74451a
describe
'244' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZT' 'sip-files00003.txt'
f91a5f2120010f88a1767e5c80a67602
1aa8fd6ca219fb0822853fe7efef96034c166d79
describe
'1071' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZU' 'sip-files00013.txt'
a9d25924503f898e64165bb61b512252
934f77d87eb377b3fda71a06d8805f1628280393
describe
'1666' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZV' 'sip-files00014.txt'
d34bf6498d32fe017054fa9cd0432194
da002f0ef77b12828a12c51f67bf8a18e81ab78f
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZW' 'sip-files00015.txt'
c08417dc5a9c6d6a3833d28c66e81980
97d6c4867be4ae79e981b3e14800766c68f987e7
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZX' 'sip-files00016.txt'
26d93a086061828470d73aebc34ebcc2
5caed27affb7b53ac35ae62f85d42b9c43040093
'2012-06-28T20:31:32-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZY' 'sip-files00019.txt'
e9e2c29fd7551047a7d47c6122aca4f5
6c0eba692d00a1862a3eed23f6d7f0631600c478
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAAAZZ' 'sip-files00021.txt'
3765b3a1c5f3574c6d497ca33eaf774f
ae4996892658985b99dfb28791228a9eba6b5008
describe
'1624' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAA' 'sip-files00022.txt'
1fe900ed70c2769c6762e6ee59999698
8cb534c99df83e1b8c0e021a78dbf7c82b58c7a4
describe
'1736' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAB' 'sip-files00023.txt'
d016dd63355544c9538105948e738e12
4709865b911defa1213344dd50e6d6bd9f1b131c
describe
'1636' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAC' 'sip-files00026.txt'
0b526da2e778a1c43d665a35b0716578
e20d4ef0590b6b225e7b8b3677da946cccc70635
describe
'1733' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAD' 'sip-files00027.txt'
c90540cefae615615264a9ffd5db19d0
00a0fce8258888a153482a04c646267e1cb50abb
describe
'1431' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAE' 'sip-files00028.txt'
abe18136ee39c166150423dc72beb732
034df9757338505344b9af1238b6ddbf0cbb081e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAF' 'sip-files00029.txt'
17e3e1e824ea038b165545bdc54ac45a
240a4743049e098216641f9a5babb21f072e51e4
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAG' 'sip-files00031.txt'
c6f81a43664ca7a657e7397113db39f8
a7a85dbddce016d81f137c4b4f53c9ab3379f0e5
describe
'1533' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAH' 'sip-files00033.txt'
abef98b14c9af6844219c89cd13c636e
f2673e8cb76d9affb2ebd116fd851d5fdfe5dbb2
describe
'1770' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAI' 'sip-files00034.txt'
532e7cef67af57d4379dacf4dd616e1d
87f59b8a5d02837e3c4779303cd404642d248629
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAJ' 'sip-files00035.txt'
f173d9516029829a7e01c7e225b0ee26
ce057171e1e96353f28aa459363ad6d6274be75b
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAK' 'sip-files00036.txt'
9dd7363b19eff7cd2b046098f350091f
ab350d45588108eab1a571b1b4d262851bbcdec6
'2012-06-28T20:27:56-04:00'
describe
'1838' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAL' 'sip-files00037.txt'
98c858aa197c58a85e65abbfd5e49222
19c0c94bcc1cdd46b90463746284d3eeac99b1e1
describe
'1716' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAM' 'sip-files00038.txt'
565e75b81d1428b17748954761fe3cac
137e746567b32c3cec5f5a2de52a9b18f4601c9a
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAN' 'sip-files00039.txt'
abebca5b10bb25c6bfb1d384a20b9f7d
473577736f32d3fbfb322665bd25f5d951a41de5
describe
'1499' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAO' 'sip-files00041.txt'
ac644dd0dd1c8e0e0b2f5d47e92b0def
2cccffc3bb0dc604c5d3c885141a679d1eedc404
'2012-06-28T20:30:40-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAP' 'sip-files00042.txt'
6ad88d18a803fada895b31af402b77a9
ad09b6147fd5ddbd84ce73c5d0565a2c25749c73
describe
'1743' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAQ' 'sip-files00044.txt'
5c8a845403a00f7c97e87e62cdb68fb2
79c3ae1a06256f7da7c3f2344a8bd67981aa25d1
describe
'1790' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAR' 'sip-files00045.txt'
79cf62b2c1a093185ce5cfb40cf16e7d
4d4b1109aff4918148b32314c60fba3e9b05e741
describe
'1710' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAS' 'sip-files00045a.txt'
5f76fa9fc3508691f11ce0f6884c6e81
dddfc88808a717b7a24302577fe3bb788df069e8
'2012-06-28T20:30:51-04:00'
describe
'1778' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAT' 'sip-files00045b.txt'
f3f40f45252b743a9cc4a10b801d2094
9757b73a0e7f928d3f0b2d726bd04c7f0d7619e0
describe
'1711' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAU' 'sip-files00046.txt'
5451b5b37a1307a63f9a5b200d2201fd
8c7c2788cfb4e92d0edba8ff23f448e88aa3ce5d
describe
'1706' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAV' 'sip-files00047.txt'
ebfd6271bb02f762874d88a816f2013c
8d46c6afbcef46c76a49beb3a7a8c052e4c447d7
'2012-06-28T20:31:10-04:00'
describe
'1422' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAW' 'sip-files00048.txt'
73c10a6bf3ffe4b4abc49c1ae4cdf230
9fb2795d07df030ede7e8ecc091619e8c9f72924
'2012-06-28T20:32:51-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAX' 'sip-files00049.txt'
76978e932350cc0dd4b14072f96476e3
d6e92206e5a4c85197e452913817af20df20841f
describe
Invalid character
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAY' 'sip-files00053.txt'
1a1f405702ec5b7e7e906aae45fbbbae
23b125af3f76881dc21f80541c9528fd41656fc1
describe
'1719' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABAZ' 'sip-files00054.txt'
71571ec3763a23bd0002b9112164f843
80b45e6cc906e05a7bf3e3e3fee01ca3d7fa5257
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBA' 'sip-files00056.txt'
88696b820b53fe3455b79c969b64f2ed
7f0715b73a260557700df09198ed4e551640681e
describe
'1811' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBB' 'sip-files00057.txt'
2c3a35782204c692447fbd2fd8dfe671
6677d4d1f85640828cd544e790df29ac4c926453
describe
'1628' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBC' 'sip-files00058.txt'
74dd79c74ad16fa4c3bac8c80a409f23
ef914d52429f863699afda6cef47aceb7e58aae6
describe
'1445' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBD' 'sip-files00060.txt'
226d6ecd429fb61853264e157c5e478b
f0ab148082f798340cf8aa297888ed8b81af8cfd
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBE' 'sip-files00061.txt'
56d1c237c8b5258f09b726aa57bc8b54
bb30f1c35cb7eec5e95ebf36ef3e4dd7ba0f9c7d
describe
'1153' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBF' 'sip-files00063.txt'
10fa2bba702be2d9a64e9c501ac8b625
01f4ec1c76ce7b096e33799347f6151ca0cb947f
'2012-06-28T20:28:37-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBG' 'sip-files00064.txt'
65f9e1e28906ba2022af029501f14b28
3d3befa7d589e7b1ff78c28ba704e485e44d122e
describe
'1760' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBH' 'sip-files00065.txt'
71bc9d2019d5513de764cb1873442468
56f81ca5840e1d1e7981917dd7da4ef539aa9be2
'2012-06-28T20:32:11-04:00'
describe
'1677' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBI' 'sip-files00066.txt'
813958ad2277af3bd0c86048ef0c94d3
e375e926a928dab21d67cebce79c012496423761
describe
'1769' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBJ' 'sip-files00067.txt'
28d741f99b7a52a8ead4e722b44ed821
9ff999dc1da744190e85d02ef66bfb66b2b3599c
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBK' 'sip-files00068.txt'
d2a1f7214dce92c50169f649e7cf3104
82a0cc5dbf190d67fa302a643fe0bc0631f0a018
describe
'1465' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBL' 'sip-files00071.txt'
2fcb06118e202f0d3caf34faa2df17be
7bbd8b50f31118c7dac82969bc14b907e8c9e6f0
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBM' 'sip-files00072.txt'
cd2c5ddacf9f01b39a558882a4fb4780
678a9794c013893207afc4d67e29e346e1024de1
describe
'1693' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBN' 'sip-files00073.txt'
0ac2a8032bed167ee09f7d68669f9f6a
23eb4057fd622457ab7d86828401ca0e58ee99ae
describe
'1382' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBO' 'sip-files00074.txt'
5be384f3b66ebc7be8c0cd21c7375133
e335a7a2e64ae3bf02130e9eff44dcb49c152836
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBP' 'sip-files00075.txt'
82a78221be5b6a4e4a46d3094ec2a3e8
ee2856c41c4f280606bdb8b57afa2e301e6ffeeb
describe
'1667' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBQ' 'sip-files00080.txt'
284999f4568356246c200d84ec1f0b93
b0c779f8439218b15dda47d18e3270aa58d082c5
describe
'1463' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBR' 'sip-files00081.txt'
33122910cf3bfcc063fa43a73ec8557f
cba27f4d296deceb4fdffd69c88d311bae3e0cfd
describe
'1658' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBS' 'sip-files00082.txt'
e67053300450116fdd678f320f8198d2
dcc297e322833fb98992279308ecdcd2822d1fbb
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBT' 'sip-files00083.txt'
8c38a93a5a65ebf099326951ac4812cd
c4247478c7becdaa48c0a9e45021122e2a1841c4
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBU' 'sip-files00084.txt'
4db62aa9c4b1a8c8b144e7afbd73c709
72dc13902510f869c5a34e43466ac19431d345a6
describe
'1731' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBV' 'sip-files00086.txt'
985b6ad4212a024d2856ec80d19ff169
bd4bb7d7cd9a490a44f48ce655647745888f656f
describe
'1662' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBW' 'sip-files00087.txt'
eb516a74bbd6209b20466cefda9e887e
b97dd70674a07922ebe072103e80f4c1d9ba6fe2
describe
'1755' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBX' 'sip-files00090.txt'
c9b1a68dae0e059acadc9081345f7c87
5e1e042b74810077133e9316f7873b60189f0566
describe
'1763' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBY' 'sip-files00091.txt'
2d66bfec9d49b2a2bf0da288f5bbbf17
e8ffd13b8b8a1be445730445ad19a7094e6e5ef0
'2012-06-28T20:30:20-04:00'
describe
'1694' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABBZ' 'sip-files00092.txt'
730f1ad61662cffc52286fa647c25377
a55a521b834cd60e0b0c024eef5f710aa99366ff
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCA' 'sip-files00095.txt'
232f01632ef7a5c643d292dfde75999e
0fefc072ffe398b525370eab1b87dd7246596978
describe
'1692' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCB' 'sip-files00096.txt'
6db220cfaa60309dc3bb23d0af16c048
ff773353438325cbcf82f13d063603968427dd22
describe
'1509' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCC' 'sip-files00099.txt'
b31d7e867c527135ae1132d4c217bf5b
f4fe7fd85cffb819e9c98b999620dfbe5bc4c182
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCD' 'sip-files00100.txt'
78b90dd748d3485a87f4f51e9068dba0
9d46ad4960400fb0de27e67d0dd9c8cc5f222bb6
describe
'1648' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCE' 'sip-files00101.txt'
0539c8b9fbcf508ea053cdce5432ef01
74a99fc4915b518465e609a3096c253cb1bdd020
describe
'1713' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCF' 'sip-files00103.txt'
f71473dc26ad5c24e342c7d60c93aea9
b797457209cb00f8f10d0b8f297558759a7c3b5c
describe
'1657' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCG' 'sip-files00105.txt'
e3f116b4fc69454964d1a8a3981d7bbf
b5ce4109f93b25465d8678ac4f71ccf57c0cdb92
'2012-06-28T20:32:35-04:00'
describe
'1617' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCH' 'sip-files00106.txt'
3624e1860d11019d8cea369f14160311
4a2af40c6983b7322eafabe546c93ccf0a23ed07
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCI' 'sip-files00110.txt'
7a53e0ed995859f5ad4707ce2042d267
88db2545d4952f210a0e84a98f2dcc2663aa12dc
describe
'1616' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCJ' 'sip-files00111.txt'
9d0231ff66ee655b9879b6f3f41ee8b7
30f1a886c24025a62a445f3eac5bb79bb7e7460b
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCK' 'sip-files00112.txt'
34055cc0b05950989658f99e4622c6ec
ff1d8ab270df7a7cd38c3d739027943497a870af
describe
Invalid character
'1817' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCL' 'sip-files00113.txt'
3c038ae2a835256ae8683f90c53d1540
3a2b4b6f82efc8a363691f120bed6902cbab4e0a
'2012-06-28T20:32:19-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCM' 'sip-files00114.txt'
c67db4f80490a3197de2246c03bc1ad0
a8fc5a4f91964658348770f8f2f29d4b446674aa
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCN' 'sip-files00115.txt'
bfa29815ecb048b7c47b02e4c3ed64fc
7d0683ab6b92718541a5c2f75f2a1e89ef500488
describe
Invalid character
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCO' 'sip-files00116.txt'
c6d541770475b69ff20b269ab2c0bf74
a057da24c47f7d535c7d2bf835015d055954d8ac
describe
'1857' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCP' 'sip-files00117.txt'
352300feb7cc30fcf6323a65bdbbca55
76ffac6e676a8d9a0a9c19ecbe6c3fc969416924
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCQ' 'sip-files00118.txt'
6b764f5f42bc196e48fa72e83023c52f
3e2443a9a565b6797ed2b255ea250621f1a0af03
'2012-06-28T20:27:22-04:00'
describe
'1529' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCR' 'sip-files00120.txt'
0cbc40dbb0ae1ccdaa4b1e1150029f3b
37016522490fc74f1254da8edc7a9f77d253c512
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCS' 'sip-files00122.txt'
e4649f06b43bd07f70e70740e471b44f
d3f17e9efc85ab072d7749e760dba0d9266e833d
'2012-06-28T20:28:20-04:00'
describe
'1722' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCT' 'sip-files00123.txt'
56fceef0fab0c18a6bbb4e71231febd4
623dde773a5ca93f6353d1c165ad66af5f41853d
describe
'1705' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCU' 'sip-files00124.txt'
450c1b69f98d9ccf2e62337ac022d481
ff1127359f1598aa28dac1c3655fa0326b5e8ab7
describe
'1727' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCV' 'sip-files00127.txt'
040ec722e275cfdd392720ed024241f4
1bd20d3d050c921d757fd00236c8ca81a4070e81
'2012-06-28T20:31:55-04:00'
describe
'1427' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCW' 'sip-files00128.txt'
19fb7d92262e2cf94d95d237c32302fc
99f37e466adb9af2d6391eb770305be374ae4e05
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCX' 'sip-files00129.txt'
24069c28886d3dcb93f67e8414765a78
0c66cf8c57cdfa85cb7581ffec43068370cc759f
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCY' 'sip-files00133.txt'
f6455be1835fdfee96f11b6ddd5938cb
86ee878e9da2a448af95cb8f1c626db3b901dac5
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABCZ' 'sip-files00135.txt'
b146d2dcec93e9f225e5200df438ca85
68ba546f050c0034cb6f1b379cecb080b0f49fa3
describe
'1653' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDA' 'sip-files00137.txt'
9d1127d8d256a0635061967cf37b99ba
00be0c5c133f3890eb48f63bfdecbb796d79da7a
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDB' 'sip-files00138.txt'
9e22d0dac3613d0062b25712ed976f45
4093c37afe8f84802264c772580b359a8da24a2c
describe
'1739' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDC' 'sip-files00139.txt'
03ddd18675d9a557ac2e0f7f0a462d04
fd714bb6bbec7ae206c320f66b605f21818d2d5f
'2012-06-28T20:30:08-04:00'
describe
'1768' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDD' 'sip-files00141.txt'
1d2c9e1e6d79b06f030e6ad4670a1e3a
8e0757dee29e8878c0744a7e6d8a0633699653cb
describe
'1482' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDE' 'sip-files00143.txt'
b9f77df6bf9b647dd5c6f0ec88f77e0f
01caca4a4fb0df5e5e1b723b8725d49932b9118a
describe
'1712' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDF' 'sip-files00144.txt'
aafa125b17e0e0344a9ce4893a7b9470
10dcdf618159c6aa5de1493b7f433504ec18d8c5
describe
'1767' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDG' 'sip-files00151.txt'
0e8b1686ec77da255105231f64cce1b3
c2d52abea841365e925e899c08664f3a7ee04848
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDH' 'sip-files00152.txt'
5b2f0e0ec508eeeb881ee2d5fe0f5fb2
c4c7b38f2734f558ca968a565220c3f4e37365f0
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDI' 'sip-files00153.txt'
0377cffa32fe6ca0015c7a7909694963
917f2cca06114d1f677789d5fa89d9990bf949b9
'2012-06-28T20:33:29-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDJ' 'sip-files00155.txt'
b9b2eeb4b28e14006ecf02ebed70267c
a89f201270f6ae549d202af26de8800a46ab0a36
'2012-06-28T20:38:41-04:00'
describe
'1682' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDK' 'sip-files00157.txt'
7a357c072b76911a3847cab8533dd8d5
360e36d08a3ce0c7293554be512d554159366f42
describe
'1480' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDL' 'sip-files00158.txt'
cde970419ef0a0ff106f757f2f63a582
c4191c9b21022cf6a17d60d7e8eb86832a5c4ff6
describe
'1418' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDM' 'sip-files00159.txt'
98691de6753b2fb72a82e00c616d01fa
b22170d09fa6dd4edc95624d885b3c1584f2ccc1
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDN' 'sip-files00160.txt'
4f0fd52e2dcac50b78d883f229a5d37d
bd57b0c62cc4dca2be59e3462545cd4c14c0cd9f
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDO' 'sip-files00161.txt'
6de5bd42ddc13cf3fc4a68c06e768706
4fe3ec9d7ceacbd461bd4652aabbc551e837d462
'2012-06-28T20:33:10-04:00'
describe
'1612' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDP' 'sip-files00162.txt'
b217ddc70c829087856bbb92cc45ed3a
d7ea0ada567f9602419ee5e4b5424308f6c5709f
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDQ' 'sip-files00163.txt'
82e7f735c5c2a888bf3441f410ac21f9
57c53286107ebdc00d382eb8e08482697e2ecf0e
describe
'1587' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDR' 'sip-files00164.txt'
1db1b7c8e2f80524dc53ad9373cea1c1
8fb6ed282c8cc8fa4413575973d01c052bb2ddd4
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDS' 'sip-files00165.txt'
689285f8eb86a482425c695b8187043d
cfd9fa262affef7b5d068a68462b3669dfce893b
'2012-06-28T20:33:08-04:00'
describe
'1665' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDT' 'sip-files00166.txt'
4b1c1d9295865fd83a05f0a77c3308eb
24389ff430745d7367b09a048a2ddbddc4147aae
describe
'1562' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDU' 'sip-files00167.txt'
517883ae9b491f239d89a1566cf7faeb
b1b3d8c2ff5c430fad9bbde749ba9bd049ca10e4
'2012-06-28T20:29:57-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDV' 'sip-files00168.txt'
c85ef6e2935ca1e4debf7bc5ae7df0e2
04ffb0874226f3bc2a91d08e13fcad27b3535377
describe
'1644' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDW' 'sip-files00171.txt'
6600b5de7ba6a7ccca74b8e3f11074ab
9be05a2bc0443ada803e155a3027610b4c6ccda8
describe
'1388' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDX' 'sip-files00173.txt'
97673886c4df01df77166274b3ae63e6
9d45e38b5fb082bb667a08a353a806cb67a68b98
describe
'1421' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDY' 'sip-files00174.txt'
4563dbaf7d64318ca4e87e77788b4026
90dd79b16988a944f7502f99320caa90a5d060d0
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABDZ' 'sip-files00176.txt'
b1d2cfe5cb61043927ec15ec9067a55e
e054d25c42b4f050e850238423481ae18485ba4d
describe
'1835' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEA' 'sip-files00177.txt'
9c83abe43f3f9d7cf7ebaf64641bb788
643fff51fce379e8a94867d7f29e8e99327438b6
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEB' 'sip-files00178.txt'
cbfadb518eaef0195b138912adecd89f
3168aca355cea2381e2c6f1f5532e409136d2c75
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEC' 'sip-files00188.txt'
5f5446b3a20d9a58d2b78ef83fdc04af
dd8636d663e485cf50f32b134a65e2029436d7b7
describe
'1766' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABED' 'sip-files00189.txt'
9177ff98bddf26c9e39e920a38f03d87
8016a1703ba4a12c8cdf0c2ae5e366515684f2e8
describe
'1685' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEE' 'sip-files00190.txt'
a0d14876622300a1ef5310528b322875
946557cc1f31b7604bb3217d7d2804e4397c46c5
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEF' 'sip-files00193.txt'
6f72a381a49afc912e425154f9bd94ba
459eb0db1eaafffebbaa0806d60e0304352975f6
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEG' 'sip-files00195.txt'
1e53710ff6a24c9482a17bf6fef84323
b50d8c1d24a64e9dc310aacfd7e62ac6d33196ed
'2012-06-28T20:31:36-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEH' 'sip-files00196.txt'
0a65e7aa45547d473dc520e30cccf605
f24f01d88fdfa61f0bde1faa0154a43f075475ac
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEI' 'sip-files00197.txt'
b689a7088142135953ccf02f58a8b9c9
cf674dc3c820081a460fdc265612a4e7cb16176b
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEJ' 'sip-files00200.txt'
fe279b7980f21fd0681cda8fde9b0d71
2f8ec06c5669f705badaf874a2dabb52f83cd22c
'2012-06-28T20:27:45-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEK' 'sip-files00201.txt'
310c1a2579970da42f78c98a149bd6f7
39dfbf1e16f81ed811bc265f42ca6ebd2776044a
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEL' 'sip-files00202.txt'
4a3fd9562e6100cbd7c948b64cf51d8f
c7ba1b6eb7d211411e485e4940fc5383bcbc7141
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEM' 'sip-files00203.txt'
68ec4b99611300c2c19673efad2f8dbf
e12bd27b4e307e876bbac746009fd69f5290579c
'2012-06-28T20:34:43-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEN' 'sip-files00204.txt'
98b670763dfb2dabf64a2c8ecc15b9ef
40fab5e430e50282c9a47184dd59411cebb2a733
describe
'1547' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEO' 'sip-files00205.txt'
9cb1b801e969dcfd956b68cfdc0c0baf
1996ba060b1bc3cf958cffd8fad090d50d14931f
describe
'1376' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEP' 'sip-files00206.txt'
32950949149ef57c7b23defa147d2f86
77189a668aaaa0489ea5252510f991fd335a0df8
describe
'1619' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEQ' 'sip-files00208.txt'
a8f0609848ae598ddb3ca68651781598
534eeb80acebbed736eda0a8f7084fe78ae39271
describe
'1703' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABER' 'sip-files00209a.txt'
4beca7fb03d1bc7f8a2813a5b2a5af10
fc8caa14d9356c0b50e1aee1bd695cd7fa924bf4
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABES' 'sip-files00209b.txt'
44d7e7f205ba416aa6b64c3d85de41c7
6ee9b156b855ed2ce4745fd071a5535155bf2c4c
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABET' 'sip-files00211.txt'
b7aee980f4003b86372a379029139e01
a09390945aea7fe8f76966ad6f050d3e6dcd68ad
describe
'1702' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEU' 'sip-files00212.txt'
18a06d5e458e6003aa6150854f6f9735
b40d8fc558366e4b40bb43fe66ee45c4812fc2a8
describe
'1668' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEV' 'sip-files00213.txt'
d727e186e7ecc56ae3cbfab6c24bfc65
1c8c534b7777fcd84d9035f8f065c802fcfd2cd5
describe
'39135' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEW' 'sip-files00001.QC.jpg'
27507d3c983943fa591405e910954064
f076e55e0e36aa2ebdc28d54e177c6f941edcbd7
describe
'29169' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEX' 'sip-files00002.QC.jpg'
1733be154a39a1b115cdbc8db261396b
e4c1d6c023c85bc85d460af8e7ef1570c9b1e3ca
describe
'21397' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEY' 'sip-files00002thm.jpg'
4f787069ff8a9aad58149b5675663caf
6d27a3e1395637f75333a0a9ff3c79ba8fe478a1
describe
'26909' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABEZ' 'sip-files00003.QC.jpg'
0d328d70dc50e5920bf749d8d2574362
7ceca1c0883748cc6c0ece7ed64c11a5df3162ae
'2012-06-28T20:36:24-04:00'
describe
'20671' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFA' 'sip-files00003thm.jpg'
2d2025b4a64d491bcc805034bc009f26
c3748f71193fa12c07ff2a476c7136de9bb0a834
describe
'18408' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFB' 'sip-files00007.QC.jpg'
2131b61acb0da38411438a84cd0441ee
854701db285de047a22f8bcbbaf71a3359321e70
describe
'17930' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFC' 'sip-files00007thm.jpg'
86c993a1d7a503bafb41738b0688ec94
3bad78d24d636af29cb3b68a1cddc0c4f94a35f8
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFD' 'sip-files00008.QC.jpg'
54e9c35ab7654673d2f9466a27285629
9f30c7f127dd8a753f1e7a68e5a902cfeac4232c
describe
'22881' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFE' 'sip-files00009thm.jpg'
33ed59fb998a0f449ae1413d9e3d2009
d93e8c7bd14d70a277b028e458672cad1a34ee2d
describe
'24148' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFF' 'sip-files00011thm.jpg'
3ec4b0fc7763252ec1f49c46200b06f6
d3cd474fb0525ab00fdb2e71377aeaec5daaa13b
describe
'18736' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFG' 'sip-files00012.QC.jpg'
a638be83892d5bcdbdb0296380a7ec1f
2f03463661be3b57976ea135ba4356480d1a53b8
describe
'18310' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFH' 'sip-files00012thm.jpg'
ca379e56c7ab81010d16b06c272eb1a5
8fd567974fe2187337548f0cd751b506482400f8
describe
'54889' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFI' 'sip-files00013.QC.jpg'
c6396b6049824473e51918f34cfa979b
470ce614c4c735e72b6590ca322fc0c38e70cc93
'2012-06-28T20:28:51-04:00'
describe
'80355' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFJ' 'sip-files00014.QC.jpg'
088935bc84809191fb9dd2e917977963
908635815720775cace4c3a995fa570c539debf2
describe
'77525' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFK' 'sip-files00015.QC.jpg'
e3875d5fb0fd5bb0fedf276e27d05107
28e43bdcf294adfbb3e226d822004b8b99144adb
describe
'37027' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFL' 'sip-files00015thm.jpg'
7642616323e4137d5de4e4e5fa915dd6
947eef8309a35cd12292b87289c4d11245c4e887
describe
'35069' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFM' 'sip-files00016thm.jpg'
69de36bfce821ceb87af92c8fe9800ce
60c2ff9befca70a08bd785e9f5aee7013c073091
describe
'36695' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFN' 'sip-files00017thm.jpg'
c3560688387127d848d4f9f341a617a5
06765bfffe9559512c6bb4b716359d3a39e77735
describe
'36730' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFO' 'sip-files00019thm.jpg'
b311b8fb4ca37f065b53b80992fd8589
980d389f4c4df4b854c64ff32853bd5f7ce865b5
'2012-06-28T20:35:45-04:00'
describe
'79190' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFP' 'sip-files00020.QC.jpg'
6a23654f518aa5dca485dff12b7fb720
fa219d4f5d19f9fd67f4d4e1dd2409efa73d8ee7
describe
'77552' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFQ' 'sip-files00021.QC.jpg'
3f061b8d0e41533fea433941e326b02e
78713f7b7bf51c213269a9263f5436023eac92f4
describe
'37226' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFR' 'sip-files00021thm.jpg'
5f104cce59a249f1748287fdbf47b1d2
35144d959f4ef5ff8b6a3b7364dee43d361b417a
describe
'78167' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFS' 'sip-files00022.QC.jpg'
74fe27057a6268eb17b7ab7bd3e999e4
0b7acda66ff55f2a21296985544a16b2f609dad3
describe
'76799' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFT' 'sip-files00023.QC.jpg'
55a1a02a68b9354869653e03162c9a31
c7f0b9494bbb2a128732e8cec213316e8cbf9ced
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFU' 'sip-files00023thm.jpg'
49ee3c0da9fa1a41ab1190911439c659
7fd7326eb5dd1922a4a4f6c20c141a18bf1b34c4
describe
'80181' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFV' 'sip-files00024.QC.jpg'
4a3edb7c00b2ecdde3e5f7e4bdb1df9a
06a9b64c0afc23cdaba492dcb83db2fdb8c788bf
describe
'38294' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFW' 'sip-files00024thm.jpg'
132b5ac0168bdf172a27c2fe5d97a983
72aaff63aad0a02a82e3da717156792761175c82
describe
'37072' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFX' 'sip-files00025thm.jpg'
ef61ba0fe0c71682549dd3f031dd404e
b6afea2c62b6ee347778d98e1b98d46d5448232d
describe
'78076' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFY' 'sip-files00026.QC.jpg'
f85a4ed6e1cdd205a7938669ea33bc8d
48738ab38da1094077c4a5d903118c062333932a
describe
'37627' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABFZ' 'sip-files00026thm.jpg'
753e4b509e91d4c2f20ce75897db9531
ac3a4a86dec6007454fa0f1f1bcefaefc6570ab0
describe
'76269' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGA' 'sip-files00027.QC.jpg'
fb2000d2782c2a14ad76d333840b2a6a
74973c17f6a8598e0bea764ee426b5aa72c971f7
describe
'36275' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGB' 'sip-files00027thm.jpg'
cf6b17b82a8e27de36d419bd81447069
f88f97ecf2019188af332b305358555bcdf13348
describe
'35799' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGC' 'sip-files00028thm.jpg'
2bf752df0165a775348aee428340f412
26db13fe86c8b17016299b7b04a9faa80b10030b
describe
'75730' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGD' 'sip-files00029.QC.jpg'
bf378a8a914d98bec5aadefc0e46c2d5
6f1876b4aac24746bc03449befa2fd106bb1954b
describe
'36817' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGE' 'sip-files00029thm.jpg'
938ad985f513821b4a8b26b7140dab22
5b049c4b74c92942fec3b95582e9b90d12bd751c
describe
'38463' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGF' 'sip-files00030thm.jpg'
b0b86ead074f8e0812e2d5abf44fde28
98adc22451453d1b9ef401cef757bf9921d4a5b0
describe
'78624' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGG' 'sip-files00031.QC.jpg'
8227144ebd126f684bbe651137edaa9d
2ba82e6c8c7a39bb2765a34fcd57c36ba15e5db8
describe
'76509' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGH' 'sip-files00032.QC.jpg'
6c7fa2caad69cd4fc36c0637fd6e722b
207af10b49d731c1558a1d41868b567850df5912
describe
'37293' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGI' 'sip-files00032thm.jpg'
63dff0441c83db9c817b31091d2c2b8f
ad87e9311f258cf7ac27fc115c1d011bae5e7577
describe
'71047' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGJ' 'sip-files00033.QC.jpg'
9320200f951741df94072a949c3aac91
68ee4e62efe90136097270053e862255ba2d11f9
describe
'35662' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGK' 'sip-files00034thm.jpg'
1b7bb9c4eee66e3e9331b2bb95faa948
121321e64f94aa34f83385f41870f325a315de69
describe
'37332' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGL' 'sip-files00035thm.jpg'
a51bd691391cf157386d82bced7cb19c
639bb6813678a9ee496aedd9c7421a87058c4be5
describe
'80582' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGM' 'sip-files00036.QC.jpg'
ab2410becdb15ac0a7e8a0fd516b805c
0579794870329a136e3384a0f87421f532df3a2e
describe
'81467' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGN' 'sip-files00037.QC.jpg'
e10e3f652d3af62c02a3b3d06ae34011
2b4f0ab2470fe879359717295c0311b82f078914
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGO' 'sip-files00038.QC.jpg'
3db635ec267fece6158f8cbceb4ca2da
e3178936a280b037e33d5663674782f183ce0dfc
describe
'76435' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGP' 'sip-files00039.QC.jpg'
63d79491f7a6b87789f046b87249057c
79fb177b6cb76d8301342c06cce2c37e04d15b5b
describe
'36441' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGQ' 'sip-files00039thm.jpg'
5ca936c48e411b27c71b4bfb9f55456a
c6d465f5f925936c5e760c936ef0fbffd4b4d357
describe
'36790' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGR' 'sip-files00040thm.jpg'
7f261a2c8f674639262f75f2a0dcae0c
011c2921117e6441eb323685c87a3c73783cbc53
describe
'68246' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGS' 'sip-files00041.QC.jpg'
198cbc7107c39eebcd5bf8604b0eeffa
1683a5d7a7913aeb86f9534cadc65de13e99cf83
'2012-06-28T20:36:47-04:00'
describe
'34438' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGT' 'sip-files00041thm.jpg'
f9980a9cc6fa87039ca83e38a1d828ee
f17e34423be77a6023deee447d82d455dc475dc7
'2012-06-28T20:31:15-04:00'
describe
'76429' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGU' 'sip-files00042.QC.jpg'
a200097e64e46b76425d1adcb997a24f
9c7e926acb26f8606a6994a5c0c6a07a1d492f84
describe
'78823' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGV' 'sip-files00043.QC.jpg'
0d162228712b4899a99a05a82231e1a7
842561fcd95d86bf9c7b880c7846331e4f8c4d9a
describe
'37652' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGW' 'sip-files00043thm.jpg'
ad44166be4056868f9ea20e23402a6d1
e579257bc2d14d7cb5e4a17b500b5a6d46e4c4b3
'2012-06-28T20:32:07-04:00'
describe
'76857' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGX' 'sip-files00044.QC.jpg'
1ae13e13c85f909ded5b36d07643c8e4
3652a816d183d7761d4d2de3240ac6c78596e535
'2012-06-28T20:27:50-04:00'
describe
'36804' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGY' 'sip-files00044thm.jpg'
7b44ac200b93e9353698d1bd71299a26
56978a4f7f317a62cc415840982f99d0a6ebfb31
'2012-06-28T20:31:53-04:00'
describe
'78941' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABGZ' 'sip-files00045.QC.jpg'
100564ea4ae853338dcdb8846d3d4db5
cf8a1a3322303f9f24dc0fee6570b2391c7573de
describe
'77030' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHA' 'sip-files00045a.QC.jpg'
072e5fae3d233b21e17dc487ba0f34d7
20ace21fd4e4d560c1fff288ca1bdd4506b5d457
describe
'36152' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHB' 'sip-files00045athm.jpg'
65bf2436671ab8e0107f101d796bfc1f
90b96de0a7ced4f8a4677bc8e148f81a432357fa
describe
'77644' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHC' 'sip-files00045b.QC.jpg'
9576b4c5726691929f5ef2ef69a943ef
de65690968f74e6928bb37995a0575474f937090
'2012-06-28T20:38:54-04:00'
describe
'36803' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHD' 'sip-files00045bthm.jpg'
78faa9b378d6d297a75f60969a34f3ec
2266fdb2e58d834bcec8f0a31896e62ca61dcd19
describe
'37255' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHE' 'sip-files00045thm.jpg'
3f12c06f4509f18fbd044e9c18241347
6b72df60ff2c4aef6a3a67dad78db65d8b3183b1
describe
'37525' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHF' 'sip-files00046thm.jpg'
47022447e6f83b417ef7aa762a240b6d
78ea95f9fefcf82c4b3c9529101b2340f9b3200b
describe
'78327' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHG' 'sip-files00047.QC.jpg'
5d32b0f801064c6777f009e566f75339
72cb41304e0f40bce2d8b652bb17d75c88351bf3
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHH' 'sip-files00047thm.jpg'
ec72bd44b52f6e63463d7a3f662ce786
ec81a52cf77d1493fd170f7e763b4779b3b1498e
'2012-06-28T20:31:40-04:00'
describe
'34610' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHI' 'sip-files00048thm.jpg'
0131602bf340f71c465c07608fa1a448
7975401ed694470cf2035b744f2d26afd0b1e81a
describe
'78738' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHJ' 'sip-files00049.QC.jpg'
beb88da41d0692a9d9e77e4251ed6591
3d70e7036c6f5d9ce35d02b4e2b70b528d11a1fe
describe
'36986' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHK' 'sip-files00049thm.jpg'
231e8353c77a0ac4c54aedc0944a9ebc
782096728ff1aac2097fea4f1cbfef8787b5cf80
'2012-06-28T20:29:15-04:00'
describe
'76929' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHL' 'sip-files00050.QC.jpg'
54c7cef2cbd8b9e099c7a1a790b51b80
f80bdbef4824e161a1c5c8375823e1d510386bb7
describe
'77133' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHM' 'sip-files00051.QC.jpg'
c458a04040f02463f96fe8b0df0125e9
19db87235fc29b5288a9971789111252cf2c6abb
describe
'36637' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHN' 'sip-files00051thm.jpg'
8ee18d232f5bbbb70e54e7d78e53bda7
13fd6fe857489ff8098e6714c80dd3df241c4152
'2012-06-28T20:27:19-04:00'
describe
'79610' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHO' 'sip-files00052.QC.jpg'
e876d90bc469dfd16d10ffbde25b0e2b
52a63c542822e350a7502a0f80dfe98f344db6cb
describe
'37958' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHP' 'sip-files00052thm.jpg'
ecaef44d0f6fece436091b3b6937c120
a9245b4e333fc36dcc08474ff2a2dc212f3c344c
describe
'78629' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHQ' 'sip-files00053.QC.jpg'
fdb0043043711b9b412a2f32e93b6bbb
4c1a2573f3b56f455f2570c71605cfae50727044
describe
'37520' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHR' 'sip-files00053thm.jpg'
be85a541c9be60a81fcead55144e9982
563185acf139a19f2096ebd0a6281e8062814d24
describe
'76265' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHS' 'sip-files00054.QC.jpg'
31d30358d62472f9932b60ddbed2452a
e2a4a7789adc010cbacbf0c5f096ce3539e90608
describe
'36753' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHT' 'sip-files00054thm.jpg'
430bfbcc652f057c3b28ddd9b23a820b
2e23c2854cce94cf69b77b476e22f615e6a92718
'2012-06-28T20:38:58-04:00'
describe
'36393' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHU' 'sip-files00055thm.jpg'
be7f8a4483b9f5d14e247689f347468e
1ff6a2534afb4d13c4996cd5fb2797f2d1406dee
describe
'37663' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHV' 'sip-files00056thm.jpg'
ff008b0b6f9d12783f1032acd71cee62
9d7ce2bc01393993180fa6db8a578b2aba8b04fb
describe
'78356' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHW' 'sip-files00057.QC.jpg'
1be8b22b33e187cefc0c37160836d8ad
c29737b118f4584cefd4f9167b24192fe24887c8
describe
'37112' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHX' 'sip-files00057thm.jpg'
7e69162ca8ad127f9f7043e38e5d797e
c041e7e702cc7f742ffc356bc6636fae8981df8a
describe
'76050' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHY' 'sip-files00059.QC.jpg'
f7ceb9e71d7a73197b9737db55f21b45
6d7f8a0f674d9fd60105372d682713afc2097049
describe
'36531' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABHZ' 'sip-files00059thm.jpg'
62f5c89601270268b6274d3a32b1cc85
dbb7a2fb57f058c0c53296ead4ac07a398c52e78
'2012-06-28T20:29:08-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIA' 'sip-files00060.QC.jpg'
43585c6056ab235ec722d785e5805694
e9813bd613df6177a4a58164bfe153d72d254c80
describe
'75713' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIB' 'sip-files00061.QC.jpg'
15543974b57e0660be0fc21a2b4c5e87
306899f2a81d6986b45c4496c4b75015781a757e
describe
'67097' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIC' 'sip-files00063.QC.jpg'
7c5b9076e608e5fd7cfc345c47070c93
9381b69fc82ab2f242cbebd7a78a248db049c4b1
describe
'74719' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABID' 'sip-files00064.QC.jpg'
a6d28cb0d74e72d0d0117f7fbdf7a26e
ac7ed47a6508be1e2adb5b82ed971f3019ad9ded
describe
'77139' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIE' 'sip-files00065.QC.jpg'
94c5284fc5e37ac3cd49478bc3ac4db6
411e33b85ff84dd2bcedaf87a8521cecd52599ef
describe
'36321' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIF' 'sip-files00065thm.jpg'
e6bd2b02225300440a6a5b1b719d7ff3
13dad0da9f3e42d002548a5d5b3aaa0ec0a69467
describe
'77465' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIG' 'sip-files00066.QC.jpg'
8c70c04143ac1ca011fa0c6da04ef22f
0fb1c9c105566ce2905e7cfcea132074de041dc7
describe
'38008' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIH' 'sip-files00067thm.jpg'
4e94b48d0d00bb4505eb56d068bda80d
cbc4696814072ca16bfb568b3a1d55fd6f29283b
describe
'74394' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABII' 'sip-files00068.QC.jpg'
27183ff2e2bcfb1638e54b84b819ca4e
0c07dba3c2f07d61dc5633f3cb6f0fe58cfdf8e3
describe
'77421' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIJ' 'sip-files00069.QC.jpg'
5e15f9737a7a782808b77f8b7376bc8d
0da21c5e95bff2813c3f94c71efa79f39ef8d228
describe
'36459' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIK' 'sip-files00069thm.jpg'
b482030e447f4dc002ca95bdf1ba2e3e
44b3ccf5a932121779fc187e794fc16ce1bf8933
'2012-06-28T20:30:07-04:00'
describe
'77892' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIL' 'sip-files00070.QC.jpg'
3145685f8cda5fc1be5464f28000df9c
6fd19ff5bd432c5728f82c8261b67ad62e87eb8a
describe
'36778' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIM' 'sip-files00070thm.jpg'
13e0eb8651a3f808fc19cf42affb280f
607843f3e9f4835a74581ba154b088b0874c4d01
'2012-06-28T20:32:24-04:00'
describe
'67638' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIN' 'sip-files00071.QC.jpg'
ce80a3f78dd39fe88ab45cb6e5d9d161
6d4c8b500c6bf4eab966849edeb7137edcb3d9c7
describe
'34053' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIO' 'sip-files00071thm.jpg'
5b6820e14ad8c472141baca66a0635fd
ebf6d6b9821fb488e4cec59138a16a75fbc67378
describe
'74490' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIP' 'sip-files00072.QC.jpg'
1cd08734169852e9dbe68278c55580bb
b1a6b33644ba1046fe12eff1b23fdae7e6644ef2
describe
'74569' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIQ' 'sip-files00073.QC.jpg'
c289c1c9788c36f83f765b7cac84b149
f892dc7387ecf552885fb1a22d12de18180d4ff5
describe
'35968' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIR' 'sip-files00073thm.jpg'
ad0042e9b6efffbc530569cf30e819de
2abda4d860c451f96125d31b2a058e102696fffa
describe
'62635' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIS' 'sip-files00074.QC.jpg'
1774fd6919b67db4b0a72c9f967c17af
f9d2071a40c0bddc446ac3bb3d3e8827cfbdda4b
describe
'76465' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIT' 'sip-files00075.QC.jpg'
7d3a589ebd623cd3fecb7d7798a52b1a
92a51fc4b9fd66f81c980e5e0c3a77b7e8f98736
describe
'73726' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIU' 'sip-files00076.QC.jpg'
ccb0e5d82d47c763d79f71d2c668e288
a2024e3a41ffeca9107727c252c186abca6ce3da
describe
'75760' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIV' 'sip-files00077.QC.jpg'
4fb92202184fed1a1d1e0d480305697d
4e3f921cb35f36ba07db4ca088469e5fa3433a5f
describe
'36571' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIW' 'sip-files00077thm.jpg'
26448652d201452834ac8e4aba5765d4
8c73ed371185c065b5e757fbb54228beeb2bb826
describe
'77794' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIX' 'sip-files00079.QC.jpg'
5eff39019d785cfb313771ba6909ced2
39543ef5c9011e7f9b61064170982a4596f22b9c
describe
'36966' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIY' 'sip-files00079thm.jpg'
84a5e82564aee3fb6c725342207e3412
68f808fac109ce09ac272d4a6b05f081838e83c4
describe
'73779' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABIZ' 'sip-files00080.QC.jpg'
423afaab3b844fe197837d94282d8c4b
e2a32ab6d846a135b8f586f722702d08bdd3460e
describe
'35838' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJA' 'sip-files00080thm.jpg'
17ec83294b5f055f7dfd34a00771d683
c402402d51f3865e952e73e258edbb8993e54a18
'2012-06-28T20:36:13-04:00'
describe
'34369' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJB' 'sip-files00081thm.jpg'
4fba72975f1a710685fcba6dee90f6f8
96b40ccea8b68b589a6b6ab8bc6d71967fec6408
describe
'76119' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJC' 'sip-files00082.QC.jpg'
d5bdeecad1b3eb1fc9596229e4c9df0a
1b0c5ef96ae2d7311de9c0a64ae7156d5a344074
describe
'36662' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJD' 'sip-files00082thm.jpg'
3802b2fbdc81d814dea80a3f32859a44
c867baffc8e1d275819d38d92a0ee3920b34602a
describe
'75024' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJE' 'sip-files00083.QC.jpg'
ffe88b2e5972d8c2483d4908b8727a93
89979cb56f345b04db5648a0c131df593700081e
describe
'35645' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJF' 'sip-files00083thm.jpg'
369056ee486daa6c6aa63b232a2029de
4adbe1adf3e7a99bf3d1bcc68dc0f01df944719d
describe
'77991' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJG' 'sip-files00084.QC.jpg'
6913c6eb877bf0578bdc64239da93e02
edf6505ea841238cebf5c47cd4595b553ff08905
describe
'37028' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJH' 'sip-files00084thm.jpg'
35025dfc4061d53205d35d2c0cd57d31
08926f83fca7d4f986455718f4ac08cebc2535df
'2012-06-28T20:28:26-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJI' 'sip-files00085thm.jpg'
c09d28fa722eb5d5467fc0e007844a14
41be49ea477d1213afe87f4e1931b292625cae76
describe
'74196' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJJ' 'sip-files00087.QC.jpg'
ef2d01fc7b01d6dad2c373cbe90db4fd
80c4ff09e28476847f17ca5a4c29282ac6dd34b2
describe
'36048' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJK' 'sip-files00087thm.jpg'
9fb34fa18778d8a5d2ce47c2fd61348a
42967bcaf1147ed298284ba3bff0734c6bc25ea9
describe
'36132' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJL' 'sip-files00088thm.jpg'
ac94820c473874250613bc84742d3a58
108d92f347d003e7dc37b00bbfce53788e8fbd22
describe
'77339' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJM' 'sip-files00089.QC.jpg'
b982c08a2b31f70587a9a85085b78df2
74cb27297a62941120a792770e3245451a7872ae
describe
'36797' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJN' 'sip-files00089thm.jpg'
82871c04c84256bd7594e881d1ef745e
3ddd80438580fa17ce1c33a7036d322335205259
describe
'36392' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJO' 'sip-files00090thm.jpg'
0f467fbe0af289f4fe0921526f4f1c3b
5dcb68356e07c8abb29e120e01aa2d8bdccd61ee
describe
'77688' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJP' 'sip-files00091.QC.jpg'
0241c0544926f159699c6f5263ca1df0
d921e145ce780605e5efd8b9e93326fe694fd099
describe
'37034' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJQ' 'sip-files00091thm.jpg'
0bd5baa3033b315ce97946ca8e74b35f
1136ab64d117451c11e2971d980621303ee2e6d9
describe
'75628' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJR' 'sip-files00092.QC.jpg'
1c7cd1310d6659bb015a09f9964ed9ed
99d6ac85788e75207d5c7b854090dfdb351d1f65
describe
'36267' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJS' 'sip-files00092thm.jpg'
326c0fcd306986adfc0ce66e894e41e1
211f8f24d8c141097f76fcf898d0d93ab9d4001f
'2012-06-28T20:31:48-04:00'
describe
'36671' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJT' 'sip-files00093thm.jpg'
8b60efa0a9a83af1bfe032eba4d44902
219c18e8169b084f2bdb4041c06960e19bfa972a
describe
'73411' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJU' 'sip-files00094.QC.jpg'
5f537119bea0ed063a6a6c8bb93f39d2
c74a3f7b67bc31e8fb3582a4919634c2eb7d9998
describe
'35727' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJV' 'sip-files00094thm.jpg'
f3c5236ced31c0544f41f7a69e0f7918
9d758cb171e641a37ca6e27fc1a4dcfef3f47186
describe
'77234' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJW' 'sip-files00096.QC.jpg'
316a3bc6c64ff996cb29e75417c14dea
8bb7175251b4deb5a0cf4f590b8355a7d6249a4f
describe
'35973' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJX' 'sip-files00097thm.jpg'
59a0b0285aebcb567728e68e35746755
6a79f2ae778bea612635aabd297c97d721070b06
'2012-06-28T20:30:33-04:00'
describe
'77951' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJY' 'sip-files00098.QC.jpg'
b0b971c87fd5ca7059b2f748de3ec536
1e4dbe026756f645f727a07e9dc1cb1cd34d748e
describe
'67365' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABJZ' 'sip-files00099.QC.jpg'
88da3380fc81e8605dc25210056f29b4
f1dc69e6d26c4e3395944b94c5dfadb83d85f25b
describe
'77665' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKA' 'sip-files00100.QC.jpg'
d37101bd1535d83f7470211cad6f8a6d
ba7a15d40b069a337a41ad942dbec1d34d54715f
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKB' 'sip-files00100thm.jpg'
84c445b32e11dfaa0660cd5747261cfe
60cfafc8f0005016610a24b49aa334bddde28e37
describe
'74151' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKC' 'sip-files00101.QC.jpg'
77395b3d2116b1b1d31948ffd9c52996
01c8fc27e080c27a4ca958ffad7bb2f072075631
describe
'36115' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKD' 'sip-files00101thm.jpg'
5fd248d4e510853255a92a31a002a686
afc214cd246ff5c5a2b3056be4c810afbe9a2e2d
'2012-06-28T20:35:15-04:00'
describe
'36674' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKE' 'sip-files00102thm.jpg'
be21dd17be37160673daa3dd5414a2d9
790bdf57b3fa71ebfcc5109e129af190221645c8
describe
'76922' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKF' 'sip-files00103.QC.jpg'
f00c2eccb527022dcbccc32910098bd2
0c109b5d9bc20efe869c42b489c12a61cef68d48
describe
'37352' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKG' 'sip-files00103thm.jpg'
521671976f24b80d4befa7bf5b1176a8
043f4accf1b08a245b5982fd17789a124d47499f
describe
'75278' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKH' 'sip-files00105.QC.jpg'
296a91d72b81fcddc172ce85ad2c81b9
cf0090090bd1bb1e879678e911e011a530b87d02
describe
'73648' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKI' 'sip-files00106.QC.jpg'
619cb9930cb67773c7982be825ab4a36
460f27b993a6bcac31719060e7b20a2ed70ffa78
describe
'36581' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKJ' 'sip-files00107thm.jpg'
6d65f4e511d0d353f748cbb0749f5af4
79307ea23c64ff1e9806cc0a8ef928a7535de974
describe
'68446' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKK' 'sip-files00108.QC.jpg'
72f3f7c72d93f2250385389d8fd09865
476fb2c32c55ec261a200c64359f1369badf15d5
describe
'34528' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKL' 'sip-files00108thm.jpg'
42c3b2f87b8bd5308493b9e3278b9267
22e568bc6585dc947b0293ef5de596a38eac8e5b
describe
'76973' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKM' 'sip-files00109.QC.jpg'
e661aa3ad7fbb7e9ef2dbd3e3ba7ddaa
c16a013fbdd075dda591cdb2e5d93c5212bdb3b8
describe
'36542' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKN' 'sip-files00109thm.jpg'
6e391d8f000d69ee7e4db1878f20fd6e
879ab12a83745be847ecfa89c1f14c8bbed51085
describe
'76832' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKO' 'sip-files00110.QC.jpg'
139c5a6f475a896e461e2605fe845268
a4ec136898bf198a1efe6f1e9bf544255a307810
describe
'72498' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKP' 'sip-files00111.QC.jpg'
5c3bb59b98f0540a54f54f0b52606659
b4ee0c072635946f6a574d6fe30f5d41e5156b32
describe
'35672' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKQ' 'sip-files00111thm.jpg'
1e20803558cc45688da4b4157a208449
74fe5980e5f4d933b0177f83a0d0b17ddb9bf10d
describe
'76917' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKR' 'sip-files00112.QC.jpg'
c44e9f582cc97bbf0d64b817c2a7b353
3ecfec984b5c92c650d7feb6685c249d2b2bd20b
describe
'77550' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKS' 'sip-files00113.QC.jpg'
1a6fb17faf541cb2efea6644566cad26
4b872e8d139d7c77abdbd2aa817029950be33973
'2012-06-28T20:32:14-04:00'
describe
'36779' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKT' 'sip-files00113thm.jpg'
b4856afd79923b3b8b7d6b5ba4d69234
55ce6470ad13cec1ccb89b48ac707044c5dfb141
describe
'76863' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKU' 'sip-files00114.QC.jpg'
b06f9718cc1264ed5fbe0b91af432abd
1b3eb0dc3342e4317e81c4d2e5ef9f8ec3402032
'2012-06-28T20:28:34-04:00'
describe
'36334' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKV' 'sip-files00114thm.jpg'
edfc8237baf5d6cbfaf948566afd93a6
d91232a00c79b563252a029d8a70b0a4590ef843
describe
'77471' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKW' 'sip-files00115.QC.jpg'
04e3eb442138913e6690ad6eae50fe87
48a1e5fd55ae8351c8c62f05990b8858b6668c20
describe
'34857' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKX' 'sip-files00116thm.jpg'
a0abbb778b1f2efd67319ae6241944f8
ebeb79c67184c9d5b83a167d8df054706b13cd1d
'2012-06-28T20:30:42-04:00'
describe
'79192' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKY' 'sip-files00117.QC.jpg'
7793b3961ca4c2a28491935336e98f8a
4b5d00fee9ed2f819e87235596ef27ccb5b92b3a
describe
'79744' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABKZ' 'sip-files00118.QC.jpg'
dfd88fc535f9431a847b6fd6632e86f1
2e6e4002a0cd1db2c92c61b29008d0b37e3b8350
describe
'37380' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLA' 'sip-files00118thm.jpg'
a7c53523998f96b9187c25ef523abc57
126dddd2ed9b8886ce5910bf85fd1b94b5b143bc
describe
'78200' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLB' 'sip-files00119.QC.jpg'
d9f80adea3942a270866c24d33d4f8e5
07b32e02da3586c5e5ff2cd9b1b92512f73a6d55
describe
'37170' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLC' 'sip-files00119thm.jpg'
963c5f54c772e5216e7963d7d681da2c
b6923664454e20556e5e18aa51692c5ea6d1e76a
describe
'73231' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLD' 'sip-files00120.QC.jpg'
9549c8c6d4aaed506d35af5a96d427e4
1269d867bae43f33e30fa2e4acc4110e0afb9286
describe
'36397' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLE' 'sip-files00120thm.jpg'
c088a30d1cb5d599051cc481eeab5670
b117b3ea13a79ec8c8a162a15daca34b21cc63fe
describe
'37065' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLF' 'sip-files00123thm.jpg'
e3d590a1bc3b8c9daaed20ed68eda3fe
546f9e3c4b56b3d1ac2f652a2b11fc0898fd0fcf
describe
'76674' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLG' 'sip-files00124.QC.jpg'
7899c3297e05f02348f904bf5d8a96f1
575c47a77cac44e55baa2fbbb597d1d710b1f4d6
describe
'36771' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLH' 'sip-files00124thm.jpg'
8e4684bfe87fbdbc8bc6462f697ce4ba
d4cd317ac2eab6eb31d971b15650763d8cf3372c
describe
'36458' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLI' 'sip-files00126thm.jpg'
e2a647cb15258d0c67ef892d190bc6dd
d51bf5e3ffaa2ca7e8892557297a6d73443da7eb
describe
'77416' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLJ' 'sip-files00127.QC.jpg'
878e30c73f46abe3edbcbab9ae672c79
a86963dba651fddd03bcc5c7f2eaf82a8b93630e
describe
'36566' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLK' 'sip-files00127thm.jpg'
cb59cc4166da908dac621422b4f70a27
23219b2c482c7a7a11f8e0fe514e7cf0ba8f4a41
describe
'68606' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLL' 'sip-files00128.QC.jpg'
020b6e57c1034980b745deeb147410bf
b3b9c6d9a6203ff1ccb671aed87b19ca75c0df62
'2012-06-28T20:30:04-04:00'
describe
'74897' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLM' 'sip-files00129.QC.jpg'
621c043d342869f940b28898cf3c33a0
ce860c95db6d4f4d385ca7319f648e94833e1691
describe
'77309' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLN' 'sip-files00131.QC.jpg'
3757727362e22bda48c7bfd7736b2544
7847512ba9bf1f342d0737ee0d73df109fedd5ff
describe
'37717' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLO' 'sip-files00132thm.jpg'
eb4a837443ed61f7d1abfcb1ef6f4502
d428a4ca9d3eccb823f452a3c0c19ce6b0e008cc
describe
'78679' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLP' 'sip-files00133.QC.jpg'
c6e6003a80d052157166fc9868873b9a
c5245d367fd79e83168faabe4b6d42ad6beedabf
describe
'78723' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLQ' 'sip-files00134.QC.jpg'
d9ce9f743d97882a0d969ea028ac7a1c
77a4a50c5491b844d2eff0559ab1e3408995847a
describe
'37179' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLR' 'sip-files00134thm.jpg'
f88ae6f960bbc21c223a5a592e7926f7
7215d993a8f34736a80d0868b24f05cdbdc506ad
describe
'68412' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLS' 'sip-files00135.QC.jpg'
b6e713cfd7b329df72f1ff5d5144c2e4
ce32d806b30c1920432e1f3c7a7ddd7ed535acfc
describe
'34334' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLT' 'sip-files00135thm.jpg'
dad41a82e27a2627c417d1ab6b8cb926
14819de16295f246d2bba7d0ce5863e30ff82c57
describe
'79273' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLU' 'sip-files00136.QC.jpg'
ce67ab934ed0fa6460b0cd4760e18c25
a31b8220cc3fb0bdabba3ec9f9339c6bf5a64df3
describe
'38062' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLV' 'sip-files00136thm.jpg'
be2cd005460299e5d091db2d88f36442
3cca3cd5f1013923a2b8894deeb641356dd2bfb0
describe
'73431' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLW' 'sip-files00137.QC.jpg'
a29cf48e76ea36f0eb60ac50c68586b5
8677f7ee43dbbebd716a56d91bcab0127e6abba1
describe
'36223' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLX' 'sip-files00137thm.jpg'
8753fd1b1000c42f6e28d5185bdf6d19
5840eaab8bcc2a0a169be8d3c9fed6f8631bac54
describe
'77260' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLY' 'sip-files00138.QC.jpg'
0cc3cb9c13b487263405b9b6defa7275
8fc9f66240d6f04d48d13cd93787cf40e6f1ba86
describe
'36775' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABLZ' 'sip-files00138thm.jpg'
bbaf78ea9cc4856e0a35d191507d4b17
0b229f2fc44edec6879bcc138ba29f743b24cbd2
describe
'36847' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMA' 'sip-files00139thm.jpg'
1556bc9763f1831bfebcb861d609113c
6d7f1fc065d940471946b82de6b9cc312692ce46
describe
'37212' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMB' 'sip-files00140thm.jpg'
2614d38d440795842d3fce4d0dc663b4
f805b37924271fb4366f79a6cc6a04707d5ed07f
describe
'36882' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMC' 'sip-files00141thm.jpg'
fd00ec0ba79828f6d04a78e6b1f63534
72039224e4bed86b0082e42e7dd62431b1963fbc
describe
'34353' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMD' 'sip-files00143thm.jpg'
36f2cacf0e588c443a800f576e42b17c
6a91571fb9c7d2ba410d491184348bdb5edbd1ec
describe
'76128' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABME' 'sip-files00144.QC.jpg'
1d41041479590fd7e6c0176538892c61
1df07dbf18943fcae085e1e0b0f4be2636379e3c
describe
'36551' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMF' 'sip-files00144thm.jpg'
023c6dc95bbdf76b5c4567585e6dc277
79db6798d241a2fe3e156807d70c2c31289d559a
describe
'78732' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMG' 'sip-files00146.QC.jpg'
34c3ab63c02da75d27d42e138ae19ea4
c9dd1cfbd705ef77e3ff991be38b2414d17c6798
describe
'75753' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMH' 'sip-files00149.QC.jpg'
a29d93a67578352bbabe6dd98cbca679
34b031f008bb8f6f7db80c473d5efa1ecc316388
describe
'76782' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMI' 'sip-files00150.QC.jpg'
8da03d171850f2f269574f6423da6243
5b39333c5a1cbedeb619b66a474ae81075cf3bd3
describe
'36497' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMJ' 'sip-files00150thm.jpg'
dde26d2ed33882e9f504bafe33a43954
5c213a29e18e6f04df0a402c76ed4337c05db95e
describe
'78270' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMK' 'sip-files00151.QC.jpg'
62caaab527711ea2a3791cf26cd4338d
5139f22bf6510f5c3e91de4bafdb84272788e18a
describe
'36705' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABML' 'sip-files00151thm.jpg'
0d1784ff1422bcd6081b8bf1f37c9aa0
87348cdc650c1a8283f9fee35b3f4df2b16cea70
describe
'36421' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMM' 'sip-files00152thm.jpg'
35799474aae44cb2332e3835ebbc1af0
4c4af1a3e38660f481056ab3f612793418dc1df3
describe
'75462' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMN' 'sip-files00153.QC.jpg'
90a43f21dfb60cc58761454045d21dc0
f29e0a388090d37c17cdb0fded641a98b514efac
describe
'36300' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMO' 'sip-files00153thm.jpg'
68ec0c2797efac33cb58a915d40f1ef1
53c87c5588a22473ecf14bdf1057dbdbb76d2ef3
describe
'78689' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMP' 'sip-files00154.QC.jpg'
ab3ae2e4d90ec44fbed60bcaff908f74
f62129caebb16d50e472977e5ef4b9d78980b00a
describe
'37661' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMQ' 'sip-files00154thm.jpg'
2c2764ea3eac28e1ce830aa792d16c8e
f341b1742bbcaa4f5f59bd615289ed8dab4b94ca
describe
'76900' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMR' 'sip-files00155.QC.jpg'
6063550576bb30ef556c714cf4a5a3f0
6627cc833449e02107debb3992ffd7c1dce8461c
describe
'36757' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMS' 'sip-files00155thm.jpg'
b5ed14e45fece68b07265cd3cd37a656
2876f62a813a04f80f65e32dc0a533965011cb65
describe
'35483' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMT' 'sip-files00156thm.jpg'
de275dfd4c719b627e1ed2b072cb1345
44626a2da13acedb8475c6a63768fcc330cc7cca
'2012-06-28T20:37:20-04:00'
describe
'76472' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMU' 'sip-files00157.QC.jpg'
f334ca89038ef8d0ead2fa1ed8680845
044a02069a579e52745dee6b9a4af59df4be36c9
describe
'67204' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMV' 'sip-files00158.QC.jpg'
186ac169a81b98f12867f1d52115462b
541c031214d585c77fa13d4686fad02a94553e68
describe
'66024' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMW' 'sip-files00159.QC.jpg'
0702a03a84954e61dc2feabb03f07f84
c1b88ed7617566d290b22b562a6be8cf761ddc7c
describe
'75083' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMX' 'sip-files00160.QC.jpg'
f83ff20d5ef84ec816244c771d81a2a3
01e516c6b8a03705863db73d9a0dcf6497b7f3d1
describe
'36248' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMY' 'sip-files00160thm.jpg'
6d77b36516f72612e7c077b21454487a
19b0a4d32c2c3b9385de76aa8936b4f1fcd4e470
describe
'75897' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABMZ' 'sip-files00161.QC.jpg'
68b2732c75db07af6436e81b96fdc7d5
42ba3084a6869a767254d5ccb62cbbc2f997edd8
describe
'37035' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNA' 'sip-files00161thm.jpg'
9275bfd39834f43116692c2fad90ca1f
972f6908c3146039ef88a9e2f1bca588f3c79968
describe
'73682' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNB' 'sip-files00162.QC.jpg'
b0a87697d69a17b6de0ee7fafaa07758
d848e565a93200a0274d32e108f0c2759249a875
describe
'35862' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNC' 'sip-files00162thm.jpg'
e9818d1af4cc3fb09d9d7a0462d2ec5c
0a1080dc34ec84297b5cc8d38294a6f32bfa2a61
describe
'74419' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABND' 'sip-files00164.QC.jpg'
229a9424bd48e2fa4f6daff60d705584
c98c6744cf60bf1fa38fb3783bd1c89e5779fd61
describe
'36777' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNE' 'sip-files00164thm.jpg'
bf5dc333c61715fb9bc456fb915bfd7f
0ccefa71a636b787883d84865119018605d51dba
describe
'76019' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNF' 'sip-files00165.QC.jpg'
b0a20551868d750c46cb9c23818441fc
39dac5516257066e7a2fcb71d13b5c113753ce3b
describe
'36699' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNG' 'sip-files00165thm.jpg'
5fcf1d6d2369b53dfb24b9541a43e2cc
63dfeb5798b33cec6ad6e0932958f1ed774bf285
describe
'75823' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNH' 'sip-files00166.QC.jpg'
207f387bdee5cb53da741a0c9361708d
89395149710abccb3ca0467a69ee0b4765701216
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNI' 'sip-files00166thm.jpg'
b0472a65f0045dd3595508a3bc9cfae8
2249d1a7930a6ee63c44f551b1bd964365c5e949
describe
'35960' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNJ' 'sip-files00167thm.jpg'
4c35a930be28315284b2df9ba48a915e
2e1e742f1ef5513c23a620eb0492fa3f2dbf1f01
describe
'36646' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNK' 'sip-files00168thm.jpg'
ad0862989a3d0232bf88441bf10c7bb1
89427d29b497249b9554315d21af98f018a1815c
'2012-06-28T20:34:28-04:00'
describe
'36841' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNL' 'sip-files00169thm.jpg'
22c492ed9902a97127ea97e0a4abf4f7
4a62b8ce766edc908d0856787906670212e1c62d
describe
'75821' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNM' 'sip-files00170.QC.jpg'
0f6cf1e8b0e38aca63bc98f27b9ac098
6f27519c9ceead614a84781cbd2ddb979b3ac959
describe
'36309' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNN' 'sip-files00170thm.jpg'
e93b1e27a8fd5214ad99bf0ac1b8986e
dcfa76a2a9445081090e8647767df015a3848846
describe
'76886' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNO' 'sip-files00172.QC.jpg'
3a866f5203ff5880d171d1abc4cc0b52
e0bb8e77db067e91ff881c3f5232945a84b43ad3
describe
'67522' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNP' 'sip-files00173.QC.jpg'
7161347c4e05b88df71c899bb3f9bd2c
008311177dfb70eeddb5adbcc18f0407a2a29aae
describe
'33698' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNQ' 'sip-files00174thm.jpg'
398d1d9be69824ca6645eb0c846144c5
16cab322009325cd4bea7196c2bc3ef0233cfc92
describe
'76089' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNR' 'sip-files00175.QC.jpg'
42de8749e23bd0a0fbfe621d3dee8ce7
5731915198de222cc4bfee59979fd13b5e563569
describe
'36553' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNS' 'sip-files00175thm.jpg'
5c090540821f7046e1d8684533813448
3bd4dbb6b856ae169f1e05a125cc94452a6b019b
describe
'76918' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNT' 'sip-files00178.QC.jpg'
82cc8afe0f14fb7e2ff9f4e3e063105e
80affb9c4732f652a8c1a83dd578dd2824474409
'2012-06-28T20:34:48-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNU' 'sip-files00178thm.jpg'
7f811970653a9ba0c24671196acdffc6
0026e27841e4ca8b8ebdd60d989f76eff9f75639
describe
'51046' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNV' 'sip-files00180.QC.jpg'
f9a3a8aa21705dd9bc708ee28acc03e6
ee6d4ed8dc5dc3b699c8a008c2425ca5c5ed791a
describe
'17939' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNW' 'sip-files00181thm.jpg'
245081a1696c8e7f8099b92e1cf8dfbb
6805ccc5ca31dddd524bc23cbe4ddcf4f2a02247
describe
'43165' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNX' 'sip-files00182.QC.jpg'
ebcf70aa91ddc0926b3afe75edd5aa47
38f04ec785fe0d6652740d146e4879f2620c2f06
describe
'36485' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNY' 'sip-files00183.QC.jpg'
02802df58347c0260ea8577faefb02ca
035ee3302685314a3ee7ab1e827b0e24f1623c50
describe
'23843' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABNZ' 'sip-files00183thm.jpg'
905b44a6ffae2ba094dd212489907b3f
2340ff6a151a1bfaedee0dd68b0898767b9a8f22
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOA' 'sip-files00184.QC.jpg'
5fa54d089bfffb0ce70084aebc6dff9d
563a3b51aa7791dafb13ddfc1f7123508b17398e
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOB' 'sip-files00184thm.jpg'
d0e8a43fc7b33fa2c4945b88d7115fde
8ba3f4f198f96d172c6be8b53dd777a47bdb0447
describe
'61923' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOC' 'sip-files00185.QC.jpg'
a9f31ad57d92d8c54317b8bb80182fda
ae6ba17dbcd4332e1eaad68772d82846be3c2191
describe
'32625' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOD' 'sip-files00185thm.jpg'
933ac07e45cde16b7a63be0336ffac32
b7839e41efee33c21e92d8d770056779e5104d03
describe
'73963' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOE' 'sip-files00187.QC.jpg'
da5383bc3377015e81203d8ba04de8cd
efa066c0548b7ab20d2259ee7a8f48851a2cdbf1
describe
'36231' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOF' 'sip-files00187thm.jpg'
50e5c6abbbf4a6463b16fad033838b85
d2afbfaf1ee1f1cdbf0a0b744f44cbe5db8c149a
describe
'35763' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOG' 'sip-files00188thm.jpg'
cde507e43599217646aa8b65f6e9f7ba
f642d35b6228313007769be7083dfd571c7bbeb5
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOH' 'sip-files00190.QC.jpg'
61323f05bb61b158e87da603aae18982
45d98cfe7845eca8c3f4b2561b3a4b7bebae939d
describe
'36310' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOI' 'sip-files00190thm.jpg'
b54ed9edd3bf1292d22518eea9b09e88
8e56a4dd2c818ef3d73478601660a77659bfd8fa
describe
'81651' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOJ' 'sip-files00191.QC.jpg'
e4cafb38fd0dc5160c3e830333bf99f6
9f495f537501a476e9782c5ab3eae2f015cf5b29
describe
'38071' 'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOK' 'sip-files00191thm.jpg'
ec4a59df03b100e27ea45b2afda357bc
5ac342bc212dda209bfc0c42b916ef73cb0796d6
describe
'info:fdaE20100525_AAAAEWfileF20100526_AAABOL' 'sip-files00192.QC.jpg'
c6e73f0ea1a0361b547b8881a117eedc
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MY

JUVENILE DAYS

OTHER TALES.

BY

MARY HOWITT.

NEW-YORK:
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BR .DWAY.

PHILADELPHIA:
GEORGE S$. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT-ST.
M.DCCC.L.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

CHAPTER I.
OUR HOME.

Ir has often been a subject of regret that so little
is known of the workings of a child’s mind during
its earlier years. Little of this, however, can be
known, excepting in cases of great precocity in chil-
dren; and then the case is not an ordinary one, for
children do not reason at all, they only receive im-
pressions. They feel things keenly, kindness or un-
kindness, joy or sorrow— but they neither reason nor
reflect—the reason and the reflection come later, and
then we draw inferences, and understand the connec
tion of one thing with another. We stand then, as
it were, at the proper distance to take in a general
view ; we stand like the traveller on the hill-top, and
look over the landscape which we have left behind us.
We see there, in a clear perspective, the house in
which we were born; the trees around it, or the
neighbours’ houses; we see here sunshine, there
shade; there the hill of difficult ascent, which was
8 OUR HOME.

painful to our feet, and there the green and sunny
valleys where we wandered with the companions of
our joy, and gathered the gay flowers of every
season.

I stand now on this hill-top, and look back over a
scene which extends through the present century.
The scene widenson every hand, and has broader lights
and shades, and more important action asit nears the
present time, but with it in its breadth and extent
we have nothing to do. We look into ten years only,
and that time lies in a pleasant valley, which will tire
the foot of no youthful wanderer; nothing lies there
but. what is amusing and pleasant, children and
childish sports—and thither let us betake ourselves,
you, my young readers, and myself, and see what we
can find there.

I must, in the first place, introduce you to the
home where we lived. I say we, not in any editorial
capacity, or because it sounds better, but because,
when I write of myself as a child, I must write of
my sister also. My sister was a year older than
myself, but we were so constantly together, and were
so guided by a constant amity of will, that we were
something like one soul in two bodies. People ima-
gined that we were twins, perhaps, because we were
nearly the same height, or, perhaps, because we
were always together, and always dressed alike. My
sister was Anna, I myself, Mary.

Anna was somewhat slenderer than myself, with
an oval countenance, soft blue eyes, soft brown hair,
a remarkably rosy complexion, and an expression
of great sweetness in her whole countenance. She
was, in fact, the most amiable, the most feminine and

*
OUR HOME. 9

affectionate creature I ever saw. I, for I remember
well what was said of me, if I do not remember my
own person, was broader set than my sister, with a
round face, large grey eyes, and a deal of healthful
colour on my cheeks, with a roguish, merry expres-
sion of countenance, which made people think that I
was very fond of mischief. I was not particularly so,
but that was the general opinion, and I heard it so often
said, that I set it down in my own mind for fact.

Our home was one of great comfort, though it was
old-fashioned, with low rooms and small windows. A
court separated it from the street, and its principal
sitting-rooms opened into a pleasant and rather large
garden, which sloped down behind it toa green, plea-
sant meadow, where ran a quick and clear brook.
Beyond this meadow, fields, which had formerly
belonged to our grandfather, stretched upwards for
half a mile into a pleasant region of pastoral farms
and cornfields, which, if pursued for a few miles, led
to the classical world of Bagot’s Park and Needwood
Forest, and thus the landmarks of the horizon were,
here and there, a conspicuous group of trees, a large
barn, or farm-house. It was by no means a grand
view, but it was one of great quietness and rural
beauty. Our father was extremely fond of it, and
pointed out its peculiar features with great pride
to his visitors. I remember once his chagrin and
almost anger, when. on having particularised the
beauties of this familiar scene to a rich and worldly
and not over-polite visitor, she remarked arrogantly,
“You think it pleasant, no doubt—but, from my
drawing-room windows, I look over an extent of fitty
miles, right to the sea.”
10 OUR HOME.

I was but a child: I understood the spirit of the
speech, however, as well as my father, and I was
angry, but acigher he nor I thought at all the worse
of our homely little view.

Our parents saw but little company ; they were
extremely attached to each other, and were very
domestic people. He was engaged very much in his
profession, as well as by some iron-works in Glouces-
tershire.

There was a front parlour in our house, which, in
the earlier days of our childhood, was occupied by
our grandfather, a stern, grave, and, according to his
notions, a very religious old gentleman. He read a
great deal, wrote a great deal, and was a great
collector of herbs, which he dried and ground into
snuff of various kinds, which he considered bene-
ficial for curing all sorts of complaints. He had a
small medical library, and prescribed to any one who
would be his patient; he gave advice gratis in two
ways, for he was one of those good people who think
it their duty to be continually dropping words in
season and out of season ; hence he always was med-
dling with people's affairs, and, poor man, often
brought himself into no little trouble by so doing.

We were rather afraid of our grandfather, and
very carefully avoided making any noise at his end
of the house, for of all things he detested the noise of
children, and, besides this, poor old gentleman,
he had a natural irritability of temper, which,
having once or twice startled us by its unexpected
vehemence, left us ever after a little in fear.

Our house, like all old-fashioned houses, had
no regularity in its floors; we went down a step into
OUR HOME. Bi

one room, and up astep into another. The rooms
were low and rather dark, and were papered with
dingy, old, large-patterned papers, which made them
look lower and less than they were. There were
plenty of rooms in the house, most of them well
carpeted and well furnished; but others there were
with blocked-up windows, for this was in the time of
the heavily-laid-on window tax, and people, for
economy's sake, managed with as little light as pos-
sible ; and these mysterious dark rooms had in them
nothing but lumber or a couple of chairs, turned
one upon another, and a bedstead without hang-
ings, which looked dismal and skeletonlike. These
rooms, from which cobwebs were always fetched if
anybody had cut themselves severely, and the blood
would not stanch, had always in them a certain
horror to my mind, and the established threat of
putting any naughty children into the lumber-room,
or the dark garret, never failed to produce a very
subduing, if not a very salutary, effect.

The back of the house stood raised above the
garden, into which a flight of steps led from an old-
fashioned porch, abundantly covered with pyracantha
and jasmine. Below the pleasant sitting-rooms on
this side of the house lay the lower offices and
cellars. The cellars were dark and dismal places, at
least so they seemed to us children, and in them were
found little yellowish lizards, called by Nanny, of
whom I shall hereafter have much to say, “‘ askars,”
and toads and frogs. We had been threatened with
confinement in these cellars if we ever should be very
naughty ; and in the earlier years of my childhood,
a story being told of a crucl father who had kept
12 OUR HOME.

his unhappy child for years in a cellar, this and the
threat together made the cellars awful places, into
which we only now and then ventured to peep under
the heavy wooden shutter, which excluded the light,
by raising it an inch or two, which was all that the
chain which secured it inside would admit of.

Spite of these terrors, however, and of our grand-
father, who lived on the other side of the house, we
contrived to have a deal of pleasure. There was a
row of fir-trees down one side of the garden, and
a shrubbery under it, where we could play, as in a
solitary world of our own,-and where nobody could
see us from the house. In those distant years I
remember but very little bad weather, and the sum~
mers were as long as three summers now-a-days—
snow, to be sure, there was in winter, and very
beautiful it looked, like a white garment upon
the hilly fields, and hanging feathery upon every
twig of the garden trees; but I remember no wet,
miserable, chilly days, when it was comfortless both
within doors and without—oh no! in the golden
years of a happy, active childhood, such days as
these come not.

In summer there were plenty of flowers in the
garden, and I never saw anywhere such tufts of
yellow and purple crocuses and white snowdrops as
we had; the lilacs seemed quite bowed down with
flowers, and so did the laburnums—but we had no
guilder-roses, or snow-balls, as they were then called.
We had not a single one in the garden, but when
they were in flower, we never failed to go to a
relation of ours in the town, who had a tree in her
garda, that; we might see how beautiful it was. I
OUR HOME. 13

wonder that our mother, v. ho enjoyed the garden so
much, never introduced into it this tree, which is so
easy to rear; but she never did—nor is there to this
day such a tree in the garden, and every spring we
children went to see and admire onr Aunt Summer-
field’s snow-ball tree, and to come home laden with
boughs of its pendant flowers.

Next door to us, on the right, lived Miss Wheldon
and her widowed sister, Mrs. Gilbert, who had one
son, a fine young man. The two families were neigh-
bourly, but not intimate ; they spoke when they met,
but did not visit; but we had always heard our
parents speak with so much respect of their neigh-
bours, that we adopted the sentiment of the house,
and always regarded them as people worthy of con-
sideration. We watched them go in and out, and
saw them walking in their garden, which adjoined
ours, and said, “* There goes Miss Patty,” or ‘‘ There
go Mrs. Gilbert and her son,” in a tone anything but
indifferent. At length, one fine summer's afternoon,
came the sudden, strange news, that young Mr.
Gilbert was drowned—he had been bathing in the
river Dove, that lovely river! and there he had lost
his young life, and his poor mother was _heart-
broken, and how could she help it? All at once it
seemed as if we had known and loved our neighbours
all our days; our mother went in with offers of the
most friendly service—we children peeped into the
garden, where nobody was walking, and felt very
sorry. poor Mrs. Gilbert walking up and down the garden,
with her handkerchief to her eyes; she watched
her go up and down with slow steps, and the

G
14 OUR HOME.

longer she watched the more vivid became her sym-
pathy. ‘What can I do for her?” thought she—
when suddenly an idea occurred. Her greatest
treasures were a set of little play-tea-things which
our mother had brought her the week before out of
the Staffordshire Potteries—she would give her these.
Accordingly she ran into the house, and fetched them
thence, and, with these jingling in her pinafore, she
crept through a thin place in the garden fence, which
she never had thought of doing before; she stood
before the poor lady, and, with tears in her eyes,
said, opening her pinafore, ““Do not cry so, Mrs.
Gilbert, and I will give you these. JI am so
sorry for you, and will give you all my doll’s
tea-things !”

“Bless you!” said the heart-broken mother, and
took her in her arms, and kissed her. She did not
accept the tea-things, but she accepted the love that
made the offer. The child’s pity, she told our
mother, did her good, and from that time we were
intimate neighbours. Anna’s passion was flowers.
Mrs. Gilbert had the most beautiful tulips that ever
grew ; the tulip-bed came down to the hole in the
hedge through which she had crept, and ever after,
when they were in bloom, good Mrs. Gilbert never
saw her in the garden without putting through the
hedge tulips and other flowers for her acceptance ;
she was a kind neighbour, and used to give us
not only flowers, but gingerbread and _ seed-cake
also. |

I remember well the day on which young Mr.
Gilbert was buried ; it was a bright sunshiny day,
like that on which he was drowned, and it seemed to
OUR HOME. 13

me only the more solemnly impressive—death and
summer-sunshine are incongruous to the heart of
childhood.

Such were our neighbours to the right; on the
left of us stood a handsome house, which belonged to,
and was inhabited by, a Mrs. Carpenter, the widow
of a considerable builder in the place. She was a
very proud and stately lady, and had, it was said,
great connections in London. Before she married Mr.
Carpenter she was the widow of an officer in the
East. India service ; she had been abroad, and had
much property. There was, according to our childish
notions, something quite grand about her house;
it was tall and handsome, with lofty windows, and a
large door, and a vast many offices about it, which,
however, were, in her days, rather old and tumble-
down. But the lady lived in the great house, and
we used to see her driving out in her heavy, lumber-
ing coach, or else walking with a very dignified air in
her large, handsome garden, which adjoined ours,
with a huge black calash on her head, and clogs
onher feet. She was very particular in many ways;
her dining-room lay to the street, and the children
of Clowes, the auctioneer, used now and then to
peep in to see the great lady at dinner. One day
she had a party, and Grace Clowes, then about six
years old, a thin, brown girl, with brown eyes and
long. lanky hair, peeped in to see how all was going
on. Mrs. Carpenter, observing this, ordered a servant,
as soon as the little girl was gone, to go to the next
house, and bid Miss Grace come to her. The servant
did so, and Grace, with her wild hair smoothed, and
with her yet wilder heart beating with expectation,
16 OUR HOME.

was conducted into the grand dining-room, where the
great lady was seated with her guests.

‘“* Now, Miss Grace,’’ said Mrs. Carpenter to the
child, who was left by the servant standing foolishly
in the middle of the room, “look about you—here
we all are—and here isthe dinner ; notice everything ;
and when you have satisfied your curiosity, you can
go! But never let me catch you peeping in at my
windows again ! ”

This story, which was told through the whole
town, gave us an awful idea of the lady who would
not be peeped at. Another thing, of a more personal
nature, occurred to excite a little animosity in the
bosom of our family towards her. We, like all
country folks in those days, washed at home, and of
course every five or six weeks our garden was full of
very good clothes to be dried. One day the servant
came rushing into the parlour, where we were sitting
with our mother, exclaiming —-

“ Only think, ma’am, Mrs. Carpenter has sent to
desire you will take in all your clothes, every rag
of them, because she is going to have company, and
it will never do for her company to see clothes hanging
out to dry.”

It was an unheard-of thing! Desire us to take in
our clothes because she has company! ‘“ Give my
compliments to her,” said our mother, “and desire
her never to invite company on our washing-aay ”

Our mother did not mean this message actually to
go, but for all that it went.

Old Captain Buckstone, a neighbour, called at our
house that same day, and our mother related to him
the affront which Mrs. Carpenter had put on our

&
OUR HOME. 17

clothes. ‘‘ The upstart!” exclaimed the Captain ;
“and I have seen her on the top of a baggage-
wagon !”

This somewhat consoled our mother, but she did
not easily get over the affront, nor, though in the
most neighbourly spirit she had all the things taken
in towards evening, when the company came, did
Mrs. Carpenter forget it either ; from that day forth
they were on cold terms.

When the weather was severe, we played in an
upper room, which was partly in the roof, and witha
very pretty little casement window which opened into
Mrs. Gilbert's yard. The room was papered with a
reddish paper, and had a white marble slab fixed on
a bracket by the wall; this, and a chest, which held
our playthings, and two little chairs, were all its
furniture. ‘The window-sill was our table, it pro-
jected very comfortably, and there we sat in the
light on our little chairs. We were very fond
of this room ; it was called “ the little red room,” or
“the children’s room;” on one side of tt was the
nursery, and on the other the second-best chamber,
which was not often used, so that there was but little
danger of our disturbing anybody, and that, perhaps,
was one reason why it suited us so well. There was
but one disadvantage in this room, and that was, that
just under the window there wasa great crack, where
the floor seemed to have shrunk from the skirting-
board. We lost a great many things there, small
pewter-plates and dishes, whole sets of doll’s spoons
and small knives and scissors, and occasionally our
best silver thimbles, which useful implements of
industry, being thus swallowed up, made our mother

c 2
18 OUR HOME.

always say that the floor really should be mended—
it would not be much trouble; only the fitting in of
a slip of wood, and it must be done. We wished it
might, and thought of how, if the board were taken
up, we might discover all our lost treasure, as well as
unknown-of things besides, which other people ane
lost.—But the oor never was mended.

Our mother in the winter spun a great deal. It
was not the custom for gentlewomen to spin in those
midland parts of England at that time; spinning
was a fashion which had gone out for a quarter of a
century at least, but she was from South Wales,
® woman of strong energetic character, who, adhering
to good usage rather than fashion, had brought the
wheel with her, and used it for some years after
her marriage. She spun, therefore, every winter,
many pounds of flax into beautifully fine yarn, which
used to hang in hanks, as they were finished, at
the top of the kitchen, among hams, salted: beef, and
dried herbs. I have now table-linen of her spinning,
and most probably shall leave some of it-to my
own children. She was an excellent spinner, and it
used to be the delight of us children to sit beside her,
and lay by turns our heads upon her knee, which
were thus, as we thought, agreeably rocked, or rather
trotted, by the turning of the wheel, whilst she
repeated to us long portions of Thomson's Seasons, of
which she was extremely fond, Gray's Elegy, passages
from Cowper, and other long poems, all of a medita-
tive and serious character. I can recall now the
sound of her voice, mingled with the busy humming
of the wheel, and it seems delightful.

In the spring, when the spinning was done for the
OUR HOME. 19

year, there always came an annual pleasure, which
gave us great delight. This was the going to the
weaver, who lived about two miles off, to give
orders for the weaving, and to choose the patterns for
it. For this excursion some fine steady day in April
or the beginning of May was chosen, when, as the
country saying is, the crows had picked the dirt up.
It was always talked of for a week or two before-
hand, and brought with it great anticipations of
pleasure. We mostly went in the afternoon; it was
a pleasant walk, though it was along the turnpike
road the whole way, but green flowery fields bordered
each side ; there were lambs in the fields, goslings
and young ducklings on the village and farm-house
ponds by the wayside; the willow-catkins were
all out; the hedges were budding with their young
green leaves, and our mother, whom we loved so
well, and who yet so seldom took walks with us into
the country, was with us now, and to us children,
who lived so much at home, it was quite an adven-
ture to go so far. I remember so well the hamlet,
called Wills-Lock, through which we passed, with
the plough projecting over its ale-house as a sign,
and where, at the juncture of the Stafford and Lich-
field roads, stood the pinfold, and, better than that,
the saw-pit, where, if the men were not at work, the
children always were playing. I remember the Low-
fields Hall, where we never fdiled to wonder why a
place that stood on a hill should be called low, nor to
talk of the horrid deed which not so long before had
been done there; when the groom, going into the
stables, found the four fine coach-horses all with
their throats cut. It was as dreadful as any murder,
20 OUR HOME.

and we looked with horror, yet not without a thrill-
ing interest, that was not without its agreeable
excitement, at the great stables adjoining the house
where the deed was done.

On we went, and into the next valley, where lived
old Master Pedley, the weaver. He was an old
bachelor, and his sister, who was a widow, kept
his house; they were most decent, comfortable
people, who, possessing a homestead of their own
and a little property, never knew the meaning of
that awful word—poverty, and had, therefore, such
cheerful countenances as did one good to look
upon, and, besides which, we always seemed to
be expected when we got there, which would not
have been strange to us children, for children are
not so easily surprised by such things as grown
people, had not our mother called our attention to
the fact.

“I’ve been a-looking for you!” said the old
woman invariably, taking us through the little
kitchen into the still less parlour, with its brick floor,
and its pleasant window, that looked out into the
pleasant crofts behind. And those crofts it was
which had such a charm for us, for they were full of
cowslips and wild daffodils; and whilst our mother
rested and talked with the old people, and arranged
about her weaving, we went into the crofts, and
gathered our hands full of these lovely flowers.
When we returned to the house, we always found
the little round stand set out, and the bottle of cow-
slip-wine, and the seed-cake, and ginger-bread ready,
‘for,’ said the old woman, “I’ve been a-looking for
you these two or three days!”

&
OUR HOME. 21

It was a charming thing, this going to Master
Pedley’s, and, perhaps, what made us think most of
it was, that it only came once a-year. We gathered
plenty of flowers there, for though we had cowslips
nearer to us than this place, we had no daffodils,
and they were flowers that seemed fit for a garden.
Our father mostly came to meet us on our return
home, and then our mother taking his arm, they two
went on together, leaving us two happy creatures
either to go on before or to come after hand in hand.

The maid who had the care of us then was a
relation of the old weaver, and was called Betty.
She was a childish, giddy sort of girl, and was no
great favourite with us. Her father was a tailor in
the town, and as it was the time when the French
invasion was so much talked of, he, like all other tailors,
was busily employed in making regimentals for the
volunteers. Betty brought us home pieces of scarlet
cloth, and we, warm in the general cause, dressed up
a regiment of doll-volunteers. Had we been boys,
we should, like the boys of the town, have acted the
volunteers, and been drilled, and exercised, and
marched about, as they were, to the sound of drum
and fife. But we looked on at all this out of our
nursery-window ; it was something with which we
girls had nothing to do actively. We had not one
single boy acquaintance, for our parents, for reasons
of their own, kept us very much secluded. Boys, I
reinember, seemed to me a wild kind of strange
animal, with which it was hardly creditable, and by
no means desirable, to have anything to do; and
when a stranger once asked—“ Have you any
brothers?” one of us replied with great gravity, and
92 THE FIRST SCHOOL.

a sense of great propriety, ““Oh no; our father and
mother do not approve of boys.” ae

The boys of the town, therefore, played at soldiers
in the streets, and we and our maid Betty equipped
a regiment of doll-volunteers.



CHAPTER IL.
THE FIRST SCHOOL.

- I wave said that we had no boy-acquaintance. I
must go back a year or two from the time I last
wrote of, and I shall then have to mention one.
Whilst our grandfather was our inmate, in order
that he might not be annoyed by us in any way, and
partly, perhaps, at his suggestion, we were sent to a
day-school.

This was kept by a Miss Goodwin, a fair, mild, lady-
like person, such a one as might have taken to school-
teaching from some reverse of fortune—a stranger
would have said so instantly. Whenever I read now
of the gentle lady who taught school in Crabbe’s
Tales of the Hall, I think of her. But she was a
gentlewoman by nature, rather than by birth—one
whose spirit was of pure gold. Our mother made
acquaintance with her when we became her scholars,
and was greatly attached to her during her shot life.
She lived in a small house near to us, and her sister,
Teresa, or Terry, as she was called, who was a little
old-looking woman, and who always seemed to us
somewhat half-witted, kept house for them. She
lived in the kitchen, through which we passed to
THE FIRST SCHOOL. 23

the parlour, which was the school-room, and with her
old-fashioned “flowered” gown pinned up around her,
seemed always to be dusting and polishing the dark
oak furniture.

We soon became very fond of Miss Goodwin, and
she seemed equally so of us. We were certainly her
privileged scholars, and cut paper and amused our-
selves in a thousand unscholastic ways during the five
hours which we spent in school. Our grandfather used
sometimes to fetch us home, but this, for two reasons,
we did not greatly like; in the first place, he always
sat and talked so long with Miss Goodwin and
Terry after school, which we thought tiresome ; and
secondly, because, when in a very good humour, he
would carry one or other of us, and this was ten times
worse than walking, because, dear old man, as he
stooped forward very much, we always felt as if we
should fall out of his arms—but this, of course, we
never told him.

Miss Goodwin took tea with our mother now and
then; she used to come dressed in muslin gowns,
either white, or printed in such delicate patterns as
to look almost white; my mother often took tea in
the garden when she came, because she was so fond
of fresh air, and with her daily confinement in the
school, and her delicate health, she could enjoy but
very little of it. The family was a consumptive one,
and though we did not know what it meant when we
heard our mother say so, we soon gleaned up the
meaning of the fear which she often expressed, that
poor Miss Goodwin would follow her sister, whe had
died. Her sister had married a well-to-do black-
smith in the place, named Steele, and after a year or
24 THE FIRST SCHOOL.

two had died, leaving one child, a son. Sammy
Steele, this boy, was anything but a consumptive-
looking subjeet. We had glimpses of him now and
then in the kitchen, with his Aunt Terry ; to us he
belonged to the race of boys, and was therefore a
creature to be shunned. He was a strong-limbed,
big boy of his age, and we had always an aversion te
him. :

Miss Goodwin also had a brother in London, whe
was married and settled there, and a sister, who was
a housekeeper in the great mansion of some great
millionaire in the metropolis also, and who now and
then, when the family was in the country, came
down to see her sisters. She was a handsome, portly
woman, with an air of life about her ; “she knew,”
as the simple townsfolks said, “ what was what,” and
was altogether a person of consequence, although she
bore the simple country name of Dolly.

Once, in the Christmas holidays, Miss Goodwin
came to our house, to ask if we might go early that
afternoon to play with her brother's son, “little
Johnny,” whom her sister Dolly had brought with
her from London, for change of air. ‘* Poor Johnny,”
she said, ‘“‘ was a very delicate boy, he was very still
and good, and they all feared he would go off in a
waste. Johnny was as gentle as a girl,” she said,
‘‘ and she hoped our parents would let us go.”

We went, and there was Johnny. J remember
well, child as I was, the shock that went through me
as I saw him first. I do not think that I had
perhaps ever seen a child out of health before; he
was thin ; his dark jacket and trousers hung quite
loose upon him ; he was as white as his shirt-collar,

&
THE FIRST SCHOOL. 2b

and his eyes were hollow and mournful. We were
filled with the kindest compassion; we took his thin
hands in ours, and looked at his long thin fingers,
till our eyes filled with tears. No, indeed! there was
no danger of such a dear child as this doing us any
harm! Poor Johnny! poor little Johnny Goodwin !
We both sighed, and began to think what we
should do to amuse him, when in came rushing
Sammy Steele, the blacksmith’s son, full of rude
health, and almost bursting out of his coarse clothes.
We were shocked, but we could not get away. We
drew up close to one another, and stood in dignified
silence, But our dignity mattered nothing to
Sammy Steele; he was overflowing with good
humour and energy; he was bent upon amusing us
all. He had made a’sort of oven—his aunt had given
him Jeave to bring it in, and here it was. He set it on
one side of the fire, and poked the hot cinders under
it, and puffed and blew till he was as hot as any
Vulcan, old or young, and presently the little oven
was getting hot. His aunt Terry had mixed some
tea-cakes, and they were to be baked in his oven;
and more than that, he had himself made a little
bakestone, or “ bakston”’ as he called it, and his aunt
Terry had mixed some batter, and he himself was
going to make some pikelets for our tea. Never
was there such a busy, good-natured fellow. Poor
Johnny's pale face kindled up; he took the greatest
interest in the oven; it baked the most charming
little tea-cakes. Miss Goodwin set out little tiny
china tea-things on a tray, and one of us made tea,
whilst the other buttered the cakes and the smoking
hot pikelets which Sammy Steele turned on and
D
26. THE FIRST SOHOOL.

turned off his bakestone, with the most perfect skil?,
never thinking—not he—about himself, but saying
that he had plenty yet to bake—plenty ! we must
eat more; we could not half have done; he never
saw folks with such little appetites in all his life.
After we had satisfied ourselves, his turn came. His
aunt Terry had allowed him a certain quantity of
lard to grease his bakestone with, and all this he had
exhausted over us—there was not a bit more iu the
house. What was to be done? But it was easy
enough for Sammy Steele to know what must be
done, for he was a boy with resources. He took the
candle out of the stick, and greased the stone. In
vain we exclaimed in horror; it mattered nothing ;
he was not over delicate, and he declared his pikelet.
to be excellent.

Oh he was a rare fellow, that blacksmith’s son !
We could not tell which we liked best, Sammy Steele,
with his hot, red face, and large brown hands, or
Johnny Goodwin, who looked so gentle and so ill.

We went home delighted. Sammy Steele, however,
never came to our house, though his cousin did. He
walked up and down our garden, leaning on his
aunt’s arm, but it was winter time, and he could come
only seldom. He became so ill, too, that his aunts
became seriously anxious on his account. Mrs. Dolly
shortened her visit and took him home, and in
the spring he died. His death was quite a grief to
us. We cried sadly, and our mother consoled us by
saying that Johnny Goodwin was surely gone te
heaven, for there were not many such boys as he.
27

CHAPTER III.
CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

Axgour this time two changes occurred. In the
first place our grandfather left us. He took lodgings
at a pleasant house belonging to an old gardener and
his wife, where there were no children, at about a
mile’s distance from us, and just out of the other side
of the town. Here he had a couple of rooms, and
lived very much to his heart’s content. Here he
heated his room with a chafing-dish and charcoal, and
set up his crucible, and dried his herbs, and pounded
and dispensed his snuff, without any interruption.
Here, also, he could receive his patients of all kinds,
and practise the use of his metallic tracters, which
were at that time the rage, and in the use of which
he was an adept, on all kind of poor, infirm and
afflicted creatures who came to him. He was a great
deal more at his ease after this removal, and so were
we. Once a week we children were sent up with
our maid to visit him, and to take some kind message
or little present to him from our parents, and every
Sunday he dined with us. We were very fond of
visiting the old gentleman in this way, for several
reasons. In the first place, we liked the walk, which
to us, secluded children as we were, had something
quite adventurous in it; we learned to know the
town in this way, and it had much such a charm for
us as the reading of a new book.

There were several ways of reaching the Heath, as
that part of the neighbourhood was called where our
298 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

grandfather lived ; and we were extremely fond of
varying them. Sometimes we went through the
marxet-place and up the High-street ; and amused
ourselves with town-life the whole way. Sometimes we
went round through the church-yard, which in those
days was always kept unlocked and open to the public,
as all country church-yards ought to be, and thus
leaving the town entirely, and, going far to the right,
threaded pleasant alleys that led between the bowery
gardens of large houses, to which we occasionally
went with our mother to make morning cails. On
this side there were extensive views into Derbyshire
and the north of Staffordshire among the hills, whence
in somewhat later years were seen the white turrets
of Alton Towers; from this side too were distinctly
seen the ruins of Tutbury Castle, an object of in-
terest to us at all times. There was a third way, too,
and yet a fourth, and both of these had something
quite terrific to our imaginations. The one led us
past the great wooden barn where a certain Betty
Ball had hung herself, and which therefore was said
to be haunted; and further on to the three lane-ends,
where an unfortunate girl who had committed suicide
was buried, according to the brutal usage of those
days, with a stake run through her body, as if she had
not suffered anguish enough in her life, without her
miserable remains enduring the cruellest outrage in
death. The other road led through the back lanes
of tlie tuwn, where we had uot tne permissiou of our
parents to go; but where, I am ashamed to acknow-
ledge, we sometimes went unpermitted. In one of
these lanes lived the beggars, the rag-gatherers, the
chimney-sweepers, and bone-dealers. Asses were
CHANGES. THE NEW MAID. 29

kept in the lower rooms, and house-doors were fas-
tened with padlocks. ‘The men had a reckless, law-
less, swaggering air about them; they were bronzed
with wind and weather, and had the look of dwellers
out of doors; they wore ragged and greasy clothes,
and had their hats either slouched over their eyes, or
else knowingly set on one side of their heads; and
the women were some of them wretched-looking hags,
or flaunting “‘ young queans,” with black ringlets and
long dangling earrings. But I am not purposing at this
moment to describe the town or its inhabitants ; my
business is now with our grandfather and our visits
to him.

The old gentleman gave us almonds and raisins
when we came, and sometimes a new book. The
books which we had then were very different to those
which children have now-a-days. They were exter-
nally mostly square, and bound, many of them, in
beautiful paper, stamped and printed in green and
gold, and red and lilac. I wonder one never sees
such paper now ;—beautiful books they were to look
at on the outside; but alas !—I grieve to say it—they
were very dry within. At that time the Taylor's
charming Original Poems, and more charming Nursery
Rhymes, were not written—nor had any of Maria
Edgeworth’s earlier ones penetrated into our out-of-
the-world region. Our books bore such titles as The
Castle of Instruction, The Hill of Learning, The
Rational Dame, and so on; and seemed written on
purpose to deter children from reading ; however, we
were thankful to our grandfather for whatever he gave
us. We walked about the pleasant, sloping, and sunny
garden of the house where he lived, and round and

D2
30 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

round the croft at the back of the house, where the
sweetest white and blue viclets grew on the banks in
spring. Our mother’s favourite flowers were violets ;
essence of violet was the only perfume she used, and
all that belonged to her had the peculiar odour of
that flower ; the very tradespeople used to say that
the bank-bills that came from her smelled so sweet
that they could distinguish them from anybody else's.
From the delight which violets gave to her, and the
pleasure which we always had in gathering them for
ther, I have even now, and always shall have, a pecu-
liar feeling towards them ;—they bring back the
ehild’s sentiment of affection to a good mother,—a
holy and a pleasant sentiment.

About the time when our grandfather left us, we
sparted also with our maid Betty, and the immediate
reason of her going was this:—Our parents went during
‘the winter from home, on a short visit into Cheshire;
and, either by permission or otherwise, the servants
of the family were out too for one night. I cannot
tell how it happened to be so; but I well remember
Betty being alone with us in the house in the even-
dng, and because the nursery seemed a long way off,
we all three sat together by the kitchen fire long
‘after our usual bed-time. We had a kitten that was
poorly, and Betty sat by the fire on a low stool and
‘fed it with a tea-spoon, and one of us held the tea-
‘cup of milk and the other the kitchen-candle ; Betty
said the kitten would die, and we cried. An eirie
sort of feeling crept over us; the kitchen looked dim
and ghastly, lighted by its one thin candle; we
thought of all the rooms in the house where there
‘was nobody, where all was darkness and silence; we
CHANGES. THE NEW MAID. 3l

thought of lumber-rooms where spiders spun their
cloudy webs, and of the cellars where were the crawl-
ing things; we thought, and were terrified almost
out of our wits. When the imagination is excited
either in old or young, they begin to tell dismal
stories. Accordingly Betty began to tell of a dreadful
thing which had just occurred up in the moorlands
of Staffordshire: a little child had been devoured by
a hungry pig; and then of something even worse
than that a thousand times,—of a little child in that
same wild part of the country which had been killed
by a cruel female relation, to whose care it had been
committed, and baked in an oven; a neighbour had
come in, and perceiving a strange smell, asked what
it was, and suspecting the fact, had then gone out and
raised the neighbourhood, when the wicked wretch,
who was busy at the wash-tub, was secured, and the
poor child’s body found baking in what was then
called a stein-pot. It wasa horrid story; we fairly
screamed for terror; we knew not what todo; Betty
was as much terrified as we; the kitten fell into a
sort of convulsion, and struggled as if in pain; Betty
said it would be a mercy to put it out of its misery,
but to us it seemed like the woman murdering the
child. Just then, the clock struck— it was twelve!
it was midnight! We had never been up so late
before in all our lives; we dared not go to bed, nor
dared she. At length she proposed that, late as it
was, we should all go up together to her father’s, the
tailor’s, knock them up, and bring her brother down
to sleep in the house. No sooner said than done;
she muffled us up in our little coats, put on her
cloak, and we sallied forth. It was pitch dark ;
there was not a lamp in the town; the sky was dark
32 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

and cloudy, and the wind blew fearfully. There was
to us something awful beyond words in being thus
abroad at the dead of night. The watchman stood
by the pump muffled up to the ears in his cloak,
with his lantern at his feet—asleep.

“Never mind him!” said Betty, and hurried
us on.

Her father’s was at the other end of the town; we
knocked them up, to their great terror, and roused at
the same time the whole neighbourhood ; and after
waiting what seemed to us an immense time, Joe,
her tall brother, went home with us to sleep in the
house. When we reached home, the kitten was dead
—stiff, stretched out on the hearth ; but Betty would
not allow us time to mourn over it; she warmed
what she called a “good jorum” of elder wine, of
which she gave us to drink, and then put us to bed.
I remember nothing more of that night; we must
have slept very soundly and very late too, for when
we woke next morning, all things were as usual in
the house ; the other servants were come home; the
house seemed fully inhabited, and Betty was sitting
by the nursery fire at her work. Whilst she dressed
us she made us promise not to say oue word to our
parents, or anybody else, of the adventures of the
night. To us they all seemed like a wild horrible
dream, and we promised secrecy.

Our parents returned at the expected time; and
we were asked—as we always were on such occasions
—what we had done each day ; fortunately nothing
was said of the night, so we kept our secret. In the
course of a few days, however, some sort of a strange
report came to our mother’s ears of “her dear children
wandering up and down the streets after midnight
CHANGES. THE NEW MAID. 33

like forlorn creatures.” She was horrified, as well
she might be, and asked us so point blank as to the
truth that we were obliged to confess all. Betty
then came in for her share of wrath; she at first
denied, and then finding that all was known, reproached
us for want of faith. Our mother removed us from
this scene of strife, and dismissed Betty instantly.
We were not sorry when she went; for though she
was not wilfully unkind to us in any way, she still
exercised a very uncomfortable and unwholesome
influence over us.

A new maid was now to be inquired for; and as
our mother on consideration thought that Betty’s
faults arose from want of experience, she determined
to have an older and graver person with us for the
future. Many young women came after the place—
for our service was in excellent repute—and we, who
sat entirely with our mother, saw all who came,
though we were invariably sent out of the room
during the conversation which ensued. At length
we were told that a person was engaged, and would
come the next week. She came—a tall, gaunt,
grave-looking woman of five-and-twenty, with some-
thing wild and picturesque in her appearance, a very
abrupt, decided manner, and a speech singularly
dialectical. We knew not what to think of her; all.
our mother’s acquaintance were in the same predica--
ment; but they received for answer that she came:
Lighly recom:nenced as wu must trustworthy, con-
scientious, and clever woman, and these were qualities.
which our mother valued more highly than mere
polish of manner or exterior.

This remarkable person—who lived in our family;
34 CHANGES. THE NEW MAID.

for fifteen years from this day, and only Jeft us to go
home and die—was called Nanny. Ann Wocdings
was her name; but Nanny she had always been
called, and so she still chose to be called. She wove,
when she came to the house, some kind of dark,
sober-coloured dress, made very tight, in the style of
those days, half high, with a prim linen habit-shirt
under it with a little plaited frill, like that of a boy’s
shirt, round the neck, and a black neck-ribbon; a
cap of white linen, made all in a piece, and called by
her ‘‘a bag-cap,” with a double frill round the face ;
a shortish, reddish-brown cloak, trimmed down the
front and round the capacious hood with old narrow
fur; and a little skimming-dish shaped green silk
bonnet. Such an odd figure hardly ever wasseen. Her
features were large and unpleasing; her complexion
muddy, and her hands and feet remarkably large.
Strange as this woman was in appearance, time
soon proved to our mother that she was clever and
trustworthy ; conscientious, too, I ought perhaps
also to add, but that was not exactly in the way our
mother would have liked had she known all,—but of
that anon; for the present we have nothing to do
but with her outward management, and this indeed
was clever. She was punctual, like the sun. We
‘were in bed and out of bed at the exact moment; we
*were taken to school and brought back to the minute,
‘without any oversight of our mother’s; and then,
-after Miss Goodwin's death, when our mother under-
‘took our education, nothing could be more satisfac-
‘tory than all her preparation and management.
“She is a treasure!” said our mother to her
friends ; and they, hearing nothing but good of her,
THE TOWN. 35

and seeing our neat, healthful appearance, treated
her also as a person to be respected.

CHAPTER IV.
THE TOWN,

Unper the guidance of Nanny, our visits to our
grandfather—go by whichever way we would—were
infinitely more attractive than poor Betty ever could
have made them.

Looking back from that hill-top of distance of
which I have before spoken, I can now understand
many things regarding Nanny, the effect of which as
children we only felt. Nanny was really a singularly
gifted woman, if not a woman of genius. She must
have had remarkable powers of observation, a reten-
tive memory, a turn for all that was picturesque and
traditional, considerable superstition, and a remark-
able faculty for relating anything clearly and effec-
tively. She cast, as it were, a spell over us; we sat
and listened for hours to her histories, which seemed
never to come to an end; and there was something
sO appropriate—so racy and picturesque, in the old
dialectic language which she used, that I never liked
any story told in modern polite English half as well
as hers; they seemed to me to want richness and
picturesqueness. From this cause I trace, even now,
my great love of dialect, and the singularly pleasing
effect which it always produces on me when spoken.

Nanny was a good tactician, too; she did not
Jaunch out into ail her broad singularities of character
36 THE TOWN.

at once—they stole upon us by degrees ; and, indeed,
had it not heen so, our parents must have been
startled, and assuredly would have dismissed her,
Many of her peculiarities in fact they never did know,
and we should as soon have thought of betraying
ourselves as her; yet she never put us on our guard
by enforcing secrecy ; she seemed as bold and open
as the day, and yet she was cunning and wary for all
that. And though I speak now with the full know-
ledge of Nanny’s character, it was only by slow
degrees that she fully revealed herself to us; yet in
the meantime she was making herself not only
agreeable but necessary to us also.

Nothing in the world could be more charming
than walks into the town with her. We knew the
exterior of things before she came; but who, like
her, could pull down with a touch, as it were, the
front of every house, and give us a peep into the
interior, however secret or strange? Who, like her,
was full of anecdote about all the people we met,
from the grandee of the town down to the buyer of
hare-skins in Sinithy-lane @

There, in that bowery-looking dwelling overgrown
with rose and clematis, lived the lady who had loved
a sea-captain, and fought by his side in man’s attire,
and saved his life at the expense of severe wounds on
her own body. A fair and passionately-loving lady
had she been in her youth; but for all that, she was
a very virago in temper now; and Nanny had seen
her box the ears of her second husband as resolutely
as she had fought on behalf of her first lover.

There, in that gloomy house, lived the great army-
contractor A , Whose slaughter of cattle for the


THE TOWN. 37

army was every week so iminense, and who made
purchases all over the country. Did we know that
in an upper room of that house, the window of which,
small and grated with iron, opened on the leads, had
been kept for years, chained down to her bedstead,
his unhappy wife. Wonderful were the stories
which she told of this house—of the busy trading
father, of the unfortunate wife, and the handsome
young profligate son, who, like some character in one
of Fielding’s or Smollet’s novels, went up and down
the world breaking the hearts of, she knew not how
many, young and handsome women.

Mrs. A—— was not, according to Nanny, the only
mysterious captive kept in garrets and secret places
of houses whose outsides looked smiling and cheerful,
with pleasant gardens all around them. ‘There was
a doleful idiot in one house, the mistress of which
came in silks and satins, with her lap-dog at her
heels, to visit our own mother. And there were the
two occasionally insane brothers, the S——s, army-
contractors likewise, one of whom had been in the
West Indies with a cargo of mules, and had gone
mad there, and there had worn such fearful manacles
on his legs that the marks of them remained to this
day. These men were of gigantic size and with voices
naturally powerful, which, when inflamed by madness,
became fearfully terrific. It was with dread that we
looked up to these houses, and listened if we might
not hear awful sounds proceeding from them.

Nanny’s stories were mostly of the wild and won-
derful ; but she now and then varied them by telling
us of such dwellers in houses as the poor organist
Green and his sick wife, whose little chamber was

z
38 , THE TOWN

made cheerful by the affection of her good husband,
and by the balsams and sweet-smelling plants, ver-
benas and balm of Gilead, which she cultivated
with a perfect passion. Then there were old women
who lived in the alms-houses, whose histories were
worth the telling. There was old Alice, or Ales
Emery, as she was called, whose daughter was such
a pattern of filial love, whe took in needle-work, and
died ; but not before she had made a shroud for herself
and another for her mother, which the old woman
kept carefully laid in lavender in the bottom drawer
of her chest, waiting for the time when it should be
wanted,

Sometimes Nanny took us past the old Hall—the
half-timbered, gloomy, desolate old hall; and then
she perfectly revelled in its history. We knew the
lady who lived there—Miss Grace Copestake; for
she occasionally called on our mother, and was, in
our eyes, a singular person, dressed as she was in
yellow or some bright colour, and with a quick
flighty sort of manner which had always struck us
as peculiar, Our parents, when speaking of her, fre-
quently called her ‘* poor Miss Grace,” but we never
knew why till Nanny told us,

The father of Miss Grace had been a speculative
man, and had introduced the lapidary business, on
rather a great scale, into the town. He built ex-
tensive wooden shops all round the large court of his
house, which was enclosed with a high, dreary-look-
ing wall. She described the desolate, weed-grown
court and the decaying shops as they now stood ; for
when it ceased to be the fashion for gentlemen to
wear buckles set with stones, his business fell off,
and he was a ruined man. He died; and Miss Grace
THE TOWN. 39

undertook the settling of his affairs: she sold all she
could to pay his debts, and then was left with the
bare walls of the desolate old house, for she was
compelled to sell all the furniture excepting what
was needed for the few rooms which she inhabited,
and there she lived with an ancient man and his
wife, her sole domestics. Poor Miss Grace became a
little wrong in her head, either with care or sorrow ;
and it was enough to make her crazed to see the
things which she saw night after night in that dolefal
old house. What, then, was the house haunted ?—of
a certainty; what old place like that was not haunted!
There was the spectral lady who stole down the
private staircase now and then, at uncertain periods,
in stiff silks which rustled at every step. Mysterious
hands there were which held a bloody bowl above a
certain closet door, and which not only Miss Grace
had seen, but a most excellent lady—a Mrs. Parker,
who with her daughter had at one time taken a part
of the house for a school; and in consequence of
which and other such eirie visions had been obliged
to leave. And not only she and Miss Grace had seen
them, but several of “the lace-girls” also. These
“lace-girls,” as they were called, were young women
employed by Miss Grace in working lace, which she
received from the manufacturers in Nottingham, and
employed girls to sprig and work in frames. She had
fitted up an immense room in this dreary old mansion
for this purpose. The lace was stretched in a sort of
quilting-frame which was placed on tressels, and one
or two girls worked at a piece. Whether Miss Grace
did this for amusement or as a means of subsistence,
I know not; but there the girls went daily, and,
4&0 THE TOWN.

according to common report, strange were the sights
and sounds with which they became familiar.

One day Nanny obtained leave to take us to see
some horse-riders and rope-dancers who were come
to the town, and were exhibiting their wonderful
feats in the ruinous court, among the decaying lapi-
dary shops, which with their large, broken windows
—where they were strong enough for the purpose—
served as a sort of stand. Of the horse-riding feats I
now remember much less than of the effect produced
on my mind by that scene of desolation and decay,
for the full effect of which Nanny had prepared our
minds. When the performances were finished, we
went to the hall itself, where Nanny—-who was
acquainted with the old domestic and his wife—ob-
tained for us a view of the whole place. It was
indeed a dreary, desolate spot; many of the walls
had been hung with tapestry, and now stood in their
naked brick and mortar, looking worse than the
interior of an out-building. Handsome ceilings,
cornices, and lofty windows, with carved wood-work
about them, made the strangest contrast with the
walls. The lady’s own room was finished with dark,
old oak wainscot ; a few family pictures hung in ‘it,
and there she herself sat in her yellow gauze, like an
old faded picture herself. As she was acquainted
with our parents she received us most graciously,
gave us little cakes to eat and each a glass of wine,
made us tell her all about the horse-riders, and bade
us come often to see her.

But we never went again till after Miss Grace’s
death, when our father purchased at the sale of the
whole place the very vak wainscot of the room where
THE TOWN. 41

she then sat, and had it put up in a house of his
own, where it remains dark and handsome as ever.

There was another house, too, which interested us
greatly. It was a sort of old, low, red-brick mansion ;
and stood, half buried in trees and ivy, within an
ancient wall, over and about which the ivy grew in
heavy masses. ‘There, as our father had often told
us, the Duke of Cumberland had been entertained
by the Gardiner family, to which it still belongs,
when he spent a night in the town in his pursuit of
the Scotch rebels, in 1745, and in fact on his way to
Culloden; and where he received an entertainment
so much to his mind that he conferred upon the
town an exemption for ever from soldiers being quar-.
tered there. This our father had often told us, and
also that the cook who had prepared the supper for
the duke lived afterwards in my grandfather's family,
where, if either master or mistress presumed to find
fault with her cooking, she rose up in a towering
passion, saying that she who had pleased the Duke of
Cumberland never would be found fault with by
man or woman, be they who they might.

But from Nanny came another story. There had
lived here a lady wonderfully beautiful, who yet had
some secret sorrow at her heart that neither her
husband nor any friend of hers could fathom. She
drove about in her carriage, the handsomest woman
of the neighbourhood, but she never smiled nor
willingly associated with any one.

One day, in her husband’s absence, she told her
maid that she was not well and would keep her bed,
and was therefore left alone in her chamber. Towards.
noon, the report of a pistol in her room alarmed the:

‘>
KE @
42 THE TOWN.

whole house; they rushed thither; the door waslocked
and all was silent within. The door was burst open,
and the unhappy lady lay a horrible spectacle in her
bed ; she had shot herself as she lay there ; but why,
no one knew; the secret of her sorrow was buried
with her. |

Nanny spared no details in her stories ; everything
was told clearly and straightforward, and painted in
strong colours. Whatever she told us she made us
‘see and feel, and, as it were, become actors in. We
mever passed this house, therefore, without hearing
in the sunny stillness of a summer's noon the sudden
report of the pistol, and then seeing the bloody sheets
cand the awful corpse.

And then there was the principal inn which we
.passed. Had we never heard of the young and hand-
‘some lady who came there and died ?

It was late one dark and stormy winter night; the
ostler was just going to bed; the last brandy-and-
‘water-drinking guest had left the fat, buxom landlady
-and the bar—when up drove, like fury, a post-chaise
‘to the door, and pulled up suddenly ; the door flew
‘open, and, without waiting to have the steps Jet down,
‘out sprang a gentleman of about eight-and-twenty,
and, rushing into the house, demanded instant atten-
‘tion for a lady who was extremely ill. All was in
‘motion in the inn in a second of time; for the land-
lady, who had a quick eye for such things, saw
instantly that the gentleman, who was handsome and
‘seemed to be in the utmost distress of mind, was rich
‘also. The chambermaid ran up stairs with her keys,
@ waiter ran up after her with a shovel of live coals
‘to make a quick fire, and the sick lady was supported
THE TOWN. 43

from the chaise, principally by the gentleman, and
carried up stairs, where they found the fire burning
and the bed ready to receive her.

She was a young creature of perhaps seventeen—
the most magnificently beautiful creature that eyes
were ever set upon. She seemed to be in the very
languor of death. The gentleman knelt beside her;
rubbed her hands and feet ; spoke to her in a tone of
the most agonized love, but in a foreign tongue, so
that no one understood the words which he said.
The doctor came, but gave no hope. The clergyman
came early the next morning and administered the
sacrament; but the lady spoke not one word. That
evening she died. No words can describe the distress
of the poor young gentleman: he never left the room
where she lay ; ; and never, night or day, took off his
clothes during the time he stayed there.

He ordered the most costly grave-clothes for her,
and the very best coffin that ever had been made.
Nobody, however, knew who they were: the gentry
of the town, full of sympathy and curiosity, made
the most zealous offers of help; but he civilly
rejected all. He saw no one but the undertaker
and the clergyman ; nor could the clergyman learn
from him any particulars regarding them. All was
mystery. He paid handsomely for all that he had
in the inn or in the town, and this made ever yaneny
give him a good word.

She was buried late in the evening, just one week
after they had arrived there ; the gentleman being the
only mourner; and in his heart—-Nanny never failed
to say—there was grief enough for a dozen funerals.
He ordered a post-chaise to be ready at the door on
44 NANNY AQT BOSE.

his return from the funeral, and into it he got, and
fee’d the post-boy to drive as fast as his horses could
go, to Lichfield; and that was the last that was
known of him.

On the next Sunday, the clergyman preached a
funeral sermon for the lady who had been cut down
so young and beautiful, like a flower of the field. It
was a very fine and touching sermon, and left not a
dry eye in the church; and even to this day is
handed about among the ladies of the town in manu-
script. The clergyman received an order from the
gentleman to place a plain but handsome stone over
her grave, on which were to be simply carved the
initials M. B. The stone was raised; all the town
went to see it; but nothing could be made out from
those two senseless letters.

Such were some of Nanny’s stories, as we went
through the town on our visits to our grandfather,

CHAPTER V.
NANNY AT HOME.

Nanny was, as I have said, a most interesting
companion abroad ; but she was not less so at home.
How shall I ever describe the spell of enchantment
which she threw over our nursery hearth! I should
be the first of story-tellers if I had a power like that
which she possessed.

She would sometimes be in a humour to talk about
herself; and then she described her home, her youth,
her many sisters, and her one brother, and her
NANNY AT HOME. 4§

parents, with such a life-like reality, that even now
TI remember all their names and all the particulars
regarding them. She told us of the village where
she lived, and of the families high and low who in-
habited it;—-Lawyer Robinson, and Parson Groves
and his fair daughters, and the farmer's handsome
sons—of the young Bartle Gough the village rake,
and Hugo Alveston Chetwynd the gay village squire
—and of Hannah Jackson, who died for love of a
“false young man,” named Charles Woolley.
Hannah Jackson was a village belle, and lived with
her old grand-parents in a rural cottage that stood in
a garden full of flowers. Hannah Jackson went duly
to church every Sunday with a nosegay in her hand,
and the old people went with her. She was the
light of their eyes and the joy of their old hearts.
All the young men of the neighbourhvod courted
her, but she only listened to one; and in return for
his offered love she gave her whole heart. She was
the dear friend of our Nanny ; and our Nanny spoke
of her with enthusiasm, asa very angel. Her lover
was false to her; and poor Hannah drooped like a
flower whose root has been cut off. She fell into
what the country people call “‘a waste,” and she sent
over to pray that her friend Nanny would go and see:
her. Nanny went; they walked into the church—
yard together, and Hannah chose the place where she-
would be buried. She then showed her friend a
paper on which she had disposed of ail her small.
worldly possessions—her best shawl and bonnet to:
one, her Prayer-book and Bible to another, to one:
her housewife, and to another her silver thimble—.-
and to the old grand-parents her little earnings in:
46 NANNY AT HOME.

money. Nanny promised with tears to be a true
executor; and so they parted, to see each other
bodily on earth no more.

Nanny was in service in the town, and, according
to her account, a few weeks after their parting, as she
lay in bed awake in the early morning, while it was
yet dark, she became conscious of a presence in the
room. All was still as death, and the curtains of the
bed slowly and silently parted; a pale light filled
the opening, and there stood, as distinetly as if in life,
the figure of that heart-broken maiden. She looked
grave, but no longer sad; not a word was said, but
their eyes met; they gazed for a moment at each
other, and then the pale shadow slowly faded away,
and all was darkness and vacancy in the chamber
Nanny described herself not as frightened, but as
solemnly impressed, and she felt sure that this was a
token of her death. She lay and listened; and pre-
sently the church clock struck four. Her friend then
had died between this hour and the last; she could
not sleep again, but lay and pondered on the strange
occurrence. ‘I'wo days afterwards, her father came
with the farmer's wagon to the town, and brought
news such as she expected. At half past three
oclock on the morning of the apparition, Hannah
Jackson had died.

Nanny had the firmest belief in a variety of super-
matural appearances and agencies. She knew the
thouse where a hobthrush had helped the farmer's
‘family for many years, until—as is always the case—
it was driven away by the offer of a suit of clothes.
She knew haunted bridges and stiles. In one case
which she described, a black dog kept ever sullen
NANNY AT HOME. AU

watch there ; in the other, a little old woman without
a head sat spinning. Her own father’s wagon had
been tied so firmly to a rush that the team of six
horses could not draw it thence. There were, she
said, particular places where spirits of the earth, or
fairies, or whatever you choose to call them, had
Supreme power; and such was this spot where the
wagon was fixed. What was the spell which re-
leased the wagon I do not now remember, but it is
no great loss; for as roads are in so much better
condition now-a-days, imps of the road have far less
power than formerly.

Nanny amused us over and over again by the story
of herself and her sister Betty being sent by their
mother to sell two couple of ducks at the Rugeley
market. They had to pass through Armitage, along
what she called the “ cut-side,’ and of which she
always spoke with horror. Canals were not very
common in those days, or rather in that part of the
country. The country people called them “cuts,”
and the people employed on the canals, and called by
them “navigators,” were held in great horror, and
many terrible stories were told of their misdeeds by
the ‘‘cut-side” in lonesome places, and that not alone
at “dark hour,” but in broad daylight.

Off, however, trudged the two little girls, each
with a basket on her arm, each basket containing a
couple of ducks: They had never been by that road,
or so far alone before; and when they reached the
“‘cut-side,’ every step filled them with direful appre-
hension. Tall reeds grew by the banks, and there
were dark watery places, like sullen pools, where
they could think of nothing but drowned men and
48 NANNY AT HOME.

women. Here and there they came to thick planta.
tions of fir and other trees, the fag-end or the very
middle of some gentleman’s place, where the threat
of steel-traps terrified them, or the distant view of
some gray solitary house suggested ideas of loneliness
and terror. Now and then they met the awful
“ navigators, —rough, huge men in ankle boots, tarry
smock-frocks rolled up round their bodies, and red
and blue worsted night-caps on their heads. ‘These
men’s faces, she said, had a sunburnt, lawless ex-
pression; their hands were huge and horny with
handling heavy ropes and hauling along heavy boats;
they walked with a heavy rolling gait, and had not
at all the look of honest men. The two little girls
began to say their prayers the moment any of these
forms came in view ; their knees trembled and their
teeth almost chattered in their heads. But no evil
befell them; they reached Rugeley, and took their
stand patiently beside the little old-fashioned wooden
market-house there. Perhaps their ducks had no-
thing about them to attract purchasers, or perhaps
they were slow to offer them; however that might
be, other people's ducks were sold and theirs re-
mained in their baskets. They were told by their
mother that they were to get half-a-crown a couple,
and by no means were they to bring them back ; no-
body, however, was inclined to give half-a-crown in
exchange for their ducks. They grew tired and
hungry, and sat down on the steps of the market-
house to eat their bread and cheese; and then
quenched their thirst from the little pump beside the
market-house. Afternoon came, and people were
beginning to go home; they waited till everybody
NANNY AT HOME. 49

was gone, and then, hopeless and dispirited, set off
back again.

Evening seemed to come on unusually early that
day. The idea of the “cut-side’ at dusk was horrible ;
they hastened cnward as fast as they could; the
ducks were heavy and they were tired; they seemed
to make no way at all. At length they reached the
canal; all was solitary, and the water looked dark
and gloomy; owls and night-hawks flew about in the
plantations, and cried dismally. The children said,
almost with a groan, what would become of them if
they should meet a navigator! and every turn of the
bank was terrible in the dread of its revealing one in
the distance. In the midst of these horrible appre-
hensions they heard sounds behind them, which
made them look round—and there! oh fearful spec-
tacle !—were two navigators on what she called a
““shog-trot,’ keeping up the while a low talk.

“* What will become of us?” ejaculated the awe-
struck children. To put down the ducks and fly for
their lives was the first, and perhaps most natural
thought ; but fear of their mother’s displeasure pre-
vented their acting upon it. They ran with all their
might ; the ducks fluttered about and quacked, and
made a noise which would betray them to their
pursuers. They were but a quarter of a mile now
from the tunnel, that most awful place on the whole
canal, into which they might be dragged and horribly
murdered, and hidden for ever in darkness. They
must make their escape now or never! The canal
turned round a woody point, and here they hoped to
hide themselves. When they rounded the point, a
watery piece of ground, or rather a shallow pool,

F
50 NANNY AT HOME.

overgrown with broad-leaved marsh-grass and water-
plants, lay between them and the fence of a planta-
tion which was full of brushwood. Down they
plunged from: the canal-bank without a moment's
consideration, right into the water, mid-leg deep, and
the reeds almost met above their heads. There was
no time to think ; Betty’s ducks quacked and scram-
bled about in the basket.

“* Keep your ducks still !” said Nanny.

But the ducks would not be kept still ; the sound
of the navigators’ feet was heard, and the murmur of
their low, gruff voices which boded no good. The
ducks must be silenced ; so Nanny, quick as thought,
set down her basket and wrung the necks of those in
her sister's. On they rushed through the water,
through the plantation hedge, and down into the
brushwood, just as the navigators came up.

‘* They must be gone in here,” said they, stopping
short ; the girls’ hearts almost ceased to beat for
terror. ‘‘ Yes, they must be gone in here,” repeated
one man. “ Let's fetch up the dog,” said the other,
‘and he ‘ll hunt them out.”——*‘ Good '”’ returned the
other, shortly ; and they set off back again, at the
same short trot as before. Their heavy and iron-
heeled boots sounded on the canal-bank, and the
girls had hardly strength to lift their heads. They
looked upon themselves as lost creatures, and began
to cry. Supposing even that they reached home safe,
what would their mother say to find the ducks not
only unsold, but those in Betty’s basket dead! They
were almost out of their senses, when the snuffing of
a dog near to them, and a short, sharp bark, filled
them afresh with new terror; the men must be come
NANNY AT HOME. 51

back again, and with them the dog, and they should
be taken at once. They screamed in a frantic horror,
and the little dog barked loudly, and the next moment
a tall, quiet-looking gentleman, powdered, and in a
complete suit of black, stood beside them. ‘‘ What
were they doing here?” he asked gravely. The
girls looked one at another, and said not a word ;
they had been almost frightened to death, and Nanny
declared that the cold perspiration ran in streams
down her face, and her tongue clave to the roof of her
mouth. However, after the question had been once
or twice repeated, and that without the gentleman's
seeming to lose histemper, they were able to tell the
cause of their terror, and their sad disaster about the
ducks which they had been obliged to kill.

“You cannot reach home to-night,” said the
gentleman, gravely; “so come with me.” They
had no fear whatever of his doing them any harm,
so. they took up their baskets and followed him,
And now that all immediate sense of danger was
removed, the thought of the dead ducks haunted
them fearfully. What would their mother say ?—
the very thought of their trouble made them cry
afresh.

The gentleman stopped and asked what they were
crying about ; they told him; he made no reply, but
smiling a little, as if to himself, he walked on, and
they followed him. |

They went on and on, for a couple of miles at
least, but where to they had not the slightest idea.
At length the plantation opened, and they came into
a park-like space, where old trees grew singly or in
groups, and beautiful herds of deer were quietly
52 NANNY AT HOME.

grazing. The gentleman went on, and they, with
their two baskets, and their tired feet, and frightened
hearts, trudged after. Anon, and they entered broad
gravel walks among shrubbery, which here and there
opened into the most beautiful flewer-gardens. The
sun was just setting, and its slanting rays threw the
most dazzling radiance over everything. The next
turn brought them directly to the front of a house,
which looked to them grander even than the Cathedral
at Lichfield. Tall marble columns, broad flights of
steps ; strange-looking gigantic plants in vases ; long
rows of lofty, shining windows, draped with crim-
son and gold-coloured curtains, quite bewildered
them ; they said not a word to one another; they
felt as if they should never speak again, and on they
went, with their baskets and their dusty feet, and
their shabby little bonnets, past all this grandeur.
Presently they came to the other side of the house,
and winding among shrubbery they entered a door
which led through many passages, where rows and
rows of bells hung, into aroom, where sat an old lady
—the lady of this grand mansion as they at first ima-
gined—behind a great figured screen, before a table
upon which stood seven tall loaves of sugar, while she
seemed to be breaking up an eighth into a large bowl
which she held on her knee. She had a “ flowered
gown” on, and a fine muslin cap, and a fine linen
apron, and had something very stately about her. The
children curtseyed down to the very ground, whilst
the gentleman said something very rapidly to her in
an under tone, to which, standing up, she replied
merely, ‘“‘ Yes, sir; yes, sir;” and then, without
taking any more notice of them, he went out. The
NANNY AT HOME. 63

old lady put on “her spectacles, and surveyed the
children from head to foot for soine seconds, and then,
taking off the spectacles again, bade them set down
their baskets and take off their bonnets. _
_“ How shall we ever get home to-night!” exclaimed
they both in terror. “ You will stop here to-night,” said
the old lady, and again bade them do as she had said.
They felt frightened, and, as if they dared not dis-
obey, put down their baskets and took off their bon-
nets. She then made them sit down and relate to
her their adventures ; and when she heard that they
had asked half-a-crown a couple for their ducks, she
interrupted them by exclaiming that it was a sharie-
ful price, and she wondered how they could ever have
the face to ask it. They felt as if they could not say
another word, they were so much abashed; they
looked at one another, and then at the ducks, and
were ready to cry; they wished that they were but
at home, and felt that they were a very long way off.
After they had finished their relation, the old lady
gave them something to eat for their suppers; what
it was they did not know; but it was something so
very good, that they ate of it till they were ashamed
and could eat no more. They were then taken into
a little room, which was on the ground floor, and
which she called the page’s-room, where was a bed,
and they were told that they must sleep, but not
before their baskets, emptied of the ducks, were
brought into the room and set down, with their money,
as they were told, safely pinned in the cloth, which
had been laid in one basket because the bottom was
bad. The room seemed to them very lofty and
grand. There was some gilding on the bed and the
F2
§4 NANNY AT HOMER,

window cornice, and a deal of fine coloured drapery.
W ondering whatever sort of a book it was, a page of
which needed a bed like a human creature, they
undressed themselves and lay down, and after awhile
dropped asleep.

But their sleep was not easy, and at length Nanny
woke. All was still in the house, and it was just
getting light in the early morning. She felt very
poorly, “so sick and badly,” she said, as she had
never felt before.

‘“‘Oh, Betty,” said she, shaking her sister, “‘ wake,
for Iam soill!” Betty woke in aninstant, nay, she
was half awake already, and she too confessed that
she felt very queer. What were they todo? They
got up and looked out of the window. Their little
chamber seemed to project forward, and gave them a
view down the long, grand front. There, as on the
last night, was the long row of lofty windows, the
marble pillars, and the broad steps.

“Oh, I wish I was at home!” groaned Nanny,
now lying on the floor in an agony of strange pain..

“I do think we are poisoned,’ said Betty, ‘it
must be that stuff that we had last night, that had
been boiled in a brass pan!”

** Let’s get out of the window, and into the fresh
air,” said Nanny, who now felt ready to faint. They
dressed themselves, but not without difficulty, and
then got out of the window.

“ Let’s go home, let’s go home as fast as we can !”
said poor Nanny. “If we shall ever reach home,”
said Betty, dolefully, who had now mounted the
window-sill. ‘ Bring the baskets with you,” said
Nanny, and Betty, who had forgotten them, slipped
NANNY AT HOME. 585

back for them, as much frightened as if she had
been a thief, lest the people of the mouse should come
in and seize upon her.

They were now both of them out in the fresh air—
but it did them no good at first ; they were dizzy, and
faint, and weak, and so out of spirits and frightened
lest they were poisoned, that they both began to cry.

‘‘Oh I wish we were but at home!” said they,
and went on as fast as their legs would carry them.
In awhile they felt better; their quick movement
and the fresh air restored them; and then the
thought occurred what would the people say when
they found them gone, and gone too in that sneaking
kind of way, and they never could know why they
had done so. They knew not what to do exactly;
they were by this time half-way back to the canal
by the way they had come the last evening, which
was very direct. They felt as if they were afraid of
going back, so on they went, and reached the scene
of their last night’s terror, They flew along the
canal-side, but saw nothing; and then the rest of
the way was easy and familiar to them. They
reached home about six oclock, just as their
mother was setting out on her way to Rugeley to
find them. It was a long and strange history that
they had to tell; now their mother grew very angry,
and now she laughed ; but when she heard what the
old lady at the hall had said about half-a-crown
being a shameful price for each couple of her ducks,
she went into a great passion, and demanded, “ Well,
what had she paid?” The children had never
thought about that, and then, quite frightened and
anxious, unpinned the corner of the towel to see
56 FAMILY PURCHASES.

what really had been put in, and then what was theia
astonishment to find not ¢wo half-crowns, but four /

“ The lady must have thought that the ducks were
half-a-crown a-piece!” exclaimed the mother. The
children protested that they had said half-a-crown a
couple. ‘The mother said that the father must go
over and make it all right.

“And did he go?” our young readers will inquire
naturally ; we asked the same question ; but Nanny
did not seem to know, she said that she supposed he
did, but neither she nor Betty ever rightly knew
what place it was at which they had been—for
Hagley and Worseley Halls, the only two which
lay in this direction, at which they had ever been,
were very different to the fine palace at which they
had slept.

Nanny did not sing, but she had a wild kind of
recitative, in which, while she rocked her body back-
wards and forwards, she would pass hours in thus
chanting old popular songs and ballads. She was a
sort of humble Bishop Percy, and she knew by heart
every song that ever swung in the wind on a ballad-
monger’s stall. She would often illustrate her songs
by narratives, and her narratives by songs.

But enough of Nanny; we will now turn to
something else.



CHAPTER VI.

FAMILY PURCHASES,

A vear or two after her son’s death, our neigh-
bour, Mrs. Gilbert, also died It was, as on the occa
FAMILY PURCHASES. 57

sion of her son’s funeral, also a bright summer day
on which she was buried. Our father was one of
those who attended her to the grave, and like all the
other mourners received also his hatband and scarf,
whilst a large packet of burial-cake was sent to the
house, and, of course, enjoyed by us. That, how-
ever, which made Mrs. Gilbert’s death most interest-
ing to us children, was that our mother told us that
our father had bought her house, and that we should
go with her to look over it, and to walk in the
garden. In that garden I had never been, though it
adjvined ours, nor had Anna, excepting on that me-
morable occasion when she crept through the fence.

It was a marvellously old-fashioned garden, with
edges of box to the walks a foot high. ‘There were
all kinds of old-fashioned plants in it, vervain, and
marsh-mallow, and hellebore, and spurge, and tansy.
That which. however, appeared to us the strangest,
was the being in that garden into which we had so
often looked, and from it seeing how our garden
looked—both so familiar, yet now seen from such
new points of view.

Our mother told us, that great changes were con-
templated by our father in this'garden ; it was to be
laid to our own, the separating fence removed, and
thus all this space would be ours. It was the
grandest idea that ever had entered our heads, we
could talk of nothing else. And how would it be?
And when would it be? Would it be done this
summer. or next winter? We were quite trouble-
some with our questions, not only that day but the
next, and the next after that for a week, till at last
our mother, wearied by our inquiries, said she was
58 FAMILY PURCHASES.

sorry that she had told us anything about it, for thus
she saw that she should have no rest. We were
rebuked, and asked no more about it for the present,
though we thought as much about it as ever.

This same summer our father bought a deal of
land ; the sloping, pleasant fields opposite, and some
land also two miles off, beyond those fields, as far off
as we could see. It was an infinite delight to us to
walk to these two purchases in a summen’s evening,
as we often did with our parents ; everybody thought
that there were no walks in the neighbourhood 30
pleasant as these. Those sloping fields opposite we
had looked at ever since we had looked at anything ;
but until they were our own, we had never been at
the top of them. The top of those fields was very
remarkable to me in my very earliest years. ‘There
stood there what seemed to me an immense elephant,
or monstrous beast, thus—



I never saw it as anything else. I was noi at all
afraid of it, for I saw itevery day. Once, I said to
&@ visitor, when in a very talkative humour, that a
FAMILY PURCHASES. 59

great black elephant always stood opposite to our
house. My parents reproved me for saying that
which was not true. I stoutly maintained that it
was so; my firmness seemed like wilful obstinacy,
and I was reproved severely; but I would not with-
draw my assertion, and my parents, grieving to see
such perversity, thought it much better to let the
subject drop. This affair sunk deep in my mind.
I saw the elephant every day as plain as could be,
but I dared not recur to the subject, because it had
given so much displeasure. The fields, however,
were bought, and then we went to the very top of
them, and as I ascended the hill my elephant was
gone, there was nothing at all but two dark Scotch
firs and a slender ash tree growing beside them, thus—





The whole thing was disenchanted, and when I
returned home, though I still by a stretch of imagi-
nation could see the elephant, it gradually became
three distinct trees. J never, as I remember, men-
tioned it to any one, not even to Anna, but it made a
deep im pression on my mind, and-has given me great
G0 FAMILY PURCHASES.

charity with the exaggerations and even the apparent
falsehood of children.

A footpath was now made across the meadow at
the bottom of the garden; a little rustic bridge was
thrown across the stream, and almost every evening
some one or other, if not the whole family, strolled
out fora walk in this direction. The evening was
always the time for recreation with our family.
When we did not go out into these fields, our parents
took a drive some five or six miles into the beautiful
country which surrounded the town, and I and my
sister alternately accompanied them. There was a
little turmdown seat in the gig, upon which we were
seated between their knees. I always enjoyed these
drives, and should have enjoyed them much more
had it not been for the conversations of which I was
the auditor. Strange that the conversation of two
affectionate parents should trouble a little child, but
it was so. My father every morning read the news-
papers, and in the evening detailed their contents to
my mother. Napoleon was at that time in the full
career of his victories. Invasion even of England
was talked of ;. timid people dreaded it as possible ;
prudent ones talked of preparations against it ; brave
ones of resisting it to the death. My parents talked of
the horrors which every day saw perpetrated in the
crimsoned path of the conqueror ; blood and fire, and
outrage of every kind. They talked of this, and then
of its perhaps coming home to our own doors; and
then they counselled with each other what was to be
done, supposing Napoleon, or Buonaparte, as every body
then called him, really should come. Fight, England
would toa man, that was certain. The sea-coasts would
FAMILY PURCHASES. 61

first feel the scourge of his presence; they talked of
the probable point of his 1 nding, of the probable
resistance he would meet with ; and of course until he
had effected a landing and beaten back, if that were
possible, the collected force that would oppose him, he
needed not to be looked for in the midland counties.
Living thus, as we did, in the very heart of the king-
dom, we might regard ourselves as among the safest
people there, but still, after all that the conqueror
had already done, who could tell what it might be
the will of the Almighty to permit him yet to do?

Thus our parents talked to each other. We, as
children, knew the histories of the Israelitish and
Jewish wars; they were to us deeply interesting
but horrible relations, and we now shuddered to think
that such things as were recorded to have happened
in them would perhaps be done on our own thresh-
olds. I told Anna what | heard, and she told me
in turn all that she heard, and thus together we
wrought ourselves up to such a pitch of terror that
our very sleep was broken by it. The worst of it
was that our grandfather, and another old gentleman
or two, who were great readers of prophecies of all
kinds, were always coming to our house and tell-
ing what they thought and expected, and bringing
pamphlets and printed sheets of paper—old and
new prophecies, visions, and strange astrological
calculations and revelations—all of which applied
as they believed to the present times. I have not
even now lost the feeling of awe with which I
heard or read Christ’s prophetic account of the
siege and taking of Jerusalem.

We children, of course, never took part in these

@
62 FAMILY PURCHASES.

conversations ; but we drank in and pondered on
every word. My mother’s callers talked always on
the same subjects; wars and bloody battles, and
death in battle, and being taken prisoner and sub-
jected to all kinds of sufferings and horrors in the
French prisons, were the constant themes of dis-
course. One lady, 1 remember, related how she
had formed all her plans in case the French got
possession of the town; all the plate and valuables
were to be secured in closets in the walls, which
were to be papered over so that no door or opening
should be visible; the family was to be hidden in
the cellars, where provision could be stored, and
where already was plenty of wine. Another lady
said that her little girl was so glad that they lived in
a town, because it would be so much pleasanter to
die in a crowd !

During all these terrors, however, the new pur-
chases were made, and great was the pleasure which
they afforded. We wondered and wondered when
the two gardens would be laid together, but new
people came to the house as my fathers tenants, and
the winter came on without any further change.

But I must not omit here to mention one little
incident which occurred to my sister, and which
made a deep impression upon her. She had, during
the latter part of good Mrs. Gilbert’s life, been
accustomed to receive so many flowers from her
garden, that she began to look upon those which
grew near the gap in the hedge almost as her own,
At the bottom of the border and within reach of the
gap there grew this autumn a very fine prince’s-
feather ; it wags a new flower to us, and greatly
FAMILY PURCHASES. 63

excited poor Anna's admiration and desire of posses-
sion. The new neighbours were a gtave gentleman,
and his wife who had infirm health, and but rarely
came into the garden; he, on the contrary, walked
much in it, with a solemn sfep and in a sad-coloured
dressing- gown, tan leather slippers, and wig to match.
A very different person was this to the kind Mrs. Gil«
bert ; he never once vouchsafed a look, much less a
word to the little girl who stood with longing eyes
glancing at the fine purple prince’s-feather. In vain
the poor child manosuvred ; he walked on and took
no notice of her. The prince’s-feather grew more
beautiful every day; she could think of nothing
else. “If Mrs, Gilbert were alive she would give it
to me,” thought she; “all the flowers that grew
there used to be mine; if I took it he would never
miss it; and of all the flowers that ever grew I
should like to have that!” The neighbour in the
sad-coloured dressing-gown was in his own house—
his wife was in bed—there was nobody near—she
put her hand through the hedge and touched it—it
nodded and shook, and looked grander than ever—
she broke it off, and drew it to her. But no sooner
was the flower on this side the hedge, than a new
feeling sprang up in her heart—‘ If anybody had
seen her!” and “ What should she do with it now ?”
She dared not to take it into the house, or show it
anybody—-it was no longer beautiful—she wished it
was again growing on its own stem. She wished she
could only get rid of it. It was a miserable posses-
sion. She hid herself in an old garden-house and
began to ery. But crying did little good; the hate-
ful flower was before her, and the fear was in her
64 FAMILY PURCHASES.

mind that the decapitated stem would reveal the
theft to the severe neighbour. For the first time in
her life a sense of guilt lay on her soul, and she was
miserable ; in an agony of remorse she tore the
flower to pieces and hid it among a heap of rub-
bish ; but it was many days before she was restored
to peace with herself, nor did she again ever venture
to peep through the gap at the flower-bed, nor to be
seen in the garden when the neighbour was taking
his daily walks.

During the winter we had a large party. Large
parties were very rare things with us, but when they
occurred they afforded us a great deal of pleasure.
In the first place, there were many good things made,
of which, sooner or later, we came in for our share ;
but on this occasion a still greater pleasure was pro-
mised us— we were to sit up to supper, we had never
done such a thing in our lives before ; at eight o clock
punctually we had always been in bed, but now came
a noble exception ; the principal cause of this was
that some guests were invited from the Forest, who
would bring two little daughters of our own age
with them. They had to come six miles, and were
to stay all night. A deep snow fell the day before
the party, but nobody thought much of that; the
next night, however, one of those great snows fell
which were then not so uncommon; the very doors
and lower windows were snowed up. Everything
seemed hushed and silent as death till men came
and dug an entrance to the different houses, and
carried away the snow from the streets in carts.
The roads were all buried in snow, and there was
neither coming to nor going from the town till late
FAMILY PURCHASES. 65

in the afternoon. We were sadly anxious about the
expected guests; our mother had no expectations
that our friends from the Forest could reach us ; we,
however, would not give them up, and made ready
all our little preparations for the children’s enter.
tainment ; and in the afternoon, as our mother had
predicted, a servant came over on horseback to say
that it was impossible for any carriage on tnat day
to drive between us and them. The disappomtment
was greater than we could express, and to consvuie us,
our mother said that, though we had no guests our-
selves, we should be permitted all the same to sit
up, if we would keep awake and be quiet. We
easily made this promise, for we knew that we could
keep it, and then bore our disappointment as well as
we could. The sitting-rooms were lighted up; the
curtains drawn, the sofa wheeled towards the fire;
the tables were all set out in visiting trim, and every-
thing to our eyes looked festal. We thought our
mother splendid in her pale-coloured silk gown,
and we ourselves no less so, as, appareled in our
best, we sat on the stools, one on each side the
fire, with our hair as smooth as brush could make
it, and our hands laid together on our knees. ‘The
company came; what a buzz and warmth there
seemed to be in the room, and how wonderfully
good the tea was, and the tea-cakes and the thin
bread and butter! Children in families where com-
pany comes but now and then, really and thoroughly
enjoy it when it does come. What a luxury to
such children is even thin bread and butter!

It was now after our usual bed-time, and to us it
seemed as if grand and wonderful doings must go on

@ 2
66 FAMILY PURCHASES,

every night after we were in bed. Our parents often
had a few triends with them to spend the evening,
and, forgetting that things on such a grand scale as
this night's entertainment really hardly occurred once
a year, it seemed to us as if the movements of an
unknown and brighter existence began after we were
in bed. The candles looked so white and burned so
brightly ; the fire was so cheerful, everything looked
sogay! We sat together quietly, and people said
that they had never seen such good children. When
we felt a little sleepy, we took out our conversation
cards and sat down to play at a little table by our-
selves. There was a very grave and religious person
in the company, who it seems had the greatest horror
of cards. I remember his coming up to our table
and watching us play, but without saying one word
to us; when he remarked, as if to himself, ‘A nice
amusement — but pity ’tis that they are called cards!”
We did not at all know what he meant; nor did I
really understand till some years afterwards.

But that which more than anything else made
this evening remarkable to us was, that our father
brought out plans, and estimates, and various rolls of
paper, and talked with his friends of the alterations
which he was going to make as soon as the spring
and settled weather began. And thus we learnt that
not only the next garden was going to be laid to
ours, but our own house was actually going to be
altered. Such an idea as this had never entered our
heads; we put aside our cards and listened with all
our senses alive. We could talk of nothing for days
but the alterations which were going to begin in
spring ; the anticipations of these, and the certain
TOWN CUSTOMS. 67

prospect now of the two gardens so soon coming
together, drove for the present all thoughts of the
terrible Buonaparte out of our heads.

CHAPTER VII.
TOWN CUSTOMS.

Two or three of these were very interesting to us;
and first and foremost that which was for the first
time this winter quite a family affair: some of the
land which our father had bought was subject to a
yearly payment of money, or “a dole,” as it was
called, to the poor. Numberless were the applica-
tions which were made by the poor to our parents on
this behalf, and our mother, perhaps, in consequence
of this, began about this time to inquire more than
ever into their state. She often took one or both of
us with her on these occasions, and we began to take
the most lively interest about our poor and distressed
townspeople. Our mother made observations on
paper on all she saw, and then, according to their
wants, they were to receive a portion of the dole.

In another distribution of money we also took a
lively interest, even from the time when we were
very little children indeed. ‘Fhis was on the occasion
of begging Monday, or the first Monday before
Christmas, when the poor of the parish had the
privilege of going from house to house, where they
received money or provisions; such as_ potatoes,
flour, or meal, &c. Originally, probably, this dis-
68 TOWN CUSTOMS.

pensing to the poor had been general ; now it was
only confined to certain wealthy or old housekeepers,
who, for charity's sake, or for the sake of the family
custom, still continued it. It had always been given
in our family, and our mother was no way inclined
to discontinue it, and we children took a most lively
interest in it. On the preceding Saturday there
came from one of the tradespeople a large basket full
of pence, and we were up early on the Monday
morning to be the dispensers of it. After breakfast,
our mother, in her bonnet and cloak and gloves,
stood at the open door, and we two, one on each side,
the one as her right hand and the other as her left,
stood and gave, according to her directions, more or
less, as she knew the applicants to be deserving or in
distress.

Many and many were the blessings that both we
and our mother received on that day. Pity is it
that such a good old custom should ever fall into
disuse.

The third custom of the town was not by any
means as praiseworthy as this; it was the annual
bull-baiting—a practice which our father combated
for many years, and at last succeeded in entirely
putting anend to. This bull-baiting occurred in the
autumn. At the fair at that season a handsome bull
was bought, and a day or two before the baiting was
led round the town decorated with ribands, and
attended by a rude rabble of men and boys. The
patrons of the sport on this occasion gave money,
some more and some less; at our house, of course,
nothing was ever given. We watched with a kind
of horror the passing of this procession from our
TOWN CUSTOMS. - 69

nursery window, and Nanny, who seemed not to
have by any means the abhorrence of the thing
which we had been taught to feel, took the liveliest
interest in it, and even once, to the great scandal of
the whole household, threw out a riband for the
bull’s horns. On the morning of the bull-baiting,
towards four or five o clock, the inhabitants of the
town were awoke in their beds by the bull’s chain
being struck violently against the walls of their
houses and on the pavement before them. In the
early, chill grey of the morning it came—a sort of
yell and a banging of this heavy iron chain, and a
rattling, and a grinding, another yell, and then they
Went on. ; |

Again the bull, decorated with garlands and
ribands, was led round the town, accompanied by
all the rabble of the neighbourhood, hallooing and
shouting like so many savages. We always watched
the procession go by, and always felt a kind of curd-
ling horror. At teno’clock the bull was fixed to the
stake in the market-place, and such of the higher
class of the inhabitants as patronised the sport occu-
pied the upper windows of the houses, and the
market-place itself was thronged with people, leav-
ing a space in the middle for the poor creature and
his tormentors.

Whilst we were playing in the garden on the
three days that this lasted we heard the barking and
the yelling of the dogs, and the roar of the bull, and
the shouts of the people. Sometimes, too, the creature
broke his chain, and ran furiously through the streets,
driving everything before him, and often doing much
damage. If the bull came as far as our house, we
70 GUESTS.

never failed to see it, for to us, of course, this was a
very fearful, but interesting spectacle, and furnished
enough to talk of for a week.

After the third day’s sport the bull was shot.
This seemed to me like a sort of murder, and I
remember very innocently saying what I really felt,
that I wondered that old William Woolley, who
shot the bull, was not afraid of being haunted by
his ghost. I said this gravely, meaning what I said,
before grown-up people, and I could not conceive
why everybody burst into a fit of laughter.

CHAPTER VIII.
GUESTS.

In the early spring we were told that we were
shortly to have some playfellows, for that a distant
relation of our father’s was coming to remove with
his fainily to this town, and until they were settled
would pay usa visit. It was a great happiness for
us to think of playfellows ; we could talk of nothing
else. At length the day came when they were
expected ; they were to be with us at dinner; the
guest chambers were prepared for them, and we had
our new and best printed frocks on for dinner.
Their name was Shepperley, and the children were
a boy and a girl ; we wondered indeed how we should
ever manage with the boy. At the expected time
they came. ‘They were unlike any people that we
had ever seen; from the first moment there was
‘GUESTS. 71
something quite overwhelming about them. The
father and mother were large people, who talked
loud, and some way or other gave one the idea of
taking up a great deal of room. As he walked up
and down our sitting-room, holding his head very
high, he made one feel how short and narrow it
was, and seemed to bring down the very ceiling. He
was one of those persons who depreciates one’s posses-
sions. Hurriedly glancing out of our window, he
said to our father, ‘ that he had a pretty little look
out—a pretty little place altogether; but that the
rooms were small and low;” and then he turned
round again and began to walk, and held up his
head as if he had hardly room to breathe. ‘ Every-
thing looked fresh and nice,” he said, ‘‘in our house 3
but things always did so in the country,’ he added,
as if afraid of complimenting us in any way. The
wife lay on the sofa without changing her travelling
dress, and declared that she could eat none of the
dinner that stood on the table; “she had a very
delicate appetite,” she said ; “‘ the breast of a chicken
er so, she might have eaten, but lamb and such
things she could not touch.”

Our father and mother exchanged glances; they
were both bursting with chagrin and anger, but they
said nothing ; and our mother, who was naturally so
polite to all her guests, did not even offer her a@ cup
of chocolate.

If our parents had vexation with their guests, so
had we with ours. The boy was Bob; a fair com-
plexioned boy, with prominent eyes and a large
mouth, and was full of all kinds of mischievous
pranks. His sister, Rosaline, rushed into the bed-
72 GUESTS.

room, locked the door, and began to tell us how Bob
was the plague of her life ; and ail this time Bob was
kicking and thumping at the door, and demanding
admittance.

“ You'd better undo the door, miss, and give me
my things,” said he; ‘or I'll make you repent of it.
I’ tell about you and the port wine, miss, if you
don't.”

On this Rosaline unlocked the door and threw out
the bag which contained what he wanted, and then
hastily re-locking the door, she began to take off her
things; but long before she was ready the active Bob
was heard loudly whistling down in the garden.
Rosaline was a handsome, well-grown girl, with a
deal of light-brown hair and a fair complexion ; she
wore trousers, which we did not; and went with one
shoe down at the heel, which was a thing we never
had dared to do. We thought her very free-spoken
and very much at her ease; we felt almost as if we
were the strangers and she at home; as if we had
nothing to say before her, while she was remarkably
fluent and unabashed. We could not tell whether
we liked her or not.

Rosaline’s father thought that we were very short of
our age ; made his daughter measure against us, and
found, as he had anticipated, that she was taller
than either of us, although in age she was exactly
between us.

Master Bob was not forthcoming at dinner-time ;
he was found among the barrels which were in the
yard in preparation for brewing, and came in five
minutes after we had begun. On this his father rated
him soundly ; called him “Sir,” and said he would
GUESTS, 73

teach him better, or he would flog him to within an
inch of his life. The’mother, who lay on the sofa,
interfered for him, and said that he had so much
spirit, it was quite exeusable. Our guests seemed to
have all the talking to themselves at dinner ; our
parents, like us, were unusually silent, and our guests
perhaps thought them uncourteous, and therefore
talked to each other.

After dinner we children went into the garden,
and Bob, with sundry winks of his large eyes, and
upward noddings of his chin, invited us all to follow
him into the yard, to those very barrels which had
occupied him before dinner. ‘The barrels were stand-
ing without bungs, and were full of water. He
drew his sister on first, and pointed into one, when
she exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, for shame, Bob, how could you!”
“Jt is a new, patent bung,” said he ;. “Sand now you
look,” added he, drawing us on also.

We looked; and oh! what shall describe our
horror! there was our own tortoise-shell kitten
erammed in as a bung! We could hardly believe
eur eyes: of course the kitten was drowned ; it wasa
deed of wanton cruelty which exceeded all our ideas
of possibility. We cried and would not be comforted ;
“and made,” Rosaline said, “such a piece of work
about it,” that she took her brother’s part, and
endeavoured to make light of it; but her attempts
only made matters worse: we stormed and raged, J
have no doubt, famously, and treating our guests
with very little ceremony, told them plainly that
we wished they had never come.

Leaving my sister with them in the garden, I
went in to make complaints, as seemed to me no

x
74 GUESTS,

more than right, to our parents. Our father had
taken Mr. Shepperley to see his new purchases: the
lady was asleep, and our mother was alone. She
heard my story with what I thought very becoming
indignation ; but desired me to say nothing of it to
our father ; this was a very unusual injunction from
her, and it struck me as singular. There was no
use, she said, in making our father angry with
our guests ; she did not think they would stay long,
and she desired while they were here that we would
try to keep peace, and she herself would speak to
Bob.

Our father showed Mr. Shepperley aH his pur-
chases, pointed out whatever he thought worthy of
observation throughout his little demesne; took him
to the part of the garden where he thought the best
view was to be obtained ; showed him how the fence
between the two gardens was to come down, and
opened to him sundry plans which floated in his
mind for the future, more especially regarding the
piece of ground which adjoined his late purchase of
Mrs. Gilbert’s property, of which he designed to
become the possessor ; more especially because, as the
situation was beautiful, he feared it might sometime
be purchased for building land, and would thus
entirely ruin the view from the house, which he
liked so much, as well as take from the whole place
that character of retirement in which he so much
delighted. All this I heard, as, having not again
Joined my sister and our new friends, I found my
father and Mr. Shepperley in the garden after having
returned from their walk. I slipped my hand quietly
into my father’s, and without saying a word walked
GUESTS. 75

along with them, listening with delighted amazement
toall that was said. The idea of our possessing that
large piece of ground beyond what had been Mrs.
Gilbert's, was something quite new and magnificent.
My father seemed to have had it all arranged long ago,
for he drew his memorandum-book out of his pocket,
and his pencil, and made a plan of the whole place
as he should like it to be sometime. Here would be
shrubbery; there lawn; here he would bring in
water ; down that side he would build a fruit-wall ;
here he would have a conservatory ; and down at the
far extremity he would have a little farm-yard and
a gardeners house. Mr. Shepperley looked very
large, and listened with much apparent interest ; this
subject was our dear father’s hobby. His passion
was to make a perfect little place, according to his
notions—and how natural is such a desire ?—and
nothing made him so happy as to have a listener.
To me the subject was quite as interesting as to him-
self, and therefore I, perhaps, felt the more angry
when Mr. Shepperley suddenly interrupted him in
the very midst of his subject, by turning abruptly
to me and saying, “ Weil, little Twopenny, and what
has that scapegrace of mine being doing? Has he
been pulling your wig, or breaking your dolls’ noses ?”
I was quite taken by surprise ; [ did not like to be
called “little Twopenny ;” nor did I dare to say
what Bob had been doing ; besides which I thought
that he was very rude for interrupting my father. I
did not say one word, but hung down my head, and
felt that I was looking very foolish. |
“Your mamma should teach you to speak when
you are spoken to, miss,” said Mr. Shepperley.
76 GUESTS.

‘¢ Cannot you speak, Mary?” said my father in @
tone of vexation, as I thought. Icouldnot. I held
my head down lower than ever; the blood seemed
tingling up into my ears, and I felt that I looked
like a simpleton, and would have given anything to
have been away. No more was said to me on the
subject: Mr. Shepperley and my father talked of
something else, but from that time I never liked
him.

It was sometime before the Shepperleys left us.
It was a long time before they could suit themselves
with a house; my father gave up looking for any-
thing for them at last, and we had workmen in the
house beginning the long-talked-of alterations before
they really went. Our parents felt a great relief
when they were gone ; there was a show of friendship on
the part of the Shepperleys towards us, but in reality
there was none. They were at last offended that
they were obliged to go. Our parents had introduced
them to many of their oldest friends in the town, and
with these they made vehement leagues of friendship:
there were such visitings ; such making-up of parties ;
such pic-nicing here and there all that summer.
People were so in love with them; talked to us of
nothing but them and their doings: they quite cast
us into the shade ; and had not this been a very busy
year in many ways, our parents would perhaps have
felt that kind of annoyance which on such occasions
makes the heart, as it were, bitter. ‘It is a bad
thing,” said our mother notwithstanding, “ to place a
third person between oneself and one’s friends ;” and
she said that which was very true.
CHAPTER IX.
AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

Our house was now literally turned inside out.
The garden was full of old bricks and lumber of all
kinds; we had no use of any of the rooms towards the
garden. We lived in the front parlour which my
grandfather had formerly occupied, and had _ not,
through the whole summer, a spare bed to offer to
any one. My father was quite in his element. He
entered body and soul into everything which could
improve his place. He was with the workmen
directing and inspecting all day long, and as he was
with them so much, so were we too, The sitting-
room floors were lowered, and thus the rooms were
made more lofty, and new and modern windows were:
put in. We took the greatest interest in all that
went forward; we learnt the use of all the workmen’s.
tools ; the various names for their different kinds of
work ; and even made essays at joiner’s-work our-
selves; we made save-alls, little boxes, dolls’ tables,
and little houses. It was an active, happy summer,
and we had as much delight in the alterations as our
father himself. Our mother went out very little all the
summer except for the customary evening-drive, and
then as usual one of us accompanied them. A _ per-
fectly happy summer it would have been, had it not
been as usual for the talk of the French.

“ Run down to the bottom of the garden and see

H 2
78 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

if the French are not coming over the New Bridge?’
was the often-repeated ruse of old James Rotherham,
the joiner, when we bothered him for his tools or
were in his way.

“The French are coming; are really and truly
coming !” said James Dumerlo, the half-silly painter,
in the wantonness of a mischievous spirit. ‘* They
have burnt Lichfield down to the ground, and have
killed all the women and children, and will be here
to-night or to-morrow morning at farthest!” And
these threats, though they had proved themselves
false so many times, never failed, in conjunction with
the gloomy conversation we heard continually from
persons whose opinions we respected, to cast an
unpleasant damp on our spirits.

After many weeks of discomfort, the house began
to get into some degree of order; the roughest lum-
ber was cleared away ; the coarsest work was done;
the floors were all down ; the windows in, and the
new doors hung. One could get an idea of what
the rooms would be when they were finished ; the
plasterers came, and the finer painters; the little
lobby was floored with its diagonal squares of marble,
and our parents began busily to talk about the new
papers and new carpets, and the new bed for the
best room.

Whilst things are progressing to this state, we
must interrupt ourselves to mention what had in the
meantime occurred. Old Mrs, Carpenter, who lived
on our left hand, died, and her body went up to
London in a stately hearse to be buried ; and shortly
afterwards was the great sale by auction, not only of
the furniture, plate, linen, and pictures, but of the
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 79

house and the whole property altogether. JT never
heard that our father’s desire for purchasing ever
extended to this place, or towards the left of our own
house at all. Our mother did not even attend the
old lady’s sale, nor go, as the rest of the gentlewomen
of the town did, to look over the house and all that it
contained. One morning, however, before the sale
we were told that a gentleman and lady were exe
pected to take luncheon at our house. They came;
he a stately looking man in volunteer uniform; she
a most quiet and elegant woman, and with them
came two sweet children about our own age, a boy
and girl, We were charmed; we took them into
the garden; into the one which had been Mrs.
Gilbert’s: the fence was taken down, and though
we have unaccountably omitted to say so before,
had been so ever since spring, and now, like the
house, was beginning to get quite in order. We
told the children, with whom we became directly
familiar, that our father meant to buy the next piece
of land which went quite down to the road, and there
we were going to have a greenhouse and a fountain,
and we could not tell what; in return for all this
communication on our part, they informed us that
their father was going to buy Mrs. Carpenter's house ;
that they were coming to live here, and that we would
be very good friends when they came; they said that
they had worlds of play-things, doll-houses, and
books without end. These children were very unlike
our late guests, the Shepperleys; no one could be
quieter or better behaved than they were: and then
they seemed so pleased with us too, and made such
ready offers of friendship, that we adopted them ag
60 AN EVENTFUL VEAR.

once into our very hearts. We took them into all
our favourite play-places; behind the shrubbery ;
up into the stable-loft, to which we scrambled
through a broken manger-rack to the endangering of
our clothes if not of our limbs, and showed them
various objects of interest, which they, like us,
thought quite worth the trouble) We swung them
in our new swing, and had the pleasure of seeing how
properly they admired our little gardens with their
palisades of peeled willow-twigs, with a gate made
like the most regular of gates, all being secured
together with minikin pins. Anna was very clever
at this fairy-like fencemaking, and contrived with her
little pins, which she bent for hinges and hasps, that
they should open and shut, and could be fastened with
the tiniest of padlocks. The Shepperleys had made
sad devastation in our little gardens. Bob had
walked in them—and they were only in proportion to
our dolls—and had done infinite damage at every step ;
he had proposed sundry alterations, all of which
tended only to disorder and ruin, and then would do
nothing to repair his ravages. We had, however, at
this happy moment just made all right and straight
again; the palings were white as snow, and the
Liliputian beds full of small but gay flowers. Our
young neighbours elect were in raptures; they had
lived in a distant town and had had no garden; they
thought that, they should be in heaven when they
came here, and so near to us.

Our father went with their parents to the next
house, and presently we saw them all three walking
in the garden, in that stately garden into which we
had hitherto hardly dared to peep! The children
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 81

ealled to their parents, the parents answered, and the
next moment the father, in his volunteer regimentals,
came to the hedge and said that he would lift us all
over. He was a very good-natured man, and jumped
us high above the hedge till we seemed to be flying.
And now we were on the very gravel-walks where
Mrs. Carpenter in her calash and clogs had so often
walked. ‘* And now run off with you,” said the
merry-tempered father, ‘‘ run off every one of you ;”
and we, glad to have permission, scampered off, and
peeped into all the holes and corners of the old lady’s
dominions.

In the afternoon our visitors left us; and our
parents only echoed our own opinions, when at tea
they said that they thought we should have very
agreeable neighbours in the Taylors.

The sale took place, and, as was expected, Captain
Taylor bought the place. In a few weeks the
gentleman and lady and their servants came, but not
the children ; they were now with some friends, and
were to come later when the house was in order.
This was at first a disappointment to us, and would
have been more so had we not been so much occupied
by our own affairs. It was now getting towards the
end of summer; the newly-laid out garden was.
really beautiful ; there had been a good deal of rain
in July, and the new turf which had been laid down.
had grown nicely. Year-old hollyhocks had been
planted, and were now in full flower; there were:
China asters and French marigolds, making it quite
splendid with their gorgeous intermingling of colours,
Our mother often walked In the garden, and so of
course did we; and I remember that autumn being’
82 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

first awoke to the beauty of the garden as a whole,
not looking at it, as I had hitherto done, as it were
piecemeal, with childish eyes.

Sometimes, but not very often, the Shepperieys
came; our parents evidently did not like them;
they were always very handsomely dressed and
talked a great deal, but nobody ever was sorry when
they were gone. They had become, as I said before,
wonderfully intimate with the friends of our parents,
and always told how one and another of our acquaint-
ance had formed a party to go here and there, and
they, the Shepperleys, quite expected to have seen
us there. “lt was a pity we had not been invited,
for it had gone off delightfully ; Mrs. So-and-so had
driven her, Mrs. Shepperley, over to Lichfield, to see
the new monument by Chantrey there ; our mother
ought to see it; she wondered Mrs. So-and-so had
never driven her over.” So talked the lady in-doors ;
whilst the gentleman, who never failed to find our
father among his bricks and mortar, mostly drew
comparisons between the small scale of things with
us, and what he had been used to. Our father was
not lightly to be put out of conceit with his place,
however much he might be stung by occasional
invidious remarks. But the garden was now our
father’s pride; it looked somewhat finished, and
showed that his notions of things, after all, were not
much amiss. Mr. Shepperley talked of the handsome
grounds he had had; our father of those which he
meant to have, whenever he could buy the adjoining
piece of land; never failing to add, that he hoped it
never would come into anybody's head to build or in
any way block out his view. The idea of this being
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 83

ever done, was the bugbear that troubled our father’s
peace.

After Midsummer, the young Shepperleys went to
school ; to schools which our parents’ intimate friends
had recommended, because, said Mrs. Shepperley,
they were so charmed with the idea of their own
children having such delightful companions as Bob
and his sister. We children could not help feeling
vexed at everybody being so taken by the Shepperleys,
though for our own sakes we were glad to be rid
of them.

Owing to the state of the house this summer, and
to another cause also which we then did not understand,
our parents saw but very little company ; our mother
was often indisposed, and it seemed to us as if
Mrs. Shepperley had taken her place with all her
friends. Nanny, who never could bear the Shep-
perleys, vented high indignation against them con-
tinually. ‘‘ There she goes, stuck up like a turkey-
cock!” she would say, ‘ta mischief-making, interloping
thing! I’ve heard what she has said of our missis, and
she not good enough to carry our missis’s shoes after
her! I wish I could only let her feel the length of
my tongue. But pride goes before a fall!” said
Nanny consolingly.

In the autumn the town was in a state of great
excitement, from the circumstance of the first stage-
coach passing through it. We children had never in
our lives seen a stage-coach. Pictures of such things
with their four gallantly prancing horses we had seen,
but an actual coach never. The letters came by a
boy, who fetched them daily from a neighbouring
town, through which the mail passed; he rode a
84 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

little lean horse, and notified his exit from and
entrance to the town, by blowing a shrill tin horn.
Often he came with blue and red ribands streaming
from his hat, at unusual speed, and blowing his horn
louder than ever, for then he brought what was called
““ good news,” news of some victory over the terrible
Buonaparte ; and then, within a quarter of an hour
after his arrival, the bells were loudly ringing, and
the gentlemen were‘hurrying off themselves or sending
their servants full drive to the post-office for their
newspapers, being too impatient to wait the slow
mode of ordinary delivery. Not less exciting too,
though in another way, were the times when the
same Mercury came speeding in, and wildly sounding
his horn, undecorated with ribands, announcing some
great defeat—some terrible advance of the great foe
—some city laid in ashes—some ten thousand gallant
men cut to pieces; and people then hurried along
the town, asking in fearful eagerness the particulars
one of another.

Nothing more enlivening than this passed, in an
ordinary way, through the town, when at this time
every creature was alert with the thoughts of the daily
passing of the stage-coach. It was to travel from Man~
chester to London, and went through Birmingham.
It made quite an excitement; it had been talked of
for some weeks, and now the day was actually come
when it was to be seen for the first time.

Our parents ordered Nanny to take us opposite the
inn, that we might see it come in, change horses, and
then set off again. Chiljren who have seen stage-
coaches all their lives, can have no idea what an event
thisfirst stage-coach really was. I never felt so excited
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 88

in my life as when it came dashing down the street all
covered with ribands, and flags flying, and a French-
horn blowing, for in those days stage-coaches had their
guards. All the town was up; people hurrahed,
and waved their hats, and were quite enthusiastic.
Horses, now-a-days, are changed in a coach in three
minutes, but it was not so then; they must have been
a full twenty minutes over it, but that was all the
better, for there was the more time to notice every-
thing thoroughly. But in time all was ready, and
then off it went again. The horses galloped, the
ribands and the flags streamed gallantly, and the flou-
rish of the French-horn playing “Rule Britannia,”
almost drowned the rattling of the wheels.

All that evening we could talk of nothing but the
coach; we could play at nothing but the coach.
Fortunately the new papers were come for the rooms,
and the next morning the floors were strewn with
long strips which had been cut from the edges of the
pieces of paper ; some were red, and some blue—they
were ribands for our coach ; we tied them on a stick,
and carrying this in one hand while with the other
we held the reins, one of us acted the four horses,
and the other the coach. To our fancy it was com-
plete; we ran round and round the garden, and
imitated, the best we could, the triumphing of the
French-horn. Whilst we were thus in the midst of
our glory, a most welcome sound, all at once, arrested
our career, “I say, we are come!” sounded from
the other side of the hedge; and the two heads of our
long-expected neighbours were seen peeping over.
The coach flew round to that side, and the most hearty
congratulations followed, But what was our astonish-

I
86 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

ment to learn that they had actually come by the
coach on its upward journey this morning—actually
and truly had come inside that beautiful coach, and
could tell us all about it! Their uncle had brought
them—and nothing in this world could equal the
delight of riding in a coach. It must be, however,
we all agreed, very dangerous riding outside; they
said there was somebody on the outside that screamed
once, but everybody laughed ; they wished we could
all four of us go together in the coach! For many
days nothing was done in both gardens but driving
about the stage-coach ; they had paper streamers like
ours ; we arranged our inns at the same point in the
hedge, we cut up cake and apple for dinner, and
were most gloriously happy. It was an understood
thing by us, and by the other children also no doubt,
that without especial permission from the parents, no
invitations were to be given to come over or through
the fence. We brought little chairs, on which we
stood, and laying a board on the broad well-clipped
fence, managed all our business as at a table. We
never were so happy in our lives; we left the work-
men to get on with their papering and painting : we
troubled ourselves not at all about the making of the
new carpets, new curtains, or the new bed ; we hardly
gave ourselves time to eat our dinners, we were so
anxious to be together again.

For the first time in our lives, we now had intimate
friends of our own age. John, the brother, dissipated
all our prejudice against boys—we began to think
what a charming thing it would be to have a brother.
Sara, the girl, had tastes just like our own, but she
knew a deal more of the world than we did, had been
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 87

to a boarding-school, at a dancing-master’s ball, and
had read endless little novels and tales about fine
officers and ladies, and was exceedingly fond of telling
them over and over again. She opened quite a new
world to us, and we could not help wondering
why our parents did not let us do as she and her
brother did, for there really was something remark-
ably charming in it. Much of a woman as Sara
seemed to be in comparison with us in experience of
life, she disdained none of our simpler tastes and
amusements. The fact was, these all came with
the full charm of novelty to her. Above everything
were they both bewitched by the passion for gar-
dening. They must have gardens just like us: a
larger garden and a smaller one, quite a fairy concern,
with its palisades of peeled osiers, and its little
gate that opened and shut. Nothing but the garden
hedge and the walk on each side divided our gardens :
the hedge grew ever thinner and thinner—it was
really wonderful how low and thinit grew ; we could
now see each other at work ; we needed no chair or
stool now to give us a view ox each other’s faces, we
could easily have gone backwards and forwards before
the summer was over, but as I recollect we never
did ; each remembered the command of their parents
and adhered to it. Our parents often said, as if we
had nothing to do in it, that the hedge was getting
remarkably thin and that it must be mended, but
fortunately they did not often come down the side
walks, so it never got mended till the next spring.
The autumn went on—we ate apples and cracked
nuts together, and as the days grew colder came out
in warm spencers and woollen handkerchiefs, and now
88 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

and then received an admonition, not always very
welcome, not to keep standing so much; that it was
getting damp and chilly in the evenings, and we must
not go out after tea.

The Taylors were completely settled in their new
house ; we had paid the family acongratulatory visit,
which to us children was an infinite happiness.
Sara Taylor had whole drawers-full of unconverted
finery for her dolls—she was munificent in her pre-
sents to ours. John had a rocking-horse, and the
evening we spent there was a delightful time indeed.
Our house too by this time was in complete order ; it
answered everybody's expectation ; the new carpets
and new furniture had quite a handsome appearance
—and our favourite neighbours came to return the
family visit. All our parents friends called, but we
were told that for the present there would be very
little visiting.

Our mother did not spin this winter; indeed after
this time I believe that she did not spin at all. It
was now November—dull, short days, and as we
could not see much of our neighbours in the garden,
we amused ourselves by reading the books which they
lent us by the nursery fire. We had all the more
time for this, as our mother, as it seemed to us rather
singularly, required us to do but very few lessons,

One morning, I shall never forget it, it was the
most remarkable morning of our young lives, and
only exceeded in interest by a morning which
occurred later, and of which I shall have to speak in
its place: one morning, in November, we were
saluted on waking with the astonishing news that we
had a little sister born. If we had been told that the
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 89

sky had fallen, it would not have surprised us more.
We had never had the slightest idea that there could
be more children in the family than ourselves, and
now there was another little sister! We sprang out
of bed; dressed ourselves with the utmost speed,
hardly, in fact, stayed to finish dressing, and attended
by Nanny, who was very solemn in her manner,
were conducted to our mother’s chamber-door. The
sound of a baby’s voice reached our ears as we
approached ; we had hardly ever heard such a sound in
the house before, and a feeling of love and joy rushed
through our hearts. I felt as if I was choked, as if
I really must cry; I looked at Anna, and she really
was crying. The next moment we saw the little
stranger lying in the nurse's lap, in the lap of that
old woman who had of late been going backwards and
forwards to our house, and we never could imagine
what was her business.

The stage-coach ; our gardens ; our new acquaint-
ance ; our dolls, all seemed insignificant and worthless
in comparison with the darling little sister. No young
mother was ever so pleased with her first-born as we
with this little unexpected stranger, who we were
informed was to be called Emma.

We waited a long time impatiently in the garden
that day for our neighbours, to communicate to them
the happy tidings. At last their voices were heard ;
we set up the established signal-cry, and our friends
were with us instantly. ‘Oh, did they know what
we had to tell! We had got a little sister ; a darling
little beauty of a sister! We should never care for
dolls now ; we should give all our dolls away !”

What was our astonishment when Sara said that

12
90 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

she would tell us a secret which their maid had just
told her, when the news had come that we had a little
sister; and that was, that they too would have one
most likely before long! But we were to be certain
sure never to tell anybody, for it was a very great
secret indeed !

What a strange thing this was! and how delightful,
too, that dear little brothers and sisters came so unex~
pectedly, when one thought about anything but their
coming !

The occupation—the charm, of this winter was the
baby ; but there was a grief in our house nevertheless,
Our mother was ill for months—was not able, indeed,
to leave her room till spring. The woman who had
made her appearance before the time of Jittle Emma’s
birth, never left us through the whole winter; and
true to our volunteered promise, we gave away our
large dolls to the little niece of this nurse—a child
about whom we became much interested. Her father
was a soldier, and had been a prisoner in a horrible
French prison for somé years; and his wife main«
tained herself by needlework.

When our mother recovered from her illness, and
was again able to pay attention to us, she informed
us, to our no small sorrow, that it was no longer her
intention to continue our education herself, and that
after many plans had been thought of, it was the
decision of our father and herself to put us under the
care of a lady who was just coming to the town—was
in fact coming to lodge at the very next house, where
Mrs. Gilbert had lived—and would have the daily
care of us.

Of course, we had nothing to say against this; but
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 91

Jong was the discussion which we had between our-
selves on the subject. We were as rational as people,
either old or young, mostly are in their discussions —
we found that there was a deal to be said on both
sides. We should lose some liberty, but then there
was novelty in going to school; the lady who was to
teach us might be cross and disagreeable, but then on
the other hand she might be very charming; and
seeing that she had been chosen by our parents to
instruct us, the probabilities were that she was so.
We consulted our friends, the Taylors, on the subject;
they said that their mamma, too, was talking a deal
now-a-days about schools and governesses. John
said he had made up his mind that he should have
had to go to school after Christmas, and he wondered
he had not—for his part, he should like it; and
Sara was generous enough to say, that now we
were going to have a governess, she should like to
have one too.

One evening, our mother told us that the lady who
was to teach us was coming the next day to dine
with us. Of course, this was very important infor-
mation. We should thus sce what she was like.
Her name, our mother told us, was Parker—Mrs,
Parker. What, that Mrs. Parker who had formerly
lived at the haunted old Hall? The same. Was it
really she! Nanny had told us so much about her—
she was the cleverest lady in the world—had written
books, knew Latin, and Greek, and botany, and was
as learned as a clergyman, and drew and painted!
Nanny had seen a large screen which she had
psznted with flowers—poppies, and anemones, and
cs~aations, and tulips, all scattered about as if some
92 AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

one had thrown over it a handful of flowers; and
Nanny had told us that her history was like a story
in a book—was all this true? Our mother said that
it was all true. She was indeed the cleverest woman
she ever knew, and the most accomplished, and per-
haps the best also. She was a lady of good family,
and had once been a great deal richer than, in all
probability, we should ever be; but she had been
very unfortunate—had been. connected with people
unworthy of her, and she had known much, very
much, sorrow. Our mother said that she told us
this, not for us to talk about, but that we might feel
respect for her, and show her kindness, and endeavour
to profit by her very superior mind. Nothing, she
said, would give her greater pleasure than for her
children to find a friend in Mrs. Parker. We were
very much impressed by the earnest manner in which
our mother spoke. An ideal of what this latiy must
resemble filled our minds. To me she seemed a tall
figure clothed in white—a sort of beautiful angel,
looking wise and kind at the same time. Whilst I
was thus imagining the exterior of a heing so gifted
and so good, the door opened and our moiler rose,
saying at the same moment—‘ Mrs. Parker.” I
looked up; my tall figure in white had vanished, and
I saw my mother holding by the hand a rather short,
rather broad, rather brown-complexioned woman,
dressed in very plain black. This, then, was our
future teacher—the model we were to copy—the one
whom we were to make our friend! I was a little
staggered,

On our mother’s introducing us to her, she took a
hand of each of us, and looking fixedly into our
AN EVENTFUL YEAR. 93

faces, smiled kindly and said, ‘“‘ We shall, I trust, be
good friends by and by.”

We sat down by the table after dinner, and listened
to the conversation of Mrs. Parker and our mother ;
it wasareal pleasure to hear them talk. She had
been into many parts of the world, and all that she
related was lively and graphic; and then, too, when
she turned and talked to us, not, like a formal gover-
ness, about multiplication tables and the conjugation
of irregular verbs, but about flowers and pleasant
books—how she recommended herself to our hearts!
She looked at Anna’s flower-drawings, and commended
them ; and said that we would all walk together in
summer evenings and gather flowers, which she would
teach us to press, and to imitate also—not by the
pencil alone, but to make artificially. She told us of
the wonders which the microscope revealed—of which
we knew but little—and all she told us had such a
clearness that it seemed to us as if we could see
and understand at once all that she described. There
was, too, something so gentle and kind about her—
so love-inspiring, that I found, after all, my lofty
white-garmented figure was right in spirit, if not in
outward form.

We were charmed with our new teacher ; the
impression on both was the same. We were quite
enraptured to find how much alike our sentiments
were regarding her. Nanny had a deal of trouble to
get us to bed that night; we were so eager looking
up school-books, and paint-boxes, and slates, and
pencils, that we might be ready to begin.

“A new broom sweeps clean,” said Nanny, almost
angrily; “take my word for it. that you ’ll be sick of
94. AN EVENTFUL YEAR.

school, spite of all this flower-painting and flower-
making, before you are a month older!”

At the appointed time, we began our school-life in
earnest ; but yet that earnest was not downright hard
drudgery after all. As far as learning went, we were
put into Mrs. Parker's hands, and she was to do with
us as she would. The mere learning was not amiss ;
but the really pleasant thing was when we had Mrs,
Parker to ourselves, out of the regular school-hours,
and when there was no formal teaching; when she
took us out into the fields, and talked about whatever
might present itself. I never heard any one talk as
well as she did ; she would take a little flower in her
hand, and preach such a sermon from it as would
make the hearts of her young auditors burn within
them. She saw the love which we had for nature ;
she had it too, and she sympathized with us. Seeing,
too, the ardency of our minds, she gave us, young as
We were, an aim to our desires. She, noble-minded
woman, sowed seed at that time which has sprung up
since then to bear, 1 trust, not bad fruit. She called
forth the peculiar faculties of our minds, and gave
them a bent which they never lost.

Our mother was greatly pleased with the influence
which she soon acquired over us; and she had her
wish in seeing her become the friend of her children.

From this time, for two years and a half, we were
under the care of this excellent woman. My heart
glows with love to her memory as I write this page.
How beautiful is the character of such a woman! It
seems to me, on reviewing it, as if all graces of mind
and heart were combined in her—intellect. accom-
plishments, amiability, piety. So humble. yet so
VARIOUS THINGS. 95

gifted—having suffered so much from others, yet full
of love and kindness to all. Her meniory is to mea
sacred thing. I keep yet the little drawings which
she made me, little exquisite groups of flowers which
she cut out, and the letters which, when we left home
for a distant school, she wrote to me. Yes, indeed,
it was a happy day when we were put under her care ;
and Nanny’s prediction was triumphantly proved
wrong—that we should be tired of school before
we had gone there for a month.

In the early spring, as had been predicted, our
neighbours also had a little sister ; and just about the
same time, the young Shepperleys had a little brother.
Whilst our mother, as the warmer months of spring
advanced, only slowly recovered, Mrs. Shepperley was
quite well, and was driving about and looking as gay
as ever. As usual, she paid us occasional visits; and
never failed to bring tidings of one kind or another
that vexed us. Her little boy, she said, would make
two of ours, though he was so much younger. She
evidently looked down upon our baby ; and her dis-
sentient opinion annoyed us more than other people's
praise gave us pleasure.

CHAPTER X.

VARIOUS THINGS.

Our father, as I have before said, had a perfect
passion for improving things and places ; and, having
now done the best he could for the present to his own
individual possessions, he began to turn his mind to
96 VARIOUS THINGS.

the improvement of the town. The town was
wretchedly paved, and the streets were full of the
most awkward projections and irregularities; there
were no lamps, there was a pinfold in the town-
streets, and the inhabitants were indifferently supplied
with water, whilst the finest of streams ran idly by
the town. All these things suggested to his mind the
design of improving and benefiting the place. He
formed plans and made suggestions ; te talked with all
his friends and acquaintances about them, and every-
body acknowledged how desirable it was that these
things should be done, but where was the man with
public spirit enough to see after their being done ?
Would he do it? He was one, the whole town de-
clared, in whom everybody had confidence; if he
would but undertake it, the necessary funds should
be raised, and he should be empowered to carry out
all his designs. He undertook the office willingly ;
and now, through all this midsummer, nothing was
thought of or talked of but improving the town,
The ‘work went on rapidly under our father’s eye;
unsightly objects were done away with; regular
pavements were laid down: lamps hung here
and there; old deformities and obstacles removed,
and corners, which hitherto had been nothing but
nuisances, were given up to the adjoining inhabitant
to add to his garden or his court. In the prevailing
spirit of the time, people built up new walls or put
down new palisades. The aspect of everything
improved daily. People looked on with surprise ;
they called our father the public benefactor—the
most public-spirited man of the place. To him it
was a labour of love, and his best reward was
VARIOUS THINGS. a7

now to see the approbation which his work was
winning.

To us at home, too, all was equally satisfactory.
Our neighbours were as charming as ever, although
neither they nor we had as much time to play this
year as the last. Both they and we had our daily
lessons to do; and they were as much delighted with
their little Mary Ann as we with our little idol,
Emma.

Of the Shepperleys we saw less and less. They
had gained the intimate acquaintance of a great many
people, and had enough to do without having much
time to spare for us. Nanny maintained her old
opinions of them and her old dislike, and dropped
many hints of the mischief they were doing in many
ways. That, however, which perhaps annoyed us
the most, was the undeniable fact that the young
Master Shepperley was unquestionably a finer baby
than either ours or the Taylors’ ;—for the first time
in my life I felt the bitter feeling of envy and dis-
like. I hated to see their nurse come to our house
with their baby, and more than all to hear the nurse
—who seemed to have the spirit of her mistress—
draw invidious comparisons betwecn the children.

“A great, heavy, lumpish thing is that Shepperleys’
baby,” said Nanny, who was influenced by a spirit of
malice, “it will go off with the croup ox the hooping-
cough; and good riddance of it !”

“Oh Nanny !” we said, “it is not right to say so.”
And yet, J am afraid that we ourselves were not in
the most Christian state of mind.

It was about this time that we first read Robinson
Crusoe, and Sandford and Merton. ‘They made quite

K
98 VARIOUS THINGS.

an era in our knowledge of hooks; they were the
most interesting that we had ever read, and we were
never satisfied with the reading cf them. Again and
again we went through them, and found new beauties
each time. Our friends, the Taylors, read them too;
but on them, who had already been acquainted with
works of fiction, the effect which they produced was
less vivid. The next delight in our experience of
books was in “Evenings at Home.” The little
dramatic sketches in these volumes had an incon-
ceivable charm for us; they placed everything so
livingly before our imaginations. We soon knew by
heart “Alfred in the Neat-herd’s Cottage,” and
“Canute and his Courtiers ;’’ and enacted them, as
we thought, with all the spirit of actuality. It was
about this time, too, when we began to compose little
poems, and relate, rather than write, tales in prose.
Many were the histories of joy and sorrow, according
to our small experience of life, which we thus put
together—telling them over, night after night, till
they were made as complete as we thought them
capable of being. It was not till three or four years
later that we were able to commit our effusions to
paper ; and then they ceased to be joint labours.
One afternoon this summer, we had been out with
Nanny and our darling Emma. She was now a
sweet little blue-eyed creature, with a grave little
mouth, that relaxed all at once into a sunny smile,
with yellowish silken hair, and a complexion like
alabaster. Ob, how we loved her! Our father and
mother, too, had taken a drive that afternoon, and
we were all to be honie again to tea at seven. We
vere a little after our time ; and when we returned,
VARIOUS THINGS. 99

we were surprised by the group that was sitting
under the trees in the garden ; there were our parents,
our grandfather, who had now been but poorly for
some time, and had now surprised us with a visit ;
and an old, very old man, with long hair literally as
white as snow, in a sort of picturesque dress, half
like a beggar’s, but, at the same time, more respect-
able than any beggar we had ever seen. Refresh-
ments stood on a little table beside them, and of so
solid a character, that we could see they had been
brought out principally with reference to the old man.

“And, Peter,” said our grandfather, as we came
up to, and stood beside the group, “‘ what do you say
of your daughter, Mary Clare ?”

The old man did not raise his head to reply ; it
maintained still its stooping position, but he lifted
his eyes to the speaker, causing thereby dozens, at
least, of parallel wrinkles to stretch across his fore-
head. His hands, clasped together, rested on his
stick, which was firmly planted between his knees ;
and with a low and very agreeable voice, he thus
replied —

‘* My daughter Mary—yes, she was one in ten
thousand. After our misfortunes, she it was that
maintained us. She nursed her mother in the fever,
and buried her. I had as good as lost all my powers ;
my all was gone—my bit of property, that I’d
laboured for for years; and it made me, body and
mind, as weak asa child! I never shed a tear when
my wife died ; it cuts a man up sadly when he loses
his all! Mary put herself to a dress-maker in the
town, and worked night and day—she pleased the
ladies, and she got a power of money. I had a bit
100 VARIOUS THINGS.

of land from old Squire Griffin—you knew the old
squire?” said he, addressing my grandfather. The
old gentleman assented, and he continued—‘* Well,
the old squire would have no nay, but I must have a
bit of land under him, and a nice house, and I sent
for my daughter to come and live with me; it was
not above a mile from the town, and I thought she
could do her work all as one. She went backwards
and forwards, and then I found out that the young
squire was after her. ‘This will never do,’ says I;
‘he a gentleman born, and my daughter without a
penny—he’s after her for no good.’ So I told her
I’d have no such goingson ; and if she kept company
with the young squire, who meant her no good, I ‘d
never own her for a daughter of mine. On this,
what does she do but tell every word. of it to the
young squire; andshe comes to me— Peter Clare,’
says he, ‘as I’m a living man, I’ll marry Mary !’
‘And what will your father, Squire Griffin, say,?’
says I. ‘He may say what he pleases,’ says the
young squire ; ‘ he married to please himself, and I'll
marry to please myself!’ ‘ My. Griffin,’ says I, ‘ your
father has been the best friend I ever had, and I'll
tell you what I'll do. I'll go te-morrow morning
to him and tell him what you’re after. He shall
never fling it at me that I acted in any underhand
way—my living depends upon him, and I won’t see
the wrong thing done by him!’ On this the young
squire began to talk, and Mary fell a-crying; but it
did not move mea bit. ‘ I know what’s right,’ said
I, ‘and a team of horses shall never turn me.’ The
young squire begged me to alter my mind; and then
he got into a great rage, and swore; and so, at last, I
VARIOUS THINGS. 101]

ordered him off; and the next morning, as I had
said, I sets off straight to his father. The old squire
was a late lier in bed, so I was had up into his room,
and I told him all my business as he sat up in bed.
‘You ’ve behaved like an honest man, Peter, says
he, ‘and you shall never repent of it; I'll send my
son out of the way, and you get your daughter
married. I'll give two hundred pounds with her
any day; she’s a likely young woman, and I'll
remember you, Peter, in my will!’

“1 thought I had done a good morning’s work,
and I went home with a good appetite—we’d beans
and bacon for dinner that day, I remember—capital
beans and bacon, and Mary helped me as if nothing
had happened ; but I could not help noticing that she
put one bean into her mouth, and that was all the
dinner that she had.

** Well, the young squire was sent off to London ;
and the gardener from a hall, a decentish sort of
chap, paid his addresses to Mary. Not a word would
she say to him—not one single word. ‘No,’ says
she, ‘Thomas Smith, I'll never marry you; my
heart is another’s, and Jam not ashamed of saying
it; and if J do not marry him I'll die as I am !’

‘*] urged and urged, but it was no manner of use.
She made no complaints ; she went to her work just
as usual. Twice on a Sunday she went to church,
and twice in the week to prayers; she was a good
Christian—that she was! I’d done my duty by her,
and I had done my duty by the old squire ; so I went
on with my farming, and did not trouble my head
about anything else. One thing, however, I could

K 2
102 - VARIOUS THINGS.

not help seeing: there comes a young chap twice
a-week or so to see Mary. ‘It’s some of those fine
town chaps come after her,’ thinks I. ‘She’l! be
marrying him some of these days” But I never says
a word to her; because, after the young squire was
gone, she had made me promise never to speak to her
about marrying; and as she was so dutiful to me,
the least I could do was to humour her in her own
way.

““¢ This is some young chap as has a notion of
her,’ says I, one day, to a neighbour. ‘ Lord, Peter,’
says she, ‘it’s the doctor. Den't you see as how she
is dropping into the grave? I had never thought
of such a thing!” said Peter, with something like
emotion ; ‘‘so I hurries home and says, point blank,
‘Why, Mary, are you badly?’ ‘ You have been
the death of me,’ says she, laying her hand on
her heart; and from that time she wasted away
like a shadow. But she looked after the house te
the last.

“On the very day before her death, the old squire
was found dead in his bed. But he had never
remembered me in his will—not he! and when the
young squire came back again, as he did the moment
he heard of his father's death, the first thing he does
was to send me a discharge. I must leave my little
farm the very next quarter. He had not a bit of
consideration for me!—out I must go to the day,
‘He's a hard-hearted old brute, says he, to a neigh-
bour I sent to him, ‘and he may die in a ditch for
what I care !’

““Qh, I've been hardly used,” said old Peter,
“very hardly used. The barest value given for my
VARIOUS THINGS. 03

erops—all my things sold up by auction. 1 had not
ten pounds in my pocket when I left-—and all this
because I did my duty !

“A fine gravestone the young squire put up on
Mary's grave, and they tell me now he still wears
mourning for her: but I’ve been hardly used—
very hardly ; and all because I did my duty !”

When the old man had ended his story, they
pressed him to eat more, but he refused; and then
our father gave him half-a-crown for his night's
lodging, our grandfather shook hands with him, and
he departed. When he was gone, they all began to
talk over his story. My grandfather said that Peter
had done quite right, and that he himself would have
done just the same ; our father and mother said that
Peter was wrong ; that his daughter was the victim
of his obstinacy ; and that, in great degree, he had
merited the trouble that came upon him. Our
mother wiped her eyes as she spoke of Mary, and
said that Peter really was a hard-hearted, selfish old
fellow. . Our grandfather was irritated by these
words: he defended Peter warmly, and grew quite
angry. He was anything but well when he came to
us, and his anger brought on such a violent ft of
coughing, that we were all quite frightened. After
the fit was over he was quite exhausted ; but for all
that, he got up and said he would go. Our mother
begged him to stay all night, but he would not ; he
was quite resolutely bent upon going home. Our
father wished to drive him in the gig, but neither
would he hear of that ; so our father went home with
him, which he reached only with great difficulty.

This was the last time that our grandfather came
304 RUMOURS AND TROUBLES.

to see us. He was not, however, during the remainder
of his life, ever confined to his bed ; and to the very
last he busied himself about his snuffs and_ his
patients. In the autumn he died ; nor did old Peter
Clare ever again make his appearance.

CHAPTER XI.
RUMOURS AND TROUBLES.

In twelve months time from the period when our
father first began to busy himself about the beauti-
fying and improving of the town, the result of his
labours became very evident indeed. A considerable
sum of money had been collected for the purpose,
but much more than this had been expended. Our
mother, who was not as sanguine about these things
as our father, had warned him long ago to undertake
no more improvements, however desirable, than his
funds would accomplish ; but one who enters as
zealously into any scheme as he did into this, is not
to be easily deterred by considerations of cold pru-
dence. Things must not be left incomplete—he
should never do justice to his own plans if he were
to do so; and if he were now to stop, who would
accomplish the work in the same spirit, or, indeed,
would it ever get done at all? The truth was, that
our father really liked his job; and had he even
known that he must lose money by it, he would have
gone on.

The public, at first, were extremely enthusiastic
about it—the universal feeling was with him. In
RUMOURS AND TROUBLES. 105

the course of the second year, however (and certainly
there were evidences of it before that time), a spirit
of discontent and fault-finding was beginning to creep
in. Those who had had awkward encroachments
taken away, wanted remuneration. They complained
that they were losers; whilst others, perhaps their
very next door neighbours, had gained a little angle
of land, which they had added to their garden or
otherwise made use of: grumblers started up here
and there, who saw no advantage in these changes—
people had walked for generations on the old rough
pavements, and they did not see that the new ones
were much better—a deal of money was laid out,
but they did not mean to be at any more expense
about it, &c., &c. Our father was annoyed greatly
as these things came to his ears; our mother was
indignant. ‘It’s those Shepperleys,’ said Nanny.
*“*T know it’s them—insinivating, talking people, as
they are !”

Nanny was not wrong. Presently a paper got
into circulation, meent to be witty, but without a
grain of wit in it, having reference to our father and
his improvements ; he had been draining the town—
his next move was to drain the pockets of the town.
It was a vulgar, malicious effusion, but it fulfilled its
purpose—it pleased the discontented, and wounded
our father deeply : he said, in the bitterness of his
heart, that he would do no more for the public.
Probably he, too, suspected Mr. Shepperley who never
came now to the house, nor, indeed, did any of the
family. He had taken a nice place in the neighbeur-
hood, where he had commenced as amateur farmer.
He had the greatest influence over some of the first
106 RUMOURS AND TROUBLES.

people in the place and neighbourhood ; and, as
regarded our family, his influence was decidedly
unfriendly, One evening we were all together ; little
Emma was amusing herself on the floor, and we
were amusing ourselves by watching her. Our father
had been reading aloud to our mother, and had just
laid down his book to talk of another little scheme
he was beginning to be interested in, and by which
he hoped to divert his mind from the growing annoy-
ances of his town-improvements ; and that was a sort
of miniature tillage-farm, which he had at this time
on his hands. ‘There was a field of wheat, a field of
turnips, and a field of flax, besides a considerable
quantity of land to be mowed for hay. He fancied
that it would afford some profit ; he was quite sure
it would afford him pleasure, and he was fond of
talking of it. We should eat bread this next autumn
of our own corn; from this time forth we would keep
a cow—the children should have plenty of new milk
—he was quite in love with his little scheme. In the
midst of all this, our neighbour, Mr. Taylor, came
in; he was full of news, as was very evident the
first moment he entered the room. :
“Well, sir,” said he, “ have you heard what your
friend Shepperley’s about?” ‘‘ What, then, that
malicious paper is his doing, is it?” asked our father,
supposing it had reference to that. ‘‘No doubt of
it,” returned Mg. Taylor ; “‘and a dirty, disgraceful
piece of business it is. But that’s not what I mean;
I mean with reference to this piece of land here.”
Our father fairly started. ‘‘ What, has he been
tampering with Hollins about that land—what is
that land to him?” “ Very true,” said Mr. Taylor;
RUMOURS AND TROUBLES. 107

“ and nothing but the merest mace in the world
could make him do it.”

‘Do what ?” said our father ; “has he bought the
land?” ‘‘ Bought it, cr got it on lease, or something
of the kind. They say that he is going to build an
inn there !”

‘An inn!” exclaimed our father and mother in
the same voice. Whilst they were almost stunned
by this idea, old Captain Buckstone came in. He, too,
came full of the same subject. ‘Is it actually true?”
he began, almost before salutations were ended, and
looking out into our garden at the same time ; “‘ is it
actually true that that fellow, Shepperley, is going
to block up your pretty view here? I thought he
was a friend of yours, eh ?”

*‘] never heard a word of it till this moment,” said
our father, ‘‘ when our friend, Mr. Taylor, here, has
brought us the news.” ‘ They say that he is going
to build a windmill,” said eld Captain Buckstone.

“A windmill!” ejaculated our parents again
together.

‘* He’s an artful, interloping, brazen-faced scoun-
drel,” said the captain, vehemently. “ What the
devil! must he bring his windmills here for! why,
he ’ll shut out every bit of view.”

Our father almost groaned. ‘‘ Windmill!” said
Mr. Taylor. ‘*No: I tell you it is an inn that he is
going to build.”

A knock at the door announced other visitors ; and
the next moment in came Miss Brandon. ‘‘ 1 am so
sorry to bring disagreeable news,” she began ; but,
really, by the eagerness all our acquaintance showed
about it, one might suppose it was the most pleasant
108 RUMOURS ANIY TROUBLES.

thing in the world. “I really am sorry to tell any-
thing unpleasant, but it is my honest opinion that
something ought to be done ; for Mr. Shepperley,
they say, is going to horse the new coach, and is
going to build great stables Just by you, in Mr.
Hollins’s ground—just by your garden ; and stables
are such a nuisanee! You could not bear to sit in
these sweet, pretty rooms, if the stables came so near
you, say nothing of walking m the garden; and I
seriously think that you should do something. It’s
a vile, a most malicious thing ; and IH never say
different. Mr. Shepperley, to be sure, has his friends
in the town, who can see no harm in what he does :
and Mrs. Shepperley may be a very charming person;
but, for all that, you are an old and most respectable
neighbour ; and after what you have dene for the
town, I must say, people ought to know better than
side with Mr. Shepperley in any of his dirty, httle
malicious tricks.”

Miss Brandon was a great talker, and left no room
for anybody to say one word—our parents, indeed,
seemed to have no mind to say anything—this infor-
mation was quite overwhelming. Neither Captain
Buckstone nor Mr. Taylor said anything either ; and
Miss Brandon, finding that she had the field all to
herself, went on, but this time addressed herself to the
two visitors—“ And I do really think, that one of you
two gentlemen ought to interfere ; for Mr. Shepperley
is one of those persons who must be made to feel the
length of his tether; and as long as he thinks that
he can carry everything his own way, and that
people will applaud everything he does—-he ‘ll stick
at nothing ; but once let the gentlemen of the town
RUMOURS AND TROUBLES. 109

come forward and say, ‘ It’s a very ungentlemanly
and unhandsome thing that you are doing, Mr. Shep-
perley, then he would stop, for he would not risk
public opinion. You see there are so many discon-
tented people in the place, who, for their little petty
spite because they have had their door-scrapers taken
out of the middle of the footpath, where they tripped
everybody up, and tore endless ladies’ gowns, and
have had them set down decently, where they can
hurt nobody ; for which, I am sure, we are all of us
very much obliged to our friend here—these people,
I say, side with Mr. Shepperley, and make him
think that whatever he does is right: and one must
confess, that it is an unfortunate thing that anybody
should have anything against our friend just at this
time ; and, therefore, I hope you gentlemen will
take it in hand, and let Mr. Shepperley know that
everybody of any respectability in the place would
think his building stables here a most ill-natured
and dirty trick—as I’m sure you gentlemen would
if it came home to yourselves, for stables are the
most horrid nuisance near a place. They fill the
air with a nasty, stinging effluvia, as bad as any
poison, and there is no getting rid of it do what you
will ; and it’s bad for the health ;:—how could these
dear little loves ever keep their rosy cheeks, with a
nasty, pestilent smell of stables for ever in the air!”

Our poor mother could bear it no longer ; she fairly
started up—so did everybody—Captain Buckstone
and Mr. Taylor both exclaiming in the same voice
—‘ It is not stables, Miss Brandon, that he is going
to build.”—‘* It is an inn.’”—‘ It is a windmill.’”—
“ A respectable inn.”—“‘ A windmill, a windmill, and

L
FIO RUMOURS AND TROUBLES...

that ’s not unhealthy.’—*‘* Though an inn might’
bring its nuisance,’—‘ Though a windmill is not
the thing one should like standing in one’s garden.”
Thus they talked together, their conversation being
very much like a cord twisted of two colours.

Spite of all Miss Brandon’s suggestions that one of
these gentlemen should interfere, they neither of
them seemed willing to take the office on themselves.
—they said that, after all, it might be only rumour ;
they should think it was—they did not believe any-
body would actually be so malicious — people always
took the alarm so soon; and that they heped our
parents need not seriously agitate themselves, for if
was time enough to do so when the thing was done

Our parents were, however, very uneasy, as well
they might be. Here had they made their home, as
they thought, so complete; they only wanted one thing
more to make it perfect, and now that one thing was.
going to be taken from them and turned to the very
purpose which would destroy the worth ef all the
rest, and that by the person whom they had received
here kindly — had done everything for; and perhaps.
in their good-heartedness, openness, and confidence
in him, they themselves had furnished him with this.
most cruel weapon of annoyance. We children
heard all that was said: our father’s distress cut
us to the very heart, and, like Nanny, we were
unbounded in our vehement outbreak of indignation.

But news about the Shepperleys. did not soon come
to an end. Our parents, who knew something of
Mr. Shepperley’s private circumstances, had said that
it was to them incomprehensible how the Shep-
perleys could go on in the course which they seemed
RUMOURS AND TROUBLES. lil

to have begun. It was not long. however, before
this mystery was solved, and people breught to us
the news which solved it, as they had done the news
which had so annoyed us. Mr. Shepperley had won
the fourth of a twenty thousand pound prize in the
lottery. It matters not how money comes to a
person if money there only be. Money, aias, too
frequently, in the vocabulary of the world, means
merit, and these five thousand pounds worked won-
derfelly on the minds of many of our good towns-
people. Our father said, in the sickness of his
heart, that, having so far completed his projected
public improvements, he would stop; and, abiding
by the loss, he would leave anything further te
those who were ambitious of the most thankless
office—the pleasing of the many. Mr. Shepperley
at this moment stepped forward and offered himself
as the servant of the public; he projected this and
that, schemes of magnificent things ; the people
should be shareholders in all that he undertook, and
everybody should have abundant interest for their
money. {ft was a very sore subject to our father :
and, in the meantime, we soon found that there was
some truth in the rumour regarding that adjoining
piece of land. He had taken it on a lease—a thing
which our father had never succeeded in doing, but
what he was intending to do with it was at present
a mystery; the only direct operations which took
place in it were, the planting a row of willow
trees at the bottom on the edge of a little water-
course, and within these, and up the side of our
garden, a row of fir-trees. That he meant to block
out our view, our poor father's favourite view, was
112 SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME.

evident ; but trees were not so unsightly as buildings
of any kind—so, though they were like a thorn in
his heart every time he saw them, and he could
not help seeing them, still, as they were so much
better than he had dreaded, and while they were
little they were not any great detriment, he tried
to disregard them. Our mother often said, ‘ Do
not distress yourself about Mr. Shepperley, for it is
my firm persuasion that he cannot long go on in
this way : people will see through him ; conduct like
his will never bring a blessing with it; and a time
will come when people will see how much more a
real public benefactor and friend you have been
than he!”

Nanny threatened to pour boiling water to the
roots of all his trees; and very probably she would
have done so had not we, to her great indignation,
betrayed her, and thus caused a prohibition to any-
thing of that kind from our father.

CHAPTER XII.
SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME.

Our father took the most lively interest now in
his little tillage farm. The season was a most pro-
pitious one ; rain came just when it was wanted, and
fell in just the proper quantities, and all the rest of
the spring and summer was blooming, sunny wea-
ther. We were never tired with going with our
father to see the growth of his fields) The walk
thither was the most charming in the world; we
SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME. 113

either went through the loveliest old pasture fields,
all the way going from our own garden across the mea-
dow, and up our own hilly fields; or else a little way
round by an old woodland lane, the most picturesque
of its kind. In wet seasons, or in winter, this lane
was almost impassable, for it lay deep below its
banks, and a little gurgling stream, that ran first
on one side of it and then on the other, crossing
it here and there in the most wanton sort of way,
at such times overflowed it ; but now it was confined
within its own little stony bed, and trailing plants,
which love watery situations, hung fantastically over
its banks, dipping their lovely green sprays down
into the water as if to drink, or to show how beau-
tifully transparent the water was. There was the
golden saxifrage, with its exquisite flowers, like the
setting of a jewel; there was the evergreen peri-
winkle, with its blue and white blossoms, and its
myrtle-like foliage. Starwort, and pink campions,
and ragged robins, and blue robin-run-in-the-hedge,
on the dryer banks; old mossy crab trees bent in
crooked ruggedness half across the lane ; and a suc-
cession of oak-trees, venerable and gnarled timber-
trees, of the most picturesque forms and woodland
character, cast a green and pleasant shade over the
whole way. Beside the trees, and the plants, and the
little gurgling brook, there were other objects peculiar
to this Jane which we soon discovered, and which were
of an inexhaustible interest. Among the stones of
the water-course, particularly where it had shrunk
by the dryness of the season, we found great numbers
of small fossil-stones; and among the broken lime-
stone of which the stony ground was composed, we
L2
114 SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME.

found small glittering crystals, which we flattered ‘
ourselves were diamonds of inestimable value. There -
was not a lane anywhere in the neighbourhood that
afforded such wonders and such treasures as this,
Of course, this was our favourite way of going to
our father’s fields, which, from this very lane, were
called the Timber-lane fields. Our father's favourite
way, on the contrary, was by the open and more
airy fields; and this way, particularly in returning,
the view was extremely fine, extending over the.
finest woodland district to the barren and blealx hills
of the north of the country, or the moorlands, as
‘they were called; which was, in fact, a continuous
wange of hills with the Peak of Derbyshire. Our
father had a great. taste and delight in landscape
scenery on a large or small scale, and hence it was,
natural that he found so much pleasure in this road.

But he indulged us, nevertheless, very often by going
through the lane, and we in our turn never eas
‘to the fields. ,

* At the top of the lane was, a small white cottage,
‘inhabited by a day-labourer and his family. here
“were the sturdy, brown-complexioned father and
-mother, in their fustian and home-spun habiliments,
and seven or eight hardy, ‘sunburnt, and weather- ,
beaten children, the boys in coarse corduroy, and the
girls in frocks and pinafores, of coarse blue, or olive-
green cotton. Dusty-looking hens, and broods of
well-grown chickens, scratched and pecked about
the door; a pale-coloured tortoiseshell cat sat on the
window-sill ; a little pig grunted in a sty at the end
of the istics potatoes, and cabbages, and onions
throve vigorously in the garden ; and the little cottage
‘SUMMER TIME, AND JOY “AT HOME. 115

chimney sent up its curling blue smoke, night and
mornitig, through the serambling dairtson- trees that
grew round the house. It was a picture of quiet,
humble contentment, that our father did not fail to
point out to us the first time we went this way with
him ; and ever afterwards it presented itself to us as
one of the pleasant features of the place.

The labourer was named Ward ; he was a sober,
hard-working man, and was fully employed by our
father. This led us frequently to go to the cottage.
In the hay-time, the wife and the bigger children
worked too; our father worked, and so did we.
I have not words to tell the delight of that time.
Our dinners were sent up to us in a great basket
from home, and excellent those dinners always
seemed to be. We sat down on the grass, or on
the hay, in some shady place, to eat ; and when we
had done, we gave the abundant remains to the
jabourers wife and her children. It was a great
happiness to us to see how they always enjoyed
it; nor were we at all too grand to play and amuse
Gareelees with the labourer’s children. T hey were
good-natured and well behaved, and were es
In all the accomplishments pf their cla They
made wonderful things out of rushes— greniadiers’
caps, and curious baskets of: them in their green
" state ; and when peeled they pasted them, not with-
out a ‘certain degree of rustic taste, in. regular patterns
on the outside of little boxes made of cparse paste-
board, which we, in those days, thought very pretty,
and were glad enough to imitate. Fhey peeled |
willow sticks j in patterns, making{a/spiral line run
up the stick, or even to give it the effect of an
116 SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME.

interlacing. It was a new sort of life to us, and
pleased us very much.

The hay-harvest “was finished, and now came a
few weeks’ intermission before the corn-harvest was,
ready; and jin those few weeks ‘that memorable
family .event occurred to which I before slightly
alluded.

We were asleep in our beds one morning in July,
when Nanny, apparently having rushed up to our
beds, shook us, as it seemed to us, violently, and
‘shouted something which at first appeared unintelli-
gible to us. In a moment or two, however, we
understood it—a little brother was born! We
actually and truly had now a little brother! What
an amazing, what a joyful announcement —a brother!
—a brother! There was something quite ecstatic
in the idea; we could not this time stay to dress
ourselves ; off we flew in our little night-dresses, spite.
of all that Nanny could say, and burst into our
mother’s chamber.

*“ Oh, hush! hush! pray ye, hush!” said the.
same old woman who was ‘here at Jittle Emma’s
birth. |
' © Oh, mother, have. we cue got a little brother?”
‘we exclaimed.

Our mother, who seemed not so ill as before, oe
“Yes,” and in such a joyful tone, that we c limbed
to the pillow and kissed her.

‘*Oh, bless me! bless me!” said the old woman,
almost wringing her hands, “‘ you'll kill missis and
the baby, as sure as I’m alive !”

** Kill the baby !” we exclaimed ; never.”

Rut she pushed us away, and seemed quite excited;
SUMMER TIME, AND JO% AT HOME., 117

and then, putting the bed-clothés aside, out she
brought a- little, soft, yvarm bundle, that seemed
made up of flannel, and, sitting down. bade us come
to her, for there would, she said, -be no peace till we
had. seen the baby. She opened he flannels, and
what a baby it was!—a fine, rotnd-faced, plump
fellow, that directly opened his eyes—his large, dark
eyes—and looked round him as knowi ing as an old man.

“Oh, what a beauty he is!—what a darling he
is!” we exclaimed, and never forgot that we aid he
all the time. {Indeed it was remarkable, as regarded
all the family, that they never spoke of the baby as
it, but he; and that showed plainly enough how much
set-up everybody was with this first son of the house.

‘** And has our father seen: him ?” we demanded.

Oh, to be sure he-had ; and he was as much pleased
as we were. And where was he? Down stairs.
Down stairs, then, we ran, In our night-things still,
and into the parlour where our father sat. He was
neither reading nor writing, but sat in his chair as if
in deep thought. When we rushed into the room,
he opened ie arms and received us both to his
bosom. He said nothing, nor did We; for, on looking
into his face, we saw that his eyes Were full of tears.
The next moment, however, he wiped his e a and
‘said, in a voice low with deep emotion, lhe Al-.
mighty has been very good to us this night, my
children. You have seen the -brother whieh he has:
given to you?”

We replied to him with the most unbounded joy,.
but our father was grave and quiet, and, as if troubled’
by our noisy spirit, bade us’ goand dass and “come:
down to breakfast. ,
118 SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME.

When we came down, we found our father almost
as gay as ourselves ; he said that he had to go out on
business that day into the country, to a curious old’
place, and that he would take us with him, both of
us, in the gig. This was, indeed, a delight, although.
we were a little sorry to leave the house, which
contained such a new and extraofdinary treasure.
In an hour or two we set off. Of course, we talked
a deal about the new brother, who, our father in-
formed us, was to be called Charles, after our mother’s
father, who was a singularly excellent man, as we
already knew. The name fleased us; and I am
sure that, had we received that morning a: fortune
of a hundred thousand pounds, we should, none of
us, have felt happier or prouder than we did.

_ After we had talked for a long time of the brother,
our father told us that we were going to Caverswall
Caste, an old moated house, which was about to
be purchased by some rich Catholics, who were
refugees from France, and was to become imme-
diately a nunnery. He was employed by one of the
parties, and thus was going over on business. A’
most interesting thing this was: we had a dim sort
of an idea of what Catholics were—papists we had
also heard them called; and when so called, we
always thought of bloody Queen Mary, and the
faggot, and the rack. We thought,‘ too, of those
** dark ages of papacy, of which we had heard our
father speak, and which always had impressed upon
my mind an idea of the daylight itself being dim
‘then—a sort of natural obscuration over everything ;
I had not then taken into my mind the idea of a
‘moral darkness. However, our father did not talk
SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME. . 119

of these people as payists, but as Catholics, as refugee
Catholics ; and we instantly had the greatest regard
for them, as being persecuted by that arch ,tormentor,
Buonaparte.

We reached the handsome old mansion, with its
corner towers, its moat, and its drawbridge. We
rattled under the heavy arched gateway into the
court-yard, and then a barking, as‘it seemed, of at
least twenty dogs, large and small, saluted us. The
next moment out came a servant, and theh a rosy-
faced, good-tempered, stout géntleman-far met, who
received our father with the warmest cordiality.

“These are my little daughters,” said our father,
presenting us, ‘ whom I have taken the liberty of
bringing with me for a day’s pleasure.” —

That was quite right, the gextlenian-farmer said,
quite right, and the most friendly thing-our father
could have done; he, the gentleman-farmer, would
find us plenty of ‘playfellows and so saying, he led
us all in, and then, opening a door, introduced us at
once into a large and cheerful parlour, where sat a
lady and three or four little girls at their work and
lessons. ‘This was Mrs. Tidesmore, the wife of the
gentleman-farmer, and these were to be our play-
fellows for the day. Refreshments were ordered in,
and ‘we were stnt upstairs with two of the little girls
to take off our things. Our first wofds to them,
when we were alone tégether, were, “‘Oh, do you
know we have “got a little brother 2?”

The girls stared and laughed. ‘“ Oh!” said they,
almost disdainfully, “ we have got six!”

_ The momentary sensation occasioned in us by this
reply was something like the shock of sitting down
120 SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME.

and finding the chair lower than you expected. We
took off our things in silence, and felt as if we should
say no more about our little brother.

When, however, we came down stairs, the mother
of the children met us with the most smiling face in
the world; and giving a hand to each, said, “‘ And
so, my dears, you have got a new little brother, for
the first time, this morning, have you? Come, you
must tell me all about it. Is it a pretty baby ?—
but of course it is !”

We glanced triumphantly at the two girls who
had despised the idea of a brother, and burst forth
into the most rapturous description of this interesting
little stranger.

But Mrs. Tidesmore, good-natured lady as she was,
could not listen to us all the morning ; so, when we
seemed to have finished eating, she sent us out with
her four little girls to amuse ourselves. There was
a deal both to amuse and to interest us; the vastness
and singularity of the building, the lovely garden,
‘the paved court, the drawbridge and the moat—they
all stirred that incipient poetry within us, and that
love of the picturesque, which was already beginning
to be a passion as well as a feeling. ‘The girls were
as much pleased with us as we with them; they
wished a hundred times that we only lived near
to them, and could come and see them often. They
took us to the moat, and then gently pulling us
back, told us how, when they came here first,
three or four years ago, shortly after their coming,
a little brother of theirs, named George, had
fallen in and been drowned, Nobody knew where
he was; the parents supposed him playing with the
SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME. 121

other children ; the children supposed him with the
parents, and thus he had been dead an hour or two
before he was found, or even, perhaps, before he was
missed. Poor little George ! and then they told
anecdotes of him which made us cry—for to us the
loss of a brother seemed the greatest loss in the
world. Ah! owr sorrow in that way came many
years later ; and it was bitter, indeed, when it came!
Talking of little George’s death, nothing was so
natural as that we should go and see his grave. The
church and the churchyard were close to the garden.
They showed us the little grave, with its stone and
epitaph—
| “ Weep not for me, my parents dear,
I am not dead, but sleeping here,

A living flower, that shall expand
Its beauty in the heavenly land.”

It was, the children said, a long time after little
George’s death before their mother could bear the
place. She was so timid that she hardly could bear
the children out of her sight ; she was even so now
to a certain extent, and she would, they believed,
be very glad to leave the place. From the church-
yard of course we went into the church ; looked at all
the monuments; sat in the Tidesmores’ pew ; mounted
into the pulpit ; and finally pulled the bells, finding
every one of these feats exceedingly amusing. We
all of us laughed excessively ; laughed so much, or
rather wrought ourselves up to such a frenzy of
laughter, that when we looked into each other's
faces, we burst out laughing again till we bent
double, as if there was something irresistibly comic
about every one of us. By the churchyard gate there

M
122 SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME.

lived in a cottage a poor idiot; he was a doleful
object, and sat on a chair in the sun chewing straws ;
anybody to have seen us would have thought us a
set of the most unfeeling little wretches ; and yet we
were every one of us very sorry for this poor crea-
ture—for scarcély had we turned our backs upon
him, than we all burst out a-laughing.

“It’s very foolish to laugh so!” said Eliza Tides-
more, and then she fell a-laughing again.

“It would be such a shocking thing,” said little
Harriet, in a moralising tone, “if any of us should be
struck so ;” and then she herself laughed, laughed
more than anybody else, till the very tears ran down
her cheeks.

If any very sour-tempered or impatient people
had been with us, we should some of us, perhaps,
have been beaten for our senseless folly ; as it was, we
laughed it out, agreeing, when the fit was over, that
it was very foolish, and that one always felt very
much tired afterwards. We compared our experience
in many other things, and found, to our great asto-
nishment, that we all felt very much alike in all
cases. All had felt the same uncomfortable bash-
fulness creep over one, the moment one was urged
to speak to a stranger, till at last one felt a tingling
redness flush the tips of one’s ears and to the very
roots of one’s hair; and then one would rather cry
than speak. We all knew how unpleasantly exciting
it was when people pretended to think one was boys,
or called one names, as ‘Tom-boy, or Twopenny-
ha'penny, or anything of that sort-——or more than
that, when elder people, one’s parents’ acquaintance,
or one’s nurse-maid, told before one something which
SUMMER TIME, AND JOY AT HOME. 123

one had said, either very knowing or very silly ; and
one begged and prayed that they would not tell it,
and *hey would, spite of all your prayers; and the
more one prayed the louder they told it. How angry
it made one feel, and how one was ready to knock
them down if one could! We all agreed in saying
how hateful and how irritating it was to be taunted
in any way—to be sent out of the way that people
might talk secrets, or that people should try to
deceive one, when one knew all the time the truth
as well as they did: and was it not telling stories
in them to do so? We were sure that all such
wilful deceits would be called stories by them if we
practised them. It would have done anybody, who
had any rational sense, good to have heard us talk,
for we all agreed that “‘ grown people” often did not
know how to treat children. They thought them
fools, whereas they had about as much sense as most
people ; and we were sure that children would not
be called naughty half as often as they were, if
people would not be so conceited about their own
wisdom, but would give children credit for wishing
and meaning to do right, and would be silent when
they begged and prayed them so earnestly to be so.
Of course we all excepted our own parents, but then
one could not always be with one’s own parents,
and so these annoyances came.

After dinner we went up into the curious little
chambers in the corner towers, and out upon the
leaden roof, with its heavy stone balustrade. Here,
of course, we cut our names, and marked the shape
of our feet ; and here we were joined by the two
boys of the family who were at home, and now were
124 DAYS IN AUTUMN. —

come from the daily school. The others were at
school at a distance. These boys were right good
fellows ; and with them we all went to eat cherries,
which they gathered from the trees. And then we
had tea and must take our leave. It was the
happiest day we had almost ever spent. We kissed
our friends, and our friends and their mother kissed
us.’ We said that, of all things in the world, we
should like to see one another often. But children,
like everybody else, must submit to fate. They
left Caverswall Castle, the nuns came, and we never
met again.

It is now more than thirty years ago, and those
girls, most probably, are wives and mothers. It is
not impossible but that they may unexpectedly find
in these pages this chronicle of a day which they
made so agreeable. I trust this recognition of old
times, and probably a forgotten playfellow of one
day, may be pleasant to them.

ene eR LOTTERIES

CHAPTER XIII.
DAYS IN AUTUMN.

Tue baby, the brother, the darling little Charles !
He grew every day more and more the delight of
the house ; it was such a fine time of the year when
he came into the world, and he was so strong and
healthy that he began to go out almost immediately.
As if he had been the first child of the family,
nothing was thought good enough for him ; he had
the prettiest hat and cloak that money could buy,
DAYS IN AUTUMN. 125

and we all watched him being carried out in the
nurse’s arms, as if we had been so many proud
mothers. The nurse, too, never returned home
without bringing word how everybody had said that
he was the loveliest. baby they ever set eyes on.
Nanny, who was little Emma's nurse, not seldom
looked out of humour; she said that the ‘ new-
comer had put little Emma’s nose out of joint,” and
that none of us now cared anything about her. That,
however, of course, was quite wrong; we loved her
as well as ever; she was becoming every day more
and more interesting; she could now run about, and
in her small way talk a little; but I must confess
that, to a certain degree, the new light attracted
more eyes than the old. But, in proportion as
Nanny fancied her favourite to be neglected, all the
greater was the fondness which she lavished upon
her, and, in return, the child loved her dearly.

Before the old nurse left us, a young one was
engaged for little Charles; a smart, active, young
woman of respectable family, named Rhoda; and
between her and Nanny there existed a perpetual
feud. Our mother was now and then obliged to
interfere between them, and then hostilities appa-
rently ceased ; but we knew that this was only
apparently. Each doted on her child; each quar-
relled about it, and was ready to fight for it; but
the children did not suffer amid these jarrings
and jealousies, and therefore it was not of much
consequence.

It was now the joyous time of the corn-harvest,
and again we went with our father to those favourite
fields to see the reaping. All was as pleasant, nay,

m2
126 MAYS IN AUTUMN.

even pleasanter, than at the time of the hay-making
I despair of conveying to my readers one thousandth
part of the joy which we every day experien
There was the woodland lane again to be traversed ;
crabs were ripe on the old, mossy crab-trees ; black-
berries on the bushes, and nuts, though yet hardly
ripe still. worth the cracking, hung temptingly on
the branches; and this not alone in the lane itself,
but in the hedges and the little dingles of our own
fields.

It was this autumn when the peculiar charm and
beauty of many things became first perceptible to us,
I remember that it was then we saw, for the first
time, that a cluster of nuts was, in itself, a beautiful
thing. For the beauty of flowers my sister Anna
had always had the most vivid sense ; even then she
drew flowers, for a child, remarkably well: gathering
flowers was with her a passion; there was no bank
too steep ; no ditch too wide ; no mud too appalling
to deter her from gathering a flower. Hence, in
later years, she studied botany so assiduously, and
cultivated flowers with such singular success ; hence,
when living in a close town, she filled her room with
the most exquisite exotics, bringing around her
beauty and grace, which, like the truest friends,
furnished gladdening, wholesome thoughts for many
an otherwise weary hour.

Blessings on thee, my sister, and on the fair and
gentle human flowers which thou hast also reared
around thee in an atmosphere of love and moral
strength! Blessings on thee !

And now let us go back to the corn-fields, and see
there the green acorns on the oak-tree under which
DAYS IN AUTUMN. 197

we eat our dinners, and the faintly reddening hips
on the wild rose that casts wide its arching spray,
and waves gently with the wind; and there is the
high-climbing blue vetch in flower, and a late blos-
soming honeysuckle, and the elegant berries, yet
green, of the bitter-sweet ; and there is the blue
chicory at our feet, and the rosy-hued rest-harrow,
and, creeping among the blades of the short turf, the
delicate eye-bright, with its exquisite flowers spotted
with red and yellow; and the flower, which was
always such a rare delight to us, the dark-blue
milkwort; and there are the lovely pale yellow
hawkweeds! What a nosegay we can gather !
Then, if we look among the corn, there is the scarlet
poppy, and the pink cockle, the large white chry-
santhemum, and, creeping low, like a cheerful-
hearted person in low life, is the hardy pimpernel,
with its scarlet flower; and there, like a neighbour
of the same character, but in better circumstances, is
also the compact, firmly-built pheasant’s-eye, with
its round scarlet flower with the black middle! It
was thus a little world rich in flowers; and there
again, too, we met the labourers’ children—those
sunburnt, sturdy, good-tempered little sons and
daughters of the soil, who welcomed us back again
into their world with a most cordial but sheepish
grace.

The corn was cut and in shock, and the flax was
being pulled ; and I made the terrible and strange dis-
cevery, as I thought, that flax, when drawn tightly
through the hand by only one or two stems together,
would cut as severely as a knife. When the corn
was ready to be carried, a wagon came, and took it
128 DAYS IN AUTUMN.

to a neighbouring barn, which our father had hired,
and where there was a threshing-floor, on which it
was threshed at once. We were most assiduous
attendants on the wagon; we watched it loaded in
the field ; we watched it go, rocking and creaking
up the field and the lane beyond, and swing round
through the gate with its piled-up sheaves. And the
shouting of the men—and the clear, quiet, sunny air
~—and the dry stubble fields that we walked over
after it—all live in my mind as a most charming bit
of existence. When the wagon was unloaded, then
we, and mostly some of the labourers’ children, rode
back ; and one of the men sat on the first horse as if
sitting on a bench, and another sat in the end of the
wagon, with his feet dangling out behind; and we
stamped our feet for joy, or tumbled down over the
great coil of rope behind us, which we had not seen,
and made a commotion among tle forks which
lay in-the wagon, and then got scolded for being so
clumsy, or for getting in danger of being hurt by the
forks; and then, sobered a little, went, shaking rather
than riding, down into the field again.

And so it went on. How long it lasted I really do
not know; not more than a couple of days, I sup-
pose; and then, after this, the flax was pulled, which
I may as well say here, once for all, turned out but
a bad speculation, The crop of turnips was sold on
the Jand, and our farming came to an end, but not,
however, before a cow was bought; jor there being
now four children in the family, present and future
wants made our good parents deem a cow necessary $3
and the coming of the cow, which was henceforth
seen, grazing or chewing her cud, from the parlour
DAYS IN AUTUMN. 129

windows, was an event of some interest to us
children. At first, we never looked out of the win-
dow without seeing the cow, and we were a little
troublesome to our mother’s visitors, and the friends
of the family, by calling attention to “our cow ;”
but fortunately it grew, like everything else, to be
in time an old affair, and then we let it rest in peace.

Within our family all was harmony and joy ; the
baby, the little merry-hearted Emma; our kind
parents; our own happy selves—we made a perfect
little world ; and, had it not been for vexations that
came from without, all would have been like a little
heaven; but Mr. Shepperley’s machinations were
actively in operation, and endless were the annoyances
which he threw in the path of our father, and the
petty, malicious intrigues of which he was the mover,
merely to thwart and vex him—him who had always
been his friend, and had done him nothing but good.

Our father had now for some years been much
engaged by the inclosure of Needwood Forest; he
frequently went there, and not unfrequently, when
his business would allow it, took us with him... One
day late this autumn, he had occasion to go to Tut-
bury, and then round by Barton home. It was
probable that we might have occasion to stay out all
night at one of these places; but that made no
difference ; we should go to a village inn, and have
good entertainment, and with our father all was
right for us. We went, as usual, in the gig; our
father’s business would be easily transacted. every-
where, and it seemed to us that we had a long jour-
ney of pleasure before us. ‘Tutbury, where there
‘used to be the old bull-runnings, which our father,
130 DAYS IN AUTUMN.

when a boy, could remember, and which had a ruined
castle, that we had so often seen from our own
neighbourhood, was a very interesting place to us;
besides which, Tutbury at that time was remark-
able from another cause—a cause which made a
wonderful talk then. There, lived Ann Moore, the
famous woman who lived without eating ; and we,
like everybody else who went to Tutbury, were to go
and see Ann Moore. But, before we reached Tut-
bury, we had to pass Sudbury, that hall and park
which we admired so much, and where the old trees
were of such wonderfully beautiful growth that, in
my childish patriotism, I used to think “what would
the French say, if they really invaded England,
and came as far as this, when they saw such trees as
these!” So much for the Park; and then there was
the Hall, which the Queen Dowager, then a young
girl like ourselves, was afterwards to inhabit, and in
which my sister had once nearly lost her life, only
natrowly escaping a fall from the cupola on the roof.

Arrived at Tutbury, we duly visited its castle, and
looked out for our own little town from its hill, and
talked of Mary Queen of Scots, and of the bull-
running, and the minstrels in old times, who had the
bull when he wascaught ; and followed with our eye
the windings of the lovely river Dove as it came
meandering through the meadows, under this very
castle-hill, from within a mile of our own town.
Little things amuse simple hearts; and then, when
we had exhausted all these, our father went to do his
business, and we to rest and to have some refreshment
at the inn; and, after that, to see the wonderful Ann
Moore.
DAYS IN AUTUMN. 131

We had seen plenty of old women, we thought, as
thin’ and skeleton-like as Ann Moore, but still we
were very awfully impressed by this old lady, as she
sat there, propped up in her bed, with her bony,
skinny hands laid out, like claws, on the bed-clothes,
to turn over the pages of the handsome Bible which
some good clergyman had given her, or to clutch at
the money which people laid before her. ‘There
were many visitors with her when we entered ; one,
a wonderfully fat woman, in a tight gown of crimson-
silk, who coughed, and shook herself, and was so very
fat that she seemed to sit only on the edge of her
chair. 1 remember thinking what a contrast there
was between this lady and Ann Moore. Our father
had seen Ann Moore before now, and had had much
serious conversation with her; she professed to be
very fond of his conversation, and therefore paid a
deal of attention to~us; but all the time I was there
I could think of nothing else but the old nursery
song—

* There was an old lady all skin and bone ;
This old lady was very well known.
She lay in bed, as I’ve heard say,
For many years, to fast and pray :
When she had lain a twelvemonth’s space,
The flesh was gone from hands and face ;
When that another twelvemonth was gone,
She was nothing at all but a skeleton.”’

Such were my first humble attenipts at parody
{(Vhen we came away, our father told us that he had
oo doubt in his own mind of Ann Moore being, to a
certain degree, an impostor ; but the quantity of food
which she did exist upon was really so extremely
132 DAYS IN AUTUMN.

small as to be in itself almost miraculous. This, as
many persons may remember, was actually proved
to be the case, when some vears afterwards that rigid
watch was placed over her which all but caused her
death.

- Our father's business had detained him longer than
he expected, and it was almost twilight when we left
Tutbury on our way to Barton, where we were to
sleep. This being the case, he determined to stop
all night at the intermediate village of Tattenhill,
where was* a comfortable public-house. When
we there arrived, all was dark in and about the
house, the shutters were all closed, and the yard-
gate also; and it looked like a place of the dead.

_“ How is this?” said our father, dismounting. He
tried the door; it was fast; he then knocked; all
was silent; he knocked again; and then a child's
voice within asked who was there. He replied, tra-
vellers, who wanted a night’s lodging, and desired
her to open the door. After some minutes, she did
so, and showed herself, a girl of perhaps ten or eleven.
She had been evidently preparing to go to bed; her
frock was half off, and her tidy little night-cap was on
her head, and in her hand she held a bed-candlestick,
in which burned a meagre farthing candle, that gave
of course the feeblest of lights.

“Oh, dear!” she said, in reply to our father’s
demand of a night’s lodging—two bec-chambers, re-
freshment for us, and accommodation for the horse—

“Oh, dear! There’s nobody at home but Kitty and
me; everybodys gone to the wakes—father and
mother, and Jacob, and everybody. There ’s nobody
at home but Kitty and me!” repeated she, in a tone
of despair.
DAYS 1N AUTUMN. 133

“ And who is Kitty?” asked our father.

Without making any reply, the little girl turned
round, and disappeared, and presently we saw the
feeble light of the candle at an upper window, and
heard the child’s voice talking at its highest pitch, as
if to some deaf person—“ A gentleman and a gig, and
some ladies,” we heard her say; ‘and they want a
night's lodging.”

A low grumbling followed; and then the little girl,
just ready to ery, said—‘‘ Now, don’t be so cross!
and come down and speak to him!”

Presently, an old, sullen-looking woman, in a printed
bed-gown and mob-cap, made her appearance at the
door, with a tall brass candlestick in her hand, and
behind her the little girl, with her frock still unfas-
tened, and a look of great perplexity and anxiety in
her face.

** You can’t be lodged here, to-night,” said the old
woman. ‘ Master and missis is out; they ‘ve gotten
the keys; we ’ve nought i’ th’ house but could bacon
and water!”

‘“* But you can light a fire, and make us some tea,
and boil us some eggs; you have bread and butter
in the house, and we can have beds.”

The old woman was as deaf as a stone; she heard
nothing; she only saw that we wanted accommoda-
tion, and that she persisted we could not have,
The little girl replied to.our father’s remarks, ‘‘ Yes,
fire we could have, and tea and eggs, and bread and
butter; but not beds, for her mother had taken with
her the keys of all the linen and the best rooms; but
though the ostler was gone too, she would call up a
neighbour who would attend to the horse; and,

N
134 DAYS IN AUTUMN.

though he could not be put into the stable, because
Jacob had taken the keys with him, yet he could
have a rug thrown over him, and stand here by the
rack under the tree, in front of the house. Would
that do?” she asked, meekly.

““ Yes, yes; that would do nicely,” said our father;
and called her, “a good little maid.”

“They can’t stop! I say, you can’t stop!”
screamed the old woman, almost palsied by her dis-
pleasure as she saw us about to dismount; ‘ master
and missis is out: they ‘ve gotten the keys.”

The little girl, however, made her understand how
it, was to be; and then, while she ran off to call up
the neighbour to look after our horse, we followed
the old woman into the kitchen, where she set about
her work with some agility, though evidently without
good will, for she never spoke, but kept looking at
us every now and then as if she could have put us
out of the house with very good will.

In a few minutes in came the little girl, all alert—
a nice, tidy little thing, that seemed to have all her
wits about her, and to be as willing as she was ready.
The fire burned up merrily, and the kettle began to
sing, and out she drew the little stand, and set out the
tea-things, whilst the old woman went maundering
about after bread and butter and cream ; and all this
time the little girl’s frock was loose, slipping off her
shoulders, and giving her a deal of trouble: she
shoved it up, but it would not stay, and she either
could not or did not think of fastening it herself.

“Should we fasten it for her?” one of us
asked of the other in a whisper. The other had
been thinking of the same thing, and said “ Yes;”
NAYS IN AUTUMN. 135

and then up we both started, and said, *‘ Let me fasten
your frock.” I forget which did fasten it, but the
little girl was very thankful, and our father said
that we had done right. This little neighbourly
action spread quite a cheerfulness over our minds, as
is always the case. One does oneself more good
by little acts of ready kindness than even the person
whom one obliges. . We were quite in good humour
with everything ; we talked a great deal both with
our father and the little girl. Our father said that
she was the handiest little maiden he had ever seen,
and, when he next came that way, he would bring
her a new frock. Her face was as bright.as the fire
that burned on the hearth. The eld woman hovered
round us, bringing what we wanted, but saying
nothing; and when we were completely served, our
father motioned to her to sit down on the wooden
seat, within the wooden screen, by the fire—for my
dear readers must understand that we are all this
time sitting by the kitchen fire of a village ale-house,
and a very comfortable place we found it. ‘The old
woman seated herself, and looked on; but she was so
very deaf that we could not talk to her at all, and
the little girl made her understand as much by signs
as words,

‘“‘ Tt is as good a cup of tea as I ever drank,” said
our father ; ‘‘ and the eggs are prime.” We thought
the same. It really was a charming time; and we
were so taken with the little girl, who was so handy
and active, that we were quite sorry to leave her.

But we must now go on to Barton for the night ;
and there it was where the wakes were being held,
and perhaps we should not be able to get a bed even
136 DAYS IN AUTUMN.

there. It was pitch dark; there was not a star visi-
ble ; and our father engaged the neighbour who had
acted as groom to our horse to go with us with a
lantern, for we had no lamps to the gig, and we were
to take a cross road from some cause or other,
which I have forgotten.

“You'll see mother at the Shoulder of Mutton,”
said the little girl, as we got into the gig.

“If we see her, we shall tell her what a clever
little daughter she has,” said our father; and off we
went, leaving the old, deaf woman quite satisfied, in
consequence of the payment she had received.

Our drive through the darkness was interesting to
us; we had never been out in unknown places so late
as this before. The road was horrible, and we could
only go at a foot's pace the whole way. The man
walked at the horse’s head with his lantern, which
cast an uncertain light upon the blac hedges and on
the broken ground over which we drove. But the
great event of the drive was the passing an encamp-
ment of gipsies: some of their people no doubt were
at the neighbouring wakes, but there were many of
them at home nevertheless. Every child knows, by
pictures at least, what an encampment of gipsies is,
We had seen a real encampment before now in the
daytime, but never till now lit up with a blazing fire,
over which hung a great steaming pot ; never before
seen in reality the black openings of the tents lit up,
showing the wild, black-eyed mother who sat there,
nursing her child ; the big, brawny man, stretched
out, as if asleep; the children grouped together—all
wild and picturesque as any painter might wish,
We, however, were not more astonished at thus
DAYS IN AUTUMN. 137

suddenly coming upon the encampment than they
themselves ‘appeared to be by our unexpected appa-
rition in the solitary, dark lane. Their dogs barked,
their horses trotted away ; the people, old and young,
male and female, started up, and at once the whole
nomadic company was alive. Not a word, however,
was said; on we went; and the encampment, having
watched us for some time, seemed to subside into its
former quiet. When, however, we were out of sight
and hearing, the man who led the horse stopped it
for a moment, and, coming up, said, in a thick, husky
voice, ‘“‘ Those are the worst vagabonds in the coun-
try; if I had known they were here, I would not
have come for any money! We'll go now, if you
please, a bit faster.”

With these words, he again went to the horse’s
head, and we went on at a sort of pace between a walk
and a trot, which shook us almost out of our seats.
But this shaking did not drive away the terror which
his words had infused into my heart. I feared that
the gipsies would come in pursuit of us; my head
was full of horrors numberless; the lanes seemed
blacker and narrower than ever; I fancied that I
could feel something dragging behind the gig ; that I
heard footsteps ; that I saw shapes on that side and
on this; the trees and gate-posts all looked frightful.
I was terrified out of my wits, but I said nothing ;
and, as none of us spoke a single word, I fancied that
all were equally frightened with myself.

At length we reached Barton, and long before we
reached the inn we heard the merry sounds of the
fiddles and the dancing, and the rattling of the
pewter mugs on the wooden tables. It was all a stir

nw 2
138 DAYS IN AUTUMN.

and a commotion. Horses were tied under trees;
taxed-carts and market-carts were drawn up at the
door. Many people were just setting off, half tipsy,
and talking foolishly with thick voices. The landlord
was at his door, in his shirt-sleeves, as we drove up.

There was not an empty sitting-room in the
house ; but beds we could have—oh, yes! capital
beds! Terrified as I had been with the gipsies, and
the darkness, and my own imagination, the noise of
the revellers here—the fumes of the tobacco, the
smell of beer and gin, and the crowds of common
people, and the running te and fro that there was,
and the glare of lights after the darkness—ail bewil-
dered and confused my poor brain, so that I could
understand nothing. It was eleven o'clock, too—
long after our usual time of going to bed—and our
father, full of the kindest compassion for his poor
tittle travelling companions, ordered our room to be
got ready ; and in one minute, at most, after we had
laid our heads on our pillows, we were fast asleep.

Next morning, when we woke, it was very late.
The sun shone brightly into the room, and looking
from the window, we saw the village street, all quiet
and orderly, as if no revels had ever taken place
there. The Shoulder of Mutton, painted gaily in red
and white on a blue ground, hung between two posts
opposite ; the clock, in the church-tower across the
way, told it to be half-past ten o’clock. How late it
was! and there, walking along the churchyard path,
was our father, evidently on his way to the inn.
We lost no time; we washed and dressed like light-
ning; but, before we were ready to go down, our
father was at the chamber door.


G00D FOR EVIL. 139

Three minutes afterwards we were sitting with
him at the breakfast-table, talking over yesterday,
which in review seemed to us as long as three ordi-
nary days; nay, it almost seemed a week to us since
we had seen Ann Moore ; how the day had spread itself
out! And then we talked of the tidy little girl who
had entertained us so well, and thought that her
parents must be very queer people to leave her alone
in the house with that cross, deaf woman; and then
we pleased ourselves with the thought of our father
taking her a new frock, and wished we could see her
when it was given to her.

What a deal should we not have to tell our mother
when we reached home! :

CHAPTER XIV.
GOOD FOR EVIL.

Mr. SHepreRLey had been engaged for years in
cheese-buying. He had not been remarkably pros-
perous before his coming to our town, but things had
seemed to mend with him greatly since then. He
amused himself, as we have said, by amateur farming,
but his business was this dealing in cheese. He had
a person in his employment of the name of Lambert,
who travelled for him, not only to buy cheese, but to
sell it also, and this man, who was greatly in his eonfi-
dence, often had large sums of his money in his hands.
In the summer, a rumour was in the town that this
man was missing; that he had, it was feared, de-
camped with a considerable amount of money ; and
140 GOOD FOR EVIL.

if he were not found, it was said, there was no knowing
how Mr. Shepperley’s affairs would stand. Nothing
of course, for some time, was talked of but this ; our
parents talked of it, but there was no rancour in
their feelings; our mother, it is true, said that it had
always been her impression that no blessing could
rest upon him. The willows and the fir-trees did
not now annoy our father half as much as they had
done. He thought that, after all, Mr. Shepperley
never would build on the land. But Nanny had none
of their Christian forbearance. ‘‘ It serves him right!”
said she, ‘‘and I hope he ‘Il lose every penny; and I
won't tell a lie for nobody, anc I wish it with all my
heart—a good-for-nothing interloper, that could not
bear to see our master’s prosperity. I hope he’ll
come to beggary, that I do!”

We children, who sympathised so sincerely in all
our parents’ annoyances, and who had heard all that
the Shepperleys had done under the influence of sin-
gularly bad feeling, may perhaps be excused in having
more of Nanny’s spirit than our parents, though we
never openly avowed it as she did.

As the early succeeding year came on, it was clearly
ascertained that Lambert had absconded, not only
with the money which he should have paid for late
purchases to a considerable amount, but also with
money which for the last several months he had been
assiduously collecting from persons indebted to his
employer. A reward of a hundred pounds was now
offered for his apprehension.

This was at the beginning of March. Our father
was going to leave home on a journey of business
into North Wales; and now it was the day before
GOOD FOR EVIL. 141

that on which he was to set off. ‘The day had been
wild and stormy, and the evening seeined to come on
unusually early.

After tea, our father took up the map of North
Wales, and showed us where he was going. Our
mother sat by the fire, at her work; litthe Emma
was in bed; and Charles—the beauty !—he had been
on our mother’s knee till this moment almost. The
fire burned cheerfully ; our father had no anxious
business on his mind to make him silent and thought-
ful, nor had he any book which he wanted to fiiish,
Our mother’s work required no exact attention ; she
laid it down, or she took it up, and our father and
she talked, and that of which they talked interested
us greatly. They talked of Wales; how beautiful it
was ; how much they were attached to it ; how, when
we were old enough to understand and enjoy such
things, and the little children were old enough for
the journey, we would all go and spend a summer
there. Our mother said that, much as she ad-
mired Derbyshire and the beautiful scenery there,
that it was nothing to Wales, and that we would
really go and take a house for the summer some-
where among the mountains, and thoroughly eijoy
ourselves ; and then, from talking of that which they
would do in the future, they spoke of what had been
in the past. There is nothing which children enjoy
like hearing their parents tell of their earlier lives ;
and children, poor things! so seldom can get their
parents to gratify their curiosity on these subjects
when they want it. Children ask when parents are
not in a talking humour, and when the mind perhaps

wearied, and cannot go back into those distant days ;


142 GOOD FOR EVIL.

the children urge, and the parents talk of being
“bothered and worried to death.” They seem angry,
and the children go away rebuked and ashamed.
Happy, then, are the children, who on a long evening
which has only just begun, find their parents, all
unsolicited, and ‘just for their own amusement, dis-
posed to go back again into the days that have been,
and tell long histories, as if in emulation of each other,
of the times when they were young. Thus was it on
this pleasant evening. We seated ourselves, with the
utmost satisfaction, in our little chairs, and, silently
rubbing our hands together, like a delighted gourmand
at the sight of an exquisite delicacy, awaited the treat
that was coming. And then our father began and
told of the time when he was at Kidwelly, in South
Wales: it was at a dark time of his life, when many
reverses of fortune had come all at once upon him,
and he had made, as it were, a last throw, by en-
gaging in the coal mines of this neighbourhood. It
was about this time of the year—a wild and stormy
time—his money lay, as it were, in coal by the sea-
side, and his best personal property was a fine horse,
to which he was greatly attached. One night, as he
lay in bed, he heard the tide coming up with unusual
tumult. The high-water mark, even in spring tides,
was about a hundred yards from the house in which
he lived. The roar of the water was tremendvus;
and presently, what was his alarm to hear it lashing
along the shore just under the walls of his room! He
was alone in the house; his man-servant was gone
to a distant town on business, and the woman, who
waited on him and cooked fer him, lived a quarter of
a mile off, higher up, and came daily. He started from
GOOD FOR EVIL. 143

his bed in terror. There was not a star in the sky ;
heavy clouds seemed driven along before the wind,
and the sea-spray covered the chamber window, and
the whole house indeed, with water. The tide now
came in with heavy waves against the house; the
walls seemed to shake at every stroke. It seemed to
our father as if his last hour was come ; he thought
of his stacks of coal, which the sea must have now
carried far away ; and black ruin, as well as death,
seemed to stand before him. He commended himself
to God, and dressed rapidly, considering it his first
duty, if possible, to save his life. He heard his horse
neighing below in its stall, as if it called for human
help, and he rushed down stairs to save it. The
lower reom was already mid-leg deep in water, and,
finding the attempt to open the door vain, he broke
the window to make his escape. All was dark as
death ; the wind blew fearfully, and every moment
the tide came in with greater foree. In that dark
and awful night, abandoned as he felt both by God
and man, he described himself as almost overcome
by the affection with which his horse seemed to greet
him ; he neighed; he rubbed himself against him ;
he made every demonstration of love. Our father
led him from his stall to some higher ground, and
then walking him backwards and forwards, lest he
should take cold, he awaited the retreat of the tide
and the coming of the morning. With the morning
came, however, only a full knowledge of the misery
and ruin and desolation of the night. Many houses
were swept away, with all that they contained ;
many lives and much cattle were lost; the whole
shore was swept of everything upon it—not a particle
144 G00D FOR EVIL.

of our father’s coal remained. But his own misfor~
tunes seemed little in comparison of what others had
to endure. The whole summer felt the effects of it,
and before autumn there was absolute famine. Our
father had, as it were, to begin life again; but the
bitterest grief that he felt, he said, was regarding his
horse. In the first place, the noble creature had
to live on short commons, like its master. He
thought he would make any sacrifice rather than
part with it; but at length the day came when it
must go, or starve, and the latter could not be thought
of. He sent it to Carmarthen fair. It was the
finest horse there; and, spite of its lean condition,
brought a noble price. ‘‘ Fhe money,” said our
father, ‘“‘seemed almost like the price of blood to me,
and yet it was, as one may say, the foundation-stone
upon which my after- fortune was raised. The storm
at Kidwelly seemed to clear the horizon of my life:
better and brighter days came ever after.”

And then, after our father had done, our mother
told how she remembered removing with all her
family from Cumberland down into South Wales,
where her father was among the first engaged in the
great iron works in the neighbourhood of Merthyr
Tydvil ; and how she remembered being there a little
girl, and playing about with her brothers in the
lovely valleys there, when inhabitants were but few
—when the lovely little river Taafe ran singing
along its rocky bed, overhung with alder-trees. And
then came strange, wild anecdotes of the old forge-
men and their superstitions ; of spectres that they
saw among the hills, one or two of whom came down
and raked busily among the cinders of the forge, as
GOOD FOR EVIL. 145

if looking for something which they could never
find.

Thus talked our parents, and the time passed as if
on wings of eagles. It was nine o'clock; it was past
our bed-time. We must go to bed.

“ Oh, no; not yet,” we pleaded. ‘“ Do let us stay
a little bit longer: we do so like to hear you talk !”

* Well, let them sit up,” said our father. ‘“ Poor
things! let them sit up. I shall not be here to-
morrow night.”

A little indulgence kindly given, how it touches
the heart of a child—more especially when it ex-
pected a refusal of its small request! Yes, we might
sit up, and hear them talk! And more than that,
our mother said we should ha¥e some supper; and
then she rang the bell, and ordered in some cheese-
eakes and biscuits, and damson-cheese and a bottle of
cowslip wine, and our father said he would have in
apples and walnuts, toe; and thus a nice little enter-
tainment was spread out as unexpectedly to us as to
the Israelites their manna in the wilderness. We all
ate cheesecakes and damson-cheese, and biscuits and
apples, and sat cracking nuts, and drinking wine, till
half-past ten. Our parents talked no more about the
time when they were young, but they talked about
this next summer, when really and truly the whole
family should go to Matlock or somewhere; and
then our father told us that he was geing to buy more
land, and that perhaps this year we should have a
deal more hay-making than we had ever had before ;
and when we had heard this good news, our mother
said that we looked sleepy, and that she could see, as
it were, little pulleys to our eye-lids ; and our father

®
146 GOOD FOR EVIL.

langhed, and said that he saw the same at our mother’s
eye-lids, and that he really believed she was the
sleepiest of us all; but that we must every one of us
now go to bed, because he must be off by six o’clock
the next morning; and so, as | was the youngest, he
would carry me up-stairs on his back, and, because
Anna was the oldest, she must light us.

Such a pleasant evening as that we thought had
never been spent: we fancied we were not at all
sleepy ; but, however, we soon dropped into a plea-
sant oblivion when we lay in bed, and dreamed all
night about going to Matlock, or somewhere, next
summer, and into Wales when we were old enough.

Next morning, when we woke, our father had set
out on his journey.

This journey, in itself merely connected with bu-
siness, could in no way have interested the reader had
it not been for that which it led to, and which we
will now proceed to relate. Our father had to see
an estate lying on the sea-shore, in Flintshire, and
which consisted of several small fayins. Among the
oceupiers of these, he was particularly recommended
to one man as a person somewhat above his class,
and from whom he might obtain information which
would be useful to him. ‘To this person he went.
The man apologised for not taking our father into the
parlour, which he said was occupied by a lodger, but
seated him in a sort of better kitchen, where they
began to transact their business. Our father sat with
his back to the parlour door, and his face towards a
large old-fashioned looking-glass, which slanted for-
ward from the wall, and exactly reflected the parlour:
door. Whilst they were in the midst of their busic
GOOD FOR EVIt. 147

ness this door opened ; our father accidentally raised
his head at the moment, and saw, to his infinite
amazement, no other person than Lambert, the agent
of Mr. Shepperley, and for whose apprehension a
hundred guineas was now offered. Startled as he
was by this apparition, he gave no sign of surprise or
recognition, but went on, listening and replying to the
farmer, noticing all the while the movements of the
other person. He, seeing a stranger in the kitchen,
withdrew again,and the parlour-door closed ; presently,
however, this door again opened, but quite softly and
silently, and he, quite unconscious the while of being
observed, peeringly took a review of the stranger,
Anon, the door closed as silently as it had opened ;
and then, apparently satisfied, he came out boldly,
with his hat on, and went out of the house by a door
which did not oblige him to pass before them. When
he was out of the house, and their conversation
seemed naturally to be brought to a close, our father,
as if quite casually, inquired where this lodger came
from, and who he was? The farmer could not give
very definite information; his name, he said, was
Watson, and he came from somewhere out of the
North of England; he had been with them three
weeks or so; he had come at first quite accidentally,
on a stormy night in February ; he had taken a post-
chaise to Abergelle, and had been upset, and very
much hurt; he had his head tied up, and a great
patch over his eye, for a whole week after he came.
He was a very quiet gentleman, however. He went
for his luggage to Chester a few days after he came
to them, and had been with them ever since. He had
said that he had brothers in America, and he talked
1438 GOOD FOR EVIL.

of going over to them. He was a very clever, well-
spoken gentleman, the farmer said; would our father
like to have some talk with him 2

“No, no!” said our father, hastily, and took his
leave. This was a strange rencontre. Here was the
man who no doubt was personally possessed of
Mr. Shepperley’s property. What was he to do?
Mr. Shepperley was his enemy; had returned him
evil for good; had annoyed him in every possible
way; had counteracted him; had endeavoured to
rob him of the innocent pleasure his own little pos-
sessions could give him; had insulted him before his
own townspeople ; had maligned him to his friends ;
had, in short, embittered his peace for the last two
years. What should he now do? Let this man
escape; return evil for evil; and then, when his
enemy was perhaps reduced to poverty by this man’s
flight, go to him, and say, “I could have laid my
hands on him, and saved you from ruin ; but F would
not, because you were my enemy!” Should he act
thas? Human nature is, we know, alike every-
where, and these were the thoughts that presented
themselves; but our father let not such thoughts as
these influence him to evil. “No,” said he; “the
man is my enemy; evil for good he has requited me;
but, for all this, I will not do otherwise than I would
be done to. I will save Shepperley if I can - I will
return good for his evil!” Blessings on our father’s
memory for this victory over himself!

He sent for the farmer to the inn, and then
informed him that his lodger was such and such, as
he described. ‘The farmer started ; it was impossible !
It took a long time to convince him; but suspicion
GOOD FOR EVIL. 149

once excited, he remembered many things which con-
firmed all that my father had said. Some of the
household had doubted his really having a black eye.
He had been seen once or twice with sandy whiskers
on; he always seemed suspicious when anybody was
about the place ; he never went to church, nor farther
than the garden, excepting after dusk ; his linen, the
women of the family had observed, was marked with
some initial which did not serve for Watson. He now
therefore promised to do all that lay in his power to.
bring him to justice, and seemed quite impatient to
set aboutit. Our father said that a hundred pounds
reward was offered for his apprehension. On this,
the farmer's countenance fell. ‘‘ Hang it!” said he,
““money is good in its way, and it never was my luck
to have a hundred pounds either given or offered me ;
money is money's worth, any how; but money for a
human being’s life or liberty, that rather goes against
my conscience ! ” |

Our father commended the farmer's sense of
honour ; “ but,” said he, *‘ if you do not take it, some:
one else will, that’s all. This man must be secured.
I shall go myself immediately to Flint for the proper
authorities, and, in the meantime, shall look to you
to deliver him up.”

The farmer no longer made any hesitation. The
whole thing was done as by the most skilful manage-
ment; and within four-and-twenty hours he was
lodged in Flint Jail.

Our father came home with the consciousness of
having done a good action. The news of this man’s
unexpected apprehension had not yet reached the
town. I shall never forget our father’s countenance

02
150° GOOD FOR EVIL.

when he came home; he looked pale and excited
Our mother was alarmed, for she feared that he was
ill, or that he had bad news to tell. ‘* No,” said he,
“bad news I have none to tell—rather, I think you
will consider it, good. I have had a severe combat
with myself, and have been the victor. I have, in
short, saved Shepperley from ruin — voluntarily
done it!” ,

“Thank God, for having strengthened you to do
this!” said our mother, and wiped her eyes.

We, too, were affected; for, though we did not
exactly understand how, we knew that our father
‘had returned good for evil. There is something very
eennebling in generosity and virtue of every kind. We
‘both of us felt it; the love and admiration of virtue
‘were kindled in our hearts. We looked on our
‘father with pride; in our eyes he was a far greater
‘man than if a golden coronet was on his brows. We
‘said we were glad that our father had done this; and
‘if Bob Shepperley were here now, we would shake
‘hands with him; and we were very sorry that we
‘had ever said a word against the Shepperleys’ baby;
dt was a fine baby, of that there was no doubt; and
‘yet, after all, everybody must see that it was nothing
‘to our Charley!

Our father wrote a note to Mr. Shepperley, inform-
‘ing him of what he had done, and leaving him now to
take the necessary steps to recover his property. We
‘were all impatient for his answer. Our mother had
wondered how he would behave; she thought he
‘must be overwhelmed with shame of his own con-
‘duct, and that he would feel coals of fire heaped upon
his head ‘She said that, if there were one spark of
GOOD FOR EVIL. 151

generosity in him, he would fly to our father, and
ask forgiveness for all his unkindness and malice ;
and if there were one grain of goodness in him, he
would feel shame and bitterness towards himself, and
towards our father gratitude and the highest admira-
tion of his conduct.

Our father said merely, that he must leave the
thing to itself; that he had done what he believed to
be right ; and that was alone sufficient reward.

This he said, dear, good man; but it was evident,
by his impatience till he gained an answer, that he
hoped for something more ; he hoped to melt a hard
heart ; to excite, by his own virtue, the sense of good-
ness in a spirit naturally base. We children, as we
had felt from the first, were quite impatient to be
forgiving everybody ; we wanted the whole Shepper-
ley family here to forgive them, to heap kindnesses
on them, to taste again and again, as the expression
is, “ the luxury of doing good.”

Mr. Shepperley, however, did not come in person
either to express his thanks, or to receive our forgive-
ness; he wrote a note in return; he thanked our
father for the trouble he had been at, but said that
he had received a regular announcement from the
authorities in Flint, informing him of the apprehen-
sion of Lambert. Nothing in this world could be
cooler than this note. Our mother was very warm
about it; our father moderated her, but it was evident
that he was hurt.

We went into the garden, and presently our father
came, and took us up to the Timber-lane Fields; and if
we had not known of this his late vexation, we might
have said that no trouble had been near his spirit for
1§2 GOOD FOR EVIL.

many months; he talked so cheerfully, and ran races
with us, and looked for orchises and primroses, as if
he had been a child. Surely there must have been
truth in his words, ‘that he had done his duty, and
that alone was a sufficient reward'” When we
returned, our mother told us that Mrs. Shepperley
had been ; she talked a deal about gratitude, and said
that she hoped there might be a better understanding
between us than there had been. At these words,
our mother, somewhat offended, drew herself up, and
said, that, as to a bad understanding, that implied
fault on both sides. Now, on the contrary, her own
and her husband’s conduct had always been the most
open and friendly in the world; the Shepperleys
must thank themselves for the bad understanding.
On this, Mrs. Shepperley had burst into tears, and
laying her hand on our mother’s arm, said she herself
had a deal to bear; that if she might rule, things
should have been very different to what they had
been, &c., &c. Our mother was a little touched;
and Mrs. Shepperley again and again, with much
apparent emotion, declared that she should never
cease to feel the deepest gratitude; and then took her
leave.

Our mother was now inclined to think that, as
Mrs. Shepperley said, if she might rule, things should
be different to what they were. That was the opinion
of a day or two; but then came poor Nanny, with
her vehemence and her hearsay.

** Well, there never was in this world such a man
as our master! Would I have stopped the fellow!
No, not 1! I would have helped him off; and now
what will our master get by it? Why, that all the
GOOD FOR EVIL. 153

Shepperleys, big and little, will despise him, and do
him all the more mischief for it! Folks say ‘one
good turn deserves another,’ but those Shepperleys’
maxim is ‘one good turn deserves two bad ones.’
And now what do you think Mrs. Shepperley herself
says, when our master’s letter came in? why, she
says to Martha, the nurse-maid, ‘ What must he be
poking into our affairs for? as if our advertisements
would not have taken Lambert; but it’s just like
him, always poking his fingers into other folks’
pies.”

Oh, Nanny, Nanny, was not this a piece of your
own invention ? So one might have imagined, and per-
haps discovered, if one had not had such a prejudice
against the Shepperleys, and, spite of one’s mood of
forgiveness, been ready to believe anything against
them.

The affair of the Shepperleys was now two or
three weeks old. He was away from home, following
up clues which presented themselves, now here and
now there, for the recovery of other money than that
which had been found in Lambert's possession. The
town was ringing with the report of our father’s.
noble action, and the town was generous enough to.
declare that it was indeed a noble action; people:
began to say that, after all, our father was vastly
superior to Mr. Shepperley ; and what had Mr. Shep-.
perley done for them, with all his swagger and talk ?
Did not they walk on good pavements of our father’s.
laying down; were not the streets, on winter nights,
light and comfortable; was not water now freely
given for the use and accommodation of the poorest:
of the ini.abitants; and through him there was now
154 GOOD FOR EVIL.

no danger of breaking one’s ribs by running them
against a projecting post or rail, or breaking one’s
shins over a step or a scraper; and did not people,
who now came to the town after a few years absence,
wonder at its general improvement ; and was not all
this owing to the public spirit of our father? To be
sure it was! and he was out of pocket by it, and had
experienced nothing but annoyance. Well, it should
not be so much longer. Thus talked the good towns-
people ; for, like us children, they were quite kindled
into a noble, generous spirit, by the contemplation of
a fine action.

Upon this feeling also they acted; but alas, our poor
father was soon no longer in a state of mind to be
cheered even by the brave enthusiasm of his towns-
people, for his heart was full of the most fearful
anxiety. Our mother was ill. A dark cloud rested,
as it were, on our house. It was early summer ; the
garden was full of flowers; the birds were singing
round in the trees, but none of us enjoyed any of
these things, for a sore sickness had seized upon her
who was as the sunshine of the house, and every one
wore a sad countenance, and moved about softly, as
if they feared to disturb a beloved sleeper.

The little children, however, throve and throve ;
Nanny and Rhoda carried them out, and kept up
their old feud, though, from love to their mistress,
they quarrelled only when no one could hear them.
155

CHAPTER XV.
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED.

Every morning now, the first question was “ how
is our mother this morning?” For a long time people
shook their heads in reply: they hoped she was no
worse, but alas! there came not the cheering words,
* she is better!” Physicians came from a distance,
the most skilful of physicians ; and prescriptions, and
medicines, and with them new hopes ; but the cloud
remained still in the house, and the answer was,
“ she is very ill indeed!” Everybody was unusually
kind to us ; neighbours and friends asked us to spend
the whole day at their houses. We walked out
every evening with Mrs. Parker, for our father
seemed never to go out.

Long rows of medicine bottles stood on a shelf in
the kitchen, and little Emma had empty pill-boxes
to play with till she cared nothing about them. At
length it pleased the mercy of God to send, as it were,
the wing of an angel to fan away the cloud by degrees.
Blessed be Ged who afflicts only to turn our hearts
the more to him!

“¢ She is a little better,” began now to be the reply.
*“ Certainly she is better; the doctor gives hopes.”

People now looked so smilingly on us, and met us
saying, ‘‘ we were glad that your mother is better !”
Oh, and so were we ! |

Our father began to walk out with us again. We
began again to hear the little ones laughing loudly
156 HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED.

and even crying too in the house. The physician’s
visits were less frequent. The shelf in the kitchen
—the bottles having been sold again and again—now
filled but slowly, and pill-boxes began again to be in
request. Our mother now sate up in bed, and now
we were allowed to be in her room an hour or two at
a time.

The woman who waited upon her was the mother
of the little girl to whom we had given the dolls, the
wife of the English soldier in the doleful French
prison. Our mother was now well enough to sit up
in an easy-chair, and to bear conversation in her room,
and this woman now told us of her husband's suffer-
ings, and showed to us the letters which, “* few and
far between,” written as with a blunt stick on com-
mon cap-paper, had been smuggled out of his prison
and sent over—Heaven knows how. Pathetic letters
they were, and revived all our old horror and abhor-
rence of the Conqueror Buonaparte.

Our mother now sate in a wrapping-gown, sup-
ported by pillows, at the open chamber-window,
through which came the soft, warm gales, sweet with
odours of honeysuckle and Jasmine. Every moment
of time which we had to spare we passed in her
room ; she was more interesting to us now than even
the little darling Charles, now nearly twelvemonths
old.

A sorrowful thing is sickness—most sorrowful
when those, dear to ws as our own lives, are its vic-
tims. Everything that comes in the form of good,
joy, riches, honour, al! these lose their value; we
cannot enjoy them, for our hearts are cut to the quick;
they have room but for one sentiment, and that is
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED. 187

love and sorrow. A mournful thing indeed is sick-
ness, for in our souls it is closely akin to death!

But oh, how joyful a thing is the recovery of a
beloved friend—a mother, a wife, a child! Yes, it is
joyful, and let those bless God to whom has been
vouchsafed such blessing! Better than feasting, better
than riches, better than the applause of the world, is
the seeing the hue of health again tinge a beloved
cheek which we have seen lately white, as we thought,
with the pallor of death. The sitting-up for the
first time; the going out for the first time—what a
holiday of the heart they create !

Day by day I have watched a cheek fade ; an eye
grow dimmer, a voice fainter—and oh, surest sign of
all, a spirit grow purer and nobler—I have said death
is there! and then have started as from a traitor in
my own soul. I have shut my eyes, my every sense
against conviction, and have said, ‘* No, death will
not come here!”

But death has come—has shorn down the flower
and left me to wake as from a frightful dream! I
have then gone abroad, and seen happy, loving groups
around their invalid who was drawn out in the easy-
chair for the healing, cheering, spring air. Day after
day I have met them ; the group has been gayer day
by day ; the cheek of the convalescent has become
more and more of a healthy hue: I partook their joy,
though to see them made my very heart ache. I
could tell, by my own unfulfilled longings, how great
was their happiness; what joy there was in their
waking, what pleasant dreams in their sleep; how
cheerful would seem the home to which they had te

P
158 HOUSEHOLD ‘WISHES OBTAINED.

return; how joyous each coming day that brought
strength to their beloved !

Thank God that sickness does not always end in
death !

Our parents had said that in summer we should all
go to Matlock, or somewhere. The summer came,
and the doctors said that a month at Buxton would
do our mother good, would perhaps quite restore her,
Thither our father took her and her attendant, and
after staying a few days returned, bringing us the
good news that she certainly would be much better
soon. The house was desolate when she was gone;
we thought we should never get through the whole
month without her. The hay-harvest was over, and,
somehow, the hay-harvest this year had not the
charms for us that it had formerly. Mrs. Parker,
too, was gone into Leicestershire to see her daugl.ter;
everything was against us, when fate threw in our
way the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. Here was
a joy for us for a month of summer—a month of
suminer weather in the midst of a garden! We
read, and read, and read, and could think of nothing
but caliphs and dervishes, and barbers and magicians,
and fair Persians, and sultanas, and genii of the sea
and of the air, and old women and enchantresses, and
Heaven knows what. Our heads were fairly turned
by them. We invented no more tales about common
things ; we had done with dramas froin quiet history.
Nothing had any charm for us that was not an East-
ern Tale. Again the greatest intimacy suhsisted
between us and the Taylors. We lent them the
volumes as we had done with them ; they sate in
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED. 159

their garden reading, and we in ours, doing the same;
we flew to the hedge and compared our ideas and
opinions, and then thrust another volume into their
hands that they might read what had just entranced
us. We were all in a perfect delirium. Rhoda,
Charley’s nurse, found one of the books; she too read
and was as much charmed as we. Nothing was done;
nothing was talked of, nothing was thought of, but
the Arabian Tales.

Out of our dream of Araby the Blessed, however,
we were awoke by two things: which of them
afforded us the greater joy it is difficult to say—but
we will take them consecutively. And first of all, a
word or two of Mr. Shepperley.

Poor Mr.Shepperley’s grandeur was now at an end.
A considerable part of the embezzled property was
recovered on the apprehension of Lambert, but such
defalcations in many ways came to light; such de-
mands presented themselves on all hands; such
embarrassment and perplexity had fallen upon Mr.
Shepperley’s affairs, that it would take years to re-
trieve them, if total bankruptcy could be avoided.
Our father had freely and fully forgiven his enemy:
the dark fir-trees by the garden side caused him nou
longer any annoyance ; he spoke now of ‘ poor She,-
perley,” and I verily believe longed for an oppor-
tunity of doing him good. He pitied now the man
against whom the tide of misfortune had set in.

Nanny said that all this served Mr. Shepperley
right, and that if he came to want bread she should
not pity him. But Nanny’s “‘bark,” to use a Scotch
proverb, ‘“‘ was worse than her bite,’ for a week
afterwards, when the Shepperleys’ baby actually had
160 HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED.

the croup, as she predictea, she surprised us and her-
self no doubt, by the most genuine expression of
pity, and a declaration that ‘‘ if missis was at home
and would have given her leave she would have gone
and nursed it.”

But I was going to tell of something which gave
us pleasure, and it certainly was not that all these
troubles had befallen Mr. Shepperley, although in
some sort the Shepperleys misfortune brought about
our advantage.

One day when we were playing together in the
garden, we heard our father's voice very cheerfully
calling us. ‘* Children,” said he, and we flew to
him. He was standing against the fence which
divided our garden from the much-desired piece of
ground, and was twisting off young twigs from one
of Mr. Shepperley’s young Scotch firs; “* what should
you think now,” said he, “‘ of our having this piece
of land this autumn ?”

We jumped for joy. ‘* And should we then have
the fountain and the greenhouse?” we asked.

‘“¢ How pleased your mother would be!” said he,
without replying to our question.

‘“¢ And shall we have it?” we demanded eagerly.

“I think that perhaps we may,” said our father.

‘“¢ And then we shall have these ugly fir-trees cut
down?” asked we.

“Yes, we wili!” said our father emphatically.

We were ready to lend a helping hand that minute.

*¢ It is not ours yet,” said our father, “ but I was
thinking how pleased your mother would be if we
could get it, and then keep it for her as a pleasant
surprise when she came.” |
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED. 161

“Let us! let us,” we exclaimed. Our father smiled,
and said that perhaps that was easier said than done,
but that we should see. Nothing more could we get
from our father that night; and the next morning the
plan that he unfolded to us put the thoughts of the
garden almost out of our heads.

‘“‘ Now,” said our father, ‘ suppose I were to take
you over to see your mother at Buxton, could you
keep the secret about the garden quite safe from her,
and never hint one word about it ?”

We laughed ; we leaped up; we screamed for joy.
“ Take us to Buxton to see our mother? Oh do,
do! and we will never say one syllable about the
garden!” |

Our father seemed to have arranged all his plans
ready ; there was hardly time for us to turn ourselves
round, for he said that he was going to set off directly,
and we must therefore be ready in no time. It would
be vain to attempt any description of Nanny’s con-
sternation at this news. We, to set off instantly to
Buxton to see our mother! and nothing ready—the
best frocks in the wash ; the second best frocks want-
ing the tucks letting down; the best bonnets none of
the best ; the new shoes not come from the shoe-
maker, and the old ones out at the toes! Oh Lord!
oh Lord! It was just like these men, never to give
one a minute's warning; they had no more thought
than cats! Poor Nanny was in despair, and well she
might be ; we danced about with little Emma; we
kissed the darling Charles; we upset the jug and
basin of water ; we put on the wrong shoes; we
nearly sat on our best bonnets; we tore the strings
off our petticoats—we were quite out of our senses,

P2
162 HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED.

And now the gig is at the door! and the little
trunk is not half ready with the things—and
there, the combs and brushes are not in! and Nanny
is quite sure that something will be forgotten that
ought not to be forgotten! and at the last minute
—Jjust as I am going-down stairs the discovery is
made that one of my stockings is wrong side out!
It must be changed——our father calls—I cannot
stay; and poor Nanny consoles herself with the
reflection that to put on anything wrong side out
is lucky.

Our father and we had made many pleasant little
journeys together before, but none so pleasant as this.
We were going to see our mother who was so much
better, and we all three of us had a pleasant secret in
the bottom of our hearts that we were not to tell to
any one. It was to lie there like a little well-spring
of joy, but was to lie there concealed.

Our father, however, annoyed us a little by saying
that he doubted whether we should keep the secret,
and quite distressed me by saying that he did not so
much fear Anna telling it as me, but that I was
famous for “ letting the cat out of the bag ;” I almost
jumped out of the gig in indignation. I could not
think that I was so! Was I really? I besought my
father to tell me how and when I had ever let any
cat out of the bag. He replied, “ Plenty of times;
but there was no use in reaping up old grievances ; if
he chose to tell me he could; but by-gones should
be by-gones.”

I was both grieved and angry; I wished he had
mot said so; I began to consider with myself: I
could net remember ever letting the cat eut of the
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED. 163

bag more than anybody else. “ Do I, Anna?” |
asked, appealing to her.

“ Nay, nay, said my father laughing, “do not
drag her into the serape ; shew us now that you can
keep this secret, and then we will call you trust-
worthy.”

** Oh dear me!” said I, in a tone of discontent,
*‘ it is such a bad thing to get a bad character. I
know that they say I am ‘slippery-fingered,’ and
you and my mother say sometimes do not give
that to Mary, because she is so ‘ slippery-fingered,”
and now Nanny says so, and it is very disagreeable !
IT don't think in reality that I am so, only I have got
the character for being so, and that is just as bad as
if I deserved it!”

“ Yes, yes,” said my father, smiling at my earnest-
ness, ‘‘it is a bad thing to have a bad character—but
a great deal worse to deserve it.”

‘“‘ But do I deserve it?” I demanded with quite a
sore feeling in my mind.

“ We will see,” said my father ; “ if you can keep
this little cat of ours safe in the bag all the time we
are at Buxton.”

“ J think she will,” said Anna, kindly putting her
hand into mine and pressing it.

This little conversation troubled me. I could
think of nothing but what secrets I had ever let out,
and what cups I had ever broken. My pride was
wounded ; I thought that I was wrongfully accused,
and it was a long time before 1 recovered my cus-
tomary easy flow of spirits; nor did I quite get over
my vexation, or forget it, until 1 met my own dear
mother.
164 HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED.

She looked so well, so cheerful, so active, so glad
to see us, that our happiness was complete.

** Mother, we are going to have that piece of land!”
came to my lips within the first five minutes of our
meeting, but a good angel checked the words. I felt
as if I had been saved from a fall down a precipice,
I was almost sick with the thought. ‘‘ Oh, if I had
said it!’ I thought to myself: it quite depressed
my spirits, and I could not help thinking to myself,
perhaps after all, I do let cats out of bags. And I
fear that I shall tell her before I have done, for it is
never out of my mind. And it never was. I was
always thinking now suppose I should tell; suppose
I should blab it out quite suddenly ; should forget
myself and say, ‘“‘ Mother, we are going to have that
piece of land!” This secret was quite a torment to
me and, spite of the pleasure which the thing itself
afforded me, I wished I had never known it.

To us of course Buxton was a most interesting
place. We went to see the people bathe, which we
thought marvellously odd; sc many people in one
bath, and ourown motheramong them. We walked
about and saw the gay company, and were introduced
to the acquaintance which our mother had made, and
went to the petrifying well and the spar-shops, and
had spar-boxes, and smelling-bottles in the shape of
onions, given to us; it was a new and a curious world.

On. Sunday we all went in a post-chaise to spend
the day with some friends of our parents in a Peak
village, about fifteen miles off. The whole drive was
to us most interesting through such a stony, grey and
tree-less region: the grey stone walls which sepa-
rated the fields; the bleak hill-sides scattered over
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED. 165

with huge masses of grey stone; the grey, stony
road along which we drove; the villages built of
grey-stone with stone roofs to their houses; the
people, old and young, with their light hair, light
blue eyes and very pink complexions, giving one the
idea of dwellers in a keen mountain air; all were
objects of curious remark to us. The village to
which we were going, like all the rest, stood
low in a valley among bleak, tree-less hills, a little
group of grey houses, with the well-proportioned
church-spire rising high above them. The village,
however, was more remarkable for many tall ash-
trees, and thence had its name. A little brook ran
along the village street, crossed at almost every house
by a broad slab of stone which formed a bridge.
This clear brook came murmuring merrily along
from a wild and rocky valley which, contrasting
pleasantly with the bald hill-sides, was full of trees
and verdure.

The house to which our visit was directed stood
delightfully above this valley, a grey house with a
deal of white painting about it, which must give it in
winter a cold look, but which in summer strikes the
eye as particularly agreeable. especially when creep-
ing plants and abundance of flowers are taken into
account. The garden walks were composed of lime-
stone, broken as fine as the finest gravel, and which,
like everything else, looked grey. The interior of
the house spoke of the region in which it stood ;
there were models of mines under glass-shades, cabi-
nets of minerals; fine specimens of quartz and lead
ore stood on the chimney-piece among marble obelisks
and spar candlesticks. The father, mother, and
166 HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED.

children had all a bleak, weathered look; their cheeks
were pink, and so were the tips of their noses and
their chins, yet they were rather a handsome family.
There were plenty of children, and they, like their
parents, were excellent hosts; they took us to see their
gardens which were bordered with limestone ; stone-
crop and house-leek, and sedums and rock-cistus grew
about everywhere and really were beautiful.

From the garden we went to the lovely valley
whence issued the little rivulet, and a real paradise
of a valley it was. How beautifully it lives in my
remembrance with its grey, splintered rocks covered
with lichens; its fantastic growth of tree and shrub ;
its brawling, playful rivulet ; its soft, green herbage ;
the depth which we seemed to descend into its bot-
tom; the few sheep that were grazing there; the
height that we looked up to the blue sky above, where
hawks, that we fancied might be eagles, were soaring ;
how full of poetry it was! These things seen but
not reasoned about, enter very deeply into the
imagination of children and never pass away. Were
{ now to see that valley, it would perhaps appear very
different—a mere common dell—but it lives in my
imagination, nevertheless, as the loveliest of all
valleys—a bit of Elysian scenery.

This was a rich day to us, and furnished us with a
deal to think of, besides which we carried away with
us pieces of blue-john quartz and lead ore, with
which we thought to begin « cabinet of minerals. I
was never once troubled by my secret all this day.

The next morning we left Buxton.

“ You have kept your secret famously, Mary,”
said our father, as we were on our homeward way.
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED. 167

“ J knew that I should,” said I, triumphantly.

‘¢ Remarkably well,” said my father, as if it was
an extraordinary thing.

I had it on my lips to say that I was very nearly
blabbing it out, when I remembered fortunately, that
the telling this would be the letting my own cat out
of the bag. I felt as if I had only narrowly escaped
betraying myself, and I thought for the first time,
“ Perhaps, after all, I really cannot keep a secret
well.”

We came home: Mrs. Parker too had returned,
and our lessons again commenced. For several days
nothing was said about the piece of land ; our father
was busy in his office, and we with our tasks. We
were beginning to count the days before our mother’s
return, when our father one evening told us with a
joyful countenance that he was really and truly the
possessor of the long-wished-for piece of land, though
we should not come into possession of it till autumn.;
and because I had kept the secret so well at Buxton,
I should have the pleasure of announcing the joyful
news to our mother.

I thought that now to be honest I must tell the
truth about the trouble I had had to keep it. My
father smiled, and said,

** Yes, yes, he could believe it, but that after all
there was more virtue in resisting temptation than in
never being tempted.”

I was all at once a little heroine in my own eyes,
and felt happy to have deserved my father’s com-
mendation. We walked up and down the garden
and stood on tiptoe to look over the fence into our
own, piece of land. We longed for Michaeimas, when
168 HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED.

we could go in and see the envious fir-trees pulled up,
We supposed that immediately the pieee of land
would be laid to the garden; the fountain made; the
conservatory built, and the joy and delight of a hand-
somime garden at once be ours. Great therefore was
our astonishment, great beyond words, when our
father said, “ No, the garden would not be made yet,
perhaps not for some years; one thing at @ time must
be done; he had secured the land, and that was enough
for the present.” It did not seem so to us. Children,
never like waiting; they live in the present, the
future is a great way off, and time seems to move
slowly. I now in review can see, what in perspec-
tive I could not see, the time really come when the
fence was taken down, and the younger children
bounded, as joyfully as we then should have done,
into the new piece of ground which was, henceforth,
to become a part of our own pleasant garden.

- My whole thought was, next, how I should in the
best manner communicate this good mewsto our mother.
Sometimes I thought of making her guess what glad
tidings I could tell; sometimes I thought of writing
it in a sort of address on her return, which I would
put into her hand ; sometimes that 1 would lead her
into the garden right up to the fence, and bidding
her to look over it, exclaim, * All this is ours now!”
and sometimes I thought of shouting out the moment
she entered the house, ‘* Mother, mother, that piece
of land is ours!” and this after all seemed to me
the pleasantest and the most natural. ,

It was night when our mother came, and we sate
up for her coming. How joyous is a mothers
return! We watched at the gate for the chaise
HOUSEHOLD WISHES OBTAINED. 169

turning the corner of the street, and at last we beheld
the joyful sight.

And now our mother had kissed us and was in the
house, and Nanny and Rhoda were both in the lobby
presenting each her own child; boxes and bandboxes
were being brought in, and I was bursting with my
secret, when before she entered the parlour-door I
kissed her hand, exclaiming, ‘‘ Mother, guess! Our
father has bought it !—It is our own now! Are you
not pleased ?” |

Our father stood by and smiled; Anna looked
uneasy ; our mother bewildered. I saw, after all,
that I had managed it badly. |

‘* Your mother understands nothing about it—the
little cat is in the bag yet,” said our father, laughing

‘‘ That piece of land is ours,” said I, drawing her
to the window, and now speaking plainly, “ our
father has bought that piece of land that was Mr.
Shepperley’s; the fir-trees will now be cut down, and
it will be our garden sometime.”

‘‘ Have you really bought the land?” exclaimed
our mother, evidently greatly surprised and pleased,
“ have you indeed beught it 2”

“Yes,” said our father, ‘and Mary has been
deputed to tell you the good news because she kept
the secret all the time we were at Buxton.”

My mother smiled and stroked my head, and said
that she would reward my good tidings with some-
thing or other.
170

CHAPTER XVI.
FAREWELL!

SCARCELY was our mother again settled at home
when Mrs. Parker and she had many clesetings to-
gether, and long consultations. We wondered what
in the world it could be about. At length, like most
other mysteries it came out, and greatly mdeed did it
surprise us.

Mrs. Parker, it seemed, wished to reside with her
daughter in Lincolnshire. She wished to go at
Michaelmas, or even before it, and thus she would be
no longer able to teach us. We received with sur-
prise, and no little sorrow, this intelligence, and then,
just afterwards, intelligence no whit more agreeable—
after Michaelmas we were to go to a boarding-schoolk
at Croydon. Croydon was. a long way off, above a
hundred and fifty miles, and we children had never
heard its name before.

Mrs, Parker took the map of England and showed
us where it was, and by what route we should go, how
we should pass through Leicester and Northampton,
and St. Albin’s and London! What a charming
journey we should have! how happy we should be
at school, with companions of our own age, and how
good it would be for us, and what a pleasure it would
be to be able to improve ourselves more than we could
do at home!

Ah! we thought, it was all fine talking. They
who were going to stop at home could easily make
light of other people's going away !
#AREWELL * 171

The weeks went on; new clothes were getting
weady for us, and our parents began to talk of the
journey. Our mother was to go with us; we were
to go by post-chaises all the way, and should be three
‘days‘on the journey. Qur parents were kinder and
more cheerful than ever; they placed nothing but
pleasant images before our minds; they made, even
at last, the going to school seem pleasant.

Michaelmas appreached; our dear Mrs. Parker
gave us our last lesson ; she took her last cup of tea
with us; took with us her last walk, gave us good
‘counsel, blessed us, and we all parted with tears. Ah!
if all teachers were like Mrs. Parker, there would be
no prejudices, even in the minds of the happiest,
nome-loving children, against school and instructors !

The happy day came, on which our father had pos-
‘session of the long-desired piece of land, and all the
family made an incursien inte it, and men dug up the
fir-trees and the willows. Our father walked about
with little Charles in his arms, and our mother by
one side, and we with little Emma between us on the
other, and listened to him plan how at some future
time here should extend lawn, there shrubbery ; here
should be the fountain, there the conservatory, and
here—a new idea inspired by the moment—a rustic
summer-house, with a sun-dial before it. We now
were glad, seeing that we were going to school such a
Jong way off, that nothing was going to be done for
the present. We flattered ourselves that we might
be at home when the great alteration really took
place.

And now the day was at hand on which we two
little pilgrims of life were about to be left somewhat
172 FAREWELL :

to our own guidance; were to be removed from all
those we loved, and were to be sent away among
strangers. But yet we were to be together ; we two,
who had gone hand in hand so lovingly, so consolingly
——that was the one drop of comfort, and it sweetened
the whole bitter cup.

It was on the 24th of October when we set out ; in
the maturity of autumn, but of an autumn, bright
and warm and dry. Our luggage was strapped behind
the chaise ; a large, new black leather trunk, and
one or two smaller ones were inside. We had a
basket of biscuits and cheesecakes and sandwiches to
eat when we were hungry, for Nanny remembered
that we had good appetites, and she put up provision
enough for three or four days, even had we not taken
our regular meals each day, and thus we had the plea-
sure of astonishing beggars and wayside children by a
rain of provisions into their hats or laps.

The first night we spent with some relations of
ours near Leicester ; the lady of the house was pas-
sionately fond of flowers ; her rooms were like a con-
servatory, and her garden a perfect garden of Eden.
We were obliged to acknowledge that our garden was
not as pretty as this; but thought what it might be
when that piece of land was added to it, and we, grown
up and come from school, would attend to it like this
lady ; and visions of our future garden floated before us
——prophetic glimpses of that garden which in coming
years we two inseparable sisters were to cultivate
together and take such pride in, till fate, or better
still, a wise and good Providence parted us and gave
us each —the graver and more important duties of
life wherewith to occupy ourselves.
FAREWELL! 173

As we next morning left Leicester, the bells of all
the churches rang; flags floated here and there from
the public buildings and church-towers ; processions
were moving along, and all was astir. ‘‘ What is
this all about?” we asked. Our mother told us that
it was to celebrate what was called a jubilee, because
King George the Third had now reigned fifty years.

Throughout all the day we saw nothing but fes-
tivity ; at first oxen or sheep carried in procession
prepared for roasting whole; great fires burning up,
and spits of a gigantic size ready to receive the equally
gigantic roast. Processions bearing garlands, and
decorated with ribans, were parading the streets of
town or village ; bands of music were playing ; bells
were ringing ; public-houses were all astir; schools
of children, girls and boys, and town corporations
were marching to church ; gentlemen’s carriages were
driving about ; country people were jogging along the
roads by cartfuls. Anon, and the smell of roasting
meat came from the great fires which were in part
hidden by hundreds of men and boys that stood.
around—the sheep and the oxen were now turning
on the spits and roasting. Under village trees, and in
market-places, huge tables were being spread for
hundreds of guests that were going to sit down to dine
in the open air; barrels of ale were being fixed on
stout supports; people were running backwards and
forwards in their shirt-sleeves. Everybody, except
these servitors of the public, were in holiday trim.

A little farther on, and people were all coming out
of church ; corporations; volunteer regiments; schools,
clubs, both male and female ; gentlemen and ladies,
poor folks, old and young, all in their best attire.

Q@ 2
174 FAREWELL!

Then we came to where people were dining, and all
was bustle and clamour and clatter. Here sate the
town paupers all at a dinner of roast-beef; bread in
huge pieces was handed about in clothes-baskets ; ale
was drawn out of big barrels into foaming cans, and
thin hands, whose lank wrists seemed lost in the
sleeves of their grey woollen jackets, lifted up the
welcome can. But poor people and workhouse pau-
pers were not so much to be pitied then as now-a-
days. And on that day, apparently, nobody was to
be pitied; there was not even a beggar that day in
the roads ; and had we not given away all our sand-
wiches and biscuits the day before, we might have
kept them for any applicant that we saw this day.

On we went ; and now other tables were standing
on other greens and in other market-places, and
hundreds of women and little children were drinking
tea, and ladies and gentlemen, handsomely dressed,
were walking about, and the bells were ringing still.

And now we drove into Dunstable in a blaze of
light that made us wild with joy; the town was illu-
minated ; the inn to which we drove was like an
enchanted palace; every window was a blaze of
light ; illuminated crowns, and stars, and great G. R.’s
covered the front, mingled with laurels and_ flags ;
music pealed from the house, and all was bustle and
gaiety. Carriages were driving up; carriages were
driving away ; and we, in our quiet chaise, with our
little black leather trunk strapped behind, ran the
risk of being quite overlooked.

At length we were in our own room ; and then we
learnt that the gentlemen of the town had dined
there, and there too was to be a grand ball: should
FAREWELL ! 178

we like to see the rooms—the gentlemen were gone
from the dinner, and the company for the ball was
only just beginning to come? Of course we must
see them! To us it all seemed the grandest thing in
the world—the gilded crowns, the laurels, the flags,
the lighted chandeliers ; the scarlet and the gold ; the
chalked floor of the dancing-room; the gathering
company ; the wreaths of flowers: it was all a fairy
scene; and we wondered whether ever our mother
would take us, like tnese young ladies brought by
their mammas, to a public ball. Ah, we feared
not! Our parents, we knew, did not approve of such
things.

But we neither moralised much nor troubled our-
selves at all that night; we hada late tea, and listened
to the music and watched the company arrive for the
ball, and never were merrier in all our lives.

The next day we reached London. London! The
very name thrilled us but to speak it. But London
did not look half as gay as Dunstable had done.
The streets of London through which we drove only
bore token of the things that had been. The extin-
guished lamps which had formed crowns and stars,
and great G. R.’s, were then dim and unattractive,
like the ashes of a fire which has gone out. We
could just get an idea of what had been; it was look-
ing at a piece of tapestry on the wrong side.

We only stayed to refresh in London. Our mother
promised in the spring to come here, take lodgings
and have us with her, ‘and then we should see all the
sights. As it was we must now go on.

Our hearts began to flutter and be anxious; the
next morning our mother would leave us— we should
176 FAREWELL !

be three days’ journey from our home and alone, save
for each other. Our mother talked cheerfully ; pointed
out to us this and that by the road-side, but we were
very silent.

And now the chaise stopped, and we were at our
journey send. Poor, dear children, my heart at this
moment aches for you. I know what you felt. Your
hearts were very full, and it was not without reason ;
sorrow often casts a shade before it as well as leaves
one behind.

The mother’s kiss is now on their lips; she has
now left them, and they are alone among strangers,
and a long way from home. But never mind! You
stand side by side, holding each other's hand, true
friends though young, and true love you will soon
find has a balm for many sorrows.

And, thank God! true love and confidence in Him,
have been the light and joy and blessing of my whole
life.

: THE BND ‘

















eae

HW YORK:
D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.
‘WHO SHALL BE GREATEST?

CHAPTER I.

TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM’S YOUNG LADIES.

Gloucester, Dec. 29th, 179—

My aporaBLe Ex1vira—I am sure you will give
me credit for all the delight I feel in leaving ‘“‘ Miss
Wyndham’s Establishment for Young Ladies.” I
dismiss all thoughts of school and its annoyances
for ever! Madame and her French exercises,
Monsieur Pirouette and his chassé, thank Heaven,
I have heard the last of them! Oh, how I pity
you, that have twelve months of endurance yet
before you! Poor little soul! I can see you, in
my mind’s eye, frowning defiance to all the horrid
creatures!

But, my dearest Elvira, do not be utterly
miserable. Time flies fast. Only think! it is
but six months, this very day, since we had the
supteme happiness of meeting—of forming that
friendship which will be enduring as the stars!
Oh, my sweet friend, think not that in absence
your Miranda can forget you. Your beloved
image is ever present with me. I dream of you
by night, and think of you by day; and, though
I am released from the hateful rule of Wyndham
2 TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM’S YOUNG LADIES.

House, I am but half myself, for my heart remains
with you!

There is no one here that can understand me.
You, and you only, my Elvira, penetrated the
recesses of my heart, and did me justice! Oh
tle sweet moonlight walks on the flags, when our
fond souls commingled, and poured out their eternal
vows! Do you not remember them? No, my
Elvira, you have not forgotten those sweet times!
And one night, of all others to be remenibered,
has registered itself in my heart’s core; you
remember it too!—there was a nightingale in Mr.
Smith’s chestnut at the moment, the sweet Philo-
mela—you have not forgotten it! Oh, pardon me
for hinting of such treason—to forget is impos-
sible!

For oh, how vast a memory has love!

There is to be an Infirmary Bali next month,
and the Misses Curtis, my cousins, about whom I
told you that odd story about the calamanco petti-
coat, are to come out of the country to go with us;
my father insisted upon it, or I should never have
proposed it, for they are a couple of complete frights,
and dress so ill. I have not decided whether to go
in pink or lemon-colour. I have a lemon-coloured
chambray, which my godmother gave me—a very
sweet thing, and it is divinely made; and I have
a pink silk slip; but lemon-colour, you know, is
a bad candle-light colour, and I have worn my
pink slip, so Lam quite undetermined; I want the
benefit of your sweet taste. Pray write by the
return of post, and give my love to Anne Ward.
Poor thing! how good-natured she is! Do you
know, I called at her uncle’s before we left the


TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM’S YOUNG LADIES. $

town, for we were an hour too soon for the coach,
and she took me into her bed-room. I do believe
they are poor; they have only one litle back par-
lour, quite small and mean, and only one servant
—quite a scrub of a girl—although, I must say,
she was much neater than one might have ex-
pected, and very civil and obliging to me. Iam
sure that chain of Anne Ward’s is not gold, from
something I saw: but I forget what I am doing; for
this letter, of course, goes to her care; but then, I
think she would scorn to do a dishonourable
action: and, after all, I should not care if she saw
every word I have written. I always speak my
mind, you know; I am open as the day, and I
love Anne Ward. I foresee that she and you, my
sweet friend, will be consolation to each other.
Anne Ward and I were very near being dear
friends, if you had not come. Sister of mv soul,
we should have been so; but Anne Ward would
never have been all that the amiable Elvira is, to
her devoted and attached M
TiRANDA.

P.S.—I have bought a locket to put your sweet
hair in; I shall wear it next my heart. Where
you are, I ever will be. Adieu!

Such was the letter which Sarah Gibson ad-
dressed to her friend, Rebecca Wells, the week
after their sorrowful parting in the school-room
of ‘Miss Wyndham’s Establishment for Young
Ladies,” when, with weeping sensibility, they pro-
tested that they never should be happy till they
met again.

Sarah Gibson, otherwise ‘ Miranda,” was the
4 TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM’S YOUNG LADIES.

daughter of a wealthy grocer in the city of Glou-
eester. Her mother, an excellent and sensible
woman, died in her infancy. A distant relation,
a most precise person as to dress and demeanour,
the very pink of housewives, as far as methodical
routine and the sharp management of servants
went, supplied, after Mrs. Gibson’s death, her
place as female head of the family. Cousin
Judith, for so she was called, was spoken of by
all her acquaintance as an inimitable woman; so
exact in her housekeeping; so rigid a discipli-
narian of servants; so never-failing in her attend-
ance on Wednesday morning prayers, and three
services on the Sunday! She was, every body
said, a good woman; and so she believed herself,
thinking, as every body thought, that it was for-
tunate for Mr. Gibson to have such a relative at
his service. In one thing, however, Cousin Judith
failed—she had no skill in the management of the
child; this was the part of her cousin’s establish-
ment in which she professed no interest. It is
true, that the little girl was well fed, and well
clothed—that came into the general house-keeping ;
but the forming her mind and manners was left
to fate.

Little Sarah Gibson ran wild about the house;
she sate upon the kitchen dresser, of a morning, to
watch the cook; or, with her hair powdered with
dust, helped the housemaid to make the beds;
or, which was best of all, played behind the counter
with shopmen and apprentices, and rode down
into the lower warehouses in the empty crane
rope, until ordered into the house by her father,
who wondered, good, easy man, “‘ what all the
TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM’S YOUNG LADIES. 8

women could be about, that they did not look after
the child.” Cousin Judith, on such occasions,
never failed to cuff her ears and send her to the
housemaid to have her hands and face washed,
and a clean pinafore put on; remarking, that “ it
really was one person’s work to look after her.” |
In process of time she went to a day-school;
learned to read and write and cypher: (the church
catechism she had been taught by cousin Judith,)
to work a sampler, and to do plain sewing, which
included button-hole-stitch, back-stitching, and
change-stitch; and in twelve months made her
father four shirts. Inthe course of the next
three years she worked a hearth-rug, in which was
a hen and chickens; two foot-stools-—they were
not called ottomans in those days; two pair of
kettle-holders, and the parting of Tippoo Saib and
his children, in embroidery of bright-coloured silks
upon white satin; which was duly framed and
glazed, and hung up in the parlour at home. Her
works were manifold, and Cousin Judith declared
that she bade fair to be a very accomplished and
well-behaved young lady, quite a credit to them all.
By this time, of course, she had left off playing
with the shopmen, or riding in the crane-rope.
She began to eschew the shop, and made her
entries and exits invariably by the street-door.
She was now thirteen, and full of budding sensi-
bilities and gentilities. She had read all the love
stories in a long series of the Ladies’ Magazine;
which, with Ready-Reckoners, old Dictionaries,
and Almanacs, well-worn Cookery Books, two
Bibles and three Prayer Books, covered with green
baize, filled the shelves of the book-case at. home.
B2
6 TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM S YOUNG LADIES.

A new world was opened; Sarah grew romantic
and sentimental, carried her head on one side, wore
long ringlets, and sighed deeply and often. But as,
with all this, she contrived to keep out of every-
body’s way—either in her own chamber, or in a
little wooden booth, otherwise aleove, which, in for-
mer years, had been pea-green, but now was drab
with age, which stood in a corner of the quadrangle
behind the warehouses, misnamed the garden,
where she undisturbedly read her favourite litera-
ture—nobody within thought about her, or con-
cerned themselves with her occupation. Or, if
she were spoken of, it was with commendation ;
she was so improved, gave so little trouble, and
was so fond of reading, said Cousin Judith; and
her father was too busy with his worldly affairs to
think of inquiring what she read, or whence came
the books, seeing there were so few at home. All
seemed to be going on quite right; and Sarah, in
the meantime, had read every book she could
borrow, either from servant, shopman, or school-
fellow, and was growing rather tall and good-
looking, and had began to think it vulgar ‘to be
a grocer’s daughter, and to wish the family name
had been Belville, or Melville, or Seymour, or
Belmont, or anything more interesting than the
common name of Gibson.

Of course, no girl’s education could be complete
who had not been to a boarding-school, and Cousin
Judith was desired by Mr. Gibson to inquire
among her acquaintance for a finishing school,
where Sarah might be placed for a year, ‘and thus
gain that polis sh which, staying at home, she
could not be expected to acquire.
TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM'’S YOUNG LADIES. 7%

Cousin Judith failed not to make inquiries;
and the “‘ Establishment for Young Ladies” at
Wyndham House, being the largest, and most
expensive, and the farthest off—for people always
think best of those schools of which they have the
least means of gaining correct information—
Wyndham House was accordingly selected.

No young lady ever entered Miss Wyndham’s
Estab] blishment better provided with wardrobe,
money, and all extras, than Miss Gibson. Cousin
Judith took her in a post-chaise; and, as she
herself wore a rich silk dress, a well-furred cloak
and velvet hat, and ensconced her arms up to the
elbows in an expensive muff, and altogether
assumed a very dignified air, Miss Wyndham
and all her establishment paid her the profoundest
respect, and received the new pupil from her hands
as if she had been an angel come from heaven.

Sarah Gibson professed herself wretched at
school; she had to begin French; to learn to
dance; to learn to play upon two or three instru-
ments; and she looked back to the idle days spent
in the old alcove, over the beloved romances, with
a regret that refused to be allayed. She declared
herself ‘‘ the most wretched of created beings;”
she was sure twelve months at Wyndham House
would kill her! She even wished she were dead—
thought of a sharp pen-knife, or a leap into a
well, and worked herself into an agony of weeping,
in the thought of the newspaper paragraph, and the
elegy in the ‘‘ poet’s corner,” on “ the death of an
unfortunate young lady aged fifteen.” But grief did
not kill her; and, at the close of the first half year,
when she returned home, spite of all her protesta-
& TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM S YOUNG LADIES.

tions about her school miseries, her father, seconded
by Cousin Judith, was arbitrary as to her return.
Before the close of the twelve months, Miss Wynd-
ham had solicited, by letter, a second term of
twelve months, assuring her father, and excellent
Mrs. Judith, that she was her favourite pupil, and
was making such astonishing progress in her
studies, that it would be a pity to interrupt them.

Mr. Gibson gave consent; and, to Sarah’s
chagrin. she was returned to Wyndham House for
another twelve months. But she took with her
means of defence against the annoyances of the
place. She furnished herself with all the love-
histories, dream-books, valentine-writers, books
of fate, and affecting narratives of unhappy wives,
and maidens crossed in love—some stitched in
paper covers, and others bound volumes; some
borrewed, and some bought; which were stowed
in the bottom of her play-box, into which the
prying eyes of Miss Wyndham, nor even the
teacher, could enter. With the help of these,
Sarah got through the first half-year. Similarly
provided, she returned to school for the last term;
but fate had great things in store for her—the
pleasures and solacements of friendship—the
union of a sister-mind, as she herself would have
said.

Rebecca Wells, the “ Elvira” of our opening
epistle, was a new boarder, who came to school
three days before Sarah Gibson’s return for the
last half-year; and, according to these young
ladies, ‘‘ their souls melted into one at the first
moment.” Rebecca was not less sentimental
than her new friend; but in some respects she was
TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM’S YOUNG LADIES. 9

rather different. She was the eldest child of a
large family, whose mother had lately married a
second husband. ‘They lived in that part of York-
shire called Craven, and the step-father was a large
grazier—‘‘ a well-to-do man,” but of rough nature,
who thought his wife, spite of her seven children,
“the very jewel of womankind—the cleverest
woman in the universe.” ‘ Why, she could keep
his books better than he could; nothing was
above her hand; she had even judgment in fat
cattle!” Such was Mr. Hackett’s protestation
respecting his new wife. She was, emphatically,
‘‘a manager;” she had been so all her days; and,
so admirably had things prospered under her
hand, that during the life-time of Mr. Wells, her
first husband, Mr. Hackett, her second, declared
he was keeping himself single for her sake.
Rebecca, the eldest of Mrs. Wells’s seven children,.
was, at the time of her mother’s second marriage,.
in her fifteenth year. Her youth had been one
of hardship and drudgery; not that her mother
had treated her with cruelty, or stinted her in
food, or been niggard of clothing; but she was of
a hard screwing nature: work was the object of
life, in her eyes, and management was genius.
It was wonderful what an amount of work she
did herself, and what an amount also she extracted
from every one about her. Her one servant did
as much as other people’s three or four; and yet
that said servant looked always neat and clean,
*‘ It is all management,” said Mrs. Wells; “ idle-
ness is my abhorrence!’ and then she backed her
opinion and practice by innumerable Wise saws
and sayings, all tending to prove, that from the
10 Two OF MISS WYNDHAM'S YOUNG LADIES.

days of Solomon downwards, “ the slothful man
never gets rich.”

Mrs. Wells’s house was the pattern of order:
no child ever dared to soil the clean passages with
a dirty foot-print, or to litter even a thread upon
the spotless carpet: care and exactitude were the
rule of everything. No spot of gravy ever defiled
her table-cloths; and if John Wesley, and his
brothers and sisters, had learned at six months
old to cry softly and to fear the rod, so did all the
little Wellses learn to eat their bread and milk
without spilling, in the shuddering sensation of a
whipping.

“She was a clever woman!” avowed many a
man to his less exact wife; “fan incomparably
clever woman!” Poor Mr. Wells, however, never
had commended her so warmly. He had had bad
health, and was of a nervous, timid temper; and,
after he had worn a flannel] night-cap by the fire
for upwards of three years, and had learned to be
patient, even in witnessing the rigid discipline to
which his children were subjected, he took to his
‘bed, and in a few months was wrapped in a flannel
‘shroud and carried to his last home.

“Poor Wells!” his wife would say, ‘I don’t
‘know what would have come of me and the
‘children, if I had not kept things together! and I
am sure | have nothing to charge myself with as
regards him. I never let him have the trouble of
looking after even a shoe-tie; nor would I let the
‘children racket about to disturb him. I have
nothing to reproach myself with as regards him,
and that’s a comfort!”

Comfort came easily to the widow. “ There was
TWO OF MISS WYMDHAM’S YOUNG LADIEs. lI]

nothing like employment,” she said, “‘ for curing
grief; and, now that she had seven fatherless
children to care for, 1t behoved her to keep her
senses about her.”

What a managing woman she was! Every
pair of old stockings was cut into socks for the
lesser children; not a gown was put away till it
had been turned and turned again, and dyed after
all. There was no end to the patching, and
darning, and mending of old clothes. Uncostly
substitutes for everything that cost money, were
in request. Every scrap of paper was hoarded
up, and cut into strips for paper pillows; and
even a paper carpet was made, to save the common
Kidderminster: and when poor Rebecca, who, at
the time of her father’s death, was fourteen, had
completed her task-work of mending and making,
of dusting and putting by, and would take a little
pastime of her own, she was invariably asked by
her mother ‘‘ what she was idling for?” and bade
to ‘go on with that knitting,” or to ‘ fetch the
patchwork basket; for no good ever came of
folding the hands together!”

What made Rebecca’s fate particularly hard
was, that she possessed her father’s temperament,
and was naturally of a quiet, sensitive turn of
mind; upon which the bustling, unwearying dis-
position of her mother operated like the working
of a file. She had, unfortunately for herself, a
turn for poetry; carried a book of poems always
in her pocket, which she read and studied in
secret. Never did miser keep his golden treasures
more jealously under lock and key than did she
keep certain ‘‘ addresses to the moon,” “ odes to

c
12 two oF MISS WYNDHAM’S YOUNG LADIES.

melancholy,” and “ love elegies,” of her own com-
posing, from the knowledge of her mother. Some-
times they were hidden under her linen, in the
farthest recesses of her chest of drawers; and
sometimes even between the mattress and sacking of
her bed: but as her mother, like all managers, was
in the habit of paying visits, at uncertain periods,
to every drawer and box in the house, and turned
over mattresses and feather-beds also, to see that
ali was clean and in right order, the poor girl was
in a state of constant excitement, lest these pre-
cious labours of her brain should meet the eye of
her mother, which was more prying than that of
Argus, and more severe than that of Zoilus.

In process of time Mrs. Wells bestowed upon
herself a second mate—Mr. Hackett, the rich
grazier, of whom we have before spoken. This
circumstance in some degree bettered the con-
dition of poor Rebecca; not that her step-father
was at all addicted to poetry himself, or could
have sympathized with the morbid sensibilities of
her nature; but Mr. Hackett was accustomed to
the sight of fat, sleek, and comfortable cattle, and
the anxious, harassed looks of Rebecca quite
troubled him. He declared that “ there was no
necessity for his wife, or her children, to slave
themselves as they did to save a penny, for they
had pienty, and so had he; and he would put an
end to it!” He accordingly forbade any more
old gowns to be dyed; put a paper pillow on the
back of the fire; and declared that ‘ Becky
should no longer sit moping over patchwork, but
should go for a couple of years to a ‘ finishing
school,’ and learn to enjoy herself!”
TWO OF MISS WYNDHAM'S YOUNG LADIES. 138

Mr. Hackett was not a timid man, like poor
Mr. Wells; he had a loud voice, and a loud laugh;
and, occasionally, could be vehemently angry,
especially if anybody opposed his wishes; so his
wife, judging that retreat was the better part of
valour in all contests matrimonial, at least, made
a merit of necessity, and turned over the Morning
Post newspaper, for school-advertisements, since
her husband allowed her the choice of a school
for her own daughter.

Why she chose Miss Wyndham’ s Establishment,
in preference to the hundred and fifty other
schouls, advertisements of which met her eye at
the same time, is not for us to say; for Wyndham
House had no especial claim to superior cheapness,
nor otherwise recommended itself to the eye of a
manager, unless it were, that it professed to
instruct its pupils in a greater variety of know-
ledge, and thus seemed to give more for the
money. However, to Wyndham House it was
decided that Miss Wells should be sent; and again
the more liberal spirit of the step-father befriended
her. He insisted upon her having a sufficient and
respectable wardrobe, minus all her former mended
garments and dyed frocks ; and poor Rebecca felt
wonderfully grateful. But, to have obtained the full-
ness of Rebecea’s gratitude, her father should have
allowed her to remain at home, and have ensured
her there the uninterrupted indulgence of her poetic.
sensibilities. She had a shrinking dread of new
faces ; and, to go to a school of which she only
knew the name, which was seventy miles from
her own home, was as fearful as transportation.
There was no one but a young woman employed.
14 SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP.

in the family as seamstress—an unheard-of thing
before the days of Mr. Hackett—and who had won
her heart by repeating Alcanza and Zaida, as they
sat together one day at work, to whom she could
unbosom her grief.

But the time at length came, when all her new
clothes were made and packed up, and when, to
use her own phrase, she was to be severed from
all she loved; and then, weeping till her eyes were
red, and then washing her face to remove the
effects of weeping, she found herself seated in the
large gig beside her step-father, with one of her
brothers between them, and her black leather
trunk strapped on behind, on her way to Wynd-
ham House.

CHAPTER II.
SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP.

THREE days of inconsolable weeping ushered in
Rebecca Wells’s school campaign. For the first
day her lessons were remitted, and she was allowed
to retire to bed as soon as tea was over—‘ a great
favour,” Miss Wyndham assured her, adding, in an
audible sotto voce, that she ‘‘ had never seen such
a fright as that girl, with her red eyes and bleared
countenance. * :

No way consoled by this disparaging observa-
tion, Rebecca sate down at the foot of the bed,

* Miss Wyndham and her Establishment, it must be
remembered, existed fifty years ago: we cannot believe a
lady of the present day would violate good feeling and good
breeding to an equal extent.
SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP. 15

and cried more than ever; and so she might have
sate and cried all night, had she not shrunk from
encountering the curious eyes of the young ladies,
which, to her, seemed much like running the
gantlet among savage Indians. She _ therefore
slowly undressed herself, and, having fortunately
been informed which among the eight beds that
filled this room, was half designed for her use,
crept into it, and, with heavy sighs and hysterical
sobs, laid her head upon the hard bolster.

The second day was no better than the first;
nay, in reality it was worse, for lessons had to be
learned and said; and it seemed to her excited
mind as if all the school business was suspended
to listen to her agitated voice. The third day was
worse than the second, for her head ached vio-
lently, and she perceived that she was openly
ridiculed. In the evening she was again permitted
to retire early to bed, with the comfortable as-
surance, that in the morning she must take a dose
of medicine to remove her head-ache.

She had hitherto slept alone, as her destined
bedfellow had not arrived—a certain Miss Gibson,
of whom much was said, but nothing favourable,
and of whom she had conceived dislike and dread.
At bed-time, when the young ladies entered the
chamber, the first word she heard in the chamber-
whisper, was the name of Miss Gibson, and a
strange voice in reply. Miss Gibson had then
arrived. She shrunk into the smallest possible
space in bed, and pretended to be asleep. Nota
word passed between them; and, from pretending
to be asleep, she at length sunk into real slumber,
and was woke next morning by her companion

C2
16 SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP.

lightly raising her head on the bolster, and settling
herself so as to throw the light of the window,
near which their bed stood, upon the pages of a
book she was reading. Rebecca still counterfeited
sleep, and then cautiously surveyed her com-
panion. She was a round-faced girl with a dark
complexion, and eyes that appeared to be large
and dark, but the lids and lashes of which she
could only yet see; but the book she was reading
was poetry.

What a joyful circumstance! Miss Gibson,
the dreaded bedfellow, then was fond of poetry—
perhaps wrote poetry! Rebecca remembered her
own compositions, hidden under the bed from the
eyes of her mother; she remembered how she had
carried a copy of Waller’s Poems and Hammond’s
Love Elegies in her pocket for weeks, reading a
secret page now and then. Jt was wonderful
how all the annoyances and vexations of her home
rose up at once before her. School, with the
poetical Miss Gibson for a_ bedfellow, seemed
endurable; and, with a palpitating heart, she opened
her eyes wide, and fixed them on her companion
in a sort of desperation to know what her fate
would be. Their eyes met; and, to use their own
phrase, their souls melted into one at the first
glance.

It was the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard that
Miss Gibsou was reading: from that moment they
were sworn friends.

Who does not know how romantic school girls
are in their friendships. Our Sarah and Rebecca
were the most romantic of school girls. They
copied out in little books every encomium on
SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP. 17

friendship; the more extravagant the better,
They exchanged locks of hair, tied with true-love
knots of blue silk, and wore them round their
necks. They confided profound secrets to each
other; they invented a secret way of conversing,
and new characters in which they wrote to each
other, not a day passing in which sundry little
notes were not slipped into each other’s hands,
with an air of most interesting mystery. This
exclusiveness made them greatly disliked by their
‘schoolfellows; but that very dislike was only an
additional bond of union—they endured persecu-
tion for each other’s sake.

One young lady, however, the former half-year’s
friend of Sarah Gibson, and a day scholar, was
admitted into the porch of the temple of friend-
ship—this was the Anne Ward of whom Miss
Gibson spoke in the letter we have already given.
As a day scholar, Anne Ward was a very conve-
nient person. She made purchases for them in the
town; obtained books for them secretly from the
circulating library, and promised to put Miss
Wells’s letters in the post-office, and receive the
answers under cover to herself, when the half-year
was ended which was to be the period of Miss
Gibson’s school life.

It will readily be believed that names so unro-
mantic and unpoetical as Sarah and Rebecca,
would not suit the elevated tastes of these young
ladies. One of the first acts of their friendship,
therefore, was to select names more in accordance
with their notions, and which would sound well
in their epistolary intercourse. Amanda, and
Delia, and Sophonisba, and Sigismunda, and Jesse,
18 SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP.

were duly thought of, and tried even with such
tests as “‘ my sweet Amanda;” “ Delia, sister of
my soul;” ‘* my gentle Sophonisba;” ‘the ami-
able Sigismunda;” ‘ the too-sensitive Jesse;”
but, none of them exactly coming up tothe mark,
for two weeks Rebecca Wells bore the name of
Sappho, and Sarah Gibson of Eloisa; but these
were, in the end, abandoned for those of Elvira and
Miranda, taken, we believe, from Mrs. Rowe’s
‘* Letters from the Dead to the Living;” a volume
wonderfully admired by them, particularly where
any ghostly correspondent expatiates on the eter-
nity and tenderness of friendship.

This extrav agant friendship did not, as might
have been expected, die either a speedy natural
death, or gradually fade away of itself; on the
contrary, after five or six years we find the same
style of letters passing between them; one of
which, being of more than ordinary importance,
we must be allowed to lay before our readers; yet,
before we do so, a word or two must be permitted
on the states of their respective families.

Mr. Gibson, the rich grocer, had had during
three years many losses in trade, and many people
began to suspect that he was not quite as rich as
had been imagined. He had, moreover, been visited
by an apoplectic fit, and was thought to be gra-
dually breaking. He had taken his foreman into
partnership, and, people imagined, intended to
marry him to his daughter. Cousin Judith
counselled such a step, as one of convenience and
prudence; but the high-spirited Miranda had not
spent her youth in romantic visions, to end bv
becoming the wife of a grocer! She touked
SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP. 19

haughty and indignant at the proposal, and both
her father and Cousin Judith were dumb-foundered
with wonder as to what was come of her senses.
Miss Gibson, however, spite of the suggested idea
that her father’s purse was not as full as it had
been, vowed that she would marry nothing less
than a professional man. She studied the fashions
in the pocket-books and newspapers; dressed
expensively; carried her head loftily, both lite-
rally and metaphorically; attended the assize-
balls and races, and looked out for a husband of
her own choosing.

Rebecca Wells, otherwise “‘ the gentle Elvira,”
on her half-yearly returns home had found things
gradually assuming a different, and certainly not
a more comfortable character. When she left
school she had ceased to write poetry—her sensi-
bilities found an outlet in the letters she penned
to her beloved Miranda; but she had not become
less romantic nor sentimental than formerly. At
home, however, although things were gradually
changed, there was still no sympathy for romance
or sentiment; Mr. Hackett had now become per-
fectly lord of the ascendant; yet, notwithstanding
this, his wife—not a whit less careful and exact
than formerly—made never-ending efforts to re-
gain her power. The house was as elaboratel
clean as ever; but then Mr. Hackett chose to
make it dirty, to prove that he was master of his
own establishment. Oh, how unlike the former
good man, who dared hardly to say that his soul
was his own. Mr. Hackett even smoked in the
best parlour!

Poor Rebecca, she had cried for three whole
90 SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP.

days when she first went to school; she had quite
as good reason to cry for three likewise, on her
final return home. She soon found how cheerless
was the prospect before her; year after year went
on, and it was no better. Her own brothers and
sisters, it is true, were all at home with her; but
they were neither loveable nor kindly affectionate
among themselves. Love had never been a ruling
sentiment of the household; it had been a go-
vernment of force and fear; and, now that they
saw the power of her who had hitherto been the
domestic tyrant wavering, each thought there was
a chance for him or for her, and all were at strife
together; while Rebecca, the only gentle and
malleable one of the family, was by turns the
confidant and slave of all.

It was, indeed, a miserable home; and, to add to
its other discomforts, a young family of Hacketts
was springing up, as boisterous, even in their
infancy, as their father. No wonder was it, there-
fore, that Rebecca felt eternally grateful to her
friend for two invitations to Gloucester, for a
month each time. The first visit, however, was cut
suddenly short by a summons home during the
first week, on account of her step-father having
been thrown from his horse, and her mother being
laid up with a bilious attack. The second, how-
ever, was more fortunate, and the month’s visit exe
tended itself to two months. Those two months
were bright spots in the desert of her life. They
were heaven, she averred; they were elysium!
they were paradise! There was no end to the
epithets that were bestowed upon them. There
was no end either to the closettings and confiden-
SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP, 21

tial communings of the two friends, which con-
tinued through every day of the two months, yet
were as mysterious and as important on the last
day as on the first.

The cruel design of marrying the ‘“ sweet
Miranda” to the young grocer was, of course, a
fertile topic of conversation. Rebecca thought in
her inmost mind, but she did not even confide it
to her friend, that, were the young grocer to make
proposals for her hand, she should not hesitate a
moment in accepting; but assuredly it was no
match for Miranda, her sweet friend, for whom
no peer in the land were too good.

Worthy Mr. Gibson, and Cousin Judith, and
even Mr. Samford, the young grocer himself,
looked frowningly on Rebecca, who, they judged
rightly, had strengthened Sarah’s opposition to
their wishes; but Sarah was too important and
authoritative a person in her father’s house, not
to have her own way. Her visit, therefore, was
protracted week after week. It was in vain that
she was willing to gain Mr. Samford’s good
opinion by many a little innocent civility; the
young man was as obdurate as a stone, and poor
Rebecca, at the end of the tenth week, returned
without any prospects in life, to the comfortless
home of her childhood.

Having premised thus much, we will give a
letter, written by Miss Gibson to her friend, a
full twelvemonth after the happy visit we have
just described; but, as it announces a most im-
portant event, it is quite worthy to open a new
chapter.
CHAPTER IIIf.

A WEDDING,

MISS GIBSON TO MISS WELLS.

Gloucester, March 24, 1802.
I HAVE not my sweet Elvira at hand, or I should
fiy to her at this moment, and with blissful tears
and crimson blushes pour out to her the secret of
my full heart; but

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch’s aid,

Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid;

They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires;

The virgin’s wish without her fears impart,

Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,

Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,

And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.

Therefore, I seize upon the ready pen, my own
Elvira, and despatch ‘‘a paper messenger of love,”
to bid your generous heart rejoice with me. Yes,
my sweet friend, rejoice with me, for I am su-
premely happy !

But why should I defraud your amiable bosom
by concealing aught from you? Know then, my
sweet friend, that your Miranda is beloved! Is
beloved by—you guess whom! Oh, my Elvira,
Mr. Browne revealed his sentiments towards your
friend last evening. But you are impatient to
know all, and you have a right to know it—you
who have held the key of my heart so long.

Listen, then, and if I can be calm, I will pen
A WFFDING. 23

down a sober narrative. In my last I told you
that the dear assize-ball was approaching. How
littie did I th'rk that very ball was to seal my
fate! You know how interesting the assize-ball
would be to me, for it was there we first met—
this very time last year. I went with Mrs. Cot-
terel Warwick; we were a party of five—Adeliza
Jemima, Mr. Foster, Mr. Cotterel Warwick, and
myselr. I went in high spirits, for my heart beat
with a strong emotion at the very name of the
assize-ball. You remember my description of
his person last year; he locked even more fasci-
nating this year than last. He is, as I then told
you, a young solicitor, of Woodburn in Cheshire.
My father, who thinks a deal of pounds, shillings,
and pence, is quite satisfied. What! is it come
to that? I hear you say. Yes, my sweet love, it
is. My father and he had a closetting this morn-
ing. I could not help peeping in at the key-hole;
but I was sure all would go on right. Cousin
Judith, poor soul, is angry—I am sure she is, for
I know her spiteful eves so well—that I have got
a lover of my own choosing, and that Samford
mav go hang!

But I must tell you, for I know your dear little
heart will be unsatisfied, if I do not give you all
particulars, how I was dressed at the ball, and
how my dear Browne was dressed also. I[ had
on a white poplin skirt and green satin body,
and a wreath of ivy leaves in my hair. [ know
I was looking my very best, for, the moment I
entered the room, he came up to me, and com-
plimented me on my looks. You know that we
had met last year, and had danced together then, so

D
94 A WEDDING.

that we were old acquaintance; and he said some
things, which I could not misunderstand, about
a vacuum of soul which had endured twelve
months. But oh, if you could only hear how
delightfully he pays a compliment! I never
heard anybody speak so well before; and, do
vou know, he was complimented by the judge, in
open court, for the way in which he gave his
evidence about some law business. He is so
clever! and, to my taste, so handsome! I grant
that he is not a giant in size; but then, you
know, I never admired giants. No Samfords for
me! Apropos of Samford: I must tell you some-
thing about him before I have done; but I must
not omit to tell you how Browne was dressed.
He had on ablue coat, white waistcoat, and black
pantaloons; there is quite a style about him. [
never was at such a delightful ball; but then, you
will say, even a desert with love would be a para-
dise! Ah! I know your sentiments—do I not?

And now, my sweet friend, are you not filled
with envy of my great happiness? No; you are
too amiable—too generous to be envious! But I
must claim the fulfilment of an old promise from
you, that you will be my bridesmaid, and that
you will go with me to Woodburn. What a hap-
piness to have the sister of my soul with me,
under my own roof, and that the home of my
dear Browne! Now, you will not be faithless
about the old promise.

I told ham about you, and that he must not be
jealous, if I give him only half my heart. Tl
tell you what he said—‘* Whoever you love comes
recommended by the sweetest claim to my heart!”
A WEDDING, 25

Was it not prettily said? and he laid his hand on
his heart. I was sure he felt it. You would
doat upon him.

You inust not let there be any difficulty about
your being my bridesmaid; it is an old promise,
and I shall not let you off. I will write to Mr.
and Mrs. Hackett about it, if you lke, for we
shall be married in the autumn; he declares he
will not wait any longer. Write to me by return
of post, for he leaves to-morrow, and I shall be
wretched when he is gone. Adieu, my sweet
Elvira, and believe me ever your own faithful and
most happy

MIRANDA.

P.S.—But I have forgotten to tell you about
Samford. They say he pays his addresses to
Jemima Warwick; and, I am sure, if he do she
will have him, for she is made for a tradesman’s
wife. She is a pattern-person, in Cousin Judith’s
eyes.

1 told Browne what were our names; he
thought them very pretty, but persisted in calling
me Amanda, because it had something to do with
love. Was not that a pretty way of compli-
menting ?

The “ sweet Elvira” did unquestionably feel
her pulse quicken when she read of her friend’s
new prospects. Whether, however, her heart was
filled with unalloyed happiness is more than we
can say; something like the feeling that all good
fell to the lot of the happy Miranda, while she had
no joy in which to bless herself, crossed her mind.
96 A WEDDING.

Miranda was a whole year younger than herself
and had already refused a lover whom she would
gladly have accepted, and was now about to be
united to the very man, who, if it had been given
her to choose, she would have selected from all
the world. Poor Rebecca! she felt as if her lot
was all of a piece. She certainly was made any-
thing but happy by her friend’s letter. Still there
was, after all, a bright side which, after the first
influence of the letter had ceased, she could by
no means pass over; ‘* her own Miranda” was a
faithful friend, who, in the midst of all this new
happiness, did not forget her. The old bridesmaid-
promise was claimed; and, to Rebecca, whose
home was so uninviting, any prospect of change,
and especially of a visit which promised to resemble
the elysium of ten weeks, was like a prospect into
a golden paradise. ‘* And who knows,” whispered
the heart of Rebecca, “but my fate may unfold
itself at Woodburn?” She glanced at the mirror
before her, with a sentiment natural to every
female heart, because founded on the desire to
please and to be loved; she saw the face and form
she had seen thousands of times before, and felt
the comfortable assurance that the face was pass-
ingly agreeable, and the form good. Why, then,
should she not please?—-why should not she meet
with some James Browne of her own, as well
as her friend? There was a delightful flutter
in her spirits at once; she saw herself, as the
bridesmaid, well-dressed and cheerful—for she
could be cheerful, or sentimental, for either
character suited her—an object of interest and
curiosity, and to the single even more interesting
A WEDDING. 27

than the bride. She felt at once as if a happy
destiny lay before her; the little town of Wood-
burn, the existence of which she had hardly been
aware of before, seemed big with her fate; and,
ten minutes after, she was turning over the old
school-books in her closet, to find the Gazetteer,
that she might read what was said of so interesting
a town. She possessed herself of the important
knowledge, that Woodburn stood on the river, over
which it had a bridge of seven arches; that its
population was 8000, without any staple manu-
factures that it had two fairs in the year, and its
market was held on the Wednesday. It was but
little, but it Was enough. Woodburn lay before
her in her life’s future, like the goal towards which
her destinies pointed.

A moment's cloud came over her spirit, in the
question, Would her mother and step-father con-
sent to the visit? They might oppose it; it was
very probable they would; but she resolved with
herself, that in that case she would for ever take
the law into her own hands. She was now mistress
of the income of her own little fortune, and, though
she had not hitherto acted in opposition to the
heads of the family, she determined on this occa-
sion, which was so interesting, and might be so
momentous, to please herself, and ask favour from
no one.

We need not give her reply to her amiable
Miranda; it was such as may readily be imagined—
full of sentiment and poetic flights, and professions
of the most eternal friendship; but we will go on
to the autumn, to the time fixed for the wedding.

Mr. and Mrs. Hackett threw no insuperable

D2
98 A WEDDING.

impediment in the way of Rebecca’s visit, so that
no heroism on her part seemed likely to be re-
quired; nor did he fall from his horse and break his
leg, nor did she find herself mvalided, or likely to
be so, by a bilious attack; so that Rebecca looked
on in wonder at the facility of things. The day
had been fixed upon, a month before, for her
journey; and on that very day, she was conveyed
away in the coach with a large pormanteau of
well-conditioned clothes, sufficient of themselves
to stand a long visit; and sundry five and ten
pound bills in her pocket-book beside, wherewith
to buy bridesmaid apparel, and to figure as a
young lady of substance. Rebecca, seeing thiat
the coach did not break down, nor other misad-
ventures occur during the two first stages of her
journey, began to have pleasant hopes that for-
tune’s wheel was taking a turn in her favour. She
almost questioned whether, after all, she might
not do as well as her friend; and, the nearer she
cane to Gloucester, the better was she pleased
that she and Mr. Samford were only just on
speaking terms.

The meeting of the friends was the most rap-
turous in the world; there was no end to the
kissings, and the hand-shakings, for they had not
met fornear two years; and now, a blissful event
was about to unite them closer than ever. It
seemed like the highest felicity of human existence,
and they blessed themselves because they were
such a pair of devoted friends.

The bridal habiliments were now all prepared 3
for, while we have been writing of friendship, three
weeks have been passing on, in which milliners and
A WEDDING. 29

dress-makers have been hard at work. And now
the garments of the bride-elect lay opeued out on
one hed in the double-bedded room, and those
of the bridesmaid-elect on the other: gowns,
scarfs, veils, gloves, and bonnets—the bridesmaid’s
just one degree inferior to the bride’s.

‘“* Well, it will be your turn next, my sweet
girl,” said Sarah Gibson, while they were surveying,
with ineffable pleasure, all the silken pomp that lay
before them; and she kissed her as she spoke.

Rebecca shook her head, and said she did not
know when; but she wished in her heart—which
was a most natural and proper wish at such a time
—‘ that it might, and that soon too!”

The two young ladies then went into the back
parlour, where Mr. Gibson sate in his high-backed
leather chair, looking very well pleased, and
Cousin Judith was busied about tea, leaving all
the glory of the next day’s garments to be sur-
veyed by the cook and charwoman, who, with
their hands folded in their aprons, stole in quietly,
to take a leisurely survey not only of them, but of
the two great bride-cakes which stood on ‘the
great tea-tray” on the chest of drawers, and which
were to be cut up in the evening.

Tea was delayed an hour after the usual time,
to wait the arrival of the coach by which the hus-
band-elect was expected. He came; and Rebecca,
who, from her friend’s description, expected at
least an Apollo in brown clothes, was greatly
disappointed at his appearance—-a short, mean-
looking young man, with a sallow complexion,
and thin drab hair. He might be professional;
he was, no doubt, a prosperous and very clever
80 A WEDDING.

lawyer—one to elicit compliments from the judge
on the bench—but he was not quite such as her
excited imagination expected: why, in point ot
exterior, Samford, with his shop-apron wound
round his body, was more of a man to look at.

All these, however, were observations to be
thought, not to be spoken. The bride-elect, it
was evident, saw nothing to object to: he called
her his ‘‘ sweet Amanda;” begged to salute her
friend, ‘‘ the amiable Elvira;”’ laid his hand upon
his heart, and bowed very low, evidently possessed
with the idea of being a most accomplished person.

The wedding-morning rose with all that bril-
liancy peculiar to autumnal mornings. That old
street of Gloucester in which Mr. Gibson’s house
stood, with its picturesque gables and projecting
porches, seemed to wear quite a holiday aspect.

Rebecca, at seven o'clock, half-opened her
window curtains, and glanced up the street and
down; and, as she saw the strong lights and
shadows that stretched athwart the narrow street,
and the brilliant atmosphere, all one burst of
dewy sunshine, felt as if it were the most beauti-
ful sight she had ever seen, and ran to her friend’s
bed-side, with the announcement that ‘* Nature
herself was wearing her brightest aspect, in honour
of her nuptials.”

The youngest apprentice, the porter, and the
errand-boy, had been up and busy since before day-
light, in the business-regions of the house. The
brass-mouldings of the shop-windows, Mr. Sam-
ford’s n.odern innovation, polished to their utmost,
were now dazzling the eyes of the early passers-
by, as the slant rays of the sun were reflected in
A WEDDING. 3]

them. The shop- windows, emptied over night,
had been cleaned and rubbed up; and all the
show-goods; Japanned tea-chects; nodding man-
darins; boxes of raisins; baskets of figs; and
black Indians, smoking long pipes; with little
cones of sample- sugar, were all newly and neatly
arranged. The shop-floor had been carefully swept
and watered; the flags before the whole length of
the front, and even many yards beyond, on either
hand, had been swept and watered likewise; the
knocker of the street-door was polished to an
extraordinary lustre; and the door-step was as
white as hands could ‘make it;

Anybody, with half an eye, who had never
heard of Mr. Gibson in all their life, might have
known, on passing the house that morning, that
something important was about to take place.
Mr. Samford, however, although his proper do-
main, the shop, was thus wearing its best exterior,
seemed himself in no holiday humour. He stood
with his every-day coat on, and his apron re
him, weighing up pounds and half-pounds vu. raw
sugar, with his eyes occupied by his employment,
as though nothing beside in the whole world was
worth a grown man’s attention.

At half-past eight o'clock, idle men and women
might be seen standing in little groups and knots,
within sight of the grocer’s house; the tanner’s
men were standing at the tan-yard gate, with
their sleeves rolled up above their elbows, and
with them stood the two dyers from over the
way; while three carpenters, carrying deal planks,
joined them also, thinking it would not be long
before they went to church, especially as, in
32 A WEDDING.

passing the Black Bull, they had seen the two
chaises out, and one pair of horses; and Jack,
the ostler, had said that ‘‘ the other pair would be
out in a jiffy.” The milliner’s young women,
who, on this morning, had been punctual to their
time, and who thought it fortunate that the work-
room window had such a good view, had taken
down the blinds, and sat down on the look-out,
ready to jump up at the first moment. The
barber’s shop was full of people, all waiting to be
shaved, but each refusing to submit to the opera-
tion, lest his chin should be veiled in suds at the
critical moment. There was not a servant within
view of the Gibsons, who had not found some
excuse to be up stairs, and, with duster in hand,
under pretence of being very busy, came ever and
anon to the windows; while others, with more
leisure or less conscience, leaned out, resting
their arms on the stone window-sills. There
were women, and big boys, standing with jugs
and buckets about the pump, all deferring to
move off, till they had seen Miss Gibson go to be
married.

At a quarter before nine, the milliner’s young
women all rushed to the windows, for one of
them had given information that the bride was
dressed, for she had seen her, in bonnet and veil,
pass the bed-room window: she knew the bonnet,
for she had helped to make it. ‘‘ And now,
there she was again!” And then came a disputa-
tion as to whether it was the bride or the bride’s-
maid; whether her bonnet had orange flowers in
it, or white ribbon: the fair milliners were just
getting vehement on this important topic, when a
A WEDDING. oo

new object diverted all attention—a chaise from
the Black Bull, with white horses, dashed up to
the house-door—and the next moment, as if by
magic, four young girls in white, and with baskets
of flowers in their hands, stood, two on each side,
between the steps of the chaise and the house-
door. ‘The house-door was thrown open with a
loud sound; another chaise then dashed up in the
rear; the bride, habited in white from head to
foot, leaning on her father’s arm, came forth; the
young girls scattered their flowers—by the bye,
this was a device of Rebecca’s;—the chaise moved
off; the second was in its place in an instant; as
instantly the bridegroom and bridesmaid had
entered it, and the two chaises rattled off down
the street, across the market-place, and up to the
church-gate, drawing a hundred admiring eyes
after them.

The tanners and the dyers returned to their
respective places; the carpenters carried off their
deal planks; the young milliners sat. down to
await the return; the barber’s customers sat down
to be shaved; and Mr. Samford went into the
back parlour to take his breakfast with the appren-
tices; while Mrs. Judith was busied with all her
handmaidens, in preparing the grand breakfast
up stairs, that all might be ready when the hax py
people returned from church.





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