Citation
Four feet by two

Material Information

Title:
Four feet by two animal talks and tales
Creator:
Nister, Ernest ( Publisher, Printer )
E.P. Dutton (Firm) ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
Ernest Nister New York :
E.P. Dutton & Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
72 p., [6] leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 22 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Animals -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1891 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1891
Genre:
Children's stories
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Germany -- Bavaria -- Nuremberg
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Date of publication from inscription.
General Note:
Frontispiece and plates printed in colors.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Mrs. Barn Owl, Mrs. Mouser, A. Colt, G. Gee, Farmyard Quackling, and other animal writers.

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:
026773759 ( ALEPH )
ALH0258 ( NOTIS )
189641254 ( OCLC )

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= XC, Introduction! How horrid! Let us skip it!”

Oho! That's what you are thinking, I am sure. I suppose you
would like to hear all about the monkeys, and the tigers, and the
ducks, first, and then read the Introduction afterwards; but that is

not the way we do things in our barn No doubt introductions are dull some-
times, but then they are not always written by owls; and you know the
proverb that if you want a thing well done you must get an owl to do it.
It is a very favourite proverb with us, and very true too. .

I suppose it is because I am so very wise, even for an owl, that my
friends Mrs. Mouser and Mr. G. Gee, with his son Master A. Colt, to say
nothing of the very promising young author Mr. Farmyard Quackling, came
to me in a kind of deputation the other day, and asked me to edit the new
book which they had written for the children. :

“Poor things!” said Mr. Quackling, who made a neat little speech on
this occasion, “I think we should all pity them instead of being angry.
Children really know so very little about us; and perhaps it is partly our
fault for not telling them more. So we have each written out some of our
experiences; and if your Owlship will be so good as to write a little
introduction, we will have them made up into a book for the children to read.”

Mrs. Mouser purred her approval, and although Mr. G. Gee and his son
both said “Neigh!” we all understood it was only their way of saying “Yes!”

Of course, I consented ; but I must confess that it was very inconvenient,
for I was just in the midst of writing my beautiful poem, Wight Thoughts -
in 24 Volumes; to say nothing of the popular handbook, How to Catch Mice,
and Zhe Owlets’ Entertaining Reader. But I have always been very much
interestéd in children; and, indeed, have written quite a number of articles
about them and their funny ways in the fur and Feathers Gazette; so that
I was, quite willing to spare a week or so in helping Mrs. Mouser and my
other friends over their difficulty.



oat”

I really believe with Mr. Quackling, that children are not half so bad as
they seem. They are not good at thinking—that’s how it is; and that’s the ~
great difference between them and owls. Owls have always been very strong
thinkers. For instance, no owl would ever dream of throwing stones at frogs,
or brushing Mrs. Mouser’s coat the wrong way, or chasing Mrs. Speckledy
round the fiemyaea: It is too absurd !—though I have heard of little boys
doing all these ridiculous things; and some children, I believe, have even been
disrespectful to owls. But re is almost too sad to think about, and I prefer
to look on the cheerful side of things. Indeed, what can one expect from
creatures who go to bed at night and get up in the day?

We all feel that boys and girls, however misguided, have very good
points, and might become quite reasonable beings, like ourselves, if they:
could be got to see. things in the right light—that is, of course, in the
twilight. For instance, I once met a little girl who was quite miserable
because she could not look as wise as we do. I gave her a little good
advice, and my young friend, Mr. Quackling, sent a short poem on the subject
to the papers. It was like this, as far as I can remember:

“T want to look wise,” said Maud, one day,
“fT want to look clever and wise.”

“Oho!” said the Owl, as he sat on a spray,
And blinked as in solemn surprise;

‘You had better by far remain as you are,
And learn to be clever and wise.”

OF course, it is no use for little boys and girls to try to be owls. It is
just a waste of time. They can’t do it. But they might become quite useful
members of society, if they would only study our ways
and our manners a little more. Now, Mrs. Mouser
told me only the other day, that she once had to leave
a family quite suddenly, indeed without notice, owing
to their want of consideration. They actually expected °
her to eat her breakfast in the back kitchen! Can
you imagine an owl behaving in this way ?

I am sure the children do not mean to be
unkind. It is all due to thoughtlessness, and I trust
this little book may teach them that all animals,
whether in feathers or fur, on four feet or two, have
_ feelings and affections to be considered. fe

tran

























ULLO what’s this?” cried the proprietor of the menagerie, in

SS amazement. “I only bought one animal, and they have sent

me two.”

And that was a fact. Mr. Smith, the owner of a wild-beast
show, had purchased a very fine Bengal tiger, called “Crunch.” And Crunch
_ had arrived that morning by train in a cage that was boarded up on all sides.
He had not been many minutes in the menagerie before Mr. Smith, eager to
see the new arrival, had the boards taken down, and then beheld Crunch
looking exceedingly handsome, and none the worse for his very long journey
by sea and rail—he had come all the way from India.

But what was the second animal, whose presence caused the proprietor to
exclaim in wonder, as he had done?

I’m quite certain I should have been just as surprised as Mr. Smith, and I.
think that you, dear, would have been so, too, and would have clapped your
little hands with delight, for just in front of the tiger there sat, washing his
face with his little paws, a tiny, wee, brown mouse.

Mr. Smith laughed, and his attendants laughed, and so startled the little
mouse, that he ran to the tiger, and, nestling between the big paws, peeped
out and blinked his bright eyes, as much as to say, “You can’t touch me ©
now.” Indeed, it would have been a bold man, or a very brave pussy-cat









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that would have gone near the little brown mouse then. But Mr. Smith had
no wish to hurt the tiger's tiny friend. On the contrary, he threw him a
biscuit, which the little mouse looked at with its head on one side, but was
too timid to touch at the time. He thought he had better wait till night-
time, when the place would be more quiet.

In the evening, when the entertainment began, numbers of people came
to the menagerie, and the greatest crowd was round Crunch’s cage. Everybody
admired the beautiful tiger.

But it was when all the people had left, and most of the lights had
been put out, that the real fun began. I mean the fun for the animals.
For, just the same as your dollies, Jack-in-the-boxes, and tin-soldiers, go to
balls, and have grand battles, and enjoy themselves, when you are fast asleep
and tucked up in your little beds, so did the animals discuss the events of the
day—what the people were like who had come to see them, and what was
likely to happen on the morrow.

“That was a clever little boy who came here to-day,” said the Elephant.
“He told his mother I must have ‘awful bad toothache,’ because my teeth
are so long!—but what makes you look so sad, Mr. Bruin?”

“Ah, Jumbo,” said the Bear, “that little boy’s mother had on a fur
tippet that I feel certain was made out of the skin of my long-lost brother.
I recognised the curls and the particular gloss.”

“Listen to me,” roared the Lion, as if there was any necessity for him
to say that, for nobody could help listening to him when he made that noise.
“Listen to me. I am the King here, and——”

“He, he, he,” laughed the Monkeys, “what's the use of being a king
when you are shut up in a cage? He, he, he.”



eee

King Lion said nothing to the monkeys, he only looked at them. But
such a look, it was as much as to say: “If I could only get at you, my fine
fellows, I would gobble you up before you could say ‘Jack Robinson.” But
the Lion could mot get at them, so he might look fiercely all day long,
and all night too, for all the monkeys cared.

“Listen to me,” roared the King again, “I am your ruler, ard ”

But he was again interrupted, which was very annoying, and really not
quite loyal on the part of the elephant. But Mr. Jumbo, as a sudden idea
struck him, got very much excited, very much excited indeed.

“T say, I say, I say,” he trumpeted, “Mr. Tiger, you come from India,
and so do I. How are the jungles, and is the sky as blue, and the sun as
hot as ever?” :

Crunch replied that it was a long time since he had seen the jungle, but
that the sky was as blue, and the sun as hot as ever it was.

“Aha,” sighed Jumbo, as a big tear rolled from his little eye. Seeing a
tiger had called up memories
of the days when he was
young and free, and he felt |
quite sad for a moment or
two.

“You don’t know any-
thing about the grandest
country in the world?” asked
the Chamois. “Switzerland, I
mean, with its high moun-
tains, and deep precipices,
and crisp white snow.”

“Snow!” cried the
Reindeer, contemptuously.
“Snow! If you want to see
hundreds and hundreds of
miles of it you must go to
my country, which is by
far the grandest in the world,
of course I. mean Lapland.
Do you know anything of
ice and snow, Mr. Tiger ?”

No, Crunch knew
nothing of mountains, and
had never seen snow or ice.







eS

All this time the Lion had been walking up and down his cage, roaring
himself quite hoarse. He was in a towering rage at being so often inter-
rupted. “Wel/ you all attend to me?” cried the King once more. “It is the
custom for every new animal coming here to tell us the story of his life, where
he came from, and how he was caught; so I now call upon our friend, Mr.
Crunch, to tell us his history.” :

“A story. A story. Hurrah! A story!” cried all the animals. “Come,
Mr. Crunch, tell us all about yourself’ But Crunch being quite tired out
with his long journey begged them to excuse him. “No, no, no,” they all
shrieked and roared again. “A story. Your story, Mr. Crunch, if you please.” -

“Tell them my story, dear Mee-Mee,’ whispered the tiger to the little
brown mouse, “I’m , so sleepy that I
can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Mee-Mee said he would attend
to the other animals. And then, running
up the bars of the cage, he called out
in his shrillest, squeakiest voice :

oO EL a ae Ye Oster Majesty, my lords,
ladies, and gentle- men, Mr. Crunch is
really too tired to speak to-night, but,
if you will allow me, who know his
‘story just as well as he does, to tell
it to you, I shall be delighted, for
fam not tired, and feel as ilvely as
a———as a “Kitten,” suggested
the small monkey. “ Kitten, kitten !”
cried the Mouse, turning pale, “If
such a word is mentioned again I.
am: sure I: shall be quite dumb.”

“Pray do not pay any attention to that monkey,” said the Lion.. “We
shall be very happy to hear what you have to tell us.”-

“Thank you, sire,’ said Mee-Mee. “ First of all I must tell you about
myself, and how I became acquainted with Mr. Crunch. I met him on board
ship. as he was coming over, for it happened that I was born on the ship,
and. have lived at sea all my life. Crunch and I became such very good
friends during the voyage, that when he was coming on shore I hadn’t the
heart to say good-bye, so popped. into his cage and hid myself, and
here I am. Of course, having travelled about a good deal, I have seen many
strange things. But one of the strangest stories I ever heard is connected with





,



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; 7

my dear friend Crunch. He told it to me the tirst evening I visited him, and
this is it :—

“Once upon a time, far away in the Province of Bengal, in India, there
lived, in a very pretty bungalow, an officer, his wife, and their little daughter
Ella. Now Ella was a darling; everybody said so. Her father called her his
dearest little poppet. Her mother said her little rogue was her sweetest blessing,
and the Ayah said she was more lovely than any Rajah’s daughter.

“Little Ella had presents sent her from everyone on the station. Such
dollies! Such carts and horses! But one of the strangest presents that Ella
ever received was from one of the Indian princes. It was a little baby tiger.

“The baby tiger had been caught in the jungle not very far from where
Ella lived, and, although it was rather savage at first, it very soon got
tame ; and Ella was allowed to play with it. In fact, Ella and Crunch, for
that was the little tiger’s name, soon became fast friends.

“Well, one day there was a terrible noise in the bungalow. There was
a commotion. Ella’s papa and mamma were tearing about giving orders to
the servants, while the Ayah was sitting on the ground rocking herself from
side to side, and crying out words that nobody could be expected to understand.

“The fact was that Crunch was gone; but worse, far worse, Ella, the
darling, was gone also.

“Yes, Ella was gone! You can well imagine how distracted her poor
father and mother were. The whole place was turned topsy-turvy, inside out,
and upside down. They shouted and shouted, again and again, but no reply
came from Baby Ella. They searched every corner of the bungalow and
every part of the compound, but there was no Ella. Then Ella’s papa and
every man in the village went and searched the forests and the jungle,
because they thought that, as the baby tiger had gone, it was more than







[ 10 ]

likely that the baby girl had gone with him. For hours and hours they
looked for her, all through the day and burning heat—now cutting their way
through the tall bamboos, and now creeping into caverns. But, no, there was
no Ella. At last, as night came on, and they were about to return home in
despair, they found her, far away in a cave in the forest, fast asleep with
her head nestling on Crunch’s soft body. They picked her up and carried
her home, leaving Crunch behind, because they thought that he was rather
a dangerous playmate for the little girl. But, would you believe it ?—the
very next morning Crunch came back to the bungalow, and, although
everybody howled at him, and said he was a bad young tiger, nothing could
induce him to go away. So they built him a comfortable cage, and there
Crunch lived a very happy life, and grew up to be the beautiful tiger you
now see.

“Little Ella is now grown up, and has come to England, and is never
going back to India, and, as a tiger is not a very comfortable animal to keep
in a house, they have sent Crunch here, and I expect that before many days
are over Ella will come to see her old pet. And now, your Majesty, my
lords, ladies and gentlemen, as the dustman is coming, I will wish you a very
good night, and to-morrow, if you will let me, I will come and see you every
one, and tell you more stories about the many wonderful things I have seen.”

So saying, Mee-Mee ran off to Crunch, and was soon fast asleep, cuddled
up between the big paws.

The next day, true to his promise, the little brown mouse called on. every
animal, beginning at the Lion and ending up with the small monkey. And
although he is the tiniest animal in the whole show, he is certainly the most
loved, for he always has a good story and kind word for everyone.

Edric Vredenburg.









THE DISOBEDIENT (CHICKEN.

IGHT babies! Eight little yellow chicks to look after! Eight young
children to be instructed in polite manners and the very best of
morals! Certainly, Mrs. Hen had her wings full.

The little chickens were hatched one sunny morning; and no
sooner had they popped out of their shells and got over their astonishment,
than they began to scratch for worms, and tumble over one another in their
eagerness to catch the passing flies and gnats. .

“ Foity-toity ! this sort of thing won't do,” cried Mrs. Hen. “My dears,

you mustn’t be greedy. Come here, and listen to me while I give you your

names.”
Now, as a rule, the finding of a name for one baby gives a great deal
of trouble; so we can easily imagine how worried poor Mrs. Hen and _ her
husband were before they settled what they should call their eight children.
But it was finally agreed that the names should be: Snap, Peep, Scrap, Tweet,
Snip, Puff, Pop, Scruff; and very good names, too, I think. But, at any
rate, the chicks thought so (which is far more important), and were immensely
proud of themselves as they went to walk with their father and mother, and
were introduced to the other animals in the farm-yard.
Certainly, the chicks, with one exception, were a
credit to their parents, and I am sorry to say that Scrap
was that exception. Although the smallest chick in‘ the
whole brood, he had more naughtiness in his little body
than all the rest of his brothers and sisters put together.
While Mrs. Hen’s other children paid the greatest attention
to their lessons every morning, Scrap’s mind was filled
with thoughts of flies and worms, and he was always
wishing it was dinner-time. Scrap, I’m grieved. to say,;

Ro



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| 12 |

was a greedy chicken. Then he caused his family terrible anxiety by being too
friendly with the young ducks. Now, young ducks, in their own way, are just as
nice as young chickens ; but their way led them to the pond, for they delighted
in water, and could swim perfectly. But Scrap could not swim; and so his
father and mother, and brothers and sisters, were afraid that if he continued
to associate with the ducklings, he might venture one day into the water and
be drowned. And it so happened that Scrap’s greediness did lead him into
terrible trouble. One afternoon he met the ducks coming away from the pond;
they were talking about the happy day they had spent, and how far more pleasant
it was, and what a lot more there was to eat onthe other side of the
water. Scrap said nothing, but listened very eagerly ; and that night, before
he went to sleep under his mother’s wing, he made up his mind that on the
“morrow he would, by hook or by crook, reach the other side of the pond.

The next day Scrap was awake betimes, and as soon as he saw a good
opportunity, this naughty chick stole away from his family, and ran as fast
as his little legs could carry him to the water's side. But there che came to
a standstill, just as you would have done if you had run away from home
and had come to the wide sea, and were thinking about swimming across it.
Scrap put one foot into the water, and drew it out again very quickly—he
thought it very cold and uncomfortable. He would not have ventured in the
water then for all the dinners in the world. But still he could just see the
little ducks in the distance swimming gaily over to the other side: it was
really very tantalizing. Scrap thought for a moment, and then determined that,
as he could not cross the pond, he would go round it.

Poor Scrap! he did not know what a terrible undertaking: this was for so
small a body.

At first, his journey was easy enough, for it lay through short, sweet
grass, but soon he had to encounter thistles, nettles, and thick brambles.
With great difficulty he pushed himself through these, having to rest every
minute. And he very soon got so tired, and scratched, and wet with the
dew, that he made up his mind to return to his mother. But, all of a sudden,
he heard a rustling, and, to his horror, he saw a big rat. Now, for a chicken
to meet a rat, is just as bad as if you were to meet a lion. Poor Scrap lay
quite still, trembling all over, and, oh, how thankful he was that the rat didn’t
see him as it passed along. Then, up he jumped and ran off—in his fright
he did not know where. On he went, tumbling over sticks, and tumbling into
ditches, until he was in a terrible plight, and had lost his way. ,

You can fancy how anxious his father and mother, his brothers and sisters,
were about him all this time. ‘They hunted high and low, and searched






the farm-yard, the kitchen-
garden, and even the flower-
beds, but he was nowhere to be found.
No one had seen or heard anything of him.

It was dusk, and night was fast approaching. Mrs. Hen was sadly putting
the remaining children to sleep, when a small black object was seen to limp
towards the fowl-house.

“Tweet! tweet!” it’ cried faintly as it came near, and then threw itself
beneath Mrs. Hen’s wing.

Dear me! It was poor Scrap, but oh! how changed—black with mud, and
with hardly a bit of fluff remaining on his little body. You can imagine how
glad Mrs. Hen was to get him back again, and the fluff soon grew, but I am
glad to say that Scrap was a much better chick afterwards, for whenever he
felt inclined to be disobedient he always remembered the big black rat.

He never stays away now from the crowing ‘class which his father holds
every day, and although he was very backward at first, I am’ sure he will soon
make up for lost time, for his father is very indulgent.

Listen to what he and his brothers are saying now:
“Is it hard to do, papa? Is it hard to do?

We would like to crow like that, and be as big as you,

But you are old and fatherly, and we are young and new!”

“ Silence, children; while I speak, now, Cock-a-doodle-doo !

Now, my children, run and scratch, I am coming too,

Mother let you out to play, she’ll her kindness rue,

If you don’t obey papa, as all good chickens true,

Well to please you, once again, Cock-a-doodle-doo.”
Ledric Vredenburg.

aft





“THE DEER AND THE SHEEP.

IT is so -cold,” said the poor little Deer, “and the snow is over
everything, and frozen so hard that we can’t even scrape it away
to get a bite at the grass. Do let us have a bit of your hay?” -
“Nonsense,” said one of the Sheep, who was munching away at the
fodder put out for them by the shepherd. “Why should you useless
creatures eat our hay?” :

“Useless!” cried the Deer. “We are as useful as you are!”

“No, you are not!” grumbled the Sheep. “We grow wool to make
warm coats for little boys and girls. Don’t you know what they say to us:
‘Baa, baa, Black Sheep, have you any wool?’ and we answer, ‘Yes, kind ©
Master, three bags full’ But you—what do you do? Just run about among
the fern in the park, with your dappled coats of which you are so proud,
and do nothing. People call you pretty, but I don’t see it—poor, skinny,
long-legged creatures, 7 think:” and Master Sheep glanced at his own round,
fat person, and short, stumpy legs, with admiration. .

“Well, it seems rather hard ,’ said the Deer, sadly. “TI would grow wool
if I knew how, but I don’t.”

He was turning away, to go and seek some scraps of moss or grass to
keep himself from starving, when another sheep, who had not yet spoken,
called out to him to stop. :

“Come and eat what you like,” he said. “J daresay you are as useful
as others, if people knew ali. Master has put this food here for all his
creatures, and you belong to him, and have as much tight to it as we have.
Besides, I am not sure if it isn’t rather worse to be selfish and disagreeable
than not to grow wool—especially if you don’t know how to do it.”

MI. A. Hoyer,

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OH OHI OB 1}

N* VER, no never, was there such a hubbub anda row! The donkey was

braying, the geese cackling, cows mooing, horses neighing, piglings

squeaking, dogs barking, and pussy snarling. In fact evéry animal on
the farm was making just as much noise as it possibly could.

But why? That’s what we want to know.

Well, the END OF THE WORLD HAD COME; and quite suddenly, too,
without one word of warning. So you see the animals had an excuse for
making a noise, and most certainly took advantage of the occasion.

The end of the world had come, so the donkey said, and said it again
and again. “Oh dear, oh dear! What shall we do?” he brayed, putting his
head out of his stable door and addressing the geese: “The hill behind the
farm has turned over, and is rolling down the field. Let me out. What
shall we.do?” He was a donkey.

Away ran the geese, tumbling over one another in their hurry and
excitement. Gabble, gabble. Cackle, cackle.

“Tweet, tweet, don’t leave us behind, our legs are not
so long as yours,” cried the goslings, trying hard to keep
up with their father and mother.

“My whiskers!” cried the cat, who was sitting on a
gate post, “ My whiskers, what’s the matter?”

“Matter enough for one day,” hissed the gander. “The
end of the world has come. The
mountains have tumbled out of
the moon and are rolling down
the hill at the back of the farm.”

“How very awkward,” said
puss, as she jumped off the post
and scampered away across the
field, in a terrible fright.

“What on earth has hap-
pened?” asked the cow, as the
cat came hurrying by.

“Happened indeed! The
end of the world has come. The






[ 16 ]

moon and the stars—including the great and little pears—have tumbled down.
And——” But the cow didn’t wait to hear any more. She whisked round
and galloped across the field to the gate.

“Open the gate. Let me out,” she cried. “The end of the world has
come. The moon has tumbled down and is rolling about the earth like a big
Dutch cheese; and the Milky Whey has also fallen and will drown’ us ; and
the Great Bear is sliding down the North Pole. Let me out, or I shall go mad.”

The sheep heard the cow and rushed off to tell the horses the alarming
news, and the horses told the dogs, and, as I said at the commencement,
never, no never, was there such a hubbub and a row.

“My dear girl,” said Mr. Cock-Robin, to little Jenny Wren, “if you go
on laughing like that, you will have a fit, or go into hysterics, or do some-
thing equally ridiculous. Pray try and be calm.”

“I—I really can’t help it,” gasped Jenny, who was really quite faint from
laughing. To think that all this excitement should have been caused by old
Mrs. Brown’s umbrella being blown out of her hand, and being sent bowling
along after the little pigs. They are young and don’t know any better, so I
daresay they thought that the end of the world really had come. But to
think that the other animals should have believed them when they came
scampering and squeaking into the yard! - It’s really too much, it is indeed.”

It was certainly very nearly too much for little Jenny Wren, for she
laughed till she choked and turned black in the face, and Mr. Cock-Robin
had to fan her with his wing to bring her round again.













4 » “THE END OF THE WORLD? «.

bd *
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liked him. Prince was a pony. And such a pony! So sleek and

white; and there was no more vice in his nature than there was a

black hair on his body. He had been born at a farm, and his father’s
name being King and his mother’s Queenie, it was only natural that their little
son should be called Prince.

The first thing that Prince had to do, as soon as he was old enough to
earn his own living—and horses, like men, have to do that—was to carry the
farmer's children about on his back. This, of course, was delightful work,
and the little pony understood his duties perfectly. With the two-year-old
baby he used to walk, with Cissy, a little girl of seven, he used to trot,
while with Tom, a sturdy boy of ten, he would canter, and gallop, and frisk
about as lively as a puppy.

Certainly this life was a pleasant one, but it was not to last. For one
fine morning the animals were surprised to hear that the farm and every
thing upon it was sold, Prince included. This was a great shock to the
nerves. And the animals began wondering what would happen to them.
But that matter was soon settled. The cart-horses, the cows, the pigs, the
sheep, and the poultry were to go to an adjacent farm. But not so Prince.
No, a very different life was in store for our little pony.

Prince’s heart beat hard when he heard what his future was to be ; he
didn't quite know whether to be pleased or sorry. Certainly it would be an
interesting life, but the question was, would it be a happy one? It would
all depend upon whether his master happened to be a kind one, for Prince
was going to be a Circus Pony.

Per’ € was a dear; there was no question about that, everybody



[ 18 ]

A circus pony! We all know what a pleasure it is going to a circus
when it comes to the town we are living in. But fancy being on intimate
terms with the tame bear that rides on its hind legs upon the back of
Black Bess! Fancy having one’s breakfast with the elephant that sits on
a chair, drinks wine out of a tumbler, and plays pranks with the clown !
Fancy counting amongst one’s friends the accomplished horses that can dance
a quadrille, a waltz, or galop ! ;

Prince, who had heard all about these things from the children, thought
about them all day, and dreamt about them all night, until the time came
for him to leave the ‘farm.

The parting from the children and his friends the animals, for Prince
was friends with them all, was indeed sad. But the pony was pleased
when the little girls and the little boy said they would come and see him
when he was at the circus, and was very much pleased indeed to find that
the proprietor of the circus, who had come to fetch him away, was a kind
man. Prince knew at once that he was so by the way he stroked his neck
and spoke to him. And Prince was still more pleased with the proprietor’s
ten-year-old little daughter Delly, who had come with her father and was
to be his mistress. She was such a pretty little thing, and the pony felt
sure that he would love her very much. -

Well, Prince left the farm and became a circus pony, and liked his
new life even better than that which he had been used to. He soon learnt his
tricks, which were to bow to the audience with Dolly upon his back, to
balance himself upon a plank, and do see-saw with another pony at the
other end. And so a whole year passed by.

Now. Dolly’s new pony, besides being Prince by name, turned out to be
a Prince by natyre—a_ perfect hero, and a very intelligent little creature
in more ways than performing tricks, as he showed himself to be one day,
when something happened which was very wonderful and at the same time
very terrible. So terrible that when it occurred the proprietor of the circus
staggered and became as white as Prince’s white coat, and even the performing
monkeys stopped their chattering for once in their lives, and the Kind-hearted
elephant turned quite faint.

One Spring day the circus arrived at a country town, and as a matter of
course every child who was old enough turned out to welcome it, to stare
with delight at the beautiful horses, to clap their hands at the elephant, to
wonder what the many large waggons contained, and to admire the little girl
riding the pretty pony.

The next morning, as soon as the large tent was up, the girls who jump



[tr Or

through the hoops, the clown, the bears, the elephants and the horses had to
go through a rehearsal of the performance to take place in the evening, but
this was unnecessary: for Dolly and Prince, since they knew their parts perfectly
already. ;

“Prince, dear,” said Dolly, stroking the pony’s neck, “what say you to
a trot through the lanes, and a gallop over the fields, this lovely, lovely
morning ?” ;

Prince shook his head and neighed as much as to say he would be
delighted.

“Very well, dear,” said the little girl, who understood every word the
Pony didn’t say.

“Very well, dear, I will go and ask Papa if we may go, and here is
an apple to amuse yourself with while I’m gone.”

Besides the apple, Dolly gave Prince a kiss on the tip of his nose, and
then went to get her father’s consent to ride in the country.

Of course her father said, “ Yes, my darling.” Perhaps he was often
too willing to say “Yes” to whatever request the little girl made.
Perhaps at first he blamed himself for allowing so young a child to ride
about the country alone, but up to the present no harm~had come to
her. She rode perfectly, and Prince was so trustworthy.

















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[ 20 ]

Her father himself helped Dolly into the saddle, and giving her a tender
kiss, bade Prince be careful of his young mistress. He looked after
her with loving eyes, for she was his only child, and such a winsome
little body.

The pony trotted gaily. through the town, stopping now and again for
Dolly to give tickets of admission to the circus to some of the poorest
children — little things who would remember the flaring naphtha-lamps, the
tinsel-jewelry, the horses, and clown, for many a long day; and never
forget the bright-eyed little girl who gave them the opportunity of seeing
those grand things. So out of the town into the country went Dolly and
Prince as happy as the singing birds this bright Spring morning.

In the meantime the rehearsal at the circus went on briskly. In one
corner acrobats were trying new feats of agility and strength. In another
corner the elephant was having a morning-supper, with the clown in his
every day dress; while monkeys rode steeplechases on poodle dogs, and
all the time the crack of the whips and the cries of the grooms were
heard above all. And so the morning passed quickly away until dinner
time came.

“Dolly not returned yet,” said the circus proprietor to himself, looking
at his watch. ‘“She’s a naughty child to be out so long, and this is the
last time I shall allow her to go out riding by herself.”

Dolly’s father was angry. But after dinner, and as the afternoon wore
on, his anger turned to anxiety—turned suddenly to wonder and dismay as
he heard shouts in the distance, and above the noise of excited voices the
clattering of a horse’s hoofs.

A second afterwards Prince dashed up to him riderless. Riderless and
covered with mud, and the foam dropping from his mouth. For a moment
the poor man stood speechless, and then covering his face with his hands
he cried: “My child, my little, little child, where is she ?.”

He was recalled to himself by Prince pulling at his sleeve, and then
running on a few yards, stopping, and looking back at his master.

“The pony knows where she is. The pony wants you to follow him,”
shouted the crowd that had collected.

One minute more saw Dolly’s father and a couple -of grooms dashing
through the town on beautiful horsés, brave little Prince galloping on
ahead.

Clatter, clatter, along the streets they went. Dogs flew out of cottages,
and barking, followed the horses for'a short distance. Children tumbled
over one another in their excitement and rolled into the gutters.





Clatter, clatter, along the streets. And now they were past the town.
The three men and their horses, and Prince still ahead, were alone, the
crowd being left far behind.

Clatter, clatter, along the country road. Now breasting a steep hill,

now going at a breakneck-pace down into a valley. And now clatter,
clatter along a straight road for a mile.
They draw rein suddenly to ask a mender of the road if he has seen
a little girl in a riding habit. The mender of the road has not 3 no, he
has seen no one but some gipsies crossing a field in the distance, and that
was an hour ago. . Zs

Clatter, clatter, away again, up hill and down dale.

Look! look! there is a ragged child, stockingless, shoeless, running down
that hill towards them, waving her arms, and crying to them. That ragged
child must know something of Dolly.

Again the three horsemen drew rein. ;

“Have you seen a little”—commences Dolly’s father, addressing the child,
but stops in his speech, and, sliding fram his horse, kneels upon the ground



[ 22 ]

and clasps the little ragged girl in his arms, and kisses her pale, tear-stained
face a hundred thousand times. For it is his Dolly, his darling Dolly, not a
bit hurt and perfectly well, but very, very, frightened. 7

Dolly had been stolen by gipsies, and so had Prince; but Prince had
managed to break away, and galloped home to tell the tale and show them
the way Dolly had been taken.

The gipsies, doubtless knowing that their crime would soon be found out,
by the pony going back, stole Dolly’s habit, and boots and stockings, and,
giving her an old dress, let her go, making the best of their way across the
country. They were never caught, although they were well searched for.

There wasn’t room for a month-old ‘baby in the circus that night, and
when Dolly rode into the ring on Prince’s back, and placed a wreath of laurel
leaves on his head, the people gave such a cheer, that I fully believe if it
had been in a building instead of a tent, the roof would have been
blown off. And Prince deserved it, and deserved, ‘too, all the love his
little mistress gave him, and the kindness of his master and of everybody
else: for, indeed, he was a very Prince of Ponies.

Edric Vredenburg.







A PRINCE OF PONIES,









I'v: sadly come fo this belief,

“That every cab 15 born a thief,
y And thieves his whole life through .
iy Although they look js0 mild and meek
“yee A cat’s idea of: honour’s weak ,
And ll can prove it, foc

I used to think it very queer
That all my bones should’ disappear
Whene'er | went to sleep -

‘To find out why Il often tried,
So Slept with one eye open wide ,
A sort of watch to keep.

Now. near my kennel Was a bone,
, (With enot much on it — that I own —
I'd had it all the day)
When with my open eye I Saw,
~ Distinct and clear, a feline paw,
Which pulled that bone away .



What happened then I will not tell.
©Orer what that thieving cat befell

We'd better draw a curtain ;
But since that day we -have not met—
Ho dont believe he’s better yet,

Wfle' I] steal no more~ that’s cerfain

But what I want to say, 15 that
No honest felks should keep a cat-—
. They: really are such thieves.

"That it is better, don't

you see
“Te keep an honest dog,
like me,
WSurs truly,
“JACK?











































FORGIVE AND FORGET.







i rT TL ‘ A
‘d Lea cass An Ag),







SOM&E FRIENDS OF MINE.

LU dogs are friends of mine, and I’m very fond of my friends, and my

A friends are very fond of me. That, I think, is the way things ought

to be. Well, I’m not going to tell you about all the dogs I’ve had,

for they've been so numerous that I could fill a big book about them,

but what I’m going to tell is something about the “funny dogs” I’ve known.

I think the funniest dog I ever knew was a French poodle I had, called Tom.

He was a big white dog, and when he was washed and combed he looked

. splendid, but he was so conceited he hardly knew what to do with himself.

I used to have him clipped in the Summer as you generally see French

poodles, and he would sit so patiently while it was being done, because I

' think he knew he attracted more attention with his bare legs with the big

frills of long hair left round them just above the ankles, and his name TOM
in big hairy letters down his back. .

One day after I had washed him and these nice white frills had been combed
out, a little girl who saw him in the street, called out, “Oh, Mamma, look at
that doggie, he’s got his stockings turned up.” Tom must have taken this as
a compliment, I think, for he went up to her to be patted.

At the same time I kept two other dogs—“Nelly,” a little pug, and
“ Bill,” a big bull-dog. Bill didn’t like Tom very much, because he was a
Frenchman you know, and Bill was a regular “John Bull.” They used to
fight sometimes, but I'll tell you something about that later on.



[ 28 ]

Nelly, the pug, was “great friends” with
Tom and used to make her bed on him
every night. He used to sleep in an
arm-chair, and Nelly would nestle in his
long white coat and make herself very
comfortable, growling and snapping at him
if he dared to move and disturb her. I
would sometimes put a collar and leather
lead on to Nelly, and then giving the
lead to Tom would say, “Take her for
a walk, Tom.’ He would take the lead
into his mouth and pull her out into the
street whether she wanted to go or not,
and then trot her up and down till I called
them in. I don’t think that Nelly, who
was very fat and lazy, liked it very much,
but Tom knew that exercise was good
for her.

The cat’s-meat man used to call every
day, and, when I heard him a long way down the street calling “ M-e-e-at !
M-e-e-e-e-at !” I would give Tom a penny, and off he would scamper ¢o buy
himself a dainty morsel. He would put the penny down on the floor by the
side of the man, and keep his foot on it till he got what he wanted. One
day, while I was standing at the door, waiting to pay the man for the meat
he brought for my cats, Tom, who had bought and eaten his share, came
scampering back to where I was standing, and, seeing another penny between
my finger and thumb, he snatched it away, and ran off and bought some more
meat for himself before I could get over my astonishment at his bare-faced
robbery. He knew he had done wrong, for he wouldn't come near me for
an hour or more.

Talking about the cat’s-meat-man, I once had a patrot that used to call
“ Me-a-t! M-e-a-t!” and bring four little Spaniels I had at the time scampering
into the room. They would look longingly at the parrot, but Poll would
only tell them to “put the kettle‘on,” which was really disappointing. .

I told you that Tom and Bill, the bull-dog, used to fight sometimes.
One day, I was taking them both for a walk, when we met four or five
French poodles, performing dogs belonging to the circus at Olympia. I had
Bill fast by a chain, but Tom (who could jump through hoops, and walk on his
hind legs as well as any circus dog) swaggered up to his fellow countrymen.





[ 29 J

I don’t know what he said, because it was in dog’s French, which I don’t
understand, but I think it must have been something rude, for they all turned
on him and rolled him over into the mud, and pulled great locks of hair out
of his nice white coat. Bill was terribly angry. He pulled the chain out
of my hand, and ran at those poodles, caught hold of one and gave him a
shake, then another and another, till, in a very short time, he made them all
run for their lives.

Bill was a funny dog, but not so funny as another bull-dog I had once,
called “Ugly.” Oh, he was ugly. That’s why he got his name; but he was
so kind and good-tempered. J gave him to a friend who had several little
children, and “Ugly” got so fond of them, that he was never happy out of
their company, and nothing pleased him better than to be allowed to play
on the hearth-rug with the baby. This little “Toddles” would raise himsel!
up on his feet by catching tight hold of Ugly’s back or ears or tail, as the
case might be, and then walk along with him, still holding tight to the dog,
who would go as slowly as he could, because he knew, if he went quickly,
‘baby would tumble. The Nurse always said that Ugly taught baby to walk,
and indeed I think so too. Nurse, however, was the only person who objected
to having Ugly in the nursery, because he would never allow her to correct
the children in any way, and before a naughty little girl or boy could
be put in the corner, Ugly had to be turned out of the room.

I could tell you lots of stories about this dog—

ams










how he used to climb ladders, and how he jumped go a
through the window and smashed all the glass ; but Cae
I haven’t room enough in this book, for I want to uae
tell. you about some other friends of mine.



Nick, a fox-terrier, was a very great friend, but
1° am sorry to say he was a naughty dog, for
he led our poor puss a terrible life.’ Nothing we
could do would make him friendly with her.
Whenever he saw puss he would chase and bark at
her until she had to run up a tree for safety.
But one day Nick fell ill, really very ill, and had to
lie by the fire wrapped up in a shawl. Then puss
showed how kind and forgiving she was, for she
came and licked his face and lay down beside
him to keep him warmer, and Nick appeared very
grateful, which I am sure he ought to have been.



[ 30 ]

Naturally we thought that they would be friends in future, but I am sorry
to say when Nick got well again he forgot all about pussy’s kindness, and
tormented her worse than ever, so much so that I had to give him away to
a friend who did not keep a cat. -

The handsomest dog I ever knew was a St. Bernard. She was, indeed, a
beautiful dog, and had taken a lot of prizes at dog shows. Like “ Ugly,” she
was very fond of children, and used to sleep in the nursery, which was a very
large room. No one could tell how it was that the blankets on the cots got
so torn at the corners, till early one morning the Nurse heard such a lot of
laughing in the nursery, that she got up and watched what was going on. —
She saw the children spread out a blanket on the floor, upon which one of
them then sat, while the big St. Bernard dog caught hold of the corner
of the blanket and pulled them all round the room. This was very jolly fun
for the dog and the children, but bad for the blankets.

_ One morning the children were very much surprised when they woke up to
find that their big dog was not in the room, and this was very unusual, for she
always waited to have her romp, and then saw the children downstairs to the
breakfast room. Nurse was very mysterious, and wouldn’t say what had
become of the St. Bernard, but told the little ones to have their bath, and be
dressed quickly as there was a great surprise waiting for them. And it was a
surprise, in fact, five surprises, for the children found, when they scampered
downstairs, lying on a warm rug, their big dog with five little fat puppies. The
children were delighted, and as there happened to be five of them also, they
thought there would be just a puppy each. But it was quite impossible to
keep six St. Bernards in the house, so four of the puppies were given away as soon
as they were old enough to leave their mother, and the remaining puppy, the
big dog and the children shared between them. I think the children had the
most of it, for first one and then another would carry it off, while the mother
would look at them reproachfully, but never thought of being angry. They
called the puppy Rex, and he grew up to be a very fine dog, even bigger than his
mother, and was just as good natured and would carry the children about on
his back as easily as a donkey could have done.

Two very funny dogs I had once were “ Mahdi” and “ Pepper,’ the
former :a long-backed bandy-legged “dachshund” (which is the German for
badger dog), and the latter a Scotch terrier. They were great friends, but
they were never allowed out together because they always went poaching.
Neither of them would do it alone, but one led the other into mischief.

Mahdi would go downstairs every morning and bring me the newspaper
that the paper boy pushed under the door. One day the paper hadn't been









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“ME-A-T! M-B-A-FL”









SY x acre os * ,
ANA \\\\ \ stairs it came undone, and dangled about his
HA bandy legs. He was some time before he made
Ae his appearance, and when he did so it was with

ee only part of the paper, which he brought to
me and then rushed off and brought another bit, till, after five or six journeys,
I got the whole of the news—but in what a state! Mahdi stood there wagging
his tail as if he had done something very clever indeed. He had found it
more convenient to bring it up in small pieces than have the whole sheet
tripping him up as he came upstairs.

These two dogs would come and sit by my side, begging, every dinner
time, watching with eager eyes every mouthful I took in a way that was quite
embarrassing.

And now I will tell you a tale about a dog—a poor half-starved mongrel—
that a lady, a friend of mine, took pity on one Winter's night when it was
snowing hard and freezing bitterly. This lady heard something whining at the
front door, and when she opened it a poor thin, wretched dog crawled into
the hall. It looked so pitifully at her, and seemed so cold and hungry, that
she could not find in her heart to turn it out again, so she took it down into
the kitchen and gave it a tremendous supper of bones, and bread, and gravy,
and all that sort of thing, and made it a comfortable bed before the kitchen
fire till they could find it a place in the yard next day. The poor dog looked
into her face when she left him as much as to say “I thank you, ma'am; I'll
be kind to you some day.”



AA . folded properly, and as he was bringing it up-
\





Ly gas ;

The same night the lady heard an awful noise downstairs, and on her son
going down he found the kitchen window open, and the poor dog lying dead
close beside it, and a policeman outside, who had just caught a burglar running
away. It turned out afterwards that this man and a companion had forced
the window open and got into the house, where they knew there was plenty
to steal; and the poor mongrel, ready to do his duty at once, flew at them
so savagely that they had to kill it before they could make their escape. The
lady had the poor dog buried in the garden next day, but she never forgot
what it had done; for she can’t see a poor, half-starved dog now, but she
must go into the nearest baker's shop to buy it something to eat.

I should like to go on writing a good deal more about my four-footed
friends, but there isn’t room enough in this book. I should like to tell you
all about Rock, a Skye-terrier, who one day fell over a cliff, and couldn’t get
up by himself, but was clever enough to put his head into a noose I made
with my handkerchief, which I let over the side of the cliff with my stick
and drew him up in safety. Perhaps, some day the Editor will let me tell
you some more tales about my pets. If you write and ask him, I’m sure
he will.

R. KE. Mounsey.





2

Â¥EW EL, THE DRAKE.




‘ HIP, chip, crack!”
_ “Dear me!” said the Duckling. “ Where
have I got to now?”
He certainly had only a hazy recollection
\\\ even then of previous affairs; but this was really
a something quite new. His head was well through
“ab the thin, white, crackly cavern which had hitherto
enclosed him—he couldn't quite remember for how long; and he soon
wriggled himself out altogether, and became aware that he was a soft,
yellowish, fluffy sort of a creature, with a mouth which gaped with a desire
to have something put into it. Then, looking up, he saw a white, feathery
creature before him, and, somehow, he knew that it was his Mother.

“What is this?” said the Duckling. “Where am 1?”

“This is the world!” replied his Mother.

“What is the world?” he asked again.

“The world is the pond we live in,’ answered she, “and just what ‘goes
round it.”

The Duckling thought the world seemed a pleasant place. Over his
head, high, high up, was the blue sky, with soft white clouds floating across
it; beneath his feet was grass, fresh and cool to his young toes. The trees
were all a mist of green with their tender leaves. and under the limes lay
scattered the little pink nightcaps that had kept the buds warm through the
winter frosts. And when his Mother led him and some other fluffy yellow
creatures, whom he knew to be his brothers and sisters, down to the pond,

‘and he saw its waters lying so sheeny and so still, with tall green reeds,

bending in the faint breeze, growing at its edge, he

decided that really it was a very pleasant place.
“Now, children,’ said Mother-duck, when they

came to the brink of the pond,

“now, you must learn to go in

properly. Some people’s children ,

just flop in, without a bit of style “"%. ee

about them, especially when they Mf

have been brought up by one of Ce

those foolish old hens; but you Nur
\ Nyt








| Sara]

may thank your stars that you have a Mother who can teach you properly.
Now, then, watch me, and do as I do.”

So they tried to do as she did, and softly bowed and curtesied themselves
into the water; and Mother-duck was pleased, and said it wasn’t bad for a
first attempt. And then they swam about; and as our Duckling felt the
cool ruffle of the water to his breast, and about his pink legs and feet, and
the warmth of the sunshine on his back, a great joy began to grow up in
his heart—it was so nice to be alive in such a beautiful world !—so nice
that he thought that he would like to try to sing, as he heard a lark singing
somewhere far, far above his head. But, alas! when he tried, all he could
say was, “Squee, squee!” which didn’t express at all what he was feeling.
Still, perhaps, it wasn’t so bad for a Duckling not above a day or two old.

And so a very pleasant life began. Every evening they went back to the
farmyard, and had a cosy sleep all through the night among the warm straw;
and every morning they got up with the sun, and shook themselves, and
preened their feathers, and then pecked about the yard and the field, before
they waddled off in a string along the path under the trees to the pond,
and there they swam, and splashed, and dived, and played at Snip, Snap,
Snip, when they tried to catch the shining flies that darted about above
the placid water, and dabbled their bills in the soft mud, and caught the worms
and gobbled up the poor snails which they found among the grass, or under
the big dock-leaves. Then sometimes they went and chatted to the big old
frog who lived on the bank among the flags and reeds, and who had grown so
old and big that all the ducks respected him, and never tried to eat him, but
used to talk with him, and so gain a great deal of information.

But changes came, as changes always do come to everyone in this world.
One day the Farmer's wife came down to the pond, and looked attentively
at the Duckling and his sisters as they were swimming about, enjoying
themselves. ;

“ As fine a brood,” she said to her husband, who stood by her, “as ever
I see! Ill take them up to Madam at the Hall to-morrow.”

“What does Madam want with them?” he asked. ;

“They have been that unlucky with their ducks this year as never was,”
she answered; “and she asked me only yesterday if I could spare her a
brood.”

Our Duckling did not understand them; but the next morning, instead of
strolling down to the pond as usual, he found himself caught and thrust into
a dark place where he had hardly room to stir. He was terribly frightened,
and his only comfort was that he felt he was among his own friends, for his

”






A sisters were all shaking and trembling round
Zz = [YY him, and he could hear the familiar though
aE ‘i stifled “Quack, quack,’ of Mother-duck in
the gloom. Then came a curious shaking and jumbling which terrified him still
more, because he did not know it was only the motion of the arm of the
Farmer’s wife, as she carried her basket up'to the Hall. Presently there were
sounds of voices, and at last the lid of the basket was lifted up, and there
was the blue sky and the sunshine again, and the prisoners were all let out
on some green turf, where a lady stood, and a little girl, beside the Farmer's
wife ; and lo! there was a pond twenty times bigger than the old pond,
spreading out shining and dimpling, with the swallows skimming over it.

“A new world 1” thought. our Duckling ; “a new and a beautifuller world
still! Andaway he went to examine it, and learn all its wonders.

It took him quite a long, long time to swim all round it, and there were
so many new things to see that he grew quite bewildered. Among other
wonders, there were some beautiful birds with great white, feathery, curving
wings, and long, graceful. necks, who swam stately about.

“Those are swans.” said Mother-duck, when he asked her. “Oh, yes!
they are very grand; but I don’t care for them—cross, ill-tempered things.
Don't you go too near them, my dear, for they are very fierce.”

But there was one person he grew to like very much, and that was Patty,

the Squire’s little daughter, who ran down every day to feed the birds with

crumbs—a gentle little creature, to whom the ducks and swans all came crowding
when she called them.



“But I like you best, you little dear,” said Patty to our Duckling, “ for
you are not rude and greedy, like the others, and you take the bread out
of my hand quite gently, and don’t snatch, and tear, and quarrel, like some
of the others. And then, you are growing so beautiful! I shall call you Jewel,
for your head and neck are getting all green and sheeny, like the sparkling
stone in Mother's ring. I expect you came out of that egg which Mrs. Brown,
the Farmer's wife, said she thought was a wild duck’s egg.”

Jewel was pleased with his new name, and he and Patty grew great
friends. He would go up the path to meet her when she was coming down
to the pond, and take the corner of her pinafore in his bill, and walk back
beside her, so that everyone laughed who saw them. And sometimes Patty
would sit down by the lake under the shade of the trees, and sing her songs,
and Jewel would sit by her. One song she was very fond of singing, and
Jewel liked it, too, though he thought it didn’t quite do his people justice.
It was called—

THE SEVEN WISE DUCKS.

A little toy-boat came floating along,
Met seven wise ducks together.
* Quack, quack!” said they, ‘“‘here’s a strange odd fowl,
That swims with never a feather—
With never a feather it glides along
Was ever such heard of in story or song?”

“No beak!” said one, ‘‘nor a scrap of tail!”
One wing—but truly a queer one.”
Then they twisted their necks, and screwed up their eyes,
“Ts it safe to let it come near one?”
“Will it bite? Can it quack? Oh, dear!” cried they,
‘We never did see such a thing till to-day!”

That bit of a craft went floating on,
Nor stayed a reply to utter;
Then those valiant ducks they all turned tail,
And swam away in a flutter.
‘Of course, we’re not frightened—oh, no!”’ said they:
“ But perhaps it is prudent no longer to stay.”









“4: NEW WORLDS










44 My uf
i Ain. “NS

’
a

hol, ~ \
I he Py |

















































By-and-bye the sun didn’t
wie Shine so brightly, and the green ~ =a
trees grew orange and yellow and*+~..>==
brown, and the leaves came showering j ee
down like golden rain, and made a

bright carpet over the smooth lawns. And one morning there was a new-comer
in the lake—a strange water-fowl, as beautiful as Jewel himself, but wild and shy.

“Where have you come from ?” asked Jewel.

“T come from the shining North, because Giant Winter has frozen the sea
with his icy breath.” “The sea !—what is the sea?”

“Tt is a great pond,” said his new friend, “miles and miles long.”

“What! bigger than this?” asked Jewel, amazed. “Is there another world
as much bigger than this, as this is bigger than the Farmer’s pond?”

“ Bigger than this!” said the Wild Duck, disdainfully. “Do you call
this big? Pooh! this is nothing—this is not the world. You must come
with us in the Spring. You are one of us—I see by your coat—and were
never meant to be mewed up here.”

“This is home,” said Jewel. “Home is better than the world, I think.”

But all the Winter the Wild Duck talked to Jewel, and told him such
stories about the sea and the North, with its icebergs and snowfields, and great
mountains topped with snow, and laced with glaciers, and of deep green valleys,
with their rushing streams, that a new, strange longing filled Jewel’s heart to
see all these wonders, and miost of all the great sea, with its heaving green
billows and seething foam.

“You must come,” said his friend; “it will soon. be time.” ,

“But I can’t leave Patty.”

“Patty ! oh, nonsense! You can come back to her; besides, you haven't
seen her for weeks.”







[ 38 ]

And so one night in early Spring, when a strange cry sounded overhead,
the Mallard said it was his friends gathering for their journey, and he musi.
go. Then the longing grew so strong in Jewel’s heart, that he, too, spread his
strong wings and flew away—away, leaving home and Patty, and so went off
to see the world.

There isn’t space to tell you of all the wonderful things Jewel saw in his
journey. They flew over hill and dale, and moor and fen, till they came to
the sea, and Jewel saw at last its tossing waves and heard the roar of the
breakers. On they fleeted, day after day, till they came to land again, and
then again sea; and there were tall cliffs, where the sea-fowl perched along
the ledges, and islands where they screamed and swarmed among the rocks.
But on went Jewel and his friends, with but little pause, till they reached
the great beds of reeds which grow where the Gulf of Bothnia spreads its
northernmost waters into the land. And there were myriads of other. birds—
whistling swans and grey-legged geese, and ducks and teal, and all kinds of
water-fowl. There they stayed all the Summer days, when the great sun
never seemed to set, but just circled round, washed his face in the sea, and.
then was up again. There they built their nests, and reared the little
ducklings, and swam and splashed, and played among the reed-beds. But still,
though very delightful, Jewel never forgot Patty and his home, and often
thought about them when his friends were asleep, and wondered if Patty was
sorry that he was gone.

Then it began to grow chill again, and the time came to go south; and
they all began to prepare for the journey with an immense clang and clatter.
First went off the mammas and the little ones, and then the papas followed
more leisurely. They did not mind a little cold, so long as the ice wasn't
too thick; and when they reached the more southern and western coast of
Sweden, they stayed for a while enjoying themselves among the little islands
which there fringe the coast. One day Jewel and his friend were swimming
about together.

“Well, Jewel,” said his comrade, “are you not glad you came to see the
world, instead of staying in that hum-drum i

He never finished his speech, for, bang! bang! a terrible noise burst out
near them, and the poor Mallard fell over with a cry, and there floated dead
upon the water.

Up rose all the birds, Jewel among them, with screams of fear and dread,
till the sky was darkened by their beating wings, and the air filled with
clamour and cry. Away away they streamed with screams and flutter.

“TI will go home,” thought Jewel. “I will go home.”





[390]

And how had it been at home all these months? When Patty, who had
been ill in the Winter, was strong enough to go down to the lake, she was
quite broken-hearted to find Jewel was lost.

“Oh, dear Jewel!” she sobbed. “Oh! where are you—where are you?”

“Don’t. fret, Missy,” said the old Gardener. “ Jewel is off with that
strange Mallard who was here all the Winter, I'll be bound. He is a bit of a
wild duck himself—you could see by his beautiful plumage, for all his gentle
ways. But I shouldn’t wonder if he comes back in the Autumn.”

And now the Autumn had come, and the leaves were golden again. Patty
came down to the lake, and began to feed the ducks and swans; and as she
did so, she thought of her pet.

“Oh, Jewel!” she said, sorrowfully, “won’t you come back soon ?”

Just then she heard a little flutter of wings, and felt a gentle pull at her
frock ; and looking down, there was Jewel beside her, with the corner of her
pinafore in his beak, just as of old.

“Oh, Jewel! you dear! you darling!” she cried. ‘You have come back
at last!” And sitting right down on the grass amid the red and golden
leaves, she hugged her new-found pet in her arms quite in ecstasy.

“ Well,” said the swans, when Jewel swam round, and said “How do
you do?” to all his friends—“ well, now you have been to see the world,
what do you think of it ?”

“Tt is all very beautiful,” said Jewel with a sigh, as he thought of his
poor slain friend. “It is very fine and lovely; but, after all, there is no
place like home !” \ : (deh


















oily a
a



IN, THE PADDOCK,

T was a beautiful morning in June. The sun was busy drinking up the
l cups of dew which the flowers had got ready for him in the night, and
the little brown Colt was teasing its mother to tell it a story.

It spoke its own pretty language, which you would never have
understood, if you had been there, but all horses understand it perfectly—so
do the fairies, and one or two men—gipsies mostly—and the man who
understands that language can ride any horse, no matter how unruly it may be
with other people. :

Well, the little Colt kept on teasing:

“You know, Mother,” it said, “I have played by myself ever since it got
light this morning, and am so tired. Tell me a story, do, dear mammy.”

And the little Colt rubbed its face coaxingly against its Mother's neck—in
just the way that mothers find it so hard to resist.

The Mother-horse took another bite of the short sweet turf before she
replied. You, of course, never speak with your mouth full, but the “Book of
Good Manners for Horses” has nothing in it about ¢hat, but only warnings



[ 41 ]

against kicking, and biting people’s fingers, which, of course, no little ‘boy of
girl would ever think of doing.

“What kind of a story would you like?” she asked.

“Oh, tell me about something that happened when you were little.”

“That: is the story the children always like best,” said the Mother-horse
—and so it is—and with that she began to tell it. And the Baby-horse listened
with all its ears. It had only two, like other horses, but if it had had more
it would have listened with them, and as it was it listened with all the ears it
had, and the best of us can do no more—and some of us don’t do so
much, nearly.

“When I was quite young, not so young as you, my dear, but still young
enough to be foolish, I remember one day there was a great commotion in
the stable-yard. We heard that a new dog was coming to live with us. Now
our last dog Trust had been sent away because he would bite the sheep so—
and I've often thought he couldn’t have come to a good end. But we were
all very fond of Trust, and when the shepherd took him away for the last
time, we were almost broken-hearted, and Snow, the old white cart-horse, only
put in words what we were all thinking when he said:

“I don’t care what kind of dog they put in old Trust's place, I shall hate
him, whatever he is, and if he comes near me I’Il—I’ll dite him!”

ae





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ey.








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Hy




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aes

“The new dog came; they called him Vincent. He was a great, big St.
Bernard, very handsome, and very gentle-looking ; indeed, I never remember
to have seen a more gentle, manly dog than Vincent. He would never have.
bitten a sheep, even if he had had to drive them all day.”

“Did he have to drive them all day?” asked the young colt.

“My dear, didn’t I say he was a gentleman? He did nothing for his
living, except saying what he thought of the people who came into the yard.
Well, good and kind as he was, we all hated him, and none of us would
make his acquaintance, or even speak to him. When he had been there three
days he came into the stable, and when he was passing behind old Snow's
stall, he barked—at a rat, I always believed; but old Snow, who ‘is rather
deaf, thought the new dog was presuming to make fun of our stable arrange-
ments, and before any of us could say a word, he had kicked out, and Vincent,
poor dog, lay on the stable flags, not moving a bit; his leg was broken.

“The stable-boy ran in, and he fetched the groom, and between them they
carried the poor dog away, and it was many days before any of us saw him
again. He was being nursed; and at last, one day, they brought him back
into the yard. He was quite well again, but he was lame, and that would
never be cured.

“The stable-boy chained him to the kennel, so that he should not be hurt
again, and he used to lie there in the sun, blinking towards the stable, as”
though he would like to have one more try at being friends with the rest of
us, in spite of all he had suffered from old Snow.

“One day the snap of the chain was broke, and Vincent was free. Old
Snow was leaning over the halfdoor of the stable. Vincent got up and
stretched his great length in front of his kennel; then he went straight to old
Snow—was he going to bite him, and take his revenge for that kick ?

“Vincent was too gentle and good for that. He just went up to old
Snow, and kissed his white face that was put out over the door. That was
his way of showing he would like to forgive and forget, and to be friends
even with a person who had used him so badly.

“Well, of course, that made us all ashamed of ourselves; and from that
time everyone in the stable loved Vincent as much as he deserved.”

“That’s a nice story,” said the little Colt ; “but tell me another.”

“Another!” answered Mother-horse.. “Why, there never was such a child
as mine for stories.”

(Every mother says that.)

“And let it be a pretty story, with athiag sad in it. Don’t let anybody
be hurt.”



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[aa i

“Very well,” the Mother-horse answered. “I will tell you the story of
The Peacocks vl the Nightingale.

“There were once three beautiful Peacocks, with the most splendid blue
and green and gold tails, and they lived in the loveliest garden, with flowers,
and green lawns, and. terraces, and every kind of beautiful tree and shrub ;
and they were happy, because everyone who came into the garden admired
them so, and there is nothing peacocks care so much for as admiration.
Whenever any visitors came to the house, they admired the flowers and the
trees, and then they would say—

“Look at those lovely Peacocks! Oh! they are far nicer than all the
rest of the garden.’

“But the Peacocks’ manners were very bad. I remember once or twice
they strayed into the stable-yard, and .I used often to see them when I was
brought round to the door for my young lady to ride. They always had their
beaks in the air, and they never had a civil word for anyone. ‘We are the
kings of the garden, and we know our place too well to talk with low
creatures like horses,’ they would say.

“Well, my dear, this went on for some time. The Peacocks grew vainer
and vainer, until at’ last something happened which changed their high opinion
of themselves.

“Tt chanced that in a corner of a marble terrace of that big beautiful
garden lived a little brown bird, not ‘at all handsome to look at—in fact, I am
sure no peacock or other fashionable fowl would have been seen walking with
such a dowdy bird. But this little bird could do one thing that the Peacocks
couldn't do—it could sing. And when it had lived a little while in the garden, ©
people seemed to care less for the beautiful green and gold birds, and when
one person said—

“What lovely Peacocks !’

“Some one else was sure to say—

“«Yes, but have you heard the Nightingale ?’

“And they would go off to the corner of the terrace where the little
brown bird sang, and when they had once heard its voice they very seldom
went back to the lawn where the Peacocks lived.

“Then they thought they would try singing too. But they made a
dreadful noise. Oh, my dear, it was enough to make one shy across the
paddock to hear it.

“ And at last the handsomest Peacock said to his brothers:

“«My dear boys, there’s no help for it, we must go and listen to this
common, low bird, and see how he does it,’





“So one day they all went to the terrace to listen to the Nightingale’s
song. The brown bird felt quite shy—so it told me afterwards—for it had
never had such a fashionable audience before. But it did its best, as it
always did.

“And the Peacocks listened and listened, and forgot all about their fine
feather dresses, and their low opinion of the N ightingale. They forgot all their
envy and vanity, and only felt that they wanted the brown bird never to
leave off singing.

“At last it did leave off, and made a little bow to its audience, and flew
away without waiting to be thanked.

“When it was gone, the Peacocks looked at each other.

“*Well,’ said the biggest one, ‘We can never sing like that.’

“But we can come and listen,’ said the second.

“¢And we will,’ said the third.

“And so they did; and I think after that they were not so anxious to be
praised, and they took a pleasure in praising the Nightingale, which took away
some of their thoughts from themselves.”

“And is that all the story?” asked the little Colt, who had listened to
every word.



T 46 J

“Yes, that’s all the story. Is it a nice one?”

The Colt rubbed its nose thoughtfully against its Mother.

“Yes,” it said, “Yes, it’s nice—but won’t you tell me one without a—what
is it that comes at the end of the fables about us animals?”

“ A moral,” said the Mother-horse.

“ Yes—tell me one without that.”

“T can't,’ said the Mother, “all stories have morals.” Then she went on:

“Let me see, did I ever tell you the Rook’s Story? No. Well, that was
a tale that I heard from a Rook who was digging for worms in the paddock
the other day while you were playing down by the fence. Do you see that
man in the next field? Well, the Rook used to be very frightened of him,
and not dare to go into the field to pick up the grains of corn after the sower
had so kindly put them there. But it happened that one of the rooks had
weak eyes, and he mistook the man for a tree, and went and perched on his
arm—and the man never moved! Then the Rooks saw that they had nothing
to be afraid of, and they went and sat there beside the one that had weak
eyes; and then they found that the man had only a turnip for a head, and
broomsticks for arms, and a bag of straw for a stomach.”

“7 shouldn't like to have only straw in my stomach,” said the little Colt.

“Perhaps he didn’t like it, nor yet having only a turnip for brains—though
there are plenty of people like him. Perhaps he was too much occupied with
his own troubles to think of the Rooks: at any rate, he never moved, and
though he seemed to look at them, I don’t think he could see them. And
the moral of that story is—”

“Oh, don't,” said the young Colt.

“The moral of that is, ‘Don’t be afraid of people with turnip brains—nor
of anything, just because you don’t know what it is.’”

“You mean, ‘don’t shy,’” said the Colt.

“Yes,” said the Mother: “and now one more little tale I'll tell you before
you run off to play again.” :

“There was once a Pig: I knew him very well. He did not mean to be
greedy, but he had not been well brought up.

“He. was grubbing about in the woods one day, and he poked his snout
into a hole under a hollow tree, and he routed out a heap of nuts and acorns,
and just as he was thinking what a nice little mouthful they would make, a
bright brown Squirrel hopped out of the tree, and said:

“*QOh, don’t !’

“
“‘Ton’t eat up all my Winter's dinner—now don’t!’













VARD.

Ly

ILE

AL

Sie!

TELE

[N

VINCENT



[ 47 ]

“All right, said the Pig, ‘but, really, you needn’t make such a fuss
about a trifle.’

“CA trifle !’ said the Squirrel, ‘Yes it’s a trifle to you—-but not tome. You
have your dinner provided for you, and you don’t have to do anything for it
except (excuse my mentioning it, won't you?), except dying some day. Why,
you might almost be a duke. But look at me. I have to work hard to get my
food, so don’t be greedy and take it away, will you now ?’

“*No, no!’ said the Pig, ‘I daresay I am a‘lazy fellow, but you see I am
so fat. I couldn't be industrious.’

“*No, said the Squirrel, ‘but I have to be: that’s why I’m so thin.”

“There’s no moral to that story,” said the little Colt, joyously.

“Oh! isn’t there?” the Mother was beginning, when the little Colt
kicked up its heels and scampered off to play among the daisies. It loved
stories, but it always liked to skip the “moral.” Children never do that,
of course.







THE KIT-CAT CLUB.

OUSIN., FIAT is always laughing at us about our cats. The last
time he came to see us he began saying a teasing kind of rhyme
beginning—
“The dog will come when he is called,
The cat will walk away,”

and we really had almost a squabble about it. But I think I quite showed
him that he was mistaken in thinking that cats are heartless and stupid.
Ours always come when we call them, and very often when we don’t.
And, as far as affectionateness, they are just full of it; you should see
Alexander following us round the garden, or little Penguin sitting on
Mother’s knee, when she is writing, with his tiny fore-paws on the table
just as if he wanted to help her. And last Winter, when she was very
ill with a cold she caught helping to make the new rockery, and had to
stay in bed, Sandy insisted on going to see her every day; and it wasn’t
cupboard-love in the least, for she never feeds him. One day when
her dinner was left on a stool outside her door, he sat up beside it and
mewed piercingly to be let in. It is not every dog that would sit alone
with a boiled wing of chicken, and never so much as taste it. Not that
I want to say anything against dogs, they are very nice, indeed, in their
way; but while everyone praises them up and takes pains to understand



Af MEMBER, OF



THE KIT-CAT CLUB,



[ 50 ]

them, so many people won't take a bit of
trouble to know what cats are really like,
‘or to see their good qualities. <

Mother always says that you must
master a dog and keep him well-mannered
and obedient principally by fear; dogs will
obey the roughest, unkindest sort of men,
who behave as badly as possible to them
and everyone else. But a cat, she says, you can only win by being kind
and polite. They will never submit to force or cruelty, but if you treat them
properly they’ll be just as fond of you and as faithful as any dog. Anyhow,
that’s how our cats are.

We have only three just now; Mother would like to have four, but
Father says he thinks three is a very nice number indeed, and that if
Mother doesn’t take care she will be put in the newspapers like that old
lady—I forget her name—who has so many pussies that her neighbours
don't like it. te

The largest and the eldest is Alexander (that is his real name, but we
call him Sandy, for short); he is a most handsome cat, and his hair is
very much the same colour as Valentine’s. We did mean to call him”
Marigold, but somehow it didn’t seem quite to suit him, though the colour
matched. Perhaps his immense white whiskers and eyebrows made it
seem absurd. :

Then there is little Penguin; we call him that because he is marked
so funnily with black and white, and looks exactly like one when he sits
up and begs. He is a plump little cat with deep silky fur; he looks as
broad as he is long, Nurse says. He and Sooty are cousins; they are
about the same age, and were brought F
to us in the same basket.

It is the most comical thing in the
world to see them playing together at
hide-and-seek. There is a large curtain
over a door in the hall, and one of them
gets behind this and expects the other
to come and look for him, and if he is
rather long about it you will see a little
head and a pair of bright eyes peeping
round the curtain like a disappointed
child. But when the other comes and







bess Sa

begins to look, perhaps at the wrong side of the curtain, you hear a sudden
scamper of soft little feet and a big bounce as the hiding one rushes out
from his concealment and springs on his playmate ; and then they go tumbling
over and over one another with their paws round each other's necks, squealing
with fun and excitement.

We were perfectly miserable, I remember, when Sandy’s mother died.
Mr. Austin’s keeper shot her because, he said, she used to catch his young
pheasants and partridges; but I don’t believe for a moment that she ever did ;
she was only fond of walking about in the woods, like anybody else. It would



be very hard if everyone who liked rambling out in the hazel-copse was
supposed to be after his vexing little birds’ But he has promised never to
‘kill any of our cats again, and Mother has tied a bell and a ribbon on each
of them now, so that he may know them.

Poor Felicia! I shall never forget how we cried when she came crawling
in, and dragged herself up to where Mother usually sits—Mother was out that
afternoon, though; she looked round, as if she were trying to find her, and
then she gave a faint kind of mew, and stretched herself out on Mother's

chair, and died. i

x



bisa

She was such a clever cat! When Sandy was a tiny kitten, he was one
of five that she was bringing up in the summer-house at the end of the
garden, and three of them were taken away (“made off with,” as the Gardener -
calls it). Well, the day after that happened, Sandy disappeared, too, and
nobody could think what Felicia had done with him.

So we watched her, and found that she used to go, very stealthily, to the
arch that is all covered with Japanese honeysuckle, and climb up into it; and —
then we discovered that Sandy was up there, living quite cosily in a blackbird’s
nest six feet above the ground. I suppose she was afraid lest he might be
“made off with,” too, and thought he would be safer in another place.

We gave her a splendid funeral in the garden.’ Valentine made her a
beautiful tombstone out of wood, and painted it with white paint, and Christine
composed some poetry for her epitaph. But,

somehow, ° when
very fond of a pet,
and all that isn't
There was another
that we knew. She
for aught I know—
we used to go and
near the sea.
anymore now, because
who had the farm,
somewhere else; but
remains. She began
cat; but she was so



you've really . been
and it dies, the funeral
much of a consolation.
very clever mother-cat
lived—and lives still,
at a farmhouse where |
stay every summer,

We don’t go there
Mr. Lee and his wife,

have gone to live

I daresay Angelina
by being the stable-
pretty (and not shy,

as most stable-cats are), that by degrees
they allowed her in the house, till she took up her abode there altogether.
~ "She was quite a small tabby kitten when first we persuaded Mrs. Lee to
let her lie before the kitchen fire, and a lovely kitten she was, too; rather
inclined to be long-haired, with a fluffy white shirt-front, and great green eyes,
and the sweetest expression imaginable.

Valentine used to say, when he saw her sitting upon the dresser, with
Mrs. Lee’s beloved willow-pattern plates behind ‘her, looking dreamily at the
flies playing kiss-in-the-ring in the air, that if she were only white, and not
tabby, he should believe she was that enchanted pussy who turned into a
beautiful princess when her head was cut off. She was not, for Mrs. Lee
knew her mother quite well; and if she had been, I’m sure Val would never
have had the heart to cut her little head off; besides, it would have been






[53 9
very awkward supposing he did, and sup-
posing she fad turned into a princess.

I don’t expect she would have cared to
play our games, and I’m not quite sure that

ae

Mother and Father would have liked having “(fj zptgpe 2M.

rs
her to live with us. Fancy Father's having CI)
to walk downstairs ‘before her backwards,
with a gold candlestick in each hand, every
evening! And I’m certain he never would
have consented to wear court-dress every

day.

Z



So, on the whole, it was just as well that she was only an ordinary mortal
kitten. “You little mortal!” Mrs. Lee would call her, when she was more
than usually mischievous; yet, ordinarily, she was not. Never was such a
kitten for ridiculous pranks! She was very fond of being upstairs when Jan,
“who ‘was only a baby then, was being put to bed. She would hide under
the flounce of the bassinet, and make sudden darts at him. He didn’t mind
it a bit—in fact, I think he liked it, for he used to stretch out his little fat
arms to the little fat kitten, and laugh. ;

But Nurse did not altogether appreciate Angelina’s attentions. She is not
as. devoted to cats as we are,.and she was always rather nervous lest her
baby might receive a chance: scratch. However, the kitten would not be
driven away, even when Nurse blew in her face (which cats dislike more than
anything); and one evening Nurse got out of patience, and picking up one
of Jan’s little shoes, threw it quite hard at Kitty, who, instead of being
properly ashamed, or crying out because it hit her, seemed to think it must
be some delightful new plaything, made on purpose for her, for she pranced
and patted it, and settled down to a long game with it.

; . Belinda.





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Sy,

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anil] iy aX (

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: : vs ye i if Ae



“a Uh Sing ! ;
AY nd f isd f lige i
' Ae ae Z
Aft yf Zé |



=Frqui ilive

ALWAYS have had an inquiring mind, yes, always, from the time

I was quite a baby Donkey. People sometimes have said rather

unkind things about me, and declared I had a prying disposition, and

was too fond of poking my nose—as they rather vulgarly express it:
into what did not concern me. But that is quite a mistake. I only desire
to gain information, and a thirst for knowledge seems to me praiseworthy and
not to be blamed.

I think’ I must partly have gained my love of knowledge from my
Mother, for I remember how much she enjoyed a little instructive conversa-
tion. She used to chat with anyone in the most affable and pleasant manner.
I recollect distinctly one evening when she and I were in the field together,
she had a long talk with a friendly hare. Mother and I had our heads close
together—I remember the soft warm feel of her neck still—while the hare
told us of a dreadful danger she had escaped; how she had been hunted by
men and dogs, but had managed to escape them by swimming down a stream





[ 55 ]

and so got away. It was really most thrilling to hear her tell her adventures.
I have since learnt that it is a customary thing to chase hares, though what
pleasure big, strong men can find in hunting poor little timid animals like
hares to torture and death has always been a puzzle to me. But human
beings are strange creatures, and, on the whole, I have no great opinion
of them.

Yet there was one human being whom I learnt to love very much, and that
was Molly, my master’s little daughter. My master was the only man I ever
really respected, and Molly was a dear little girl and understood me thoroughly.
She would come and pat my neck and talk to me, and was so gentle and so
sweet that I even let her sometimes stroke my ears, though generally I
object very much to having them touched. I do not think people appreciate
the beauty of our ears, or understand how sensitive or expressive they are.
See one of my brethren in an enquiring mood; his ears stand upright, their
orifices turned forward to catch the slightest sound. See him in a bad temper ;
his ears are laid back almost on his neck. See him in a gentle meditation ;
one ear a little forward, the other a little back, and gently moving as his
philosophic spirit revolves many deep questions.

But Molly was so thoroughly sympathetic that I would not deny her the
pleasure of stroking my ears, which were particularly long, handsome and soft.
Sometimes she would bring me an apple, or a bit of bread, or, best of all, a
carrot. And we donkeys like nice things to eat as well as any other
creatures, only we are so patient that stupid people think we like hard fare
best, just because we take it patiently and make the best of it when there
is nothing else to be had. But true wisdom, my Mother always told me,
consists. in taking good things gratefully when they are given you and not
grumbling over hard things when they come in their turn. For there are ups
and downs in every life.

But what I wanted to tell
you about was a scrape I got into
through this love of knowledge of
which I have spoken, and how it
led to my career in life being settled
earlier than it otherwise would have
been. One evening I was alone in
the field, my mother having gone
back to her work of drawing a little
chaise about the seaside town that
was near our home. I was feeling

Sree: - we :
PRES ee AN
sy AR





[ 56 ]
rather dull, and was looking at a lane which passed our field and wondering
where it 'led to, when I suddenly perceived that by pushing up a bit of
wood with my nose I could open the gate. Why I had not perceived this
before I don’t know, but I saw it now, and immediately putting it in practice
I opened the gate quite easily and walked out into the lane. I strolled’
along it, feeling quite pleased with my cleverness, and staying now ‘and then
to crop a tempting thistle by the wayside, or to chat to a neighbour's horse
who was looking over his gate, and a friendly cow or two, till I came to such a
pretty place that I stopped to look.

There was a cottage a little way off, and between it and the road lay a
garden gay with flowers, brighter than any garden I had ever seen before—and
then beyond the flowers were rows of nice green peas and beans, and cabbages,
and onions ; and there were apple trees on which the fruit began already to
show round and green. I had never been in a garden, and of course I wanted
to know what it felt like, so, as the gate was open and no one was about, I
walked in and looked round me.

Now I always maintain there was no harm in that, though I am willing to
confess I was wrong in what I did afterwards, only I was so young and
untaught that I had some excuse, for the flowers looked so pretty that I felt I
must taste as well as smell them, so I nibbled off a rose or two and some
pinks. I was very disappointed in their flavour, for even though they smelt so
sweet they had such a bitter taste that I left them and strolled across to the
vegetable part and there—oh joy—I found a little heap of dainty young carrots
just dug up and fresh, as if intended for me.

I was quite enjoying myself in my quiet way when all of a sudden I
heard a voice cry out—

“Oh, Bob !”—(Bob was my name)—“ Oh! you naughty, naughty Bob Ye

It was Molly’s voice, and there was in it such a tone of grief and dismay
and reproof that I quite started, although my nerves are tolerably strong, and,
looking up, I saw the little girl coming towards me with so white and frightened
a face, that I felt quite concerned. She caught hold of the cord that happened
to be round my neck and began to lead me away, and though I had not
nearly finished my carrots, I went with her at once. But we had not got out
of the gate when a man with a thick stick in his hand rushed out of the
cottage. “What is that brute doing here?” he shouted. “Please, I am ‘very
sorry,” stammered Molly, “but he has got loose and the gate must have been
open. I will take him away at once.”

“Take him away,” roared the ran, “I daresay that’s all very fine, that
is) Why, he has been trampling all over the place, and tearing everything ta





“YAM poe,

pieces.” And so saying, he raised his stick and gave me such a thwack that
I tingled all over.

Now I never did like men—no more did my Mother, though she rather
pitied them, because she thought that only having two legs had soured their
tempers and made them disagreeable. She had tried, she said, and had
found it so fatiguing that she felt sincere compassion for beings doomed to so
hard a fate. But legs or no legs, I wasn’t going to let this man beat me with-
out an effort at defence, so I gave a good kick and caught him on the shin.

Oh! wasn’t he angry! He rushed at me, caught my head, and standing
in front so that my legs could not get at him, he began to belabour me till my
little friend Molly couldn’t bear to see me so badly used.

Sobbing and screaming she threw herself upon my neck, crying out that
he was cruel, and shouldn’t beat her poor little Donkey, and clung so fast to
me that the man couldn’t hit me without hitting her. ~

“Hallo,” cried someone, “Hallo, what are you doing to my little girl?”



[ 58 ]

Tt was my master’s voice I knew, though I could not see him, I was so
muffled up between the man and Molly.

“What's your little girl doing in my garden,” growled the man, “and your
Donkey, too? He has eaten up all my young carrots I had just dug up—
carrots as is worth two-pence a piece this time of year.”

“Oh! father,” sobbed Molly, “I have five shillings in my money-box. Oh!
let me give it to this cruel man and take poor Bob home.”

“T ain't cruel,” said the man, sulkily, “but just look at those flower beds,
let alone the carrots. I can’t afford to have my things destroyed.”

“All right,” said my master. “He hasn’t eaten all the carrots, and I’m
willing to pay for the others. Come along, Molly, you too, Bob, you scamp.”

My Mother gave me a serious talking to that night and made me promise
never to touch anything again which was not given me, and I never have done
so since the matter was properly explained to me.

Next day my master came into the field and looked at me carefully.

“T didn’t mean to send you out so soon, Bob,” he said, “but idle feet get
into mischief as well as idle hands. So, my boy, you must go to work.”

Thus my fate was settled. The next morning I was put into a little
cart, and taught to go in harness; and afterwards, every Tuesday and Thursday
and "Saturday, took the cabbages and fruit and eggs to market. And I liked
it, for there was so much going on there: such a bustle of people, and such
a throng of horses, and donkeys, and cows, and sheep, and pigs; and I saw
and heard so many amusing things, that I quite enjoyed myself.

But one morning, Molly came rushing out to me, with her pretty hair
flying, her blue eyes shining, and her cheeks like two roses.

“Bob,” she cried, flinging her arms round my neck and hugging me,
“Bob, it is-my birthday, and what do you think Father and Mother have
given me?”

I rubbed my cheek against hers in an enquiring manner.

“You, Bob, you!” she said. “You are to be my own, own, donkey,
and they have given me a new cart for you to draw, and we are to go this
afternoon up to Uncle Tom’s, and fetch all the children down to tea. Oh!
Bob, you darling, you will go nicely, won’t you ?”

Of course I trotted along as beautifully as a donkey could trot. Molly
and I had a lovely quiet drive through the lanes, where the Traveller’s Joy
was all out in blossom, garlanding the hedges with wreaths of beauty. And
we came back in triumph—Molly driving, Dick and Sally walking on either
side, and Trot and Toddles, the twins, tucked away in the cart behind. And
not only that afternoon, but many another did the children and I go out



[ 59 J

together, and had grand times; and I grew to love them all, but none so
much as my dear little Mistress Molly.

My dear little Mistress Molly. One cold Winter, when the snow lay
deep and early on the ground, my little Molly went away, and never, never.
came back again. Someone whispered that the Angels, when they sang on
Christmas Eve, carried her away with them. I do not know if that were so,
but I know I never saw her more, or heard her sweet voice, or felt her dear
arms hugging my rough grey neck. And that Winter, too, my Master’s head,
which had been brown as a hazel nut, grew suddenly white, and I often
heard my Mistress sob and sigh as she walked by my side to market.

I am an old Donkey now, and my Master lets me spend a great deal of
my time on the common. He and I have grown old together, he says, and
I am not to have more work than will keep my joints from getting too stiff;
and if anyone threatens to beat or ill-use me, he is very angry with them,
because his little Molly loved me, and for her sake he won’t have me hurt.

M. A. Hoyer.



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. AGE and onions!” cried Mrs. Duck, by which she showed she was
in a state of great excitement, for this is the most forcible of polite
expressions in the duck language; go beyond that and a duck
becomes vulgar. Now our Mrs. Duck was not vulgar; she had

Spanish blood in her veins and was the leader of the poultry-fashion at

Blackberry: Farm, besides being the mother of seven wee fluffy yellow

ducklings, of whom she was exceedingly proud.

“Sage and onions!” she repeated. “To think that that puppy should
know all about it, while we in the farm-yard are left in ignorance. It’s—
it’s quite unbearable.”

“Smudge, the puppy, was certainly not a favourite in the farm-yard,
not that he was a bad-hearted puppy, but he was a little too light-hearted
to suit the tastes of the other animals. He could not resist suddenly
coming round a corner and bow-wowing at Mrs. Duck and her seven
children, frightening them so—for the ducklings thought Smudge meant to
gobble them up—that they ran to the pond for safety. Then Master Puppy











A RUN FOR HOME.



[ 6: ]

delighted in the young pigs; their little curly tails were made to be pulled,
he thought; but the little pigs did not think so, and as soon as they saw
Smudge coming they scampered away to their mother and their sty.

In fact, none of the animals liked Smudge, and none of them spoke to
him; Mrs. Nanny Goat told him that she would not allow her kids to
play with him, and that he had better be off; so Smudge went off, and
played with his tail, turning round and round so quickly, trying to catch
it, that he became giddy, and could not walk straight until he had turned
round and round the other way to put himself right.

And now something had happened at Blackberry Farm, and of all the
animals in the yard Master Smudge was the only one who knew what that
something was; for he was the only animal allowed into the house, and
the something that had happened, had happened in the house, so Smudge
had opportunities that the other animals had not.

All that Mrs. Duck and her friends knew about the matter was, that
one fine morning Farmer Wurzel had driven to town in his dog-cart, and
had come back the next day in a closed carriage (a house on wheels the
ducklings called it, but, as they were only three days old, they didn’t know’
any better), and that he had brought back with him a very strange bundle.
None of them had been able to see what was in the bundle, but they
saw that whatever it contained was alive, for when the farmer carried it
carefully into the house it moved. Then a strange gentleman used to come
to the farm every day, and each time he went away he would shake his head
and look very grave. And Farmer
Wurzel, who, as a rule, was a very merry
farmer, suddenly turned into a very ; =
anxious-looking one. And Sarah, who MG we
had been a very jovial cook, as soon pb A
as the bundle arrived became a very “==
melancholy cook. And Biddy, who was g
a laughing dairy-maid, turned into a /# [A
crying one, and the cow said that Farmer _ AG
Wurzel would be taking to tinned milk
if Biddy’s tears did not dry up so that ai

she could do her work properly. es

Well, the bundle was a mystery, =a ee
and the behaviour of Farmer Wurzel _ i aS
and the others was a mystery, and hes

made the farm-yard animals so curious






[ 62 ]

that they could think and talk of nothing else. But thinking and talking
didn’t solve the mystery, and the only animal who could do so was “that
puppy ’—poor snubbed Master Smudge.

Mrs. Duck became quite desperate, and one morning , after the. strange
gentleman had gone away looking graver than ever, she ‘marched with her
seven children boldly into the kitchen, but it happened that Sarah had a
broom in her hand, so she brushed Mrs. Duck and the ducklings into the
yard, and told them that if they came there again she would cook them.

Then the little ducklings swam across the pond and asked the calf ii
he knew anything about this mysterious bundle, but the calf knew nothing,
but said he would ask the sheep, but the sheep didn’t know, unless, perhaps,
it was her last year’s wool, she said.

Then the calf trotted across the field, and, looking over the palings,
asked the pretty deer, who live in the park, if they knew anything of the
matter, but they hadn’t even heard of the bundle, so the seven little ducks
swam home again just as wise as they were before they started.

“We shall have to condescend to know the puppy, I’m afraid, Mrs.
Duck,” said Mrs. Nanny Goat to the leader of the poultry-fashions, “if we
are to discover what is taking place in the house.”

“Ah, me! I’m afraid we must, but it is very dreadful; the thing has
no manners at all, and is so rough. But solve the mystery we must. I
give you my word, Mrs. Nanny, that I haven’t slept for three nights, and,
you will hardly believe me, I have lost my appetite for—/or /rogs.”

“Dear me! And you were so very fond of them,” said the Goat. “I
think the best thing to be done is to call a general meeting of the farm-
yard animals and hear what they all think of the matter, and what course
we ought to take.”

So the two kids and the seven ducklings were sent off to collect the

animals, who soon came trooping to the spot where the goat was tethered
to the ground.
There were ducks and geese, and cocks and hens. There were pigs and
cows, cart-horses and turkeys, all met together to determine whether they
should speak to Master Smudge, and ask him to tell them all about the
mysterious bundle. And this they agreed to do after a great many speeches
and a great deal of excitement, caused by the geese having to be turned
away from the meeting -because they did nothing but hiss at all the
speakers, and said that they wouldn't speak to the puppy to find out any
secrets; but, as they were only geese after all, their opinion was not
considered worth troubling about.



[263 4

Well, you can quite understand how very much surprised Smudge must
have been when he came into the farm-yard the next morning. All the
animals were so amazingly civil.

“Quack! quack! Good morning, Mr. Smudge,” said Mrs. Duck. “I hope
you feel quite well to-day.”




=

“Peep! peep!” said the seven little ducklings, who were not old enoush
to say “quack” yet. “We hope you are quite well, Mr. Smudge.” F

“Thank you, ma’am, thank you, my dears, I’m not much different from
what I was yesterday; very well and jolly,” replied Smudge.



64 |

He was so astonished that he ran to the pond and gazed at his reflection
in the water. ‘No,’ he said to himself, “I look just the same. What can
have happened to make them so civil?”

Wherever Smudge went in the yard he was treated with the greatest
politeness by all the animals except the geese, who, whenever he came near
them, held their heads very high in the air, and hissed louder than ever, and
often chased him to the kitchen-door. But the fowls made up for this rudeness
by bowing and scraping, and bringing the puppy bones whenever they found
any.

In the afternoon Mrs. Duck and Mrs. Nanny-goat called another general
meeting, to which Smudge was invited; and was then asked to tell them all
about the mysterious bundle. ;

The puppy said he would be most charmed to tell them all he knew; so
when all had made themselves quite comfortable, Smudge cleared his throat
and began his story :— ;

“You know very well,” commenced Master Smudge, “that Farmer Wurzel
went to town last week in the dog-cart. You also know that he came back
the next day in a shut-up carriage. You also know ie

“What's the good of your telling us what we know?” interrupted the
Geese, who had come to the meeting uninvited ; for, if the truth must be
told, they were just as curious as the other animals. “You've been asked
here to tell us something we don’t know.”

“Hold your tongues!” cried all the other animals, “unless you wish to
be turned away again.”

The geese, not wishing this to happen to them, kept their bills closed, and
Smudge proceeded with his story :— ,

“And you also know that he brought back with him a very peculiar
pundle. But none of you know what was in that bundle—don’t be impatient
and you shall know in good time. After the Farmer had done his business
in the market and in the town, he went to the inn where the dog-cart was
put up and ordered his supper ; for he had been at work all day and was very
hungry, and a very good supper he had. After his supper, and while the
-horse was being put into the trap, Farmer Wurzel went for a short stroll;
and while he was looking up at the sky to see what sort of weather he would
have on his way home, his foot caught in something, and Farmer Wurzel
nearly tumbled down.

“He picked up his hat, which had fallen off, and looked at the some-
thing. It was a bundle. Further Wurzel looked into the bundle and gave a
cry of horror. Farmer Wurzel knew what was in that bundle, and so do I.”









A TERRIBLE PLIGHT.



[ 66 ]

Here the puppy stopped for a moment and looked round at the interested
faces. Not’ an animal said a word. Mrs. Duck stood first on one leg and
then on the other; she was too excited to stand still.

“And you shall know, too, in good time,” continued Smudge. “‘ Dear,
dear, dear, dear me,’ cried Farmer Wurzel, kneeling down by the bundle.
‘Dear, dear, how can this have happened?’ And then he very carefully |
lifted up the bundle and took it to the inn. And there was a commotion ;
waiters and maids were running here and running there. The ostler drove
away in Farmer Wurzel’s dog-cart, and brought back a gentleman with him
to the inn. Well, and to make a long story short, Farmer Wurzel slept at
the inn that night, and drove here in the morning in a shut-up carriage
with that bundle. And as soon as it was in the house, Cook knew what was
inside of it, and Jane, and Biddy, and Tom, and Joe knew what was in that
bundle, and so did I, and so shall you know when the proper time comes.”

At this stage of the narrative Mrs. Duck became hysterical, and had to be
led to the pond, where her head was held under the water until she revived,
when she remarked she was ready to hear the end of the story.

“Perhaps we had better put it off till to-morrow, if dear Mrs. Duck is

unwell ?” said Smudge, smiling sweetly.







“No, no, no, no,” cried all the animals. “She’s all right now; you will
make her worse if you stop. Go on. Go on.”

So Smudge went on.

“I will not keep you any longer in suspense. Why should 1? You
have all been so patient while I have been telling my story, and I am so
sorry that poor Mrs. Duck has been made ill by excitement. Now, hush for
one moment, and then talk as much as you like; hush, while I tell you
this wonderful secret, for wonderful it is! You will be surprised to hear
there was a little girl in that bundle. A little tiny girlk And what, you
ask, was the little girl doing in that bundle? I will tell you. She was
starving in it. Starving for want of food; starving for want of warmth. She
was dying in that bundle. So Farmer Wurzel brought her home and fed her,
and warmed her, took her out of that bundle and put her to bed, and she is
sleeping now in that room looking over this yard. And, although she is not

starving now, the strange gentleman who comes here every day, and who is a:

doctor, looks very grave because he thinks she may be—she may be dying

still.” :
Smudge said this in a very low voice. All the animals turned their

heads and looked at the window of the room, and then turned back their
heads and looked at the ground, but. said nothing. Big tears trickled down
from the cow’s soft eyes; the seven little ducklings nestled close to their
mother; the goat sighed, and looked anxiously at her kids; and the geese
looked as miserable as the rest. -

,



feoee

“Tg there nothing that we can do for her?” at
‘last said Mrs. Duck, mournfully.

“Well, yes, I think there is,’ replied Smudge;
-.“T heard the doctor say that quiet is what she required.
~y Let us all make as little noise as possible, and then,
@ perhaps, she will get better.”

“A grand idea,” they all said. “ Yes, there should
be no noise in the farm-yard.”

The meeting then sadly broke up and the animals
went quietly away.

“Good gracious,” cried Farmer Wurzel, the next day. ‘What on earth
has come to all the animals, have they all caught cold in their heads?”

It was enough to surprise any farmer. For the cock crowed in a
whisper, the cow mewed in a whisper, the duck quacked in a whisper, in
fact, all the animals who had anything to say, said it in a whisper.

And, grand to tell, whispers and food and warmth did good, for one
week after that general meeting, Smudge came scampering into the yard.

“Bow, wow-wow,” he barked, by no means in a whisper; “the doctor
says she will not die. The doctor says she will live. Come, we ¢an talk
loud now, three cheers for the baby in the bundle.”

And the animals did cheer, not. three times, but thirty times, each in his
own particular language.

One week more and Biddy brought the baby in the bundle out into the
_farm-yard. Such a baby! Such blue eyes and golden hair! But still very
pale and weak. ,

One year more, and the baby in the bundle toddles into the farm-yard.
Such a baby! Her eyes are bluer, and her golden curly hair is longer, and
she is as plump as a partridge, and as rosy as an apple. And she holds on
to Smudge; not the Smudge of a year ago, but a fine, handsome colley dog,




han





beloved and respected by all the animals in the yard. v

Farmer Wurzel, not being able to find : z \ . ye
the father or mother of the baby in the — . / eee
bundle, adopted her as his own little “ / Ly co
daughter. And he, and everybody, and YJ

every animal agreed with Mrs. Duck when 3
she exclaimed :— i \ :
“Sage and onions! She is the best “WK
and sweetest little creature that I ever
did see. Sweeter even than frogs!” Xs
Edric Vredenburg. iy ee

ae
y

= Ni op eee
bE og
\ Sax =



MO NKEY—NUTS.

J is some years ago since I became intimate with those
I mischievous mites called Monkeys, although I have been

acquainted with the funny little creatures, in a casual sort

of way, all my life. But I was not formally introduced to them

till long after I had passed what I may call “the young

Monkey stage” of my own existence, and had taken to drawing

funny pictures to please you little people. But once, when I
wanted to draw something very funny indeed, I went to the Zoological Gardens
of the city in which I was then living, to paint a picture of monkeys, and
it was there that I got to know these queer little animals intimately.

Dear me! what a time I had in that Monkey-house! The first little
fellow I tried to paint had a comical face, with bright brown eyes, and a very
long tail. He used to look at me out of the corner of those bright eyes, and
at first seemed very much interested in what I was doing, coming to the bars
of the cage and trying to get a peep at my picture. Then he would try to
steal my brushes, which was, of course, very naughty of him; and because I
wouldn't let him have them, would fling. himself on the ground, and hide
his face in the straw, as much as to say, “Then I shan’t play anymore.”
But I was ready for him, and bribed him to be good by producing nuts from
my pocket. This had a grand effect. He sat cracking away for a good
half-hour or more, and I think he might have retained his good opinion of
me for some time longer if he had not, unfortunately, caught sight of his
portrait. He must evidently have thought it a bad one, and so got offended ;
for he pieked up a handful of sawdust, and running up the wires of his cage, ~
he threw it all over me, making hideous grimaces all the while.

I had to- have recourse to more nuts, and some apples and cakes; and
at last “Dick”—for that was my little friend’s name—and the three other
“monkeys in the same cage, began to know me almost as well as they knew
their keeper, and would sit in a row whenever I made my appearance,
chattering like so many girls and boys just out of school, and watching
eagerly to see what I had brought them. And although I believe they all
thought I had not painted Dick half handsome enough, I think they forgave
me on account of my good nature,





for]

I painted a good many different sorts of monkeys after that, and saw
some very funny things happen in the big cage, where there was quite a
crowd of comical fellows, both big and little.-

One day a man put a ball of string into this cage, which was at once
pounced upon by one of the large monkeys, who, having found the end,
immediately began to unwind it; while another monkey, catching ‘hold of ©
a piece that was hanging down, ran off with it. Then -one wee monkey
snatched hold of another bit, and a big monkey grabbed hold of another
piece; and so on, and so on, till they had unwound the- whole ball, and
it was in one great tangle all over the cage.

Then the mischief, and the noise, and worry began.

Gabble, gabble, gabble! Squeak, squeak, squeak! Scratch, scratch, scratch!
One after another they got caught, till half of them were tied up like
brown paper parcels. Then they all ran to the top of the cage to hold a
meeting protesting against balls of . string and the people who put them
there; and I think they were quite pra HN
right.

_ I got so fond of my little friends,
that at last I bought one and took




























“ee

be]

him home to live in a comfortable cage in
my studio. ~To live in a cage did I say?
But that was just the place where he did
not live; for he got so tame that he was
allowed to go just where he wanted, though
at first he broke a good many things, and
was always eating something that did not
agree with him. Then I had to give him
physic, and it was a very difficult matter to
make him take it, I can assure you; but I
remembered how the late Mr. Frank Buckland,
the great naturalist, used to treat his pet
monkeys. | Whenever one of them wanted —~
doctoring, Mr. Buckland would get a bottle“
and let the patient watch him mix up the :
dose, and then he would go and pretend to Saeeai ee
hide it behind some books or something, just as it he didn’t want
anybody to know where it was, the monkey watching him very slyly
all the time; and as soon as Mr. Buckland went out he would go
and get the bottle, taste what was in it, and generally empty it. I
tried this plan with+ “Nuts”—that was the name of my little fellow—and
it was nearly always. successful. A

But his great delight was to get a looking glass, (one of those small hand
glasses) with which he would sit and admire himself, and smile, and grin, and nod,
and make faces until we could not help laughing at him; and then he would
get into a rage and run up the curtains, and scold us from the curtain-pole.

When the Winter came we bought Nuts a companion, another monkey
called Pat, and the two would sit before the fire warming their hands and
toasting their toes just as you or I. would have done. But Pat was too full
of mischief, so had to be sent away. -

The next Summer we went into the country to stay with some friends,
but as our friends didn’t invite the monkey, Nuts was left at home. And
fancy our dismay on hearing that our little favourite was lost. He was
hunted for high and low, we advertised in the papers, and offered rewards fo1
his recovery, but it was no good, and it was months before we saw him again.

But one day, when I was stopping in a town miles and miles from where
I lived, I was attracted by a crowd round an Italian organ-man, who had a
performing monkey. I stopped to look at the poor little thing in a red
jacket and a hat and feathers, turning somersaults on the muddy road, when








[ 72 |

suddenly he caught sight of me, and with one jump snatched the chain that
held him out of the man’s hand, and bounding up on to my shoulder, put
both arms round my neck and began rubbing his face against mine.

It was: poor little Nuts! i

The organ-man was very indignant at my claiming my pet, and brought a
policeman.

“How do you know,” said the policeman, “that this monkey is yours ?”

“Keep the organ-man and the monkey here for a few minutes and I will
prove it,” said I, and I hurried off to a confectioner’s near at hand, and brought
a few sweet biscuits, which I put into my waistcoat pocket.

“Nuts,” said I, when I got back to where the poor little fellow was fairly
shrieking at the idea of losing me again. ‘ Where are the cakes?”

In an instant he was up at my pocket, and brought out the biscuits, to
the great amusement of the policeman and the crowd that had gathered round.

The organ-man (who I found out afterwards had been seen in the neigh-
bourhood of my house the day Nuts was lost) thought it was time to be
off, so shouldered his organ and went away without another word.

Fancy the delight of everybody at home when Nuts made his appear-
ance on the dining-room table that evening! But none of us were more
delighted than our little pet himself, who turned somersaults, for ten minutes
at least, all over the hearth-rug.

7 R. KK. Mounsey.









eth ny j yA a) | aes

















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describe
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describe
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describe
Invalid character
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
Invalid character
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-10-14T03:33:26-04:00'
describe
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describe
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6ec90a3f188fc768d50d923db0b167ea
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'2011-10-14T03:33:49-04:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-10-14T03:33:21-04:00'
describe
'2773' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVLW' 'sip-files00010.txt'
ebf3d14f53cf84f53fa869be3422ee94
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'2011-10-14T03:33:32-04:00'
describe
'19660' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVLX' 'sip-files00010thm.jpg'
3ec4b85f53ba472d85f70e463de9b54d
1cc3fa95e1c1ffc6c3c92034a264acf0df462b0a
'2011-10-14T03:33:39-04:00'
describe
'595146' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVLY' 'sip-files00011.jp2'
74ef7c9d7e099322e87cfc9b8539777a
080b8810ed13448ce98331a3385dff5a708449a7
'2011-10-14T03:33:48-04:00'
describe
'157062' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVLZ' 'sip-files00011.jpg'
ff07c85d70a4df050918a87bcd61d196
59af0a56f0edd2a75c7729afffeeb1f16e0f0086
'2011-10-14T03:33:52-04:00'
describe
'38243' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMA' 'sip-files00011.pro'
5b29df102ae75d9a76094c3fcd132fd6
d6b815ec20ed9ae8027486d010c585009d46577a
'2011-10-14T03:33:38-04:00'
describe
'47041' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMB' 'sip-files00011.QC.jpg'
e00dbdd50d9c018af883b03320cb315f
b48f51d9dc03e5ac11f5579f711c693244fd9c13
'2011-10-14T03:34:03-04:00'
describe
'4771532' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMC' 'sip-files00011.tif'
dc969bac9f8c37466179e1c22d35d2cd
8a30db6fd61238bbe6894ef94c5c9246556315a6
describe
'1773' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMD' 'sip-files00011.txt'
e176583140e93fd799f9ee1b0aa88342
2f7a652f9ac1fdc8e2f770553d0b2a953fdf0d48
'2011-10-14T03:34:18-04:00'
describe
'19708' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVME' 'sip-files00011thm.jpg'
eccc0bdff1a4cb56438790fd2d487635
79b40ea9d916601788aa569f0e9601bc7c3d13d6
'2011-10-14T03:34:38-04:00'
describe
'591494' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMF' 'sip-files00012.jp2'
c48e85ec651a93f14271d9018749c1e4
9e1e0d70e33644402d8d44bcc68048b5d64d296e
'2011-10-14T03:34:31-04:00'
describe
'158135' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMG' 'sip-files00012.jpg'
19f3c2eab920cded3cdf26240fe00760
46977f1f5b675f2b8f00328cf2dcd5b639a8023e
describe
'44620' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMH' 'sip-files00012.pro'
05771a35653e0de843116c0509320f38
4f75ff20d5425f82e2719acb3bbf698b3203c405
'2011-10-14T03:34:26-04:00'
describe
'51701' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMI' 'sip-files00012.QC.jpg'
c79e8e5ebd3768352ac168242553e315
ae78d8a75c55f3382e6d2e0bba3fef5d537fd856
'2011-10-14T03:34:25-04:00'
describe
'4742676' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMJ' 'sip-files00012.tif'
74b8b36ecdcbae605acdc9fc93e2313c
98644ecfbbc156fba9ea4397b4ecf9646b615889
describe
'1795' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMK' 'sip-files00012.txt'
b3cd12e54b4daf892b970ee02907ddf5
d3a94b3c636d477c3ea63684f56a28b9ad92f371
'2011-10-14T03:33:42-04:00'
describe
'20002' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVML' 'sip-files00012thm.jpg'
1817cc194303c9d21095e0c690db7a75
1fbba3d039e1a6dee43daf846514f032d9118a0d
'2011-10-14T03:33:33-04:00'
describe
'560790' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMM' 'sip-files00013.jp2'
47bcbf4dfd72fdfbd1547e6790efa558
801f2ba1fe1e76e4268ed7557864ad8f90e9f222
describe
'170755' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMN' 'sip-files00013.jpg'
beaa7bb21dbca1a4e47a713f1f4c4da9
0772d86d1e2032db177f87fd811a3e4702f2bb2c
'2011-10-14T03:33:00-04:00'
describe
'43835' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMO' 'sip-files00013.pro'
bdb3beb421ed5804edd31ed06fd8e4e1
c31aacf2903306b10e64d9a1360700e2f0538a5e
describe
'53473' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMP' 'sip-files00013.QC.jpg'
edbf879b96cb424669092a98edb0d37e
397ba130a5c7e1c2939c967c1dac2f022277f7ac
'2011-10-14T03:33:31-04:00'
describe
'4497392' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMQ' 'sip-files00013.tif'
ec673d141c1884c14273c45306b1c3c1
107412e42818438d7772d53141b180dd678ceedb
describe
'1882' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMR' 'sip-files00013.txt'
2fb3ee7484f5245df43df4222c2cc4b6
e4eb8022d4fcb21eb8296374eadd903234d33c2b
'2011-10-14T03:34:35-04:00'
describe
'21053' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMS' 'sip-files00013thm.jpg'
165d6857be6279bda5730e18686eebde
cc00ba2515c78cd8aa67fb14a917847cedab851d
'2011-10-14T03:33:18-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMT' 'sip-files00014.jp2'
af3c2ff88bfe65bad8ae37733ae00bcb
7c3eff80bf054b8c0c6aebe72ec899109b5ebe76
describe
'163370' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMU' 'sip-files00014.jpg'
54d40034c7ac3bfa8005fca328ed5b9e
1231e56c91557e7ca5cc5becf795e1ee7babfa72
describe
'65141' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMV' 'sip-files00014.pro'
a6738fcdf9dceb5d2a5ee2dcdc3dc955
0b0cff671a567a99c661756b88d10463691637bc
'2011-10-14T03:33:14-04:00'
describe
'51595' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMW' 'sip-files00014.QC.jpg'
e209c847a9b19ce82e7b7efb255fc20b
48406420bdc014c35125d0b79ca40b4f9d30ef2b
'2011-10-14T03:34:10-04:00'
describe
'4496500' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMX' 'sip-files00014.tif'
14f9641da3891dbfcd1c55b66ac22513
afcced5b63257d7ab887f38afa426ceb55ffe052
'2011-10-14T03:33:36-04:00'
describe
'2915' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMY' 'sip-files00014.txt'
f778a13794fee018d467cc7370d82ecc
17fbaa00b8839ec7b57acd542b710c098b587642
describe
'19199' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVMZ' 'sip-files00014thm.jpg'
592a4974eb967d0532e505e77d63b2fe
56e387be01659df0f40f930b66e8946ffde3c0b0
'2011-10-14T03:32:58-04:00'
describe
'592876' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNA' 'sip-files00015.jp2'
7c466980daacecc9b1ca5df1a053b7d8
53e003515b961931284c7eaee1d3286166460393
'2011-10-14T03:34:42-04:00'
describe
'167859' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNB' 'sip-files00015.jpg'
71d31f7ca2ba05f10f5f290179a86737
860b40162238d02d32fdf202d13f13dd375e70b2
'2011-10-14T03:33:01-04:00'
describe
'49259' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNC' 'sip-files00015.pro'
1e293e3b9642ec6f594728f6ef252dc0
35c6981b818190d49ce51d3b6910b50e2d1e5067
'2011-10-14T03:33:51-04:00'
describe
'52919' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVND' 'sip-files00015.QC.jpg'
e0d4be9e19d8a994341003ba3f9458ff
b6112fa8a82ccf445c07cf5613f57230d3a43e24
'2011-10-14T03:34:13-04:00'
describe
'4753964' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNE' 'sip-files00015.tif'
01978f9ba340b8ccb495c9ebc755d962
f737e60a753f70dd7b463283fbe775cb63a1a367
describe
'1997' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNF' 'sip-files00015.txt'
12412aa69213b67ced5aec34f1b429de
4a1449970932758fa116a34bbee77f6b2b261d4c
'2011-10-14T03:34:51-04:00'
describe
'20578' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNG' 'sip-files00015thm.jpg'
102ba3b89f7ffe798c453a6a368c4d1e
136ccb33a16a032ef7ad38bf853504a9f1654b5e
describe
'587790' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNH' 'sip-files00016.jp2'
3da7b9e218b38ffcca6b500903340828
842af3ccb483d1b9fb6b84d577e01f6f8bd4c970
describe
'153379' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNI' 'sip-files00016.jpg'
66a8a065a841052478d67ecbd598f3ef
80c8298cfaf47ffb74ab8afa4da0a8a23cc0899f
describe
'48472' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNJ' 'sip-files00016.pro'
1e312df8c25af45f921694b675eb692f
5eaa17af7b2111b7947347cc748e1fb497e9db3f
describe
'47481' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNK' 'sip-files00016.QC.jpg'
4e18df7e3b79af3e5252a58fee8c9c23
afa24ff022671b416b458729e727b65847cbb067
describe
'4712580' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNL' 'sip-files00016.tif'
38645225eaf43e479b8e3bb0691b2376
befad2285838e4ab36cee69461d80bd3a4fbe6a8
describe
'2010' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNM' 'sip-files00016.txt'
099758c2f7945d4652a507e42d009995
bd520b63afb329ea0bfdd3a70b3cb3d01d380a48
'2011-10-14T03:34:41-04:00'
describe
'18565' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNN' 'sip-files00016thm.jpg'
ccc56adab6c4298c44c648644540d131
f93b946d76f643a83fcb88540966a561613e9226
describe
'560810' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNO' 'sip-files00017.jp2'
47544c626173a050c91b799d2549c540
f8c522a9fb892c26e58c39aed22cabc72ad0d7cc
'2011-10-14T03:32:52-04:00'
describe
'156159' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNP' 'sip-files00017.jpg'
9b32c18d2a05ed662d43d9ced161c584
8cfc996cbd0d2faffaa1face3cfce57a40642fb2
'2011-10-14T03:33:19-04:00'
describe
'45094' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNQ' 'sip-files00017.pro'
c43d39945c4e9e484897523c12a8e286
49d4edc577ce285cd6ffc4a71e370e2cfe42c3fc
describe
'49329' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNR' 'sip-files00017.QC.jpg'
9ca49ed56c6c30ebc4edf6c5cc3cf5b2
7bdef0d1572c79f04cd40ad6ae5413a433c6f9fe
describe
'4496640' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNS' 'sip-files00017.tif'
90677a921eb64b56b1096daff99e9dfe
12c92aed5eabd470220dacc37d948894999f84bc
'2011-10-14T03:34:40-04:00'
describe
'1891' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNT' 'sip-files00017.txt'
5d8713da8ccbdd16a44782e0680fceed
e28bb5441ca4e6eec88ee21f705c18c804d4f222
describe
'19445' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNU' 'sip-files00017thm.jpg'
1869e706ecf729c0d1f98bb60648eff0
675fb45d956c3ade0d803d8bb0076e2f2a52ca3f
describe
'560801' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNV' 'sip-files00018.jp2'
790ea9ca0cd37c9856cc3acbd159cb63
c34111e6b8071a01b49d64870c2bf47461a92daf
'2011-10-14T03:34:45-04:00'
describe
'183756' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNW' 'sip-files00018.jpg'
e7b633db0184955485c75190a3d2c081
6c0ccf4aaae685e6b0fbd9fea020496a2bfb341e
describe
'74747' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNX' 'sip-files00018.pro'
01c4c6b999b1f720841449ebeca6f470
820694d5816ce031262ad5b058a648120e416245
describe
'56074' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNY' 'sip-files00018.QC.jpg'
c3c719a195da3f3daa8174759ff03f9c
0e5b42fbaaabc5f0d3d6e6eb88791f6703ecb24c
describe
'4496712' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVNZ' 'sip-files00018.tif'
359492c1918fe19f56df3f3809a8f3f9
feafe7a4e2da3e6df186c87beab57a9b06aee2fa
describe
'2974' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOA' 'sip-files00018.txt'
575e923db9a2f9e7a57ece70a7bd7a86
5ccdb8a73fb4f4cae611baae7e69bebc315e1627
describe
'19896' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOB' 'sip-files00018thm.jpg'
d181542ef22966ca5ef214e36d57ff53
e06f1e0d93670f30cb2b40fd20b8a0509847b09a
describe
'560811' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOC' 'sip-files00019.jp2'
5a4147cd4413fbf0b20c78d3d44dad6f
902c45d033b79faba0e1195529cd217f54d2c886
describe
'161720' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOD' 'sip-files00019.jpg'
2f3b37967f36c5a82f1e998e1e224724
1eae1826953bd652228fa2a9a13a9d07b557b8d0
'2011-10-14T03:33:37-04:00'
describe
'39791' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOE' 'sip-files00019.pro'
e9a7c7c5e61ef874da376f940317c63e
440e64109a1cc7f06b906abf060e1cbe83f299f5
'2011-10-14T03:34:07-04:00'
describe
'49953' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOF' 'sip-files00019.QC.jpg'
ba57bf46c153f84dac3a9653472467e4
e58dac50d21585984b0662c10294db8e5e84b48a
describe
'4496656' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOG' 'sip-files00019.tif'
a9ccd2752507acc461abe3952f36ec2c
56f3c152005acd2b6f229537a7f87b5f29d10691
'2011-10-14T03:33:27-04:00'
describe
'1810' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOH' 'sip-files00019.txt'
dc60a21e72dd5196467f3c29c8283e1e
3ec4616bb4bbdf9eab948165ac01f3b7fb54b7b6
describe
'19235' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOI' 'sip-files00019thm.jpg'
24566ff2a33b73e38a2ef6e638a9bf72
7a7aad8aa35ad011a9870019874a78a87659d8f5
describe
'560746' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOJ' 'sip-files00020.jp2'
7031d198cd176aa91cc767a70fcef010
e9a9bdb6ca6f6762f775b06c285473f84f6e5f80
describe
'167869' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOK' 'sip-files00020.jpg'
9bc7f39add9c03b876862055aa16cb8b
8d67a35611532497f5ab29d1f6ccc926e6a48e49
'2011-10-14T03:32:55-04:00'
describe
'48390' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOL' 'sip-files00020.pro'
5da73d00dee9683f14806e620e16896b
f1be185d8bf8520d9118e921f3db23c46f5a82a1
describe
'53902' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOM' 'sip-files00020.QC.jpg'
4ec6282a11d363b9ff80912af9f78b7c
55b8b3cd653dfa88565c244f362c50d1894b25e2
describe
'4497108' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVON' 'sip-files00020.tif'
b2b839e8fef9f36705674b46a950199c
0b2fd8a474356227afed6b01c3251266dc6555af
'2011-10-14T03:33:35-04:00'
describe
'2306' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOO' 'sip-files00020.txt'
3c8dfe20e276e630bdf3b77d157ff10e
338ce08550d3ea0d7d3ea47654c6d46b0255026b
'2011-10-14T03:34:14-04:00'
describe
'20737' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOP' 'sip-files00020thm.jpg'
6150f34b27d18a6fff4225de49f87b77
c25d93c4697c1c0b0c48bed6adccd95d30f74d8d
describe
'580592' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOQ' 'sip-files00021.jp2'
ec7e4dff68182bf7d1cf13831704e9de
c016bd9175bcfdaad582507c0807e0bbd26c847b
describe
'141994' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOR' 'sip-files00021.jpg'
2d33cd0c3b59e506999e14a206594341
daf61955f055a8db854188b762f3d58b2cf867dd
describe
'49405' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOS' 'sip-files00021.pro'
caefdf6c565de59a32fa4c69ef7b1ca9
3daf0cbfb7d1fcbbf89479e61a44854144854717
'2011-10-14T03:34:12-04:00'
describe
'46025' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOT' 'sip-files00021.QC.jpg'
7c27b35319cb9b4947acfaa68de1f89d
16c1173feef4c20d54ee815f737db0c967f6399a
describe
'4654760' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOU' 'sip-files00021.tif'
7f0764a20eea25d0fe7b5fda2418a866
0b76956597a7408f51f0994cefbda4adfd772607
'2011-10-14T03:34:34-04:00'
describe
'2220' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOV' 'sip-files00021.txt'
720b56b83fc23839caa69ab15006d538
a1ba9207284c174bdc654601c2fbcea669fc537a
describe
Invalid character
'18337' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOW' 'sip-files00021thm.jpg'
6861075d849388ba50ca2525f2a24352
397a4fc1de957e937eb645054faa2fa70dd7c82e
'2011-10-14T03:34:17-04:00'
describe
'573368' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOX' 'sip-files00022.jp2'
f838fd654833bd7ba937be2a482fae7f
8e872ae62398a735ac326357130b5d6acf03e685
describe
'151864' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOY' 'sip-files00022.jpg'
17021f5684ec33a9d4a5647cc64efede
30ffc3acf23cd59b57e218c12fec8fe29ec4cc23
describe
'42243' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVOZ' 'sip-files00022.pro'
b5bc4a2742ec1e311ec8ea2d24b51152
cd47a6bf47a5ac666cad6d0221cf158216a3691c
describe
'48996' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPA' 'sip-files00022.QC.jpg'
128a3b3ead446901d2c5228326ff2801
f447887095da88303956df904c9a781032a82340
describe
'4597612' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPB' 'sip-files00022.tif'
b06f87f77dc2738dff70658daea99572
423e5356218ebee29cfd454aa653cb6cb730ab74
describe
'1670' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPC' 'sip-files00022.txt'
7c53825e183475c7bd48d39e174f3b2d
5aaa69fab0c8e261c885b5e2baf294ed567330f0
describe
'19397' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPD' 'sip-files00022thm.jpg'
95dd8baa2eb5b54ad706ae33c3d90fd8
31b0f6e3418fd812b947b7ff286936d8e9ceb122
'2011-10-14T03:33:10-04:00'
describe
'589003' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPE' 'sip-files00023.jp2'
e5f759791f952e3959ab0641e6b90673
537aff07dae7c4e8b4f339505db027700179ba5c
describe
'132590' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPF' 'sip-files00023.jpg'
7821f8e97c3104ea444ca6e284d783fe
15136f170fe9c70572ddb6267adbc0300f36d556
describe
'7737' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPG' 'sip-files00023.pro'
c361c7c878b5fec5f40f3384d12c24e8
eb9d523f058f040714134688cfbb4fc7a0f25a30
'2011-10-14T03:34:02-04:00'
describe
'39383' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPH' 'sip-files00023.QC.jpg'
134b499bcbdee9623bdeaa444b407241
230e7c8415d3a4cfab0c18c5260da2800bd3e411
describe
'14143656' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPI' 'sip-files00023.tif'
9e6bd6180a69e57fb1005b1f971dcfa9
225178c94eacad9a87615f1caf0daa15785ae358
describe
'402' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPJ' 'sip-files00023.txt'
53a7ef004091136d55f64f2828e6d74a
e005627f44bc66e6451922b7f230f55e058f08df
describe
Invalid character
'16242' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPK' 'sip-files00023thm.jpg'
2426110a10d8ec38aa53f2a36924a651
1be45c3fb990643443e45c380e7ff34f34b224d7
'2011-10-14T03:34:09-04:00'
describe
'585661' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPL' 'sip-files00025.jp2'
43e7cdec8679ae588182a87ca512a75f
781312b86ec6403d15286e4c1f8dbc280741f7e3
describe
'139993' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPM' 'sip-files00025.jpg'
386f75528ee78a985606ced26c020a4a
ad815dd016b618bb1f6c7984de621a2469345046
describe
'44557' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPN' 'sip-files00025.pro'
e88bbefee30dbb57f6d55685b63b4233
95569b020266073c2d05611b40914e20801f6a79
describe
'45489' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPO' 'sip-files00025.QC.jpg'
2ecdcb30a8ec724edfe099b17d51a0a6
8fd3036e30594581db3317a6e3e1b8a534c76bb7
describe
'4695264' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPP' 'sip-files00025.tif'
33d9158f60617e47b80ef2b606d5301d
a67d7912987bdb5575305eaa0fb893de7c0ba41a
describe
'1822' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPQ' 'sip-files00025.txt'
4ac9ae67973b4639c33c2ce0a86875fe
2b7d91e4fcd84fcfb7a39ab0cb88501f78644ad5
describe
'18490' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPR' 'sip-files00025thm.jpg'
14d6c212b3a28de13be0f8e9613c4556
4d56cf13cc58a46d04c7f59b3dfb1e4431473d79
describe
'560749' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPS' 'sip-files00026.jp2'
294cd9575d0049d7e6fe5062665ce7dd
b82362e40cf6453e66281c7de32e2736e076b14e
describe
'172247' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPT' 'sip-files00026.jpg'
5cdd61a69151fffba14e80f6620d46e3
a55a19b017a212f9ab0cdf2252b7ce36718cacc6
describe
'68205' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPU' 'sip-files00026.pro'
e97e6144372dcc60a1e3e58351608d26
46a9f9935ac018021e0bb96f59ffe6ccab5be065
'2011-10-14T03:34:49-04:00'
describe
'54662' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPV' 'sip-files00026.QC.jpg'
4b0a649fb1eb0b9393cae98f6df5b4b9
85d319e246f13f5ed9be730e3d13e6bcf3a6050a
describe
'4496736' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPW' 'sip-files00026.tif'
b7391f621f27339a3ed42e786ca7954e
76cc308bf5e4659034dfdbcccc78ee9b05f3a1f0
describe
'2756' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPX' 'sip-files00026.txt'
ebaa85447b23f60f498f76d9011499d6
82f44ab81145577fc107169f2b03d574cabbec21
describe
'20243' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPY' 'sip-files00026thm.jpg'
3d27ac497c637707aabac64cf4a87e43
745596a1b48e859b75569c212dcdc86c671ad1b0
'2011-10-14T03:34:00-04:00'
describe
'560794' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVPZ' 'sip-files00027.jp2'
f041487ae39ebebb3fc618d34ea27550
ac111ae55ec78e987d965fe6e7c6b596b7edc1df
describe
'153981' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQA' 'sip-files00027.jpg'
b2e6882417b1509dae767c8783d3b1b4
c01eafbda5ffd4f3c279bb39d475277ec056ee48
'2011-10-14T03:34:37-04:00'
describe
'30928' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQB' 'sip-files00027.pro'
2dc91fbff9c0587c751dae1a5388237b
92efdbcbb4943788b9c66b3ebf46467df9d2d638
'2011-10-14T03:34:33-04:00'
describe
'49880' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQC' 'sip-files00027.QC.jpg'
def7b4f0778f3c37ae4d795f95499366
487026748f538b95e0c2e7b7fd67d345462b0442
describe
'4496968' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQD' 'sip-files00027.tif'
0bb8c5268858928c9960f482b9bf498c
8263df6e1941d8f565c9e5a72c132cf54cb11fc4
describe
'1293' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQE' 'sip-files00027.txt'
1f469d0178df137b5fa329a0d3a0d860
f3e30f5f633293894a16763a281b1734846d29bd
describe
'20118' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQF' 'sip-files00027thm.jpg'
9cf74e5881481f6f8dce72bf6dfe5af8
5b30daff5f9d1aa3de16612bb3a26514b6b0bff1
describe
'560781' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQG' 'sip-files00028.jp2'
c9b0b253953f82d462250347b3f9b3f5
f28a9684aa06ec01f92d46b49f5dd9d4630abdbd
describe
'170153' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQH' 'sip-files00028.jpg'
bc8848193a82e04df4f167a950cb72e3
d2262057fc02079686282f7ec07ac978551cc91b
describe
'65708' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQI' 'sip-files00028.pro'
aaf9fde846ed6596d2b149e9c60741aa
cf004aeef5e58b3cd59b7fd4d35c6501c2b78487
'2011-10-14T03:34:27-04:00'
describe
'55150' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQJ' 'sip-files00028.QC.jpg'
499a81b5c44139bec174cef253251ef0
12270719d068a259250231ebc111af6ec2d8b542
describe
'4496784' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQK' 'sip-files00028.tif'
43e65740c606428a75958adeed067400
ef70f0d093586aca6f6a6e80b0e32a4e76828c1d
describe
'2679' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQL' 'sip-files00028.txt'
336cbc1d50940d640cabd71340d3e429
170243c77143d6c88bd61bf0052df8f5ec6e73f1
describe
'20392' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQM' 'sip-files00028thm.jpg'
0f913b1efd894e4ff0980d46de73c89a
dcc29ca64abd322c3f23eef7ca2ad277a0dac8b6
describe
'560710' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQN' 'sip-files00029.jp2'
0f29b982d62c61bffdb36016fa463699
114cdb56c6ec8360ffc1b5d326c4159d1611443d
describe
'148556' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQO' 'sip-files00029.jpg'
a8da41e68e588a81a29024139f4c9735
ad3cee8fa4b5c3748c604d287ae85a7f9b28642c
'2011-10-14T03:33:54-04:00'
describe
'26681' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQP' 'sip-files00029.pro'
0dfd0ee69f9f4b4b987d99139b63df53
2aee7501e662d52043eb436498880044e632f870
'2011-10-14T03:33:03-04:00'
describe
'49314' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQQ' 'sip-files00029.QC.jpg'
d4074c42e5459b57051877eb287e44a9
519d38f0ed9c280e6406acbe43a5e3c14a3f5baf
describe
'4496980' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQR' 'sip-files00029.tif'
577a8bb14084a992544627d1324b6742
3c281dd0fbf29a2d84a70265e71a05ffec0a17d6
describe
'1143' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQS' 'sip-files00029.txt'
f0b74b7ee8a936a933d317bf98c1b6af
9471ee21afc4c3969967bec3c72f1998b572f10d
describe
'19951' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQT' 'sip-files00029thm.jpg'
86a4ca7c0284bb348aca1147dfe81c56
4f5b3a10f17f82d1e3aa8b7339a28649d197bd09
'2011-10-14T03:33:56-04:00'
describe
'560800' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQU' 'sip-files00030.jp2'
a920c444cf17845beeb63cd71c1a4995
5ae4909600948fc155fe24293c50181519454b1a
describe
'136369' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQV' 'sip-files00030.jpg'
b74b6dadce73d5b9b53e4f37eea03c54
243b9644cc0bbb6433c198f91a4679c516a9c217
describe
'31354' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQW' 'sip-files00030.pro'
8611745b32c41cfaa3643d085bcaed9c
1161d2fb0254fde5768b17056a1cdd45d876814f
describe
'46091' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQX' 'sip-files00030.QC.jpg'
90836560fcb83e4decbdb44bfe16affb
417cc42278a0531746a2f96ebc7967b80ebe6679
'2011-10-14T03:33:07-04:00'
describe
'4496632' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQY' 'sip-files00030.tif'
042104a8bfb13163cda2dabfe9a814ec
fcd15975f6b346a0a559a8f2b7d3bd59cc62dade
describe
'1335' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVQZ' 'sip-files00030.txt'
05bede0100fc4b985f6a92c723e78969
5dd095b9bf787ee4bbcebc9ba2ca3cab91779997
describe
'19162' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRA' 'sip-files00030thm.jpg'
3da76a9d9c546cae06d1c663815f5667
6266c1a62a0471b67442b5b2f059a2d808aaf0a4
'2011-10-14T03:33:02-04:00'
describe
'560621' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRB' 'sip-files00031.jp2'
9575855dad8ca06c4aeda0a81e79db67
a4833022896173ce7a9c1e57f486282d98e59b3d
describe
'221001' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRC' 'sip-files00031.jpg'
5e2dcea05e262de81a7e710089989a61
b98bebdc97f3778b2794692dfad73492a2869ddf
'2011-10-14T03:34:24-04:00'
describe
'2471' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRD' 'sip-files00031.pro'
f5e74e6331c52224a501675480a72cc5
1ce353f2ca861bd9a6be522f2ff5e95b48922218
describe
'60647' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRE' 'sip-files00031.QC.jpg'
9f3f20561dd177b6f74209664c491905
605d2736f7ea7d1b151d2ad75da3b944b5358747
describe
'4497852' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRF' 'sip-files00031.tif'
0adc84608b96d300301849531eeca9ec
8bcea2418cb7f2800b1645886e82ffe75e63a4d2
describe
'254' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRG' 'sip-files00031.txt'
c933671d7e2c608f30c35445c3d0f3e0
f834996d49645dadcc54f1528d78ba78c950eb94
describe
Invalid character
'22869' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRH' 'sip-files00031thm.jpg'
edf70d29111caa9b945b1baeda271a9c
fc984004fe7bd1c4330ee8ffc834c28fdc4b2bff
describe
'560753' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRI' 'sip-files00032.jp2'
779282f6301baa51fa3721bf6f154638
b980652fda8764d971ff7e86f32b86d6e73e7e9f
describe
'83344' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRJ' 'sip-files00032.jpg'
b3f049d761668c5772502fea4884a59f
0541bf47581ca8ab89ac7d7c9228417a32285f5e
describe
'15482' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRK' 'sip-files00032.pro'
1e2cc956bbb97ba4553adbd1437ae57e
55081334363aeda631c360838e1d45906190fe83
'2011-10-14T03:33:47-04:00'
describe
'32915' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRL' 'sip-files00032.QC.jpg'
d649e9d0f94388838f6dee0e0a0faf6b
410a2e2163c4b8c0ec5e80403cc5a879c44e284e
describe
'4495420' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRM' 'sip-files00032.tif'
c5e97cd048c32cb0744f66f320a07617
2edfb3c03a35b3d760320797fa56c6fbf19c89a3
'2011-10-14T03:33:29-04:00'
describe
'717' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRN' 'sip-files00032.txt'
ef30b2f3ba6bada566fc801a7a3745ec
cbef7891543ce7e3eef978327c3cba4e3ec53ba1
describe
'15611' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRO' 'sip-files00032thm.jpg'
bd9095cdd59962ef6c44f0caf81fe8ab
530a9261ed0a23ad1312469ecc2f0fb55f585bcb
describe
'578809' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRP' 'sip-files00033.jp2'
c0a1f1eeaf7fc0b805bb2e976ffad0b9
6a72e25765da7fbc33740f019feb30776b8c1728
describe
'122882' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRQ' 'sip-files00033.jpg'
5a57eb37c67fa795373d0fd74072508b
06da9f499fcca9ad41bd6c1b09ba0cc0d7a0d68f
describe
'12073' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRR' 'sip-files00033.pro'
55dd3247e28fc298b29a7ade0e15ece2
28cdf725a13b3781b53b7b0619b0d3ad901f6377
'2011-10-14T03:34:48-04:00'
describe
'41321' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRS' 'sip-files00033.QC.jpg'
889afc5f32e578c293ea702e80ef566d
f774a108fb0a1923bef403068b3092e8d1865cf0
describe
'4640532' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRT' 'sip-files00033.tif'
aa29220565374fb8c91a0bc4e0493bfd
a6b73e91cf102fbc325b6080f51ed0c497f5dac5
describe
'590' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRU' 'sip-files00033.txt'
585518924fb18bb0afd1277e3d412739
eeed2366d72bf0ee5326af15ea07287241f6c9b1
describe
'18268' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRV' 'sip-files00033thm.jpg'
d59cb393ef1039c605e6ba4fb43175de
70e5ab5235a1b0bc81601a035221d36540d7787a
'2011-10-14T03:33:17-04:00'
describe
'593496' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRW' 'sip-files00034.jp2'
0b3005f824b847cd0bde4791ce35f7f6
57815a44d4b4ed655666aa836151076763f535ca
describe
'117169' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRX' 'sip-files00034.jpg'
041431e74de0fd1385c3017980597fae
4d866ddcf27f49eff7a6f4d8bfcd4500e8b47ba8
describe
'2580' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRY' 'sip-files00034.pro'
94f59ec635b08befb4d91cec696d86c4
db8c52a7e059e76659b888877d145c86b8e610a0
describe
'37620' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVRZ' 'sip-files00034.QC.jpg'
7db39e99143f9ded16475172be44d62b
65b1ef0b858e777846be104da2968d7af3e950e7
describe
'4760480' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSA' 'sip-files00034.tif'
ced6d7e7def68bf4cc55e8d2a89a5b50
cb54d866fe8cc51b67df68a1d0a3b802fe3e3d6e
describe
'164' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSB' 'sip-files00034.txt'
f68aa4eac7731e0eab0216c50153cdd1
af2879131b242e1074c602c98d10e299f1990d32
describe
Invalid character
'18083' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSC' 'sip-files00034thm.jpg'
2965fd9722783b66f978dffebf434d18
c078e405a0cbdbd3b580cf972cea3b663850a0f3
describe
'575196' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSD' 'sip-files00035.jp2'
c2b023fbd5e835e1b7598cc590df88d7
9d3ead91e5bc48656fb7382c370f533bdf681dda
describe
'141961' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSE' 'sip-files00035.jpg'
169556b0c5f5dbfd6fcf3a12d552ba3f
499d5bbb2e383c3706fe77a3dd2607bafb444920
describe
'39270' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSF' 'sip-files00035.pro'
98279ec89a91911e6fc20004cd498114
329b031717536ed0d05b70463bacfc310cd65599
describe
'46197' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSG' 'sip-files00035.QC.jpg'
62c763c63459c812588d71dbe322a48d
09d9d62e85fea37cf9f527bbcd690931a6fd6038
describe
'4611796' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSH' 'sip-files00035.tif'
4347341acc1c129356e8877dbdd3abcf
2e22b8fbf642142ca513f47c5e190b449e53ff6e
'2011-10-14T03:33:44-04:00'
describe
'1605' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSI' 'sip-files00035.txt'
99d2baade0ae014f9419572d93b35855
f0d071357aa0d819b7ed6d4dd71cdd0960073c1e
describe
'18810' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSJ' 'sip-files00035thm.jpg'
457a420df385b0f3f86ad628dbc4b062
ef08d589482b8e312e9dc3084fed22ca7fa7e06d
describe
'573411' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSK' 'sip-files00036.jp2'
295edf58fcd6460dd6457759f18a0f6e
7e2036c057c887d9ef186ad58daab40d87d090a8
describe
'164770' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSL' 'sip-files00036.jpg'
87cb61ddaa9d1fb701c28f85536737c8
0757a292abf8b2b276075b6e9066820e7ac287b8
describe
'58354' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSM' 'sip-files00036.pro'
d04ca9e20edc7c0fe957e1600d985a31
9424774cfaa8014de8df1a6e9b331cabc59a80b1
describe
'50896' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSN' 'sip-files00036.QC.jpg'
d2e1bfee6e52abb9913e03ac3450f975
c0d885262c8611e7e78ae8e4a539bf5eec03460f
describe
'4597572' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSO' 'sip-files00036.tif'
458918ddbaf4ee74c108c2934d7a0b7a
249901faa43c70e4a1dd9b083796b1106ec808c5
describe
'2843' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSP' 'sip-files00036.txt'
de8a84f39d572075be7648aa0d92ecb3
04d681c782e8d34b836cfbd91661727e2ad8ac25
describe
'19431' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSQ' 'sip-files00036thm.jpg'
171c45c2f0e42ac024b95d476c48d12d
7f5f75decfde12d3ed7a6b2a127ade99063dead2
describe
'560798' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSR' 'sip-files00037.jp2'
fca363b939356445eced12775fc410fd
09fb461f788752ca087369718a2b68d4fc10a505
describe
'174316' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSS' 'sip-files00037.jpg'
e6c4a06575d6bb984d95c033b53ef688
3fb79dcee58a829861d7a2d3793f96fd4167cd45
describe
'62018' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVST' 'sip-files00037.pro'
8f03f3011f9457c72e2f1d6d2a63c7f6
7b51b59921c2abb491738188a366124a324b8464
'2011-10-14T03:34:39-04:00'
describe
'54248' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSU' 'sip-files00037.QC.jpg'
3962e34141c97562f27d0ed176e089be
d53b525e39f49db62b0ad9f4cd7055c22e73bd07
'2011-10-14T03:33:20-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSV' 'sip-files00037.tif'
a55adbd45d1110d78c12fb897f371580
e8e9fdfe026654b030ec0f11ebd546df0f2acbb3
describe
'2560' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSW' 'sip-files00037.txt'
59bf1ef6f3514b74e7f641d4c1d275a0
f379d05774d9c278763bb68eecc63c92411291f1
describe
'20031' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSX' 'sip-files00037thm.jpg'
1a74dd05a3022ffdafa911a31681c725
dccc4bde7f49a734bf8028d3c1192e1d9b8d3e65
describe
'560803' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSY' 'sip-files00038.jp2'
c2f346439ed83b60486a45b863b4ef57
95f7ed859e302d662021b353ca7e40b1f49890ac
describe
'185723' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVSZ' 'sip-files00038.jpg'
efb8725b0dc30ecb8d4d231214035807
832253e6ff4ac2b45eff26ce0b91391843d37959
describe
'74289' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTA' 'sip-files00038.pro'
3f381d2519d25604e38d1cb9ed3a5a4a
c2559da8ea37fbc2ac1c8952763615327de6dc5d
describe
'55787' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTB' 'sip-files00038.QC.jpg'
2013db6e0572b601619bb84f342e2a01
eca198853c77ed70c1e1078ad02044e47e191601
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTC' 'sip-files00038.tif'
81bc22edd1cb7c08db9cdb132779ca1b
93e3a566196e5a6278192cc9a6ea96ef390412ff
describe
'2914' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTD' 'sip-files00038.txt'
1e9352b88680020c3f2db0d38ea1fac5
0107cdcbf3efa903ab08a0e55ed954d3967748f4
describe
'20195' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTE' 'sip-files00038thm.jpg'
5eacc1c922aa9db9a7ac6b1e63ddc670
3002697fe4dc5b1bfe4b037e1b8f947cbe132a01
describe
'592230' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTF' 'sip-files00039.jp2'
4510423c2906eedc2b3a2b7cba6dbd62
c87fc1bba18d3458b406290f9dcd0b11e07f6d1d
'2011-10-14T03:33:50-04:00'
describe
'123084' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTG' 'sip-files00039.jpg'
a5458f3be3f4c98e415c2560431eeb75
82494c95939f80998ec8c5efb3f61795ffed20b0
describe
'2439' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTH' 'sip-files00039.pro'
5edb1b58b2947ac9a47137414ec24496
a180076ba28b9f2a2fe6e479ad4ea3f4de4dc78b
describe
'35997' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTI' 'sip-files00039.QC.jpg'
81de8acf836157e83fbc87987b5ea240
bd8d32d153624090142e41b08138b19f87fbe98a
describe
'14221060' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTJ' 'sip-files00039.tif'
1e240d1d069f8030bfde1cc7ff6f2515
201fee0c9d34eb72d57c6f062369a883ec3438c9
'2011-10-14T03:33:46-04:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTK' 'sip-files00039.txt'
54aa41551fe263ab6d953cd01e120bbe
b0f7306a417af61b7ca0249e085e3e640a324c24
describe
'16342' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTL' 'sip-files00039thm.jpg'
c22bcf2863da3f85583786daa50c7918
d65f62bc600476bbe8893325a6e9be7e003e60c6
describe
'575209' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTM' 'sip-files00041.jp2'
059cb36ae0d1d42cf1087fcaed46e0e0
8cb04d3252c70052060b55cd9289039a49a31984
describe
'178737' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTN' 'sip-files00041.jpg'
695b8a6d69d41a65eb4526a8f46a7c7b
00a954b6f7b1c0674c4d18884ab0295cf5637a8d
describe
'40469' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTO' 'sip-files00041.pro'
e9eadfd29d8ec274084fb61bc9a73cd3
e626b333f0f290088fba8e4609dab1906e7b56e7
describe
'53690' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTP' 'sip-files00041.QC.jpg'
e7bb09a982406d3e542fcb47b5314973
4005a194b1c15b9bd1d0f42bb430b38986554d94
describe
'4612328' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTQ' 'sip-files00041.tif'
54980036f4a23f544a13e3000b24d020
0b2bf29d42ae707f3aa069ad60a2b00c8c7626af
describe
'1743' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTR' 'sip-files00041.txt'
c1ffd9f4302b734558ac14bb8034aa2b
0299398f2cfc76a9b617b3f4a409642e487da3cd
describe
Invalid character
'20311' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTS' 'sip-files00041thm.jpg'
912a8654fda91325fc9795e8a979ae39
0d51fc70bed5a2699862ee4e331c03d63f12e640
describe
'594930' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTT' 'sip-files00042.jp2'
5c24dd2c595ef3f88e475c32b00e2a52
dc96e3d041e7a89f9b376181c2218815cd56c285
describe
'173205' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTU' 'sip-files00042.jpg'
51da4898078870a8f3bb68fc0ca2d0ba
5a22fcfcfd2a35b8c71dfc18653d0371e9ce61fa
describe
'33916' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTV' 'sip-files00042.pro'
57bc94811dfe5ec1a2eb1493721bfc29
087484f1fb9f36c4d211e7a146d18d9c3eecea7b
describe
'51450' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTW' 'sip-files00042.QC.jpg'
e544695a2d58b8225d47380ee1834e55
278fca43fd340d9a05111e058b5b0e3f20fde65e
describe
'4770756' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTX' 'sip-files00042.tif'
f191188bb04f6102d010deb948704b8b
daa8ab00cb7e2492d3c560672b44c24f6ecc9d39
describe
'1391' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTY' 'sip-files00042.txt'
51839eef42f9022a6e8f2e8713c8152e
2ee0f82797929a3b69c288593ccf29ba31079629
describe
'20811' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVTZ' 'sip-files00042thm.jpg'
901900f3d56e88c07b302c5146d41d2f
50ea9f5542d2088e21ce551c3999383f9a9a2ded
describe
'578801' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUA' 'sip-files00043.jp2'
e34ff233b313ae97c0e0041192c1efa6
0c6fd61cccfc41c8014fede136ed486ba2e01456
describe
'154393' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUB' 'sip-files00043.jpg'
920a50e9eaf6d944bf8424c43d428f44
1f15c211ae4a3eb5270fa5462090ba48ffda54bd
describe
'50240' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUC' 'sip-files00043.pro'
049d918fa435db75e17a9ac271056553
e970e2ef4b20d13f7bd7a4eb2254ca918fd80791
describe
'49337' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUD' 'sip-files00043.QC.jpg'
523f9252b15e61a7a7eddbc6973b6d64
fa409a87f90168921a92d6d8de8c7a67eac50195
describe
'4640784' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUE' 'sip-files00043.tif'
1f5b43db85ea4aa7d404279aa0e2d252
e20c6866231b69d3a41c590f31432a9d41a4fab3
describe
'2197' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUF' 'sip-files00043.txt'
91ccf12e1eb24ab448222a96c6ba6e58
df9f73fba941d9ab36c37909497cea0759da0566
describe
'19546' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUG' 'sip-files00043thm.jpg'
501ebb3b666339c8d153f1a0e7bf04dd
1472956f59a78a37361a29d70a00d2d455d62b48
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUH' 'sip-files00044.jp2'
4e38718b5aee0c1a1652fcb51d4d7d01
64b52bf6a116a807a92ad64799e4a769652c7b19
describe
'171867' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUI' 'sip-files00044.jpg'
d4522ce96cd1ad184f43bd4e546e8e02
dc5f4e4acfe3f0d4e1478431ee8be0ce838b78ae
describe
'70068' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUJ' 'sip-files00044.pro'
bdea543b94a111d928333c45a33f411d
d2f96a9eac5ac09f40b9be5724d91a3e62342059
describe
'53470' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUK' 'sip-files00044.QC.jpg'
a0e9e023a1cd22a7e0cce2c962c172bc
aa233dae87906cc941852362014edca3250fabd4
describe
'4597736' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUL' 'sip-files00044.tif'
47cce064ae85b04fadc14a33d65600aa
11984433093de422d7899589c328728b19be7a02
'2011-10-14T03:33:53-04:00'
describe
'2755' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUM' 'sip-files00044.txt'
e787657c73b64314b781896746b214c2
4709576ee7a569a39761d174cc6380e322cf1334
describe
'19820' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUN' 'sip-files00044thm.jpg'
c6d6b9d35f3801d517baff9aadb73fbc
7aae2ec153e9c2fc6873e4506a522087afc3b322
describe
'582381' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUO' 'sip-files00045.jp2'
72e525bd8e2d11499d38d25280a8a606
b642d8e2ecc4cda48b6729e4770079f38ab41b18
describe
'165345' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUP' 'sip-files00045.jpg'
72bcc047062daf9447eca5b1b5f5bf5b
c17368926f445a0b4ccd63e99905cd7d1e95be7a
'2011-10-14T03:34:50-04:00'
describe
'43840' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUQ' 'sip-files00045.pro'
43a57cc862916ef2c665d7499332f3a9
18bb35fcba3eeb320d438db06aa265d56092e7b0
describe
'48871' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUR' 'sip-files00045.QC.jpg'
69c70bf2a6464c7469850b2b08fa75d5
22cd5a1f2d7c099ed2259b98b169ab5944cf3573
describe
'4669572' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUS' 'sip-files00045.tif'
8c85bf8236442555d6b3c792ff6cbcd6
c18d8e09d38c275b2920058fac6e28b8fe3ba11e
describe
'1872' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUT' 'sip-files00045.txt'
f4373d40fd13ef8c0476036215cadbca
3bfc1d2ffe44b2ceb9506ed81596bcd9859d5016
describe
Invalid character
'19188' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUU' 'sip-files00045thm.jpg'
479a835864df6d4c26c8c1f6bf81a3a1
8f2e1a533754b44fd1999a7b471e2b65ea3c4dd7
describe
'560804' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUV' 'sip-files00046.jp2'
accd97b8f22e9347a7a6fe2458d89809
ff7a8c20c2174c8f4ee8a6b55b09c6b8eafa8a24
describe
'120978' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUW' 'sip-files00046.jpg'
3ccbced60d38e156b6a039d982442944
8220e962ca13776367da3e544f6e60d2f935509c
describe
'48055' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUX' 'sip-files00046.pro'
789273b7e8e55069408546fdbf42c3bb
e3b15ed7a6b267288632cfb52b47db183adc87f3
describe
'40274' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUY' 'sip-files00046.QC.jpg'
10b5e5f2a7e73624ce5d2ea366807891
17e68f5c18e88131344499e4a192eefd9e262ff2
describe
'4495644' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVUZ' 'sip-files00046.tif'
e91a1951355900f9c77f2456d769d063
4ac9b1e3ccf1f8c2a07c9975fadfa4f4c2ed4418
describe
'2208' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVA' 'sip-files00046.txt'
af6946270da06b3374bc3ce30f08e1ad
03c9b850af7f1a2674966db7a349bcc6628bb256
describe
'16649' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVB' 'sip-files00046thm.jpg'
dde855c6cad247fa84b5e3359a1ad00e
57e51dce9a7c37eaf4d35b4c748f8f427c54e88a
describe
'592551' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVC' 'sip-files00047.jp2'
48c73c93db6cc0511fc5a5ad290136ab
de7ea9d5bbcb7fd64aaf4be32b3831dd75719de5
describe
'122428' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVD' 'sip-files00047.jpg'
9e0b6256a674ec1354082348a23f4a04
580d8de15aebc0e468b8b4427b14be1fcb33cde1
describe
'2378' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVE' 'sip-files00047.pro'
8a7b03a5bfee72260a4e6b2445978c0f
674c9da21f5281381c83a474969cd8f13976798e
describe
'36409' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVF' 'sip-files00047.QC.jpg'
e3e3f03f1c39cac9a38801d9c3740a85
9e040603fd089a3e489f0a6808759dfec74ce0a1
describe
'14229276' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVG' 'sip-files00047.tif'
68dd24e1bdacfcfaa02005b20c68de66
881e2a378baf48bce9f9aa195d9f4b5b0b2726e8
describe
'111' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVH' 'sip-files00047.txt'
5e300509de4bedf2ab069511c646fc77
5c05ce20c0c25c4fa5e777e3cef866b3d93c6357
describe
'16458' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVI' 'sip-files00047thm.jpg'
09091aaeab400cbc249f14c086eccfb6
5fc39c6d1764c18037b59a78f2495242da78b221
describe
'591144' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVJ' 'sip-files00049.jp2'
867294a2c65f85265f8a56bd8427be88
aa03a0fe026e6628a978b1f0a2cd5edc5f0a426d
describe
'159798' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVK' 'sip-files00049.jpg'
665c208ac5652d81f944e1670be2e067
27802a3f9c9091fcfa2f1d801bd0c025552ab9cf
'2011-10-14T03:33:08-04:00'
describe
'45311' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVL' 'sip-files00049.pro'
283cb5d930185fbbc6a0dfc3ddb04950
f9077980ec71749a35b121dd4416dce218b0b901
describe
'50186' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVM' 'sip-files00049.QC.jpg'
f1494d761cc1ebd6817b0583498e75a7
1862225ebcb3e4a3fd56a1566b92d03d060520a9
describe
'4739692' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVN' 'sip-files00049.tif'
c73fa90f6d4bc46ab44a6805646f5029
0a28f3b024d52f203ead471070bde7a3311e10e4
'2011-10-14T03:32:57-04:00'
describe
'1886' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVO' 'sip-files00049.txt'
cf890f3adb45e5fbc16c6192ee188de0
f3bf91dbb1239b7202e16ed919d6f858acff0f43
'2011-10-14T03:33:22-04:00'
describe
'19884' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVP' 'sip-files00049thm.jpg'
60806e7e95fc7a8b21498d3d86c44f29
ec8709cc1eac80391d75cdec3a10ac589b467d50
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVQ' 'sip-files00050.jp2'
fd85dc0458dc22c6570582af25186f7e
dddcd0a581fe709426f6c3fb011884445624b74b
describe
'174929' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVR' 'sip-files00050.jpg'
ecdae8dcf81482fe5a485070b47b11fc
16d866d072262c246d9f8ead0f7aa0408b8ca342
describe
'69071' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVS' 'sip-files00050.pro'
506ed556f2668a947f3e6368e7c07514
72825615607f692b27903f2d9d3e095d0e10f1c4
describe
'55032' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVT' 'sip-files00050.QC.jpg'
fa69c0e2908fedc3ab0ed82fa3d47b5f
c0a5507276e15722133187ad08e14d2cb764054a
describe
'4496792' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVU' 'sip-files00050.tif'
ae6f887c43fcecbef5a3fd59bf75518e
ac06b1f2edd6791458d31fdc33d4f58ad9a0a5da
describe
'2744' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVV' 'sip-files00050.txt'
85246213d7364498adb7811a9b16637b
fabafad475e7abdc437ed46dec85feff440b8c51
'2011-10-14T03:32:56-04:00'
describe
'20326' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVW' 'sip-files00050thm.jpg'
d940be29055fbf9af0e873a484a4d378
5326f5712e19e67e049b830e8ef7b5b87befd5c7
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVX' 'sip-files00051.jp2'
26c2b03c8c7c5d92b2be9536d9b49540
4d3c496b5a92fc41b035475949ddebbe1c028450
describe
'160543' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVY' 'sip-files00051.jpg'
66ea6f1f71db7bcbe073759e9e1cd844
b6c4087b74ad7d1b1290ce02b5b3204044c83e4e
describe
'40745' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVVZ' 'sip-files00051.pro'
b05093a6b59334ed0d7bdc74e62a66fb
6595ee62350fc073fe59b228131caa75125f7227
describe
'50005' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWA' 'sip-files00051.QC.jpg'
d10a9c0b7980793fa1c90dd9d3cf7665
2ec34d9201cefb5e021ea69f57d4f5b57faf1eb7
describe
'4496572' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWB' 'sip-files00051.tif'
6e7ec392bc0859fdf17adf74ae7d7b3b
9fad8f567e30bd7c332e46475a2ce1ecbf59058c
describe
'1656' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWC' 'sip-files00051.txt'
1c00ca5fd8aa6726141e475b5a9e1516
dc8f3eade9db2164cef428608241f800d75379ab
describe
'19440' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWD' 'sip-files00051thm.jpg'
8f5544232d8956721c3d8dd10d1111ec
77b3697824c46f3ba7b04ea5ba94727b5c830569
describe
'598610' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWE' 'sip-files00052.jp2'
b7910709f4c749528ba1f43f0fbfb9a3
7ed4ca81e1e311a2a36a533d367a9ed40f7df0d8
describe
'144999' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWF' 'sip-files00052.jpg'
05d83f9298ef1080ee0e7bc70fca1368
996c1ccfd844b29fcd23452ed7c12d00acbd1d3e
describe
'28536' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWG' 'sip-files00052.pro'
909b49848d4e2cb466590d101450c684
1e5dfb504db655a4d56da54889db96751c604774
describe
'45815' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWH' 'sip-files00052.QC.jpg'
0e82d2574e0dd9b3e9cb8dbd49a43cba
7f1217ad1c9063000e47ecc626d38416623f64ce
describe
'4799236' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWI' 'sip-files00052.tif'
5436bfff980445d38e7c757a5db0d3b6
0b9197076269fb2d6f9fc1e638c3659947faf88c
describe
'1261' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWJ' 'sip-files00052.txt'
50cea20b3f8c9bbe0e8528ad673aa5d8
404244e2d6038d6fb3ff3ddfe95b715d702bee9b
describe
'18945' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWK' 'sip-files00052thm.jpg'
924ec3a94645ffc7f139463d98226b09
a8b42c5818fcca471999ccf6e78c3de753937b64
describe
'589545' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWL' 'sip-files00053.jp2'
d295ab60385b3d5ca07029442157f900
0bfbfb6506ed4ddd61612926024a14de6154705f
describe
'172769' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWM' 'sip-files00053.jpg'
c8c8c75fde3fe8d11ca8e9f9f842edcb
3ffef9534aed4812012115b0447874bd7920c9ea
describe
'36031' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWN' 'sip-files00053.pro'
cdd11910c762e207d7762b85f47ce7b9
947df30444034fb3cdf3a5448f3ea0728e2e2055
describe
'51743' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWO' 'sip-files00053.QC.jpg'
3d517d13df051b9966e1640b242c7e6d
301ae66a5fdb3bc246df8f816c00d77001650308
describe
'4727516' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWP' 'sip-files00053.tif'
79dcabc7b09bb867e3510c428937a0dc
5492a943646ee809fd7db26da4ccec5e607142ad
describe
'1467' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWQ' 'sip-files00053.txt'
8425567b7fa278428de454e628a9ce2c
490039dcdc6dfcc4a4040511212cf297a435ee43
'2011-10-14T03:33:13-04:00'
describe
Invalid character
'20067' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWR' 'sip-files00053thm.jpg'
4d10bed382f38ee3984647b912cb0060
b0c72d19aa21e3e0e6a380ea305ac23ee325be20
describe
'560765' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWS' 'sip-files00054.jp2'
ca90d113a01b01bebfa991d2038c4e53
90b3284d7ff18ea3e9ec6a45139b35751a3399ef
describe
'171500' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWT' 'sip-files00054.jpg'
6491c35e0d3ceccb186de09c48787d9a
199414296248b318e13839dcc9b3e552fe6e9dcd
describe
'66631' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWU' 'sip-files00054.pro'
9de6a4d3b3ef5d34f4309762e07ed878
156ff5e0a57bd31050ee86f2533bfb3b51c3cba2
describe
'55438' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWV' 'sip-files00054.QC.jpg'
c771bbd8a92e9d3973aa06c606642bd5
5debb1293d400b5eb6f20a4aba4eadbe83ddb90d
describe
'4496956' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWW' 'sip-files00054.tif'
57774ea8bf959b8c55359d1a920febb6
4e852c70b99b0e594689ed057b4013cd5bd96bc6
describe
'2674' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWX' 'sip-files00054.txt'
bbfa8404ad9005bde93a8eae597f36de
c7ecf4bb6419b29ea1ae0ecdea7682ed7eb71137
describe
'20562' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWY' 'sip-files00054thm.jpg'
3f978f5e7ce4314984b5c11f52318d8f
6fe378aa85a14d680e6d3883adda31125be7e1d7
'2011-10-14T03:33:09-04:00'
describe
'577002' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVWZ' 'sip-files00055.jp2'
ee8ac0f96856e4b2c8e3fa617b340b31
0a8737cecac03e9421c7a0896a8347c5479ccbd2
describe
'116661' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXA' 'sip-files00055.jpg'
31725599f458fc728ce29e524dd2fdd3
b4b8915fa2ab602aa80895ffe85d8a1bb6bbcd15
describe
'2146' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXB' 'sip-files00055.pro'
82cc35c9f96f3fa6faa8cd004c42f516
6278b7f8ea646f50d9ff8828cf482724849b79aa
describe
'40000' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXC' 'sip-files00055.QC.jpg'
effaa6bf2060c9289de3ea1b13d567b0
6e8b15326b5b02c81462d893ba7bf96c3575694e
describe
'4626040' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXD' 'sip-files00055.tif'
5af75a80f495b1bfe728550f7367b39d
e7fca11f0595fd19af1e843a443f21455ea88f13
describe
'151' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXE' 'sip-files00055.txt'
2de2033c64e6680ded4e069b4c5e50d7
4f3edffd82a5affdd94dc14d400fcaa2a7030f9a
describe
'17994' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXF' 'sip-files00055thm.jpg'
47846b15af3c2105d2c33e01d16cb1ed
c433df27ac0b5a0276beed96e33bce2942f185fd
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXG' 'sip-files00056.jp2'
c33711b7aa3311057778a48a054cd502
5bdc35aa601418cdc498474ea7673c9cea588010
describe
'159649' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXH' 'sip-files00056.jpg'
d17786924b8f81530acb9aa6d8e28ba8
bf75bfaed8f79af6c9fc265350b4eaaaaa1f9065
describe
'61554' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXI' 'sip-files00056.pro'
6b53fc2846c0367a8082decf2e059380
6c66a85d4103a8b7a3ebeceea8e857c9eb34cf93
describe
'50209' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXJ' 'sip-files00056.QC.jpg'
1ec217071191b9a13c4576ef6d46fd95
a96ea6a78105d1b3df0c0d306a926fe3159125ed
describe
'4496432' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXK' 'sip-files00056.tif'
1e3d8a713092e4c4688fba6e09e41a35
a65349ebb0ce7f504628c6d53d6ac72c3714d58d
'2011-10-14T03:33:34-04:00'
describe
'2463' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXL' 'sip-files00056.txt'
f371413f387e2644753161cd053936b6
e2a23eea7e80cab7c1b31b17ff9366e8ea585b26
describe
'18897' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXM' 'sip-files00056thm.jpg'
e6797bcd09513a5cedd1aff7ca7f1c1b
1a901fa9d6beecace1eaba6b9c68ba0deba31076
describe
'589570' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXN' 'sip-files00057.jp2'
54dd5bcd5c8683c0445a0a8f2a2a925e
c0355fb0ced84d1eb8f28e64d7fc0cb06ed0e71a
describe
'123642' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXO' 'sip-files00057.jpg'
99a0ced9149eee52dfabecc00d18a826
ae44781ee66e5c66c228b323b031a554ae2bbb1f
describe
'28358' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXP' 'sip-files00057.pro'
a302aa37849527eac8e6408c8bcb339f
b529314c20bfa201d4fb213342e42f302920eb3f
describe
'40421' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXQ' 'sip-files00057.QC.jpg'
d6fc0e5029c066d8beeb77669b8eb1fa
ce0626e9a2f0bef72af848341874835a0a43e54b
describe
'4726800' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXR' 'sip-files00057.tif'
e543a9b8cd07c69046457c1769e37c18
7f29ba2b7876683bb8a3b958500601a32aafe762
describe
'1216' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXS' 'sip-files00057.txt'
6cad20cbbb532d08355a83d6ffa525a7
952c54b109222c877630e76789a83a19f2270bde
describe
'17903' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXT' 'sip-files00057thm.jpg'
c7fcafaa2341f7eb09de8e9262af317d
022ee18a3983b3bf6d00003586a0afa1551ec1b9
describe
'571521' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXU' 'sip-files00058.jp2'
f4d23b6cdf79b9adf9387b539d0b8581
20abad5814403625807b1872f56c2be84dedcd4d
describe
'152406' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXV' 'sip-files00058.jpg'
524c1c5525028252d797d4dca28104f9
45c6d5567e202a6f6e8fd80bcd1c836fffd19b7d
describe
'62254' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXW' 'sip-files00058.pro'
db9786934b9820b782eafcc99d94a08f
3a251eb9bbd26179252d4422ab75ed9984366bf3
describe
'49099' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXX' 'sip-files00058.QC.jpg'
95e9e638d7de21cb681770134ae766c9
8792570e1eabed8b1eec9823357d252c5ef00dcc
describe
'4582820' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXY' 'sip-files00058.tif'
f577e1cf5bd41801ace918727a6c93dd
1f49c9e05a1477fe08891e4a5861c85b1916391b
describe
'2533' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVXZ' 'sip-files00058.txt'
f7b130360abbb0216cfc3c1b24fac37e
6d03c316e2e61700134785dc0ba854c8e057c665
describe
'18791' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYA' 'sip-files00058thm.jpg'
2399ecfd60216ec42d325d6ecc01e3d5
42845e16259fbd56948f51934b09784c0ec68b9e
describe
'589079' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYB' 'sip-files00059.jp2'
1ada4e40bf27f7937e16d17513354227
0250ab2d934b92beb54f484896d89ca8859e33e2
describe
'134497' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYC' 'sip-files00059.jpg'
28b8341118f1f83aeeba3e65652e4d85
514c3be6ba4bcb00e870606af4cc82d392444d6e
describe
'4581' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYD' 'sip-files00059.pro'
bffb137566302a03d3f1a89581cbc31f
6d2af6cadc9167448f2f33c2b9ffb0260ea37b40
describe
'40297' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYE' 'sip-files00059.QC.jpg'
3cb6e1661001504f27b28ffbfe0e0533
f0efa02488caa5c8fa0af706e8e5a6358eb58aa6
describe
'14145740' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYF' 'sip-files00059.tif'
8535044b43d104dbe1cde7aa36ac37f5
5e58f8f87620622b014ac984b254ccad10c7af30
describe
'310' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYG' 'sip-files00059.txt'
b837c91583e186cf90f7e941155c423c
6aee4060ed58eae812912e1cd054d2e5c0148698
describe
Invalid character
'17456' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYH' 'sip-files00059thm.jpg'
8e5e7bddda3c2e6290cb5b25a813177d
0c03f573044cf00e889e261a8248e67d42647d16
describe
'560769' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYI' 'sip-files00061.jp2'
d0e4e8561d4571ea1f40486ab9f496c3
b14d452c1b5897fec6c1370071811bc15dd3d906
describe
'155402' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYJ' 'sip-files00061.jpg'
925a16e64e50e5e72a2e0517299ce9e9
618cd00e826fff7d1f8deed06088baa952b3d65f
describe
'24489' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYK' 'sip-files00061.pro'
87fe892fd2c420bcc89f6c6e547ab958
047238f9fd41ed22e09e4893eb9313fb93e133d3
describe
'47328' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYL' 'sip-files00061.QC.jpg'
d38c7dc18964fe1429f32e29bb274757
27d637ade67e0437844cf82296ea950cea853360
describe
'4496468' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYM' 'sip-files00061.tif'
e441d9f75aba3663ae19f24260b11597
589cdb581f452d7659851bdfe726e40e3c9bca27
describe
'1018' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYN' 'sip-files00061.txt'
1f8b46d59efa1854ad08a0f7bd44883a
5998611a968061d984e1107db241a5f0abc38dd3
describe
'18718' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYO' 'sip-files00061thm.jpg'
8c22ea5910d5123df0eb2a0fd6967fdb
6f6737fc956d0a8b3932643766bf924732b5745d
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYP' 'sip-files00062.jp2'
d019ce6d855d3c99c8c8be855181358b
bc6d87300490475869a230c6949f8977aded746f
describe
'123937' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYQ' 'sip-files00062.jpg'
aa2b64cac6c6b44e64b04bc4c9d3f100
0f296a0495ea69f44f15852eb900453ba492deaf
describe
'34345' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYR' 'sip-files00062.pro'
1709845fb3c9ae9981e7da65765bfcdf
a080dfbd2e2f409007e6c7d85383dc93fc269048
describe
'42648' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYS' 'sip-files00062.QC.jpg'
bf7555535a3dc0a5cedc8ed50aafe809
ed847505e94a98cff94592d723705eaf30c1cd0c
describe
'4496236' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYT' 'sip-files00062.tif'
981bf8d7ca195f4610eb189da9f21def
c7e2d8e66e4004bb4719b0cceb96383426f73537
describe
'1439' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYU' 'sip-files00062.txt'
b8f85b905a0e404d4cbb718f9b5fc6e1
bc6090d450b7f92db335f2f8114b7afe2f3bea21
'2011-10-14T03:32:59-04:00'
describe
'17850' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYV' 'sip-files00062thm.jpg'
7435a974e10e0b2405c0599073c3aa90
cfbb8dc56e6ee32e5a26e52c5ac7e9b1dc467af7
describe
'560705' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYW' 'sip-files00063.jp2'
4875ad791730f4db094de87871a450cf
1934a4d00b69ca6c640ef310b3ec1456b9e15378
describe
'145007' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYX' 'sip-files00063.jpg'
e43de63e73c79a180e9902e0616c6210
f0a2e9b9c7855b733d3ac23ad12691327037d9b1
describe
'1927' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYY' 'sip-files00063.pro'
a110a8bd3c33964fc7c566bafe62499b
020d7f43da3cb0bfe375892e2ff9e5c9f96f433b
describe
'39680' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVYZ' 'sip-files00063.QC.jpg'
bb2678fcdb722adfb9908b0692887499
dc72b76dcaccc098170aeaf3d2cf3b0de34cda1f
describe
'4495664' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZA' 'sip-files00063.tif'
b4a0bc7c9093a50df0e2018c2cbb64e8
4f6e85ea3b30a3151906cecd80985999e16c43ca
describe
'154' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZB' 'sip-files00063.txt'
18960a025d6e3a054a56690deaa5fc71
f116ed38f222780d48430dcd44d6430b224edfca
describe
'16276' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZC' 'sip-files00063thm.jpg'
2ae18db475cb023509859306f4a8f796
6e5fe6751dfcfe63f161dee1da57297bba714e10
describe
'578810' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZD' 'sip-files00064.jp2'
6592526be8c16401737d43df32c6859b
de5ccfdbf63593a6a3033d3687b1dea78bd47462
describe
'157869' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZE' 'sip-files00064.jpg'
190b03049fb3979b2ceae9db8c14940a
89da6fbfcced34b27d08e76ea201dff28788ea7e
describe
'53582' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZF' 'sip-files00064.pro'
3bf34edffc467eef4935909cd39f3986
5cbe52013476ecc163addcde6e70425a1e18c679
describe
'50201' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZG' 'sip-files00064.QC.jpg'
2b35d5ff14ecc0b4dc79d5fbccb8af62
8d9236384755338fd121ee7aa7f7d7400c29e8cd
describe
'4640808' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZH' 'sip-files00064.tif'
0e9af01eb228eabc2c7687e78a18fe5f
89340e566160f61ca4745f5d423e9c87f80bf802
describe
'2373' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZI' 'sip-files00064.txt'
b9cdace529d09e0ddd3aaaed68e034c8
883e0c13e276e288faa300c8ef57d1b294021ecc
describe
'19582' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZJ' 'sip-files00064thm.jpg'
2ee71634b163d4ea4c54dfe5e3880f99
6e866e7a7396c7b1c8fb478f093b1390147d74d1
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZK' 'sip-files00065.jp2'
18a007740179c58e1c78172db8139c48
4c436f6bfc97180883f28a2527e6b0ff93670ee6
describe
'144243' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZL' 'sip-files00065.jpg'
eccd648a9537576806066b8e281d7bb0
499084e14af0a048ceb2963772c677da5a81cd55
describe
'32813' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZM' 'sip-files00065.pro'
f26fa15d469af5e5e08cdd5ed2e4b2a6
55dec5c55673a0d825c922d00a1defc008bb90c9
describe
'44849' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZN' 'sip-files00065.QC.jpg'
f8ad7f02ae5a3c4db8aeece05ba2bdd2
46c76f99b4339cfc89f778e0e39e5292bafdcdbb
describe
'4496444' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZO' 'sip-files00065.tif'
655522b819b72991b9a241d4f9bd9bf0
c39a1a8e3e3d518aa0978f553841552b604c0544
describe
'1309' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZP' 'sip-files00065.txt'
8873e9e9cb990190ba1636c0fed3aa0e
07afdc5c035e2f7c949aea57f7e33e0b9e26c107
describe
Invalid character
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZQ' 'sip-files00065thm.jpg'
5dc44f32aba3178e044ab59825e0547a
575856bd412b417c0e1badbac4eb97b955f36ab0
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZR' 'sip-files00066.jp2'
f28e56ae2a2f3b669fb38c032f42b43e
187e8f9a5373a85d11993b85ea0de0d72f86db7d
describe
'182905' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZS' 'sip-files00066.jpg'
28fc159647d35e2de0fe97958d370edf
a8dc7ea47516bf5731eca163760c241847a8ac8e
describe
'69567' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZT' 'sip-files00066.pro'
e31bd6942561f970133adeff23c52b36
624e7cf875fcf5ea62de0e1184cbf8cbc0d22c53
describe
'57169' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZU' 'sip-files00066.QC.jpg'
6936cc75da0b0b8422b44ac28491c1e4
8d0229046fffd8ecf86dc9edb5bb25fede504b89
describe
'4497088' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZV' 'sip-files00066.tif'
2d8a73ebef64a309efc478204c0fad5c
6513fa82616aa866f307aff7a6b16bf868849736
describe
'3020' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZW' 'sip-files00066.txt'
bfaa9574b9e2134530209061f154899d
4289069d5d0d1c4efef917b3e014d7761020eee6
describe
'21045' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZX' 'sip-files00066thm.jpg'
ab6a27b6e9d767f9526b18526208d96d
d4aab61465c34e2c3545f497dc3a133c4289ef00
describe
'560787' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZY' 'sip-files00067.jp2'
946abd850bad84cac4bdb62b6ff376f8
3bf7244117579021c99f34aa696fa28c9b26b0fa
describe
'161708' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAVZZ' 'sip-files00067.jpg'
1322407aedf90fa9b9966397ea888bef
246c7f2efab25f6fc2d29dbe379e3e874f411c2d
describe
'44398' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAA' 'sip-files00067.pro'
14ed99931d25f92ceebae4bd81eb50e8
277256482b9425e5a7825ed444311c3874e9f958
describe
'50745' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAB' 'sip-files00067.QC.jpg'
b2fb1d2356f7019720189d5a599240c1
776333379f95c7777eef12d48add3860bf8c267f
describe
'4496716' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAC' 'sip-files00067.tif'
5b6aa83174ad8eb752faff422d3d08c3
5c448d420e40e1e9cb517779baf3c78ee7a5201b
describe
'1874' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAD' 'sip-files00067.txt'
b0dc5c70527b68631ea9c6fc9e2c6de8
e9dffe29af6ec51a47df302bc5c2e89cc05964b3
describe
'19688' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAE' 'sip-files00067thm.jpg'
c9e3685caf5449668645d62068700a55
7af26193972ce22fd79d8e8c199bc81b3cecddd2
describe
'560776' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAF' 'sip-files00068.jp2'
57526860b9341232b8a4d5e00337b5ff
1a891a3ccb80e828fe0c089e5ef4289e88a4248a
describe
'151908' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAG' 'sip-files00068.jpg'
21bc8e42d359bd9420adf577c1706c47
280847a02ff8eae1ef1890958432e9e643fd4283
describe
'26975' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAH' 'sip-files00068.pro'
f5dd01499302f12b694e779a45bca9fc
2eb5199842ab4eab3399d5e168182816a97efb64
describe
'47308' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAI' 'sip-files00068.QC.jpg'
e6f8e97b863f41a370fff5ec0c26ef14
c4622ddcd7dc8edfe945b1e5cab07c828228227f
describe
'4496464' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAJ' 'sip-files00068.tif'
498d1c34c47203763d384f7aece2522a
fa17e7f6a0ac77f7b5d574af6c795d082a5863a5
describe
'1126' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAK' 'sip-files00068.txt'
98e9fd369c490742c96dd6fedf910ba7
615a0e9d852c4c1bad3957cac33a28718edcb6ba
describe
'18917' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAL' 'sip-files00068thm.jpg'
a7287e52290149733b9f5a6fed11d6cd
9179fef51296d6732f2e6d33536e56cda77f55e4
describe
'560692' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAM' 'sip-files00069.jp2'
d7a17fdbbf2687339593e440792f978a
ea66a92992e1b1fb66af1bdcc8ae03ab875426c1
describe
'189696' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAN' 'sip-files00069.jpg'
0d174493bb2d7f7e7f0d81f17953b2f9
340f2c523d45289e4bf0d8122caabed409b0a3b6
describe
'63317' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAO' 'sip-files00069.pro'
683e5073d02c1a0d48570d743b704807
b4980fcfb82b140f413e8ad974f046a1a2a547f9
describe
'57516' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAP' 'sip-files00069.QC.jpg'
b1e849a5361ee7be153436874262cf36
3ba4023cfb61345de46f30bc0d081cb0a993328d
describe
'4497244' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAQ' 'sip-files00069.tif'
0f3463d4874823862ecc0b3136003450
ae4d99c4f26cecffc0ddfba4fe6f326235689f67
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAR' 'sip-files00069.txt'
6f1513c0407fe23d227a478b086fe4fd
4270c86b0b92ab621af10b0012765c8e9cc99237
describe
'21358' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAS' 'sip-files00069thm.jpg'
a093af5002ab0e55d3baee5cc8a4492a
689b2128103698513309fd63da6d0aabadffb069
describe
'560792' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAT' 'sip-files00070.jp2'
faac233037447ea465514ac402783a35
99de78998006aeda7bbaeee9adef475c74e9b2a8
describe
'184004' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAU' 'sip-files00070.jpg'
dc3343f5ad2aaa9d0f5a31dcc5b9f2a1
9c7e20b810fa6083342a1c844ed50d3621788ce9
describe
'71724' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAV' 'sip-files00070.pro'
f1a91a4131ebc9a5244ae7487fbd7da8
a1b512213b4fe9e739dc0ed6b64f7e9647e80815
describe
'56903' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAW' 'sip-files00070.QC.jpg'
843485c658f1b2160dd1521fa595c7d6
b2ad1908c786b456a514721435f947fd80792663
describe
'4496932' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAX' 'sip-files00070.tif'
c2d42d73ae44736d6a4c6658a41d77be
920a4236c5a0154d0b7b1c6c7dcdd808eb386b49
describe
'2818' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAY' 'sip-files00070.txt'
f8a11423cb4e0265429e7237cabbe256
2389bc4a6906acabee4f3c90ebe62f0b84ecddb5
describe
'20677' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWAZ' 'sip-files00070thm.jpg'
f90c6a6b081309ad596002ddb0fb49f7
be3fafdbb49ee655e8d81707608b3dc030c698ae
describe
'560764' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBA' 'sip-files00071.jp2'
da50faec5f57089a2be3f07805c38877
4bf724cd51afd0eb454f6d1070d8589c1af44b22
describe
'165877' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBB' 'sip-files00071.jpg'
481140f5a30e66dbad360e4b9d55646d
097763aeda320fb094a519b6bfb09f8ba8383095
describe
'27700' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBC' 'sip-files00071.pro'
730b8f967ac4145055f3ff7643c75c25
cd9041d7ddbe357a95f89019f093b320b2f329bc
describe
'51468' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBD' 'sip-files00071.QC.jpg'
c3411e7a11d4353def30fd5e5e364461
8c3e5775c36aac0557a2d8f355ec43cb0db1bddc
describe
'4496948' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBE' 'sip-files00071.tif'
80765c598813a794afaeab20ab3fe72c
fe6dc9e8ad5aea74a372f9cb9b739375eb4bd62e
describe
'1173' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBF' 'sip-files00071.txt'
d15b33a1c7c76f5f1c7883773cfcdf54
b7f42ccd9a6cbc8f1bfc778eb8828b0017b4bb86
describe
'20306' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBG' 'sip-files00071thm.jpg'
cf9424c62e7d1d1d8ebf286cc0b14e48
630f05d032124c2c1248ad4c84de2456586313d5
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBH' 'sip-files00072.jp2'
68066005c589e8c02a4d8261ae36c3ff
8c9df4dd77223511c2b0853e5c9843255edb6cbc
describe
'175521' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBI' 'sip-files00072.jpg'
94bc466a96aa63b76bebbc78b2a6ed34
a7959a7f7d771c8cedef81f525463aab0fbb80a2
describe
'68667' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBJ' 'sip-files00072.pro'
4553a3c541f0cb9ef8f287a355e6bee6
d9cca11ad9f46adad21c100b84ae0b58ccbdd932
describe
'54984' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBK' 'sip-files00072.QC.jpg'
98bb5da4bbda182ff297198b0a546dd9
524f4d268c1a2134c295d7d9b9efef259ec3cc97
describe
'4496756' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBL' 'sip-files00072.tif'
b76efc236dde70d584907525f286dff9
08ab45ebe170e50692a19bcc3749b881867b67bc
describe
'2753' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBM' 'sip-files00072.txt'
e876347fc4769c1bb2588a0e5245fd36
f78f644043f3ed1bb65761bbdc3ceb16e5c62b38
describe
'19982' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBN' 'sip-files00072thm.jpg'
3c42b61b4d44ab1518ae03c0cd8fc3c8
843091e4ae333f70c68b7c94339f0d271288ecaf
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBO' 'sip-files00073.jp2'
1d3bccbbcc326f302a8d4abb42a00445
cf57ac0282b988d07311ea187cf8c506cf468ee0
describe
'143677' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBP' 'sip-files00073.jpg'
12abe90df65c948e73048840869c2143
c6d6d6e0d2a8263f0165341117a6243eecdc8955
describe
'37189' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBQ' 'sip-files00073.pro'
0c5d0c82feaa2eb4109c61d047b79db2
a5eb4152183f4a39d6731174a73935d41b4e56bd
describe
'44715' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBR' 'sip-files00073.QC.jpg'
45967a6336395874897878746ccfb02a
815beb1832af2535f54134de2cfac829b0d6ca16
describe
'4496216' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBS' 'sip-files00073.tif'
5f78ef88220c4b86a83080afb2a62e95
451adad05e501421241ae19a7f66a8c207ff3bd8
describe
'1879' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBT' 'sip-files00073.txt'
c4e39c5fa648b541ee2a677cd48cad5f
b3330c0e206bd79ef626d1a122514e826e739f02
describe
Invalid character
'18144' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBU' 'sip-files00073thm.jpg'
e251145d8ae50b3ef8624f49a1813d70
c2b30d818da73eb14232a8d6eaf3838187c47f79
describe
'560772' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBV' 'sip-files00074.jp2'
df9919ba1138edd248d7e07415cbb4d1
35ba64111acae108b0f141ba0a37e95033a84412
describe
'132768' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBW' 'sip-files00074.jpg'
757be972925cfae851483c1efd472ccd
3aa3d3cbda630c11a7ca04fcfbd23534334ee02f
describe
'38839' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBX' 'sip-files00074.pro'
62ac0502789a7aeb8ccda07d0c93f3bf
2d6733b86369ef094727ac9a5a588f87382f62eb
describe
'44554' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBY' 'sip-files00074.QC.jpg'
8c168b96112fcda6cd84914abdcf9df9
c0b1bb752d93456789316ebd513fca81f5bb0efd
describe
'4496316' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWBZ' 'sip-files00074.tif'
c419ac0dc05b1e9046c7fd5aa751c445
d2f5e67cac8e170081310d9e719ed30af5fa1d6d
describe
'1746' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCA' 'sip-files00074.txt'
f85d97ce619d8a7358893fda92b4ebea
833629aef695b82b7c59581869c09d2c418ed59e
describe
'18711' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCB' 'sip-files00074thm.jpg'
76bf5d7ea0b77dbec5864cb0a1ad7840
1fd3d0f7655331d4a4cb08f21fa8ab76a022335a
describe
'589355' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCC' 'sip-files00075.jp2'
22d3c9457115d2360ea545eb757dfb50
2f4438d56d5aebffb584bb34123caaa333a5eef6
describe
'133144' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCD' 'sip-files00075.jpg'
5befef8cea878e5a12ce4241786e7200
ef35797955fefe4323a306434375686c0de1013b
describe
'7900' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCE' 'sip-files00075.pro'
1b5437ae05812596d1eaf0e53d06b0b9
6c2e9c7d7dbc47dd43c895541fbb8d0cfaca14f1
'2011-10-14T03:33:11-04:00'
describe
'40096' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCF' 'sip-files00075.QC.jpg'
882d7599ef13fe87f81cc175862b3c9c
516989a6cdd16badaf9839f7d02b68d727d3defe
describe
'14153156' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCG' 'sip-files00075.tif'
41d6a1ed286440c6e959b27b3c629976
28b750daa0e638b499683ffffc764c1b76eb374a
describe
'1367' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCH' 'sip-files00075.txt'
91ff4f2ad0cd06abb17505009ba0ca43
577c32e7ed026e3cf49555711534c01c6aa91008
describe
Invalid character
'17337' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCI' 'sip-files00075thm.jpg'
f32912ab58139574d8961b943dcca57d
098175bfd9bd37f891b9769ef0eac07f8424bb59
describe
'560763' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCJ' 'sip-files00077.jp2'
427921e59ca231900daef44df80f15f2
3650896a861c9fc5d1ac2e7b03cf6db61db12e27
describe
'181806' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCK' 'sip-files00077.jpg'
6edd8d6fa77327d5e771f3dccdb5054d
815298397d18799c2106e7fe331eb0eb8bf85ba5
describe
'60205' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCL' 'sip-files00077.pro'
c312ee03c75a2706576119a890ec02d3
3f6b84ab218a06fdf93b4fcc33f5f3d38d4d7cc1
describe
'56633' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCM' 'sip-files00077.QC.jpg'
ac04d6561cd2d02d77dfc0e6affbfdcb
5af8dd0c4f0af9088401eff800085a6a3f3defa0
describe
'4497096' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCN' 'sip-files00077.tif'
347b1173f5ba38821687b0abfec5af72
0a36aa2e2ffbc4a1ab0fc576bed25492b6124bef
describe
'2479' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCO' 'sip-files00077.txt'
ac51459787cfc11750e918b353342417
3448b7af4b80d099e1f279ca5d017ebd59ee50b9
describe
'20872' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCP' 'sip-files00077thm.jpg'
012cb9f2d5d0177163099aa38d6a264a
3c1fe71070c23671b60c1ca7c4a4c36d09cda55f
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCQ' 'sip-files00078.jp2'
0e485dd6961e5af5f4dbac2505eed18f
42218fee6fc65ead7117faec1ca33bf01b749aa6
describe
'172002' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCR' 'sip-files00078.jpg'
fb0343d529dd6f10ff6aadd8bb05a516
e408ebbcf3cbd5800afe1db39b8912c91b6890da
describe
'66873' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCS' 'sip-files00078.pro'
48b3c5cf7007e2716ac7619036efb3cd
f98b705a58c8819e6e35272ca6266e10641a6d3f
describe
'54575' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCT' 'sip-files00078.QC.jpg'
32ca473529f59a7f7dccfa672eae9c9d
d67831e19020513e912af59a60a3aac8d61da276
describe
'4496744' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCU' 'sip-files00078.tif'
c7b3bf580d9671b8badb666a13414d09
2c58a6c862e4eaf9b7f2ce6ed1999f1f46b15ec0
describe
'2643' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCV' 'sip-files00078.txt'
d1e71582efcc52cc6823aa578aa5a55e
ec3fa58e219fc6df62b46f1a040108bc92ae45c7
describe
'20014' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCW' 'sip-files00078thm.jpg'
dcc21d82d0af661c8973a998e5715b55
bfa629f7ff458b35af9626ccd63ab99895549ccb
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCX' 'sip-files00079.jp2'
99c1a8e83dfca4a47e4d60a87032d61d
35ee513fe341ba4ce4cafa8d12012cfb91a4ec86
describe
'131355' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCY' 'sip-files00079.jpg'
d782332d742cc43f8fcf5b9c5acd4d9e
299d7188e0e5da52739c93b57aabfc2f4c0c868e
describe
'14552' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWCZ' 'sip-files00079.pro'
c848a7651dd438dcaf5bb8f68075a084
bfda12aab0c5e7faab419211e6d63dce20a0d0e9
describe
'39619' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDA' 'sip-files00079.QC.jpg'
e3337f0f58f420a9a6474546a19f955c
81a52adc5b095ff487f78a698ceb7caf127c89c4
describe
'4495856' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDB' 'sip-files00079.tif'
79b055010e11941cd3fd3adbf8be377c
d4d5437573bed7d57392740f808153168db088ed
describe
'626' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDC' 'sip-files00079.txt'
63c509906ea438770d497aa2b52acbee
d41fba15deda0676d400633e2e54855e9f1aad49
describe
'16771' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDD' 'sip-files00079thm.jpg'
44f3d1d012d4be667753f0954e192902
9b97dad7fb70df200ea26adad27312acde585603
describe
'560767' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDE' 'sip-files00080.jp2'
462a26a9e914db101e0bf98a4a89ac45
a6b5e3bf6df2afcd0c69c0c4fcfe886193118dc8
describe
'173835' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDF' 'sip-files00080.jpg'
686ea4c406fb1c5006e693b4a46c47a5
591698ee7d28c48c6e86888d3d9fdf85dbebd908
describe
'64168' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDG' 'sip-files00080.pro'
dea598667e4d64cd71c5633193ff8e61
54de6fae6179e519e230d2eee54f657cc2997045
describe
'54586' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDH' 'sip-files00080.QC.jpg'
1deb738ac004b8ccdda4c1c35d057b1a
33b5ec8a22d5c6dc7de1100db6fca6055de3824e
describe
'4497036' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDI' 'sip-files00080.tif'
d404b80c68fa597ce77e323a616c26e6
84efc73187225698a30ae2c7b6efa079c25ab744
describe
'2541' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDJ' 'sip-files00080.txt'
7973e9eb4fe2f2d561ac5186e3cf5aba
e5980c8592292f2f0227b7162b499d0cb901cc24
describe
'20261' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDK' 'sip-files00080thm.jpg'
9140fec1181107d45acdb5cfad5b05ae
39697ecf0451e974da62edfb1f9677ea25a01515
describe
'570090' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDL' 'sip-files00081.jp2'
394c366d8910d9ce99feabd7a5387285
59649a2647a6352c15d709b7c2f931232b29bb18
describe
'147678' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDM' 'sip-files00081.jpg'
47e3df7dd6f4f3bd99990dfe103127da
d3e4bf4711b6ca5682807787defb3b4c69d4c09a
describe
'1013' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDN' 'sip-files00081.pro'
4ef476e84024ae02f63d6fe26b8c8f6c
b1a9d73aed0d91e8770dcf2c02531253b7f23daa
describe
'38487' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDO' 'sip-files00081.QC.jpg'
dbd2271ca8d47f6ccf50013c5b91190a
4ab358062b94628d0ed0811d542609db71f84560
describe
'4570148' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDP' 'sip-files00081.tif'
a91167c958632a78134db66bc3fd427f
a0582d1634909c53d1af77b17348821da64c9eeb
describe
'115' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDQ' 'sip-files00081.txt'
7540ecf300c91fb253b1c0538d70b055
2de488971748c5f787d5eefeaff835918644425c
describe
'16166' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDR' 'sip-files00081thm.jpg'
1b01a076d6a9050145a5fbbc91863dbd
971bc75eadaf029d15eb31e8330f4a3ecaf981dd
describe
'571603' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDS' 'sip-files00082.jp2'
b1c46bbaba6f142b10b45f2270364fb9
b5f427ac72126262efb6f954c0354b651f270bdc
describe
'150192' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDT' 'sip-files00082.jpg'
15c61707056fdaa43312fb6d357fa3ea
576a61db8c8924b52eab81602d98f4d09ca0119c
describe
'35210' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDU' 'sip-files00082.pro'
49808d979a542917434e6b5055220dd1
cf7d01744a42364888d2b231f58e231f13ed0cee
describe
'46976' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDV' 'sip-files00082.QC.jpg'
4d8a22b5421d7a11495c9014ae94b388
d4a831d006c00635498fcd88bc49710e800f60b1
describe
'4583020' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDW' 'sip-files00082.tif'
0b5cecb6d8e301841c58ab72414274e9
37662f8837de4b9c02c10ffa0ec4100f828a4e85
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDX' 'sip-files00082.txt'
46222b323cf75c7385155f98ff560f05
7461e331165b36096addb7b154d1e9c6b8d08b81
describe
'19144' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDY' 'sip-files00082thm.jpg'
17df180bbd402feaf2def707be3b2049
2382df4c1f66034f19effd3dd2229ece4561208a
describe
'560582' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWDZ' 'sip-files00083.jp2'
37febe613b7c37acf8b5af98072922af
e24332b5af17e0d67f1fd9e61dd6590e691ab16e
describe
'156412' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEA' 'sip-files00083.jpg'
7df05f6ce2b6eed68e50b26d86f47522
a4b3db539ffcf0bfcb13b02b2373492122e4121a
describe
'39486' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEB' 'sip-files00083.pro'
5164398bf64642b25cbac581b79fdd5b
cd2073f5b04a76f692f84b033aa65c7c23b0571e
describe
'49190' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEC' 'sip-files00083.QC.jpg'
b0e21db4865f07fe52dc6053651fc970
c7edfbfaa9134c24865f18bb881faad71ac2cdca
describe
'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWED' 'sip-files00083.tif'
425c40aad524fb314113dc1fe2595ebc
33414e663875c414449693662e2e064c4df0fc43
describe
'1634' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEE' 'sip-files00083.txt'
feb3e944db9f61dbd189ca9fcfc4715a
68129888f79308b7cd802b65431e9c6045a3cb2c
describe
Invalid character
'19244' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEF' 'sip-files00083thm.jpg'
0554de3e544986ab03308e18f220b7b6
1004f394f0973fbca5794f956487ed7dc237eea1
describe
'560779' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEG' 'sip-files00084.jp2'
61b212b938b9b469502cd20b10c30046
20e7e9e1444ee66a3b9bf9509e192c2bc2ecef5d
describe
'168019' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEH' 'sip-files00084.jpg'
7bf6872f298d05772a46e8c5eb5d1f1f
fd6b58f35663016e81d3ce1ae5bc939f738fabd4
describe
'54377' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEI' 'sip-files00084.pro'
12e0956a8543dab26ca4e7d964f27670
5003077c0f393a7cc7c68bc32d7224aaa87f55b4
describe
'54328' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEJ' 'sip-files00084.QC.jpg'
9001463bc7b0f9ab7f5075ccc1d2fa4a
70dad45f1bd4557f8b8e37f1351ec773a6562ca1
describe
'4496868' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEK' 'sip-files00084.tif'
695c49c480d853c29fe5ce34f946a625
06cc467e23f4b08998776ef8d973529e7890be30
describe
'2396' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEL' 'sip-files00084.txt'
b89b83fefba8000bbb4a8c5959d77cfd
bfe6bfae439ae9679477b59f2083f67e40ab6c2c
describe
'20516' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEM' 'sip-files00084thm.jpg'
d820654eaf5665d080d5b0d5d83acd51
963b8e1a6f8f492181ccde5b76b471f2f1fc14c5
describe
'560728' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEN' 'sip-files00085.jp2'
16ec38ee39855ad300336a3752ed9750
d06adceaa8f8777864bcc93c2011df4828aaa5b1
describe
'165243' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEO' 'sip-files00085.jpg'
3a96e2dfcdc4ca4826289c3bd8e84193
c9d37e81daf7a0da13c4d16e24972614c9478948
describe
'60421' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEP' 'sip-files00085.pro'
56738a2775d3fd252dbec3bafa6e71a0
970a6f5b2eb01c6f03996eb379a750ce358ac6de
describe
'50566' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEQ' 'sip-files00085.QC.jpg'
4bdc229ed71622ba7921bb92ab994f4b
50688f2303465ad3857bfba76f75ddfca5b0cb54
describe
'4496440' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWER' 'sip-files00085.tif'
2e813e5acf4c38e4f9cb3bebdc7bae41
b1c527980085ecc6684995654cd2e9445a7e8805
describe
'2512' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWES' 'sip-files00085.txt'
b09ddb19a3ca91662c348e2ad9506dae
105b4266e9d90b90edd9efa1b03227a834409ee9
describe
'19044' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWET' 'sip-files00085thm.jpg'
70c2e01b10e4a37e900899e51ee50d2e
24cd83c7eac36d6af5407710a5716f9304bd7d22
describe
'560754' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEU' 'sip-files00086.jp2'
2e344040daa9516f6444788c60c3b620
b34db8218086bb7a34e57b32b2806e5e0df92db2
describe
'178139' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEV' 'sip-files00086.jpg'
c8ce2a5018afa8c1ec7b89dd16c7d87a
39a2dee082a9de50d0e47651befbc68626ef3139
describe
'30018' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEW' 'sip-files00086.pro'
6f3a02e1c5e6ce920650c9ffd17cebcb
82c4aaf9cba667d9785a28490c2d32f4822b381a
describe
'52968' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEX' 'sip-files00086.QC.jpg'
367c2312c136bb19c25b883c4f1af31f
4584e7b7fde2203471a47c27ab53a7a04ce80f3d
describe
'4497132' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEY' 'sip-files00086.tif'
26dd8b387c8077d2a299a4462b458b47
87f5051fe9871ef258a61824841a91d43e053bc7
describe
'1376' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWEZ' 'sip-files00086.txt'
4fa80a5ecbc111b629495faf997b443c
3436ded3d825915f91788dd64e4978feda2e75b2
describe
'20566' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFA' 'sip-files00086thm.jpg'
ca3eb52ee3c3bb5675ce9f32356828c2
f82df0589a75cb16a9f81ff374e5d7b65789a166
describe
'560778' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFB' 'sip-files00087.jp2'
2c9a87cf8fe2589a1150c227afe012cb
efbfcaaf22c23987027868b6bd9d1c2b08a1e75c
describe
'190350' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFC' 'sip-files00087.jpg'
10f1850e38389ed75b46ca142120fae8
468557a60aee6f3842c12b5b29e727aaa227ff3b
describe
'63875' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFD' 'sip-files00087.pro'
6fa326525db3659b5129753db9c5841a
a1e4c6e2a47f2c54c6983e7f9918ddcfa9093273
describe
'57918' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFE' 'sip-files00087.QC.jpg'
b4990d001149149d8c12b31c2c4faf5e
e519fbc0678b302871f74fbd48980cbfebfc0945
describe
'4497120' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFF' 'sip-files00087.tif'
6b42ff26cd529def6a080d7691cd0cf8
c80a5186eb16609a59894f389cf1495166dfe622
describe
'2618' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFG' 'sip-files00087.txt'
23ad9fa2ff4667fcca0d476f47969c61
ab25c1fca4b1d58a72fcbd69f04627556a2d4ddc
describe
Invalid character
'21023' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFH' 'sip-files00087thm.jpg'
27db2e9837588f0308eeb3a69173e947
45000ad32bc73d9dab9dbe5a9f94793c88414044
describe
'560797' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFI' 'sip-files00088.jp2'
ee07e17631718af5565492e43b952b24
bde7103217b19c0bf419ece3562ecd27cbaa7833
describe
'130390' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFJ' 'sip-files00088.jpg'
1ebb04e049b4b51375987b4ae30b9067
5e726e6324ff9f21ba21ae036045b78bc4743d9c
'2011-10-14T03:33:25-04:00'
describe
'36068' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFK' 'sip-files00088.pro'
436699fa6747a82758ba12f9b999d851
80108d60ec1236dd79e3642b0a6c1dd37567c48a
describe
'41059' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFL' 'sip-files00088.QC.jpg'
c46d8d1e9ac3b9d4e3472bf4f24fcd92
b62a30b0cc74c95a2a6f9a68baea77df27f393ac
describe
'4495972' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFM' 'sip-files00088.tif'
99c8de5c225114b5945f158e76d3a8b4
29a4b69fc8c6f1709beb26527905e3b902a0128d
describe
'1566' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFN' 'sip-files00088.txt'
154a3fe9b6587341a8bde3d38e7cea46
ffb02e844f0cc1f63afd5e1866cb8e59f21e0631
'2011-10-14T03:33:59-04:00'
describe
'17178' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFO' 'sip-files00088thm.jpg'
935e87d10e7d06d45b10194ad4c31074
c6b7174c1fe437aa19d10c75cb243ff7c44d0034
describe
'580758' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFP' 'sip-files00090.jp2'
5a3863e08d950c31580dae4ae005f55c
6cbc04a8200d9bd615af2b20cf38d351ca3b732a
describe
'125908' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFQ' 'sip-files00090.jpg'
cc7c7517d07a8bf34574ea7517a654f4
960dc7217bdef509cdc593131a19589629c5e3f8
describe
'35705' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFR' 'sip-files00090.QC.jpg'
85dafd04caeb5a682739315114e6f398
cfe47db2c2241c95d8c80135afa42addf4f7363f
describe
'13946124' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFS' 'sip-files00090.tif'
8bbaddd56566524a92cb38b82f5fb576
fa954a6402e2cafe8142561c68e932d1696ec00d
describe
'12592' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFT' 'sip-files00090thm.jpg'
cb00a68c89d6ad36675c573b262e042d
68a907e60566e17340f88194926292ec16dea7ec
describe
'660655' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFU' 'sip-files00091.jp2'
a8f7120e2f740971ec4ca7f85decd554
761101481ddbb74bc0b79052655348260df56916
describe
'139571' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFV' 'sip-files00091.jpg'
41dca874caed90d3c17658308e725773
23d61346f0165fd876ecdb3cca2b75f1655265ea
describe
'42479' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFW' 'sip-files00091.QC.jpg'
f59351dfb8f9c97afe25a3d19af094bc
219a0f37b660e1ffee8032ab5436d01c295b130e
describe
'15863684' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFX' 'sip-files00091.tif'
99823ca6fd96e75c5ceaf762787d1244
0f3d1a360efc6038740524c314d618da9e7cadfc
describe
'15007' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFY' 'sip-files00091thm.jpg'
fe1dfd82452d335b2d19ecd7c8c235b8
cc93ed0b9e64f870c0c2afb385d5a94a4974256b
describe
'654067' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWFZ' 'sip-files00092.jp2'
9679213fa6197035d1007837dc2aaf20
09512a66c6f11347dd945a820566d1c22673ce79
describe
'106889' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWGA' 'sip-files00092.jpg'
078bc4128e7ed0df1173b4ce927ea25a
133fffb6b4a587446b604ab7db5facbb232e97f5
describe
'29422' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWGB' 'sip-files00092.QC.jpg'
7d9be5f724c97ca4ab24fc811e0d583f
e8e7a41ee5a200f4405743db1ff6e263a4580927
describe
'15707384' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWGC' 'sip-files00092.tif'
edd374ac158b2e92a9c36fd190dcbb9b
aabf7d9f6234bbcfe3a29d33b33da12aa1baaf1b
describe
'13183' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWGD' 'sip-files00092thm.jpg'
e66343606308cbf60dd9077571aeb49e
2c94ec34adfdbb63ee948e90ea49120d12a8aee9
describe
'40' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWGE' 'sip-filesprocessing.instr'
9892c8b32312b833369af1eca332f770
1cae89a98eef67d35dc732958ae14b65948e1e8b
describe
'143243' 'info:fdaE20080328_AAAAFDfileF20080328_AAAWGF' 'sip-filesUF00080713_00001.mets'
e02dc161468ecee70eaa64cc8b6760df
a7c77085e593f57757b0e48570e7a69e12682c5e
describe
TargetNamespace.1: Expecting namespace 'http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/ufdc2/', but the target namespace of the schema document is 'http://digital.uflib.ufl.edu/metadata/ufdc2/'.
'2013-12-19T05:17:50-05:00' 'mixed'
xml resolution
http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/ufdc2/ufdc2.xsdhttp://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema
BROKEN_LINK http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/ufdc2/ufdc2.xsd
http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema
The element type "div" must be terminated by the matching end-tag "
".
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Animal Calks and (ales

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= XC, Introduction! How horrid! Let us skip it!”

Oho! That's what you are thinking, I am sure. I suppose you
would like to hear all about the monkeys, and the tigers, and the
ducks, first, and then read the Introduction afterwards; but that is

not the way we do things in our barn No doubt introductions are dull some-
times, but then they are not always written by owls; and you know the
proverb that if you want a thing well done you must get an owl to do it.
It is a very favourite proverb with us, and very true too. .

I suppose it is because I am so very wise, even for an owl, that my
friends Mrs. Mouser and Mr. G. Gee, with his son Master A. Colt, to say
nothing of the very promising young author Mr. Farmyard Quackling, came
to me in a kind of deputation the other day, and asked me to edit the new
book which they had written for the children. :

“Poor things!” said Mr. Quackling, who made a neat little speech on
this occasion, “I think we should all pity them instead of being angry.
Children really know so very little about us; and perhaps it is partly our
fault for not telling them more. So we have each written out some of our
experiences; and if your Owlship will be so good as to write a little
introduction, we will have them made up into a book for the children to read.”

Mrs. Mouser purred her approval, and although Mr. G. Gee and his son
both said “Neigh!” we all understood it was only their way of saying “Yes!”

Of course, I consented ; but I must confess that it was very inconvenient,
for I was just in the midst of writing my beautiful poem, Wight Thoughts -
in 24 Volumes; to say nothing of the popular handbook, How to Catch Mice,
and Zhe Owlets’ Entertaining Reader. But I have always been very much
interestéd in children; and, indeed, have written quite a number of articles
about them and their funny ways in the fur and Feathers Gazette; so that
I was, quite willing to spare a week or so in helping Mrs. Mouser and my
other friends over their difficulty.
oat”

I really believe with Mr. Quackling, that children are not half so bad as
they seem. They are not good at thinking—that’s how it is; and that’s the ~
great difference between them and owls. Owls have always been very strong
thinkers. For instance, no owl would ever dream of throwing stones at frogs,
or brushing Mrs. Mouser’s coat the wrong way, or chasing Mrs. Speckledy
round the fiemyaea: It is too absurd !—though I have heard of little boys
doing all these ridiculous things; and some children, I believe, have even been
disrespectful to owls. But re is almost too sad to think about, and I prefer
to look on the cheerful side of things. Indeed, what can one expect from
creatures who go to bed at night and get up in the day?

We all feel that boys and girls, however misguided, have very good
points, and might become quite reasonable beings, like ourselves, if they:
could be got to see. things in the right light—that is, of course, in the
twilight. For instance, I once met a little girl who was quite miserable
because she could not look as wise as we do. I gave her a little good
advice, and my young friend, Mr. Quackling, sent a short poem on the subject
to the papers. It was like this, as far as I can remember:

“T want to look wise,” said Maud, one day,
“fT want to look clever and wise.”

“Oho!” said the Owl, as he sat on a spray,
And blinked as in solemn surprise;

‘You had better by far remain as you are,
And learn to be clever and wise.”

OF course, it is no use for little boys and girls to try to be owls. It is
just a waste of time. They can’t do it. But they might become quite useful
members of society, if they would only study our ways
and our manners a little more. Now, Mrs. Mouser
told me only the other day, that she once had to leave
a family quite suddenly, indeed without notice, owing
to their want of consideration. They actually expected °
her to eat her breakfast in the back kitchen! Can
you imagine an owl behaving in this way ?

I am sure the children do not mean to be
unkind. It is all due to thoughtlessness, and I trust
this little book may teach them that all animals,
whether in feathers or fur, on four feet or two, have
_ feelings and affections to be considered. fe

tran






















ULLO what’s this?” cried the proprietor of the menagerie, in

SS amazement. “I only bought one animal, and they have sent

me two.”

And that was a fact. Mr. Smith, the owner of a wild-beast
show, had purchased a very fine Bengal tiger, called “Crunch.” And Crunch
_ had arrived that morning by train in a cage that was boarded up on all sides.
He had not been many minutes in the menagerie before Mr. Smith, eager to
see the new arrival, had the boards taken down, and then beheld Crunch
looking exceedingly handsome, and none the worse for his very long journey
by sea and rail—he had come all the way from India.

But what was the second animal, whose presence caused the proprietor to
exclaim in wonder, as he had done?

I’m quite certain I should have been just as surprised as Mr. Smith, and I.
think that you, dear, would have been so, too, and would have clapped your
little hands with delight, for just in front of the tiger there sat, washing his
face with his little paws, a tiny, wee, brown mouse.

Mr. Smith laughed, and his attendants laughed, and so startled the little
mouse, that he ran to the tiger, and, nestling between the big paws, peeped
out and blinked his bright eyes, as much as to say, “You can’t touch me ©
now.” Indeed, it would have been a bold man, or a very brave pussy-cat






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that would have gone near the little brown mouse then. But Mr. Smith had
no wish to hurt the tiger's tiny friend. On the contrary, he threw him a
biscuit, which the little mouse looked at with its head on one side, but was
too timid to touch at the time. He thought he had better wait till night-
time, when the place would be more quiet.

In the evening, when the entertainment began, numbers of people came
to the menagerie, and the greatest crowd was round Crunch’s cage. Everybody
admired the beautiful tiger.

But it was when all the people had left, and most of the lights had
been put out, that the real fun began. I mean the fun for the animals.
For, just the same as your dollies, Jack-in-the-boxes, and tin-soldiers, go to
balls, and have grand battles, and enjoy themselves, when you are fast asleep
and tucked up in your little beds, so did the animals discuss the events of the
day—what the people were like who had come to see them, and what was
likely to happen on the morrow.

“That was a clever little boy who came here to-day,” said the Elephant.
“He told his mother I must have ‘awful bad toothache,’ because my teeth
are so long!—but what makes you look so sad, Mr. Bruin?”

“Ah, Jumbo,” said the Bear, “that little boy’s mother had on a fur
tippet that I feel certain was made out of the skin of my long-lost brother.
I recognised the curls and the particular gloss.”

“Listen to me,” roared the Lion, as if there was any necessity for him
to say that, for nobody could help listening to him when he made that noise.
“Listen to me. I am the King here, and——”

“He, he, he,” laughed the Monkeys, “what's the use of being a king
when you are shut up in a cage? He, he, he.”
eee

King Lion said nothing to the monkeys, he only looked at them. But
such a look, it was as much as to say: “If I could only get at you, my fine
fellows, I would gobble you up before you could say ‘Jack Robinson.” But
the Lion could mot get at them, so he might look fiercely all day long,
and all night too, for all the monkeys cared.

“Listen to me,” roared the King again, “I am your ruler, ard ”

But he was again interrupted, which was very annoying, and really not
quite loyal on the part of the elephant. But Mr. Jumbo, as a sudden idea
struck him, got very much excited, very much excited indeed.

“T say, I say, I say,” he trumpeted, “Mr. Tiger, you come from India,
and so do I. How are the jungles, and is the sky as blue, and the sun as
hot as ever?” :

Crunch replied that it was a long time since he had seen the jungle, but
that the sky was as blue, and the sun as hot as ever it was.

“Aha,” sighed Jumbo, as a big tear rolled from his little eye. Seeing a
tiger had called up memories
of the days when he was
young and free, and he felt |
quite sad for a moment or
two.

“You don’t know any-
thing about the grandest
country in the world?” asked
the Chamois. “Switzerland, I
mean, with its high moun-
tains, and deep precipices,
and crisp white snow.”

“Snow!” cried the
Reindeer, contemptuously.
“Snow! If you want to see
hundreds and hundreds of
miles of it you must go to
my country, which is by
far the grandest in the world,
of course I. mean Lapland.
Do you know anything of
ice and snow, Mr. Tiger ?”

No, Crunch knew
nothing of mountains, and
had never seen snow or ice.




eS

All this time the Lion had been walking up and down his cage, roaring
himself quite hoarse. He was in a towering rage at being so often inter-
rupted. “Wel/ you all attend to me?” cried the King once more. “It is the
custom for every new animal coming here to tell us the story of his life, where
he came from, and how he was caught; so I now call upon our friend, Mr.
Crunch, to tell us his history.” :

“A story. A story. Hurrah! A story!” cried all the animals. “Come,
Mr. Crunch, tell us all about yourself’ But Crunch being quite tired out
with his long journey begged them to excuse him. “No, no, no,” they all
shrieked and roared again. “A story. Your story, Mr. Crunch, if you please.” -

“Tell them my story, dear Mee-Mee,’ whispered the tiger to the little
brown mouse, “I’m , so sleepy that I
can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Mee-Mee said he would attend
to the other animals. And then, running
up the bars of the cage, he called out
in his shrillest, squeakiest voice :

oO EL a ae Ye Oster Majesty, my lords,
ladies, and gentle- men, Mr. Crunch is
really too tired to speak to-night, but,
if you will allow me, who know his
‘story just as well as he does, to tell
it to you, I shall be delighted, for
fam not tired, and feel as ilvely as
a———as a “Kitten,” suggested
the small monkey. “ Kitten, kitten !”
cried the Mouse, turning pale, “If
such a word is mentioned again I.
am: sure I: shall be quite dumb.”

“Pray do not pay any attention to that monkey,” said the Lion.. “We
shall be very happy to hear what you have to tell us.”-

“Thank you, sire,’ said Mee-Mee. “ First of all I must tell you about
myself, and how I became acquainted with Mr. Crunch. I met him on board
ship. as he was coming over, for it happened that I was born on the ship,
and. have lived at sea all my life. Crunch and I became such very good
friends during the voyage, that when he was coming on shore I hadn’t the
heart to say good-bye, so popped. into his cage and hid myself, and
here I am. Of course, having travelled about a good deal, I have seen many
strange things. But one of the strangest stories I ever heard is connected with





,
yf i




; 7

my dear friend Crunch. He told it to me the tirst evening I visited him, and
this is it :—

“Once upon a time, far away in the Province of Bengal, in India, there
lived, in a very pretty bungalow, an officer, his wife, and their little daughter
Ella. Now Ella was a darling; everybody said so. Her father called her his
dearest little poppet. Her mother said her little rogue was her sweetest blessing,
and the Ayah said she was more lovely than any Rajah’s daughter.

“Little Ella had presents sent her from everyone on the station. Such
dollies! Such carts and horses! But one of the strangest presents that Ella
ever received was from one of the Indian princes. It was a little baby tiger.

“The baby tiger had been caught in the jungle not very far from where
Ella lived, and, although it was rather savage at first, it very soon got
tame ; and Ella was allowed to play with it. In fact, Ella and Crunch, for
that was the little tiger’s name, soon became fast friends.

“Well, one day there was a terrible noise in the bungalow. There was
a commotion. Ella’s papa and mamma were tearing about giving orders to
the servants, while the Ayah was sitting on the ground rocking herself from
side to side, and crying out words that nobody could be expected to understand.

“The fact was that Crunch was gone; but worse, far worse, Ella, the
darling, was gone also.

“Yes, Ella was gone! You can well imagine how distracted her poor
father and mother were. The whole place was turned topsy-turvy, inside out,
and upside down. They shouted and shouted, again and again, but no reply
came from Baby Ella. They searched every corner of the bungalow and
every part of the compound, but there was no Ella. Then Ella’s papa and
every man in the village went and searched the forests and the jungle,
because they thought that, as the baby tiger had gone, it was more than




[ 10 ]

likely that the baby girl had gone with him. For hours and hours they
looked for her, all through the day and burning heat—now cutting their way
through the tall bamboos, and now creeping into caverns. But, no, there was
no Ella. At last, as night came on, and they were about to return home in
despair, they found her, far away in a cave in the forest, fast asleep with
her head nestling on Crunch’s soft body. They picked her up and carried
her home, leaving Crunch behind, because they thought that he was rather
a dangerous playmate for the little girl. But, would you believe it ?—the
very next morning Crunch came back to the bungalow, and, although
everybody howled at him, and said he was a bad young tiger, nothing could
induce him to go away. So they built him a comfortable cage, and there
Crunch lived a very happy life, and grew up to be the beautiful tiger you
now see.

“Little Ella is now grown up, and has come to England, and is never
going back to India, and, as a tiger is not a very comfortable animal to keep
in a house, they have sent Crunch here, and I expect that before many days
are over Ella will come to see her old pet. And now, your Majesty, my
lords, ladies and gentlemen, as the dustman is coming, I will wish you a very
good night, and to-morrow, if you will let me, I will come and see you every
one, and tell you more stories about the many wonderful things I have seen.”

So saying, Mee-Mee ran off to Crunch, and was soon fast asleep, cuddled
up between the big paws.

The next day, true to his promise, the little brown mouse called on. every
animal, beginning at the Lion and ending up with the small monkey. And
although he is the tiniest animal in the whole show, he is certainly the most
loved, for he always has a good story and kind word for everyone.

Edric Vredenburg.






THE DISOBEDIENT (CHICKEN.

IGHT babies! Eight little yellow chicks to look after! Eight young
children to be instructed in polite manners and the very best of
morals! Certainly, Mrs. Hen had her wings full.

The little chickens were hatched one sunny morning; and no
sooner had they popped out of their shells and got over their astonishment,
than they began to scratch for worms, and tumble over one another in their
eagerness to catch the passing flies and gnats. .

“ Foity-toity ! this sort of thing won't do,” cried Mrs. Hen. “My dears,

you mustn’t be greedy. Come here, and listen to me while I give you your

names.”
Now, as a rule, the finding of a name for one baby gives a great deal
of trouble; so we can easily imagine how worried poor Mrs. Hen and _ her
husband were before they settled what they should call their eight children.
But it was finally agreed that the names should be: Snap, Peep, Scrap, Tweet,
Snip, Puff, Pop, Scruff; and very good names, too, I think. But, at any
rate, the chicks thought so (which is far more important), and were immensely
proud of themselves as they went to walk with their father and mother, and
were introduced to the other animals in the farm-yard.
Certainly, the chicks, with one exception, were a
credit to their parents, and I am sorry to say that Scrap
was that exception. Although the smallest chick in‘ the
whole brood, he had more naughtiness in his little body
than all the rest of his brothers and sisters put together.
While Mrs. Hen’s other children paid the greatest attention
to their lessons every morning, Scrap’s mind was filled
with thoughts of flies and worms, and he was always
wishing it was dinner-time. Scrap, I’m grieved. to say,;

Ro



aw
| 12 |

was a greedy chicken. Then he caused his family terrible anxiety by being too
friendly with the young ducks. Now, young ducks, in their own way, are just as
nice as young chickens ; but their way led them to the pond, for they delighted
in water, and could swim perfectly. But Scrap could not swim; and so his
father and mother, and brothers and sisters, were afraid that if he continued
to associate with the ducklings, he might venture one day into the water and
be drowned. And it so happened that Scrap’s greediness did lead him into
terrible trouble. One afternoon he met the ducks coming away from the pond;
they were talking about the happy day they had spent, and how far more pleasant
it was, and what a lot more there was to eat onthe other side of the
water. Scrap said nothing, but listened very eagerly ; and that night, before
he went to sleep under his mother’s wing, he made up his mind that on the
“morrow he would, by hook or by crook, reach the other side of the pond.

The next day Scrap was awake betimes, and as soon as he saw a good
opportunity, this naughty chick stole away from his family, and ran as fast
as his little legs could carry him to the water's side. But there che came to
a standstill, just as you would have done if you had run away from home
and had come to the wide sea, and were thinking about swimming across it.
Scrap put one foot into the water, and drew it out again very quickly—he
thought it very cold and uncomfortable. He would not have ventured in the
water then for all the dinners in the world. But still he could just see the
little ducks in the distance swimming gaily over to the other side: it was
really very tantalizing. Scrap thought for a moment, and then determined that,
as he could not cross the pond, he would go round it.

Poor Scrap! he did not know what a terrible undertaking: this was for so
small a body.

At first, his journey was easy enough, for it lay through short, sweet
grass, but soon he had to encounter thistles, nettles, and thick brambles.
With great difficulty he pushed himself through these, having to rest every
minute. And he very soon got so tired, and scratched, and wet with the
dew, that he made up his mind to return to his mother. But, all of a sudden,
he heard a rustling, and, to his horror, he saw a big rat. Now, for a chicken
to meet a rat, is just as bad as if you were to meet a lion. Poor Scrap lay
quite still, trembling all over, and, oh, how thankful he was that the rat didn’t
see him as it passed along. Then, up he jumped and ran off—in his fright
he did not know where. On he went, tumbling over sticks, and tumbling into
ditches, until he was in a terrible plight, and had lost his way. ,

You can fancy how anxious his father and mother, his brothers and sisters,
were about him all this time. ‘They hunted high and low, and searched



the farm-yard, the kitchen-
garden, and even the flower-
beds, but he was nowhere to be found.
No one had seen or heard anything of him.

It was dusk, and night was fast approaching. Mrs. Hen was sadly putting
the remaining children to sleep, when a small black object was seen to limp
towards the fowl-house.

“Tweet! tweet!” it’ cried faintly as it came near, and then threw itself
beneath Mrs. Hen’s wing.

Dear me! It was poor Scrap, but oh! how changed—black with mud, and
with hardly a bit of fluff remaining on his little body. You can imagine how
glad Mrs. Hen was to get him back again, and the fluff soon grew, but I am
glad to say that Scrap was a much better chick afterwards, for whenever he
felt inclined to be disobedient he always remembered the big black rat.

He never stays away now from the crowing ‘class which his father holds
every day, and although he was very backward at first, I am’ sure he will soon
make up for lost time, for his father is very indulgent.

Listen to what he and his brothers are saying now:
“Is it hard to do, papa? Is it hard to do?

We would like to crow like that, and be as big as you,

But you are old and fatherly, and we are young and new!”

“ Silence, children; while I speak, now, Cock-a-doodle-doo !

Now, my children, run and scratch, I am coming too,

Mother let you out to play, she’ll her kindness rue,

If you don’t obey papa, as all good chickens true,

Well to please you, once again, Cock-a-doodle-doo.”
Ledric Vredenburg.

aft


“THE DEER AND THE SHEEP.

IT is so -cold,” said the poor little Deer, “and the snow is over
everything, and frozen so hard that we can’t even scrape it away
to get a bite at the grass. Do let us have a bit of your hay?” -
“Nonsense,” said one of the Sheep, who was munching away at the
fodder put out for them by the shepherd. “Why should you useless
creatures eat our hay?” :

“Useless!” cried the Deer. “We are as useful as you are!”

“No, you are not!” grumbled the Sheep. “We grow wool to make
warm coats for little boys and girls. Don’t you know what they say to us:
‘Baa, baa, Black Sheep, have you any wool?’ and we answer, ‘Yes, kind ©
Master, three bags full’ But you—what do you do? Just run about among
the fern in the park, with your dappled coats of which you are so proud,
and do nothing. People call you pretty, but I don’t see it—poor, skinny,
long-legged creatures, 7 think:” and Master Sheep glanced at his own round,
fat person, and short, stumpy legs, with admiration. .

“Well, it seems rather hard ,’ said the Deer, sadly. “TI would grow wool
if I knew how, but I don’t.”

He was turning away, to go and seek some scraps of moss or grass to
keep himself from starving, when another sheep, who had not yet spoken,
called out to him to stop. :

“Come and eat what you like,” he said. “J daresay you are as useful
as others, if people knew ali. Master has put this food here for all his
creatures, and you belong to him, and have as much tight to it as we have.
Besides, I am not sure if it isn’t rather worse to be selfish and disagreeable
than not to grow wool—especially if you don’t know how to do it.”

MI. A. Hoyer,

ce
OH OHI OB 1}

N* VER, no never, was there such a hubbub anda row! The donkey was

braying, the geese cackling, cows mooing, horses neighing, piglings

squeaking, dogs barking, and pussy snarling. In fact evéry animal on
the farm was making just as much noise as it possibly could.

But why? That’s what we want to know.

Well, the END OF THE WORLD HAD COME; and quite suddenly, too,
without one word of warning. So you see the animals had an excuse for
making a noise, and most certainly took advantage of the occasion.

The end of the world had come, so the donkey said, and said it again
and again. “Oh dear, oh dear! What shall we do?” he brayed, putting his
head out of his stable door and addressing the geese: “The hill behind the
farm has turned over, and is rolling down the field. Let me out. What
shall we.do?” He was a donkey.

Away ran the geese, tumbling over one another in their hurry and
excitement. Gabble, gabble. Cackle, cackle.

“Tweet, tweet, don’t leave us behind, our legs are not
so long as yours,” cried the goslings, trying hard to keep
up with their father and mother.

“My whiskers!” cried the cat, who was sitting on a
gate post, “ My whiskers, what’s the matter?”

“Matter enough for one day,” hissed the gander. “The
end of the world has come. The
mountains have tumbled out of
the moon and are rolling down
the hill at the back of the farm.”

“How very awkward,” said
puss, as she jumped off the post
and scampered away across the
field, in a terrible fright.

“What on earth has hap-
pened?” asked the cow, as the
cat came hurrying by.

“Happened indeed! The
end of the world has come. The



[ 16 ]

moon and the stars—including the great and little pears—have tumbled down.
And——” But the cow didn’t wait to hear any more. She whisked round
and galloped across the field to the gate.

“Open the gate. Let me out,” she cried. “The end of the world has
come. The moon has tumbled down and is rolling about the earth like a big
Dutch cheese; and the Milky Whey has also fallen and will drown’ us ; and
the Great Bear is sliding down the North Pole. Let me out, or I shall go mad.”

The sheep heard the cow and rushed off to tell the horses the alarming
news, and the horses told the dogs, and, as I said at the commencement,
never, no never, was there such a hubbub and a row.

“My dear girl,” said Mr. Cock-Robin, to little Jenny Wren, “if you go
on laughing like that, you will have a fit, or go into hysterics, or do some-
thing equally ridiculous. Pray try and be calm.”

“I—I really can’t help it,” gasped Jenny, who was really quite faint from
laughing. To think that all this excitement should have been caused by old
Mrs. Brown’s umbrella being blown out of her hand, and being sent bowling
along after the little pigs. They are young and don’t know any better, so I
daresay they thought that the end of the world really had come. But to
think that the other animals should have believed them when they came
scampering and squeaking into the yard! - It’s really too much, it is indeed.”

It was certainly very nearly too much for little Jenny Wren, for she
laughed till she choked and turned black in the face, and Mr. Cock-Robin
had to fan her with his wing to bring her round again.










4 » “THE END OF THE WORLD? «.

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liked him. Prince was a pony. And such a pony! So sleek and

white; and there was no more vice in his nature than there was a

black hair on his body. He had been born at a farm, and his father’s
name being King and his mother’s Queenie, it was only natural that their little
son should be called Prince.

The first thing that Prince had to do, as soon as he was old enough to
earn his own living—and horses, like men, have to do that—was to carry the
farmer's children about on his back. This, of course, was delightful work,
and the little pony understood his duties perfectly. With the two-year-old
baby he used to walk, with Cissy, a little girl of seven, he used to trot,
while with Tom, a sturdy boy of ten, he would canter, and gallop, and frisk
about as lively as a puppy.

Certainly this life was a pleasant one, but it was not to last. For one
fine morning the animals were surprised to hear that the farm and every
thing upon it was sold, Prince included. This was a great shock to the
nerves. And the animals began wondering what would happen to them.
But that matter was soon settled. The cart-horses, the cows, the pigs, the
sheep, and the poultry were to go to an adjacent farm. But not so Prince.
No, a very different life was in store for our little pony.

Prince’s heart beat hard when he heard what his future was to be ; he
didn't quite know whether to be pleased or sorry. Certainly it would be an
interesting life, but the question was, would it be a happy one? It would
all depend upon whether his master happened to be a kind one, for Prince
was going to be a Circus Pony.

Per’ € was a dear; there was no question about that, everybody
[ 18 ]

A circus pony! We all know what a pleasure it is going to a circus
when it comes to the town we are living in. But fancy being on intimate
terms with the tame bear that rides on its hind legs upon the back of
Black Bess! Fancy having one’s breakfast with the elephant that sits on
a chair, drinks wine out of a tumbler, and plays pranks with the clown !
Fancy counting amongst one’s friends the accomplished horses that can dance
a quadrille, a waltz, or galop ! ;

Prince, who had heard all about these things from the children, thought
about them all day, and dreamt about them all night, until the time came
for him to leave the ‘farm.

The parting from the children and his friends the animals, for Prince
was friends with them all, was indeed sad. But the pony was pleased
when the little girls and the little boy said they would come and see him
when he was at the circus, and was very much pleased indeed to find that
the proprietor of the circus, who had come to fetch him away, was a kind
man. Prince knew at once that he was so by the way he stroked his neck
and spoke to him. And Prince was still more pleased with the proprietor’s
ten-year-old little daughter Delly, who had come with her father and was
to be his mistress. She was such a pretty little thing, and the pony felt
sure that he would love her very much. -

Well, Prince left the farm and became a circus pony, and liked his
new life even better than that which he had been used to. He soon learnt his
tricks, which were to bow to the audience with Dolly upon his back, to
balance himself upon a plank, and do see-saw with another pony at the
other end. And so a whole year passed by.

Now. Dolly’s new pony, besides being Prince by name, turned out to be
a Prince by natyre—a_ perfect hero, and a very intelligent little creature
in more ways than performing tricks, as he showed himself to be one day,
when something happened which was very wonderful and at the same time
very terrible. So terrible that when it occurred the proprietor of the circus
staggered and became as white as Prince’s white coat, and even the performing
monkeys stopped their chattering for once in their lives, and the Kind-hearted
elephant turned quite faint.

One Spring day the circus arrived at a country town, and as a matter of
course every child who was old enough turned out to welcome it, to stare
with delight at the beautiful horses, to clap their hands at the elephant, to
wonder what the many large waggons contained, and to admire the little girl
riding the pretty pony.

The next morning, as soon as the large tent was up, the girls who jump
[tr Or

through the hoops, the clown, the bears, the elephants and the horses had to
go through a rehearsal of the performance to take place in the evening, but
this was unnecessary: for Dolly and Prince, since they knew their parts perfectly
already. ;

“Prince, dear,” said Dolly, stroking the pony’s neck, “what say you to
a trot through the lanes, and a gallop over the fields, this lovely, lovely
morning ?” ;

Prince shook his head and neighed as much as to say he would be
delighted.

“Very well, dear,” said the little girl, who understood every word the
Pony didn’t say.

“Very well, dear, I will go and ask Papa if we may go, and here is
an apple to amuse yourself with while I’m gone.”

Besides the apple, Dolly gave Prince a kiss on the tip of his nose, and
then went to get her father’s consent to ride in the country.

Of course her father said, “ Yes, my darling.” Perhaps he was often
too willing to say “Yes” to whatever request the little girl made.
Perhaps at first he blamed himself for allowing so young a child to ride
about the country alone, but up to the present no harm~had come to
her. She rode perfectly, and Prince was so trustworthy.

















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[ 20 ]

Her father himself helped Dolly into the saddle, and giving her a tender
kiss, bade Prince be careful of his young mistress. He looked after
her with loving eyes, for she was his only child, and such a winsome
little body.

The pony trotted gaily. through the town, stopping now and again for
Dolly to give tickets of admission to the circus to some of the poorest
children — little things who would remember the flaring naphtha-lamps, the
tinsel-jewelry, the horses, and clown, for many a long day; and never
forget the bright-eyed little girl who gave them the opportunity of seeing
those grand things. So out of the town into the country went Dolly and
Prince as happy as the singing birds this bright Spring morning.

In the meantime the rehearsal at the circus went on briskly. In one
corner acrobats were trying new feats of agility and strength. In another
corner the elephant was having a morning-supper, with the clown in his
every day dress; while monkeys rode steeplechases on poodle dogs, and
all the time the crack of the whips and the cries of the grooms were
heard above all. And so the morning passed quickly away until dinner
time came.

“Dolly not returned yet,” said the circus proprietor to himself, looking
at his watch. ‘“She’s a naughty child to be out so long, and this is the
last time I shall allow her to go out riding by herself.”

Dolly’s father was angry. But after dinner, and as the afternoon wore
on, his anger turned to anxiety—turned suddenly to wonder and dismay as
he heard shouts in the distance, and above the noise of excited voices the
clattering of a horse’s hoofs.

A second afterwards Prince dashed up to him riderless. Riderless and
covered with mud, and the foam dropping from his mouth. For a moment
the poor man stood speechless, and then covering his face with his hands
he cried: “My child, my little, little child, where is she ?.”

He was recalled to himself by Prince pulling at his sleeve, and then
running on a few yards, stopping, and looking back at his master.

“The pony knows where she is. The pony wants you to follow him,”
shouted the crowd that had collected.

One minute more saw Dolly’s father and a couple -of grooms dashing
through the town on beautiful horsés, brave little Prince galloping on
ahead.

Clatter, clatter, along the streets they went. Dogs flew out of cottages,
and barking, followed the horses for'a short distance. Children tumbled
over one another in their excitement and rolled into the gutters.


Clatter, clatter, along the streets. And now they were past the town.
The three men and their horses, and Prince still ahead, were alone, the
crowd being left far behind.

Clatter, clatter, along the country road. Now breasting a steep hill,

now going at a breakneck-pace down into a valley. And now clatter,
clatter along a straight road for a mile.
They draw rein suddenly to ask a mender of the road if he has seen
a little girl in a riding habit. The mender of the road has not 3 no, he
has seen no one but some gipsies crossing a field in the distance, and that
was an hour ago. . Zs

Clatter, clatter, away again, up hill and down dale.

Look! look! there is a ragged child, stockingless, shoeless, running down
that hill towards them, waving her arms, and crying to them. That ragged
child must know something of Dolly.

Again the three horsemen drew rein. ;

“Have you seen a little”—commences Dolly’s father, addressing the child,
but stops in his speech, and, sliding fram his horse, kneels upon the ground
[ 22 ]

and clasps the little ragged girl in his arms, and kisses her pale, tear-stained
face a hundred thousand times. For it is his Dolly, his darling Dolly, not a
bit hurt and perfectly well, but very, very, frightened. 7

Dolly had been stolen by gipsies, and so had Prince; but Prince had
managed to break away, and galloped home to tell the tale and show them
the way Dolly had been taken.

The gipsies, doubtless knowing that their crime would soon be found out,
by the pony going back, stole Dolly’s habit, and boots and stockings, and,
giving her an old dress, let her go, making the best of their way across the
country. They were never caught, although they were well searched for.

There wasn’t room for a month-old ‘baby in the circus that night, and
when Dolly rode into the ring on Prince’s back, and placed a wreath of laurel
leaves on his head, the people gave such a cheer, that I fully believe if it
had been in a building instead of a tent, the roof would have been
blown off. And Prince deserved it, and deserved, ‘too, all the love his
little mistress gave him, and the kindness of his master and of everybody
else: for, indeed, he was a very Prince of Ponies.

Edric Vredenburg.




A PRINCE OF PONIES,






I'v: sadly come fo this belief,

“That every cab 15 born a thief,
y And thieves his whole life through .
iy Although they look js0 mild and meek
“yee A cat’s idea of: honour’s weak ,
And ll can prove it, foc

I used to think it very queer
That all my bones should’ disappear
Whene'er | went to sleep -

‘To find out why Il often tried,
So Slept with one eye open wide ,
A sort of watch to keep.

Now. near my kennel Was a bone,
, (With enot much on it — that I own —
I'd had it all the day)
When with my open eye I Saw,
~ Distinct and clear, a feline paw,
Which pulled that bone away .
What happened then I will not tell.
©Orer what that thieving cat befell

We'd better draw a curtain ;
But since that day we -have not met—
Ho dont believe he’s better yet,

Wfle' I] steal no more~ that’s cerfain

But what I want to say, 15 that
No honest felks should keep a cat-—
. They: really are such thieves.

"That it is better, don't

you see
“Te keep an honest dog,
like me,
WSurs truly,
“JACK?








































FORGIVE AND FORGET.




i rT TL ‘ A
‘d Lea cass An Ag),







SOM&E FRIENDS OF MINE.

LU dogs are friends of mine, and I’m very fond of my friends, and my

A friends are very fond of me. That, I think, is the way things ought

to be. Well, I’m not going to tell you about all the dogs I’ve had,

for they've been so numerous that I could fill a big book about them,

but what I’m going to tell is something about the “funny dogs” I’ve known.

I think the funniest dog I ever knew was a French poodle I had, called Tom.

He was a big white dog, and when he was washed and combed he looked

. splendid, but he was so conceited he hardly knew what to do with himself.

I used to have him clipped in the Summer as you generally see French

poodles, and he would sit so patiently while it was being done, because I

' think he knew he attracted more attention with his bare legs with the big

frills of long hair left round them just above the ankles, and his name TOM
in big hairy letters down his back. .

One day after I had washed him and these nice white frills had been combed
out, a little girl who saw him in the street, called out, “Oh, Mamma, look at
that doggie, he’s got his stockings turned up.” Tom must have taken this as
a compliment, I think, for he went up to her to be patted.

At the same time I kept two other dogs—“Nelly,” a little pug, and
“ Bill,” a big bull-dog. Bill didn’t like Tom very much, because he was a
Frenchman you know, and Bill was a regular “John Bull.” They used to
fight sometimes, but I'll tell you something about that later on.
[ 28 ]

Nelly, the pug, was “great friends” with
Tom and used to make her bed on him
every night. He used to sleep in an
arm-chair, and Nelly would nestle in his
long white coat and make herself very
comfortable, growling and snapping at him
if he dared to move and disturb her. I
would sometimes put a collar and leather
lead on to Nelly, and then giving the
lead to Tom would say, “Take her for
a walk, Tom.’ He would take the lead
into his mouth and pull her out into the
street whether she wanted to go or not,
and then trot her up and down till I called
them in. I don’t think that Nelly, who
was very fat and lazy, liked it very much,
but Tom knew that exercise was good
for her.

The cat’s-meat man used to call every
day, and, when I heard him a long way down the street calling “ M-e-e-at !
M-e-e-e-e-at !” I would give Tom a penny, and off he would scamper ¢o buy
himself a dainty morsel. He would put the penny down on the floor by the
side of the man, and keep his foot on it till he got what he wanted. One
day, while I was standing at the door, waiting to pay the man for the meat
he brought for my cats, Tom, who had bought and eaten his share, came
scampering back to where I was standing, and, seeing another penny between
my finger and thumb, he snatched it away, and ran off and bought some more
meat for himself before I could get over my astonishment at his bare-faced
robbery. He knew he had done wrong, for he wouldn't come near me for
an hour or more.

Talking about the cat’s-meat-man, I once had a patrot that used to call
“ Me-a-t! M-e-a-t!” and bring four little Spaniels I had at the time scampering
into the room. They would look longingly at the parrot, but Poll would
only tell them to “put the kettle‘on,” which was really disappointing. .

I told you that Tom and Bill, the bull-dog, used to fight sometimes.
One day, I was taking them both for a walk, when we met four or five
French poodles, performing dogs belonging to the circus at Olympia. I had
Bill fast by a chain, but Tom (who could jump through hoops, and walk on his
hind legs as well as any circus dog) swaggered up to his fellow countrymen.


[ 29 J

I don’t know what he said, because it was in dog’s French, which I don’t
understand, but I think it must have been something rude, for they all turned
on him and rolled him over into the mud, and pulled great locks of hair out
of his nice white coat. Bill was terribly angry. He pulled the chain out
of my hand, and ran at those poodles, caught hold of one and gave him a
shake, then another and another, till, in a very short time, he made them all
run for their lives.

Bill was a funny dog, but not so funny as another bull-dog I had once,
called “Ugly.” Oh, he was ugly. That’s why he got his name; but he was
so kind and good-tempered. J gave him to a friend who had several little
children, and “Ugly” got so fond of them, that he was never happy out of
their company, and nothing pleased him better than to be allowed to play
on the hearth-rug with the baby. This little “Toddles” would raise himsel!
up on his feet by catching tight hold of Ugly’s back or ears or tail, as the
case might be, and then walk along with him, still holding tight to the dog,
who would go as slowly as he could, because he knew, if he went quickly,
‘baby would tumble. The Nurse always said that Ugly taught baby to walk,
and indeed I think so too. Nurse, however, was the only person who objected
to having Ugly in the nursery, because he would never allow her to correct
the children in any way, and before a naughty little girl or boy could
be put in the corner, Ugly had to be turned out of the room.

I could tell you lots of stories about this dog—

ams










how he used to climb ladders, and how he jumped go a
through the window and smashed all the glass ; but Cae
I haven’t room enough in this book, for I want to uae
tell. you about some other friends of mine.



Nick, a fox-terrier, was a very great friend, but
1° am sorry to say he was a naughty dog, for
he led our poor puss a terrible life.’ Nothing we
could do would make him friendly with her.
Whenever he saw puss he would chase and bark at
her until she had to run up a tree for safety.
But one day Nick fell ill, really very ill, and had to
lie by the fire wrapped up in a shawl. Then puss
showed how kind and forgiving she was, for she
came and licked his face and lay down beside
him to keep him warmer, and Nick appeared very
grateful, which I am sure he ought to have been.
[ 30 ]

Naturally we thought that they would be friends in future, but I am sorry
to say when Nick got well again he forgot all about pussy’s kindness, and
tormented her worse than ever, so much so that I had to give him away to
a friend who did not keep a cat. -

The handsomest dog I ever knew was a St. Bernard. She was, indeed, a
beautiful dog, and had taken a lot of prizes at dog shows. Like “ Ugly,” she
was very fond of children, and used to sleep in the nursery, which was a very
large room. No one could tell how it was that the blankets on the cots got
so torn at the corners, till early one morning the Nurse heard such a lot of
laughing in the nursery, that she got up and watched what was going on. —
She saw the children spread out a blanket on the floor, upon which one of
them then sat, while the big St. Bernard dog caught hold of the corner
of the blanket and pulled them all round the room. This was very jolly fun
for the dog and the children, but bad for the blankets.

_ One morning the children were very much surprised when they woke up to
find that their big dog was not in the room, and this was very unusual, for she
always waited to have her romp, and then saw the children downstairs to the
breakfast room. Nurse was very mysterious, and wouldn’t say what had
become of the St. Bernard, but told the little ones to have their bath, and be
dressed quickly as there was a great surprise waiting for them. And it was a
surprise, in fact, five surprises, for the children found, when they scampered
downstairs, lying on a warm rug, their big dog with five little fat puppies. The
children were delighted, and as there happened to be five of them also, they
thought there would be just a puppy each. But it was quite impossible to
keep six St. Bernards in the house, so four of the puppies were given away as soon
as they were old enough to leave their mother, and the remaining puppy, the
big dog and the children shared between them. I think the children had the
most of it, for first one and then another would carry it off, while the mother
would look at them reproachfully, but never thought of being angry. They
called the puppy Rex, and he grew up to be a very fine dog, even bigger than his
mother, and was just as good natured and would carry the children about on
his back as easily as a donkey could have done.

Two very funny dogs I had once were “ Mahdi” and “ Pepper,’ the
former :a long-backed bandy-legged “dachshund” (which is the German for
badger dog), and the latter a Scotch terrier. They were great friends, but
they were never allowed out together because they always went poaching.
Neither of them would do it alone, but one led the other into mischief.

Mahdi would go downstairs every morning and bring me the newspaper
that the paper boy pushed under the door. One day the paper hadn't been






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“ME-A-T! M-B-A-FL”






SY x acre os * ,
ANA \\\\ \ stairs it came undone, and dangled about his
HA bandy legs. He was some time before he made
Ae his appearance, and when he did so it was with

ee only part of the paper, which he brought to
me and then rushed off and brought another bit, till, after five or six journeys,
I got the whole of the news—but in what a state! Mahdi stood there wagging
his tail as if he had done something very clever indeed. He had found it
more convenient to bring it up in small pieces than have the whole sheet
tripping him up as he came upstairs.

These two dogs would come and sit by my side, begging, every dinner
time, watching with eager eyes every mouthful I took in a way that was quite
embarrassing.

And now I will tell you a tale about a dog—a poor half-starved mongrel—
that a lady, a friend of mine, took pity on one Winter's night when it was
snowing hard and freezing bitterly. This lady heard something whining at the
front door, and when she opened it a poor thin, wretched dog crawled into
the hall. It looked so pitifully at her, and seemed so cold and hungry, that
she could not find in her heart to turn it out again, so she took it down into
the kitchen and gave it a tremendous supper of bones, and bread, and gravy,
and all that sort of thing, and made it a comfortable bed before the kitchen
fire till they could find it a place in the yard next day. The poor dog looked
into her face when she left him as much as to say “I thank you, ma'am; I'll
be kind to you some day.”



AA . folded properly, and as he was bringing it up-
\


Ly gas ;

The same night the lady heard an awful noise downstairs, and on her son
going down he found the kitchen window open, and the poor dog lying dead
close beside it, and a policeman outside, who had just caught a burglar running
away. It turned out afterwards that this man and a companion had forced
the window open and got into the house, where they knew there was plenty
to steal; and the poor mongrel, ready to do his duty at once, flew at them
so savagely that they had to kill it before they could make their escape. The
lady had the poor dog buried in the garden next day, but she never forgot
what it had done; for she can’t see a poor, half-starved dog now, but she
must go into the nearest baker's shop to buy it something to eat.

I should like to go on writing a good deal more about my four-footed
friends, but there isn’t room enough in this book. I should like to tell you
all about Rock, a Skye-terrier, who one day fell over a cliff, and couldn’t get
up by himself, but was clever enough to put his head into a noose I made
with my handkerchief, which I let over the side of the cliff with my stick
and drew him up in safety. Perhaps, some day the Editor will let me tell
you some more tales about my pets. If you write and ask him, I’m sure
he will.

R. KE. Mounsey.


2

Â¥EW EL, THE DRAKE.




‘ HIP, chip, crack!”
_ “Dear me!” said the Duckling. “ Where
have I got to now?”
He certainly had only a hazy recollection
\\\ even then of previous affairs; but this was really
a something quite new. His head was well through
“ab the thin, white, crackly cavern which had hitherto
enclosed him—he couldn't quite remember for how long; and he soon
wriggled himself out altogether, and became aware that he was a soft,
yellowish, fluffy sort of a creature, with a mouth which gaped with a desire
to have something put into it. Then, looking up, he saw a white, feathery
creature before him, and, somehow, he knew that it was his Mother.

“What is this?” said the Duckling. “Where am 1?”

“This is the world!” replied his Mother.

“What is the world?” he asked again.

“The world is the pond we live in,’ answered she, “and just what ‘goes
round it.”

The Duckling thought the world seemed a pleasant place. Over his
head, high, high up, was the blue sky, with soft white clouds floating across
it; beneath his feet was grass, fresh and cool to his young toes. The trees
were all a mist of green with their tender leaves. and under the limes lay
scattered the little pink nightcaps that had kept the buds warm through the
winter frosts. And when his Mother led him and some other fluffy yellow
creatures, whom he knew to be his brothers and sisters, down to the pond,

‘and he saw its waters lying so sheeny and so still, with tall green reeds,

bending in the faint breeze, growing at its edge, he

decided that really it was a very pleasant place.
“Now, children,’ said Mother-duck, when they

came to the brink of the pond,

“now, you must learn to go in

properly. Some people’s children ,

just flop in, without a bit of style “"%. ee

about them, especially when they Mf

have been brought up by one of Ce

those foolish old hens; but you Nur
\ Nyt





| Sara]

may thank your stars that you have a Mother who can teach you properly.
Now, then, watch me, and do as I do.”

So they tried to do as she did, and softly bowed and curtesied themselves
into the water; and Mother-duck was pleased, and said it wasn’t bad for a
first attempt. And then they swam about; and as our Duckling felt the
cool ruffle of the water to his breast, and about his pink legs and feet, and
the warmth of the sunshine on his back, a great joy began to grow up in
his heart—it was so nice to be alive in such a beautiful world !—so nice
that he thought that he would like to try to sing, as he heard a lark singing
somewhere far, far above his head. But, alas! when he tried, all he could
say was, “Squee, squee!” which didn’t express at all what he was feeling.
Still, perhaps, it wasn’t so bad for a Duckling not above a day or two old.

And so a very pleasant life began. Every evening they went back to the
farmyard, and had a cosy sleep all through the night among the warm straw;
and every morning they got up with the sun, and shook themselves, and
preened their feathers, and then pecked about the yard and the field, before
they waddled off in a string along the path under the trees to the pond,
and there they swam, and splashed, and dived, and played at Snip, Snap,
Snip, when they tried to catch the shining flies that darted about above
the placid water, and dabbled their bills in the soft mud, and caught the worms
and gobbled up the poor snails which they found among the grass, or under
the big dock-leaves. Then sometimes they went and chatted to the big old
frog who lived on the bank among the flags and reeds, and who had grown so
old and big that all the ducks respected him, and never tried to eat him, but
used to talk with him, and so gain a great deal of information.

But changes came, as changes always do come to everyone in this world.
One day the Farmer's wife came down to the pond, and looked attentively
at the Duckling and his sisters as they were swimming about, enjoying
themselves. ;

“ As fine a brood,” she said to her husband, who stood by her, “as ever
I see! Ill take them up to Madam at the Hall to-morrow.”

“What does Madam want with them?” he asked. ;

“They have been that unlucky with their ducks this year as never was,”
she answered; “and she asked me only yesterday if I could spare her a
brood.”

Our Duckling did not understand them; but the next morning, instead of
strolling down to the pond as usual, he found himself caught and thrust into
a dark place where he had hardly room to stir. He was terribly frightened,
and his only comfort was that he felt he was among his own friends, for his

”



A sisters were all shaking and trembling round
Zz = [YY him, and he could hear the familiar though
aE ‘i stifled “Quack, quack,’ of Mother-duck in
the gloom. Then came a curious shaking and jumbling which terrified him still
more, because he did not know it was only the motion of the arm of the
Farmer’s wife, as she carried her basket up'to the Hall. Presently there were
sounds of voices, and at last the lid of the basket was lifted up, and there
was the blue sky and the sunshine again, and the prisoners were all let out
on some green turf, where a lady stood, and a little girl, beside the Farmer's
wife ; and lo! there was a pond twenty times bigger than the old pond,
spreading out shining and dimpling, with the swallows skimming over it.

“A new world 1” thought. our Duckling ; “a new and a beautifuller world
still! Andaway he went to examine it, and learn all its wonders.

It took him quite a long, long time to swim all round it, and there were
so many new things to see that he grew quite bewildered. Among other
wonders, there were some beautiful birds with great white, feathery, curving
wings, and long, graceful. necks, who swam stately about.

“Those are swans.” said Mother-duck, when he asked her. “Oh, yes!
they are very grand; but I don’t care for them—cross, ill-tempered things.
Don't you go too near them, my dear, for they are very fierce.”

But there was one person he grew to like very much, and that was Patty,

the Squire’s little daughter, who ran down every day to feed the birds with

crumbs—a gentle little creature, to whom the ducks and swans all came crowding
when she called them.
“But I like you best, you little dear,” said Patty to our Duckling, “ for
you are not rude and greedy, like the others, and you take the bread out
of my hand quite gently, and don’t snatch, and tear, and quarrel, like some
of the others. And then, you are growing so beautiful! I shall call you Jewel,
for your head and neck are getting all green and sheeny, like the sparkling
stone in Mother's ring. I expect you came out of that egg which Mrs. Brown,
the Farmer's wife, said she thought was a wild duck’s egg.”

Jewel was pleased with his new name, and he and Patty grew great
friends. He would go up the path to meet her when she was coming down
to the pond, and take the corner of her pinafore in his bill, and walk back
beside her, so that everyone laughed who saw them. And sometimes Patty
would sit down by the lake under the shade of the trees, and sing her songs,
and Jewel would sit by her. One song she was very fond of singing, and
Jewel liked it, too, though he thought it didn’t quite do his people justice.
It was called—

THE SEVEN WISE DUCKS.

A little toy-boat came floating along,
Met seven wise ducks together.
* Quack, quack!” said they, ‘“‘here’s a strange odd fowl,
That swims with never a feather—
With never a feather it glides along
Was ever such heard of in story or song?”

“No beak!” said one, ‘‘nor a scrap of tail!”
One wing—but truly a queer one.”
Then they twisted their necks, and screwed up their eyes,
“Ts it safe to let it come near one?”
“Will it bite? Can it quack? Oh, dear!” cried they,
‘We never did see such a thing till to-day!”

That bit of a craft went floating on,
Nor stayed a reply to utter;
Then those valiant ducks they all turned tail,
And swam away in a flutter.
‘Of course, we’re not frightened—oh, no!”’ said they:
“ But perhaps it is prudent no longer to stay.”






“4: NEW WORLDS







44 My uf
i Ain. “NS

’
a

hol, ~ \
I he Py |

















































By-and-bye the sun didn’t
wie Shine so brightly, and the green ~ =a
trees grew orange and yellow and*+~..>==
brown, and the leaves came showering j ee
down like golden rain, and made a

bright carpet over the smooth lawns. And one morning there was a new-comer
in the lake—a strange water-fowl, as beautiful as Jewel himself, but wild and shy.

“Where have you come from ?” asked Jewel.

“T come from the shining North, because Giant Winter has frozen the sea
with his icy breath.” “The sea !—what is the sea?”

“Tt is a great pond,” said his new friend, “miles and miles long.”

“What! bigger than this?” asked Jewel, amazed. “Is there another world
as much bigger than this, as this is bigger than the Farmer’s pond?”

“ Bigger than this!” said the Wild Duck, disdainfully. “Do you call
this big? Pooh! this is nothing—this is not the world. You must come
with us in the Spring. You are one of us—I see by your coat—and were
never meant to be mewed up here.”

“This is home,” said Jewel. “Home is better than the world, I think.”

But all the Winter the Wild Duck talked to Jewel, and told him such
stories about the sea and the North, with its icebergs and snowfields, and great
mountains topped with snow, and laced with glaciers, and of deep green valleys,
with their rushing streams, that a new, strange longing filled Jewel’s heart to
see all these wonders, and miost of all the great sea, with its heaving green
billows and seething foam.

“You must come,” said his friend; “it will soon. be time.” ,

“But I can’t leave Patty.”

“Patty ! oh, nonsense! You can come back to her; besides, you haven't
seen her for weeks.”




[ 38 ]

And so one night in early Spring, when a strange cry sounded overhead,
the Mallard said it was his friends gathering for their journey, and he musi.
go. Then the longing grew so strong in Jewel’s heart, that he, too, spread his
strong wings and flew away—away, leaving home and Patty, and so went off
to see the world.

There isn’t space to tell you of all the wonderful things Jewel saw in his
journey. They flew over hill and dale, and moor and fen, till they came to
the sea, and Jewel saw at last its tossing waves and heard the roar of the
breakers. On they fleeted, day after day, till they came to land again, and
then again sea; and there were tall cliffs, where the sea-fowl perched along
the ledges, and islands where they screamed and swarmed among the rocks.
But on went Jewel and his friends, with but little pause, till they reached
the great beds of reeds which grow where the Gulf of Bothnia spreads its
northernmost waters into the land. And there were myriads of other. birds—
whistling swans and grey-legged geese, and ducks and teal, and all kinds of
water-fowl. There they stayed all the Summer days, when the great sun
never seemed to set, but just circled round, washed his face in the sea, and.
then was up again. There they built their nests, and reared the little
ducklings, and swam and splashed, and played among the reed-beds. But still,
though very delightful, Jewel never forgot Patty and his home, and often
thought about them when his friends were asleep, and wondered if Patty was
sorry that he was gone.

Then it began to grow chill again, and the time came to go south; and
they all began to prepare for the journey with an immense clang and clatter.
First went off the mammas and the little ones, and then the papas followed
more leisurely. They did not mind a little cold, so long as the ice wasn't
too thick; and when they reached the more southern and western coast of
Sweden, they stayed for a while enjoying themselves among the little islands
which there fringe the coast. One day Jewel and his friend were swimming
about together.

“Well, Jewel,” said his comrade, “are you not glad you came to see the
world, instead of staying in that hum-drum i

He never finished his speech, for, bang! bang! a terrible noise burst out
near them, and the poor Mallard fell over with a cry, and there floated dead
upon the water.

Up rose all the birds, Jewel among them, with screams of fear and dread,
till the sky was darkened by their beating wings, and the air filled with
clamour and cry. Away away they streamed with screams and flutter.

“TI will go home,” thought Jewel. “I will go home.”


[390]

And how had it been at home all these months? When Patty, who had
been ill in the Winter, was strong enough to go down to the lake, she was
quite broken-hearted to find Jewel was lost.

“Oh, dear Jewel!” she sobbed. “Oh! where are you—where are you?”

“Don’t. fret, Missy,” said the old Gardener. “ Jewel is off with that
strange Mallard who was here all the Winter, I'll be bound. He is a bit of a
wild duck himself—you could see by his beautiful plumage, for all his gentle
ways. But I shouldn’t wonder if he comes back in the Autumn.”

And now the Autumn had come, and the leaves were golden again. Patty
came down to the lake, and began to feed the ducks and swans; and as she
did so, she thought of her pet.

“Oh, Jewel!” she said, sorrowfully, “won’t you come back soon ?”

Just then she heard a little flutter of wings, and felt a gentle pull at her
frock ; and looking down, there was Jewel beside her, with the corner of her
pinafore in his beak, just as of old.

“Oh, Jewel! you dear! you darling!” she cried. ‘You have come back
at last!” And sitting right down on the grass amid the red and golden
leaves, she hugged her new-found pet in her arms quite in ecstasy.

“ Well,” said the swans, when Jewel swam round, and said “How do
you do?” to all his friends—“ well, now you have been to see the world,
what do you think of it ?”

“Tt is all very beautiful,” said Jewel with a sigh, as he thought of his
poor slain friend. “It is very fine and lovely; but, after all, there is no
place like home !” \ : (deh















oily a
a



IN, THE PADDOCK,

T was a beautiful morning in June. The sun was busy drinking up the
l cups of dew which the flowers had got ready for him in the night, and
the little brown Colt was teasing its mother to tell it a story.

It spoke its own pretty language, which you would never have
understood, if you had been there, but all horses understand it perfectly—so
do the fairies, and one or two men—gipsies mostly—and the man who
understands that language can ride any horse, no matter how unruly it may be
with other people. :

Well, the little Colt kept on teasing:

“You know, Mother,” it said, “I have played by myself ever since it got
light this morning, and am so tired. Tell me a story, do, dear mammy.”

And the little Colt rubbed its face coaxingly against its Mother's neck—in
just the way that mothers find it so hard to resist.

The Mother-horse took another bite of the short sweet turf before she
replied. You, of course, never speak with your mouth full, but the “Book of
Good Manners for Horses” has nothing in it about ¢hat, but only warnings
[ 41 ]

against kicking, and biting people’s fingers, which, of course, no little ‘boy of
girl would ever think of doing.

“What kind of a story would you like?” she asked.

“Oh, tell me about something that happened when you were little.”

“That: is the story the children always like best,” said the Mother-horse
—and so it is—and with that she began to tell it. And the Baby-horse listened
with all its ears. It had only two, like other horses, but if it had had more
it would have listened with them, and as it was it listened with all the ears it
had, and the best of us can do no more—and some of us don’t do so
much, nearly.

“When I was quite young, not so young as you, my dear, but still young
enough to be foolish, I remember one day there was a great commotion in
the stable-yard. We heard that a new dog was coming to live with us. Now
our last dog Trust had been sent away because he would bite the sheep so—
and I've often thought he couldn’t have come to a good end. But we were
all very fond of Trust, and when the shepherd took him away for the last
time, we were almost broken-hearted, and Snow, the old white cart-horse, only
put in words what we were all thinking when he said:

“I don’t care what kind of dog they put in old Trust's place, I shall hate
him, whatever he is, and if he comes near me I’Il—I’ll dite him!”

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“The new dog came; they called him Vincent. He was a great, big St.
Bernard, very handsome, and very gentle-looking ; indeed, I never remember
to have seen a more gentle, manly dog than Vincent. He would never have.
bitten a sheep, even if he had had to drive them all day.”

“Did he have to drive them all day?” asked the young colt.

“My dear, didn’t I say he was a gentleman? He did nothing for his
living, except saying what he thought of the people who came into the yard.
Well, good and kind as he was, we all hated him, and none of us would
make his acquaintance, or even speak to him. When he had been there three
days he came into the stable, and when he was passing behind old Snow's
stall, he barked—at a rat, I always believed; but old Snow, who ‘is rather
deaf, thought the new dog was presuming to make fun of our stable arrange-
ments, and before any of us could say a word, he had kicked out, and Vincent,
poor dog, lay on the stable flags, not moving a bit; his leg was broken.

“The stable-boy ran in, and he fetched the groom, and between them they
carried the poor dog away, and it was many days before any of us saw him
again. He was being nursed; and at last, one day, they brought him back
into the yard. He was quite well again, but he was lame, and that would
never be cured.

“The stable-boy chained him to the kennel, so that he should not be hurt
again, and he used to lie there in the sun, blinking towards the stable, as”
though he would like to have one more try at being friends with the rest of
us, in spite of all he had suffered from old Snow.

“One day the snap of the chain was broke, and Vincent was free. Old
Snow was leaning over the halfdoor of the stable. Vincent got up and
stretched his great length in front of his kennel; then he went straight to old
Snow—was he going to bite him, and take his revenge for that kick ?

“Vincent was too gentle and good for that. He just went up to old
Snow, and kissed his white face that was put out over the door. That was
his way of showing he would like to forgive and forget, and to be friends
even with a person who had used him so badly.

“Well, of course, that made us all ashamed of ourselves; and from that
time everyone in the stable loved Vincent as much as he deserved.”

“That’s a nice story,” said the little Colt ; “but tell me another.”

“Another!” answered Mother-horse.. “Why, there never was such a child
as mine for stories.”

(Every mother says that.)

“And let it be a pretty story, with athiag sad in it. Don’t let anybody
be hurt.”
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“Very well,” the Mother-horse answered. “I will tell you the story of
The Peacocks vl the Nightingale.

“There were once three beautiful Peacocks, with the most splendid blue
and green and gold tails, and they lived in the loveliest garden, with flowers,
and green lawns, and. terraces, and every kind of beautiful tree and shrub ;
and they were happy, because everyone who came into the garden admired
them so, and there is nothing peacocks care so much for as admiration.
Whenever any visitors came to the house, they admired the flowers and the
trees, and then they would say—

“Look at those lovely Peacocks! Oh! they are far nicer than all the
rest of the garden.’

“But the Peacocks’ manners were very bad. I remember once or twice
they strayed into the stable-yard, and .I used often to see them when I was
brought round to the door for my young lady to ride. They always had their
beaks in the air, and they never had a civil word for anyone. ‘We are the
kings of the garden, and we know our place too well to talk with low
creatures like horses,’ they would say.

“Well, my dear, this went on for some time. The Peacocks grew vainer
and vainer, until at’ last something happened which changed their high opinion
of themselves.

“Tt chanced that in a corner of a marble terrace of that big beautiful
garden lived a little brown bird, not ‘at all handsome to look at—in fact, I am
sure no peacock or other fashionable fowl would have been seen walking with
such a dowdy bird. But this little bird could do one thing that the Peacocks
couldn't do—it could sing. And when it had lived a little while in the garden, ©
people seemed to care less for the beautiful green and gold birds, and when
one person said—

“What lovely Peacocks !’

“Some one else was sure to say—

“«Yes, but have you heard the Nightingale ?’

“And they would go off to the corner of the terrace where the little
brown bird sang, and when they had once heard its voice they very seldom
went back to the lawn where the Peacocks lived.

“Then they thought they would try singing too. But they made a
dreadful noise. Oh, my dear, it was enough to make one shy across the
paddock to hear it.

“ And at last the handsomest Peacock said to his brothers:

“«My dear boys, there’s no help for it, we must go and listen to this
common, low bird, and see how he does it,’


“So one day they all went to the terrace to listen to the Nightingale’s
song. The brown bird felt quite shy—so it told me afterwards—for it had
never had such a fashionable audience before. But it did its best, as it
always did.

“And the Peacocks listened and listened, and forgot all about their fine
feather dresses, and their low opinion of the N ightingale. They forgot all their
envy and vanity, and only felt that they wanted the brown bird never to
leave off singing.

“At last it did leave off, and made a little bow to its audience, and flew
away without waiting to be thanked.

“When it was gone, the Peacocks looked at each other.

“*Well,’ said the biggest one, ‘We can never sing like that.’

“But we can come and listen,’ said the second.

“¢And we will,’ said the third.

“And so they did; and I think after that they were not so anxious to be
praised, and they took a pleasure in praising the Nightingale, which took away
some of their thoughts from themselves.”

“And is that all the story?” asked the little Colt, who had listened to
every word.
T 46 J

“Yes, that’s all the story. Is it a nice one?”

The Colt rubbed its nose thoughtfully against its Mother.

“Yes,” it said, “Yes, it’s nice—but won’t you tell me one without a—what
is it that comes at the end of the fables about us animals?”

“ A moral,” said the Mother-horse.

“ Yes—tell me one without that.”

“T can't,’ said the Mother, “all stories have morals.” Then she went on:

“Let me see, did I ever tell you the Rook’s Story? No. Well, that was
a tale that I heard from a Rook who was digging for worms in the paddock
the other day while you were playing down by the fence. Do you see that
man in the next field? Well, the Rook used to be very frightened of him,
and not dare to go into the field to pick up the grains of corn after the sower
had so kindly put them there. But it happened that one of the rooks had
weak eyes, and he mistook the man for a tree, and went and perched on his
arm—and the man never moved! Then the Rooks saw that they had nothing
to be afraid of, and they went and sat there beside the one that had weak
eyes; and then they found that the man had only a turnip for a head, and
broomsticks for arms, and a bag of straw for a stomach.”

“7 shouldn't like to have only straw in my stomach,” said the little Colt.

“Perhaps he didn’t like it, nor yet having only a turnip for brains—though
there are plenty of people like him. Perhaps he was too much occupied with
his own troubles to think of the Rooks: at any rate, he never moved, and
though he seemed to look at them, I don’t think he could see them. And
the moral of that story is—”

“Oh, don't,” said the young Colt.

“The moral of that is, ‘Don’t be afraid of people with turnip brains—nor
of anything, just because you don’t know what it is.’”

“You mean, ‘don’t shy,’” said the Colt.

“Yes,” said the Mother: “and now one more little tale I'll tell you before
you run off to play again.” :

“There was once a Pig: I knew him very well. He did not mean to be
greedy, but he had not been well brought up.

“He. was grubbing about in the woods one day, and he poked his snout
into a hole under a hollow tree, and he routed out a heap of nuts and acorns,
and just as he was thinking what a nice little mouthful they would make, a
bright brown Squirrel hopped out of the tree, and said:

“*QOh, don’t !’

“
“‘Ton’t eat up all my Winter's dinner—now don’t!’










VARD.

Ly

ILE

AL

Sie!

TELE

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VINCENT
[ 47 ]

“All right, said the Pig, ‘but, really, you needn’t make such a fuss
about a trifle.’

“CA trifle !’ said the Squirrel, ‘Yes it’s a trifle to you—-but not tome. You
have your dinner provided for you, and you don’t have to do anything for it
except (excuse my mentioning it, won't you?), except dying some day. Why,
you might almost be a duke. But look at me. I have to work hard to get my
food, so don’t be greedy and take it away, will you now ?’

“*No, no!’ said the Pig, ‘I daresay I am a‘lazy fellow, but you see I am
so fat. I couldn't be industrious.’

“*No, said the Squirrel, ‘but I have to be: that’s why I’m so thin.”

“There’s no moral to that story,” said the little Colt, joyously.

“Oh! isn’t there?” the Mother was beginning, when the little Colt
kicked up its heels and scampered off to play among the daisies. It loved
stories, but it always liked to skip the “moral.” Children never do that,
of course.




THE KIT-CAT CLUB.

OUSIN., FIAT is always laughing at us about our cats. The last
time he came to see us he began saying a teasing kind of rhyme
beginning—
“The dog will come when he is called,
The cat will walk away,”

and we really had almost a squabble about it. But I think I quite showed
him that he was mistaken in thinking that cats are heartless and stupid.
Ours always come when we call them, and very often when we don’t.
And, as far as affectionateness, they are just full of it; you should see
Alexander following us round the garden, or little Penguin sitting on
Mother’s knee, when she is writing, with his tiny fore-paws on the table
just as if he wanted to help her. And last Winter, when she was very
ill with a cold she caught helping to make the new rockery, and had to
stay in bed, Sandy insisted on going to see her every day; and it wasn’t
cupboard-love in the least, for she never feeds him. One day when
her dinner was left on a stool outside her door, he sat up beside it and
mewed piercingly to be let in. It is not every dog that would sit alone
with a boiled wing of chicken, and never so much as taste it. Not that
I want to say anything against dogs, they are very nice, indeed, in their
way; but while everyone praises them up and takes pains to understand
Af MEMBER, OF



THE KIT-CAT CLUB,
[ 50 ]

them, so many people won't take a bit of
trouble to know what cats are really like,
‘or to see their good qualities. <

Mother always says that you must
master a dog and keep him well-mannered
and obedient principally by fear; dogs will
obey the roughest, unkindest sort of men,
who behave as badly as possible to them
and everyone else. But a cat, she says, you can only win by being kind
and polite. They will never submit to force or cruelty, but if you treat them
properly they’ll be just as fond of you and as faithful as any dog. Anyhow,
that’s how our cats are.

We have only three just now; Mother would like to have four, but
Father says he thinks three is a very nice number indeed, and that if
Mother doesn’t take care she will be put in the newspapers like that old
lady—I forget her name—who has so many pussies that her neighbours
don't like it. te

The largest and the eldest is Alexander (that is his real name, but we
call him Sandy, for short); he is a most handsome cat, and his hair is
very much the same colour as Valentine’s. We did mean to call him”
Marigold, but somehow it didn’t seem quite to suit him, though the colour
matched. Perhaps his immense white whiskers and eyebrows made it
seem absurd. :

Then there is little Penguin; we call him that because he is marked
so funnily with black and white, and looks exactly like one when he sits
up and begs. He is a plump little cat with deep silky fur; he looks as
broad as he is long, Nurse says. He and Sooty are cousins; they are
about the same age, and were brought F
to us in the same basket.

It is the most comical thing in the
world to see them playing together at
hide-and-seek. There is a large curtain
over a door in the hall, and one of them
gets behind this and expects the other
to come and look for him, and if he is
rather long about it you will see a little
head and a pair of bright eyes peeping
round the curtain like a disappointed
child. But when the other comes and




bess Sa

begins to look, perhaps at the wrong side of the curtain, you hear a sudden
scamper of soft little feet and a big bounce as the hiding one rushes out
from his concealment and springs on his playmate ; and then they go tumbling
over and over one another with their paws round each other's necks, squealing
with fun and excitement.

We were perfectly miserable, I remember, when Sandy’s mother died.
Mr. Austin’s keeper shot her because, he said, she used to catch his young
pheasants and partridges; but I don’t believe for a moment that she ever did ;
she was only fond of walking about in the woods, like anybody else. It would



be very hard if everyone who liked rambling out in the hazel-copse was
supposed to be after his vexing little birds’ But he has promised never to
‘kill any of our cats again, and Mother has tied a bell and a ribbon on each
of them now, so that he may know them.

Poor Felicia! I shall never forget how we cried when she came crawling
in, and dragged herself up to where Mother usually sits—Mother was out that
afternoon, though; she looked round, as if she were trying to find her, and
then she gave a faint kind of mew, and stretched herself out on Mother's

chair, and died. i

x
bisa

She was such a clever cat! When Sandy was a tiny kitten, he was one
of five that she was bringing up in the summer-house at the end of the
garden, and three of them were taken away (“made off with,” as the Gardener -
calls it). Well, the day after that happened, Sandy disappeared, too, and
nobody could think what Felicia had done with him.

So we watched her, and found that she used to go, very stealthily, to the
arch that is all covered with Japanese honeysuckle, and climb up into it; and —
then we discovered that Sandy was up there, living quite cosily in a blackbird’s
nest six feet above the ground. I suppose she was afraid lest he might be
“made off with,” too, and thought he would be safer in another place.

We gave her a splendid funeral in the garden.’ Valentine made her a
beautiful tombstone out of wood, and painted it with white paint, and Christine
composed some poetry for her epitaph. But,

somehow, ° when
very fond of a pet,
and all that isn't
There was another
that we knew. She
for aught I know—
we used to go and
near the sea.
anymore now, because
who had the farm,
somewhere else; but
remains. She began
cat; but she was so



you've really . been
and it dies, the funeral
much of a consolation.
very clever mother-cat
lived—and lives still,
at a farmhouse where |
stay every summer,

We don’t go there
Mr. Lee and his wife,

have gone to live

I daresay Angelina
by being the stable-
pretty (and not shy,

as most stable-cats are), that by degrees
they allowed her in the house, till she took up her abode there altogether.
~ "She was quite a small tabby kitten when first we persuaded Mrs. Lee to
let her lie before the kitchen fire, and a lovely kitten she was, too; rather
inclined to be long-haired, with a fluffy white shirt-front, and great green eyes,
and the sweetest expression imaginable.

Valentine used to say, when he saw her sitting upon the dresser, with
Mrs. Lee’s beloved willow-pattern plates behind ‘her, looking dreamily at the
flies playing kiss-in-the-ring in the air, that if she were only white, and not
tabby, he should believe she was that enchanted pussy who turned into a
beautiful princess when her head was cut off. She was not, for Mrs. Lee
knew her mother quite well; and if she had been, I’m sure Val would never
have had the heart to cut her little head off; besides, it would have been



[53 9
very awkward supposing he did, and sup-
posing she fad turned into a princess.

I don’t expect she would have cared to
play our games, and I’m not quite sure that

ae

Mother and Father would have liked having “(fj zptgpe 2M.

rs
her to live with us. Fancy Father's having CI)
to walk downstairs ‘before her backwards,
with a gold candlestick in each hand, every
evening! And I’m certain he never would
have consented to wear court-dress every

day.

Z



So, on the whole, it was just as well that she was only an ordinary mortal
kitten. “You little mortal!” Mrs. Lee would call her, when she was more
than usually mischievous; yet, ordinarily, she was not. Never was such a
kitten for ridiculous pranks! She was very fond of being upstairs when Jan,
“who ‘was only a baby then, was being put to bed. She would hide under
the flounce of the bassinet, and make sudden darts at him. He didn’t mind
it a bit—in fact, I think he liked it, for he used to stretch out his little fat
arms to the little fat kitten, and laugh. ;

But Nurse did not altogether appreciate Angelina’s attentions. She is not
as. devoted to cats as we are,.and she was always rather nervous lest her
baby might receive a chance: scratch. However, the kitten would not be
driven away, even when Nurse blew in her face (which cats dislike more than
anything); and one evening Nurse got out of patience, and picking up one
of Jan’s little shoes, threw it quite hard at Kitty, who, instead of being
properly ashamed, or crying out because it hit her, seemed to think it must
be some delightful new plaything, made on purpose for her, for she pranced
and patted it, and settled down to a long game with it.

; . Belinda.


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=Frqui ilive

ALWAYS have had an inquiring mind, yes, always, from the time

I was quite a baby Donkey. People sometimes have said rather

unkind things about me, and declared I had a prying disposition, and

was too fond of poking my nose—as they rather vulgarly express it:
into what did not concern me. But that is quite a mistake. I only desire
to gain information, and a thirst for knowledge seems to me praiseworthy and
not to be blamed.

I think’ I must partly have gained my love of knowledge from my
Mother, for I remember how much she enjoyed a little instructive conversa-
tion. She used to chat with anyone in the most affable and pleasant manner.
I recollect distinctly one evening when she and I were in the field together,
she had a long talk with a friendly hare. Mother and I had our heads close
together—I remember the soft warm feel of her neck still—while the hare
told us of a dreadful danger she had escaped; how she had been hunted by
men and dogs, but had managed to escape them by swimming down a stream


[ 55 ]

and so got away. It was really most thrilling to hear her tell her adventures.
I have since learnt that it is a customary thing to chase hares, though what
pleasure big, strong men can find in hunting poor little timid animals like
hares to torture and death has always been a puzzle to me. But human
beings are strange creatures, and, on the whole, I have no great opinion
of them.

Yet there was one human being whom I learnt to love very much, and that
was Molly, my master’s little daughter. My master was the only man I ever
really respected, and Molly was a dear little girl and understood me thoroughly.
She would come and pat my neck and talk to me, and was so gentle and so
sweet that I even let her sometimes stroke my ears, though generally I
object very much to having them touched. I do not think people appreciate
the beauty of our ears, or understand how sensitive or expressive they are.
See one of my brethren in an enquiring mood; his ears stand upright, their
orifices turned forward to catch the slightest sound. See him in a bad temper ;
his ears are laid back almost on his neck. See him in a gentle meditation ;
one ear a little forward, the other a little back, and gently moving as his
philosophic spirit revolves many deep questions.

But Molly was so thoroughly sympathetic that I would not deny her the
pleasure of stroking my ears, which were particularly long, handsome and soft.
Sometimes she would bring me an apple, or a bit of bread, or, best of all, a
carrot. And we donkeys like nice things to eat as well as any other
creatures, only we are so patient that stupid people think we like hard fare
best, just because we take it patiently and make the best of it when there
is nothing else to be had. But true wisdom, my Mother always told me,
consists. in taking good things gratefully when they are given you and not
grumbling over hard things when they come in their turn. For there are ups
and downs in every life.

But what I wanted to tell
you about was a scrape I got into
through this love of knowledge of
which I have spoken, and how it
led to my career in life being settled
earlier than it otherwise would have
been. One evening I was alone in
the field, my mother having gone
back to her work of drawing a little
chaise about the seaside town that
was near our home. I was feeling

Sree: - we :
PRES ee AN
sy AR


[ 56 ]
rather dull, and was looking at a lane which passed our field and wondering
where it 'led to, when I suddenly perceived that by pushing up a bit of
wood with my nose I could open the gate. Why I had not perceived this
before I don’t know, but I saw it now, and immediately putting it in practice
I opened the gate quite easily and walked out into the lane. I strolled’
along it, feeling quite pleased with my cleverness, and staying now ‘and then
to crop a tempting thistle by the wayside, or to chat to a neighbour's horse
who was looking over his gate, and a friendly cow or two, till I came to such a
pretty place that I stopped to look.

There was a cottage a little way off, and between it and the road lay a
garden gay with flowers, brighter than any garden I had ever seen before—and
then beyond the flowers were rows of nice green peas and beans, and cabbages,
and onions ; and there were apple trees on which the fruit began already to
show round and green. I had never been in a garden, and of course I wanted
to know what it felt like, so, as the gate was open and no one was about, I
walked in and looked round me.

Now I always maintain there was no harm in that, though I am willing to
confess I was wrong in what I did afterwards, only I was so young and
untaught that I had some excuse, for the flowers looked so pretty that I felt I
must taste as well as smell them, so I nibbled off a rose or two and some
pinks. I was very disappointed in their flavour, for even though they smelt so
sweet they had such a bitter taste that I left them and strolled across to the
vegetable part and there—oh joy—I found a little heap of dainty young carrots
just dug up and fresh, as if intended for me.

I was quite enjoying myself in my quiet way when all of a sudden I
heard a voice cry out—

“Oh, Bob !”—(Bob was my name)—“ Oh! you naughty, naughty Bob Ye

It was Molly’s voice, and there was in it such a tone of grief and dismay
and reproof that I quite started, although my nerves are tolerably strong, and,
looking up, I saw the little girl coming towards me with so white and frightened
a face, that I felt quite concerned. She caught hold of the cord that happened
to be round my neck and began to lead me away, and though I had not
nearly finished my carrots, I went with her at once. But we had not got out
of the gate when a man with a thick stick in his hand rushed out of the
cottage. “What is that brute doing here?” he shouted. “Please, I am ‘very
sorry,” stammered Molly, “but he has got loose and the gate must have been
open. I will take him away at once.”

“Take him away,” roared the ran, “I daresay that’s all very fine, that
is) Why, he has been trampling all over the place, and tearing everything ta


“YAM poe,

pieces.” And so saying, he raised his stick and gave me such a thwack that
I tingled all over.

Now I never did like men—no more did my Mother, though she rather
pitied them, because she thought that only having two legs had soured their
tempers and made them disagreeable. She had tried, she said, and had
found it so fatiguing that she felt sincere compassion for beings doomed to so
hard a fate. But legs or no legs, I wasn’t going to let this man beat me with-
out an effort at defence, so I gave a good kick and caught him on the shin.

Oh! wasn’t he angry! He rushed at me, caught my head, and standing
in front so that my legs could not get at him, he began to belabour me till my
little friend Molly couldn’t bear to see me so badly used.

Sobbing and screaming she threw herself upon my neck, crying out that
he was cruel, and shouldn’t beat her poor little Donkey, and clung so fast to
me that the man couldn’t hit me without hitting her. ~

“Hallo,” cried someone, “Hallo, what are you doing to my little girl?”
[ 58 ]

Tt was my master’s voice I knew, though I could not see him, I was so
muffled up between the man and Molly.

“What's your little girl doing in my garden,” growled the man, “and your
Donkey, too? He has eaten up all my young carrots I had just dug up—
carrots as is worth two-pence a piece this time of year.”

“Oh! father,” sobbed Molly, “I have five shillings in my money-box. Oh!
let me give it to this cruel man and take poor Bob home.”

“T ain't cruel,” said the man, sulkily, “but just look at those flower beds,
let alone the carrots. I can’t afford to have my things destroyed.”

“All right,” said my master. “He hasn’t eaten all the carrots, and I’m
willing to pay for the others. Come along, Molly, you too, Bob, you scamp.”

My Mother gave me a serious talking to that night and made me promise
never to touch anything again which was not given me, and I never have done
so since the matter was properly explained to me.

Next day my master came into the field and looked at me carefully.

“T didn’t mean to send you out so soon, Bob,” he said, “but idle feet get
into mischief as well as idle hands. So, my boy, you must go to work.”

Thus my fate was settled. The next morning I was put into a little
cart, and taught to go in harness; and afterwards, every Tuesday and Thursday
and "Saturday, took the cabbages and fruit and eggs to market. And I liked
it, for there was so much going on there: such a bustle of people, and such
a throng of horses, and donkeys, and cows, and sheep, and pigs; and I saw
and heard so many amusing things, that I quite enjoyed myself.

But one morning, Molly came rushing out to me, with her pretty hair
flying, her blue eyes shining, and her cheeks like two roses.

“Bob,” she cried, flinging her arms round my neck and hugging me,
“Bob, it is-my birthday, and what do you think Father and Mother have
given me?”

I rubbed my cheek against hers in an enquiring manner.

“You, Bob, you!” she said. “You are to be my own, own, donkey,
and they have given me a new cart for you to draw, and we are to go this
afternoon up to Uncle Tom’s, and fetch all the children down to tea. Oh!
Bob, you darling, you will go nicely, won’t you ?”

Of course I trotted along as beautifully as a donkey could trot. Molly
and I had a lovely quiet drive through the lanes, where the Traveller’s Joy
was all out in blossom, garlanding the hedges with wreaths of beauty. And
we came back in triumph—Molly driving, Dick and Sally walking on either
side, and Trot and Toddles, the twins, tucked away in the cart behind. And
not only that afternoon, but many another did the children and I go out
[ 59 J

together, and had grand times; and I grew to love them all, but none so
much as my dear little Mistress Molly.

My dear little Mistress Molly. One cold Winter, when the snow lay
deep and early on the ground, my little Molly went away, and never, never.
came back again. Someone whispered that the Angels, when they sang on
Christmas Eve, carried her away with them. I do not know if that were so,
but I know I never saw her more, or heard her sweet voice, or felt her dear
arms hugging my rough grey neck. And that Winter, too, my Master’s head,
which had been brown as a hazel nut, grew suddenly white, and I often
heard my Mistress sob and sigh as she walked by my side to market.

I am an old Donkey now, and my Master lets me spend a great deal of
my time on the common. He and I have grown old together, he says, and
I am not to have more work than will keep my joints from getting too stiff;
and if anyone threatens to beat or ill-use me, he is very angry with them,
because his little Molly loved me, and for her sake he won’t have me hurt.

M. A. Hoyer.



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. AGE and onions!” cried Mrs. Duck, by which she showed she was
in a state of great excitement, for this is the most forcible of polite
expressions in the duck language; go beyond that and a duck
becomes vulgar. Now our Mrs. Duck was not vulgar; she had

Spanish blood in her veins and was the leader of the poultry-fashion at

Blackberry: Farm, besides being the mother of seven wee fluffy yellow

ducklings, of whom she was exceedingly proud.

“Sage and onions!” she repeated. “To think that that puppy should
know all about it, while we in the farm-yard are left in ignorance. It’s—
it’s quite unbearable.”

“Smudge, the puppy, was certainly not a favourite in the farm-yard,
not that he was a bad-hearted puppy, but he was a little too light-hearted
to suit the tastes of the other animals. He could not resist suddenly
coming round a corner and bow-wowing at Mrs. Duck and her seven
children, frightening them so—for the ducklings thought Smudge meant to
gobble them up—that they ran to the pond for safety. Then Master Puppy








A RUN FOR HOME.
[ 6: ]

delighted in the young pigs; their little curly tails were made to be pulled,
he thought; but the little pigs did not think so, and as soon as they saw
Smudge coming they scampered away to their mother and their sty.

In fact, none of the animals liked Smudge, and none of them spoke to
him; Mrs. Nanny Goat told him that she would not allow her kids to
play with him, and that he had better be off; so Smudge went off, and
played with his tail, turning round and round so quickly, trying to catch
it, that he became giddy, and could not walk straight until he had turned
round and round the other way to put himself right.

And now something had happened at Blackberry Farm, and of all the
animals in the yard Master Smudge was the only one who knew what that
something was; for he was the only animal allowed into the house, and
the something that had happened, had happened in the house, so Smudge
had opportunities that the other animals had not.

All that Mrs. Duck and her friends knew about the matter was, that
one fine morning Farmer Wurzel had driven to town in his dog-cart, and
had come back the next day in a closed carriage (a house on wheels the
ducklings called it, but, as they were only three days old, they didn’t know’
any better), and that he had brought back with him a very strange bundle.
None of them had been able to see what was in the bundle, but they
saw that whatever it contained was alive, for when the farmer carried it
carefully into the house it moved. Then a strange gentleman used to come
to the farm every day, and each time he went away he would shake his head
and look very grave. And Farmer
Wurzel, who, as a rule, was a very merry
farmer, suddenly turned into a very ; =
anxious-looking one. And Sarah, who MG we
had been a very jovial cook, as soon pb A
as the bundle arrived became a very “==
melancholy cook. And Biddy, who was g
a laughing dairy-maid, turned into a /# [A
crying one, and the cow said that Farmer _ AG
Wurzel would be taking to tinned milk
if Biddy’s tears did not dry up so that ai

she could do her work properly. es

Well, the bundle was a mystery, =a ee
and the behaviour of Farmer Wurzel _ i aS
and the others was a mystery, and hes

made the farm-yard animals so curious



[ 62 ]

that they could think and talk of nothing else. But thinking and talking
didn’t solve the mystery, and the only animal who could do so was “that
puppy ’—poor snubbed Master Smudge.

Mrs. Duck became quite desperate, and one morning , after the. strange
gentleman had gone away looking graver than ever, she ‘marched with her
seven children boldly into the kitchen, but it happened that Sarah had a
broom in her hand, so she brushed Mrs. Duck and the ducklings into the
yard, and told them that if they came there again she would cook them.

Then the little ducklings swam across the pond and asked the calf ii
he knew anything about this mysterious bundle, but the calf knew nothing,
but said he would ask the sheep, but the sheep didn’t know, unless, perhaps,
it was her last year’s wool, she said.

Then the calf trotted across the field, and, looking over the palings,
asked the pretty deer, who live in the park, if they knew anything of the
matter, but they hadn’t even heard of the bundle, so the seven little ducks
swam home again just as wise as they were before they started.

“We shall have to condescend to know the puppy, I’m afraid, Mrs.
Duck,” said Mrs. Nanny Goat to the leader of the poultry-fashions, “if we
are to discover what is taking place in the house.”

“Ah, me! I’m afraid we must, but it is very dreadful; the thing has
no manners at all, and is so rough. But solve the mystery we must. I
give you my word, Mrs. Nanny, that I haven’t slept for three nights, and,
you will hardly believe me, I have lost my appetite for—/or /rogs.”

“Dear me! And you were so very fond of them,” said the Goat. “I
think the best thing to be done is to call a general meeting of the farm-
yard animals and hear what they all think of the matter, and what course
we ought to take.”

So the two kids and the seven ducklings were sent off to collect the

animals, who soon came trooping to the spot where the goat was tethered
to the ground.
There were ducks and geese, and cocks and hens. There were pigs and
cows, cart-horses and turkeys, all met together to determine whether they
should speak to Master Smudge, and ask him to tell them all about the
mysterious bundle. And this they agreed to do after a great many speeches
and a great deal of excitement, caused by the geese having to be turned
away from the meeting -because they did nothing but hiss at all the
speakers, and said that they wouldn't speak to the puppy to find out any
secrets; but, as they were only geese after all, their opinion was not
considered worth troubling about.
[263 4

Well, you can quite understand how very much surprised Smudge must
have been when he came into the farm-yard the next morning. All the
animals were so amazingly civil.

“Quack! quack! Good morning, Mr. Smudge,” said Mrs. Duck. “I hope
you feel quite well to-day.”




=

“Peep! peep!” said the seven little ducklings, who were not old enoush
to say “quack” yet. “We hope you are quite well, Mr. Smudge.” F

“Thank you, ma’am, thank you, my dears, I’m not much different from
what I was yesterday; very well and jolly,” replied Smudge.
64 |

He was so astonished that he ran to the pond and gazed at his reflection
in the water. ‘No,’ he said to himself, “I look just the same. What can
have happened to make them so civil?”

Wherever Smudge went in the yard he was treated with the greatest
politeness by all the animals except the geese, who, whenever he came near
them, held their heads very high in the air, and hissed louder than ever, and
often chased him to the kitchen-door. But the fowls made up for this rudeness
by bowing and scraping, and bringing the puppy bones whenever they found
any.

In the afternoon Mrs. Duck and Mrs. Nanny-goat called another general
meeting, to which Smudge was invited; and was then asked to tell them all
about the mysterious bundle. ;

The puppy said he would be most charmed to tell them all he knew; so
when all had made themselves quite comfortable, Smudge cleared his throat
and began his story :— ;

“You know very well,” commenced Master Smudge, “that Farmer Wurzel
went to town last week in the dog-cart. You also know that he came back
the next day in a shut-up carriage. You also know ie

“What's the good of your telling us what we know?” interrupted the
Geese, who had come to the meeting uninvited ; for, if the truth must be
told, they were just as curious as the other animals. “You've been asked
here to tell us something we don’t know.”

“Hold your tongues!” cried all the other animals, “unless you wish to
be turned away again.”

The geese, not wishing this to happen to them, kept their bills closed, and
Smudge proceeded with his story :— ,

“And you also know that he brought back with him a very peculiar
pundle. But none of you know what was in that bundle—don’t be impatient
and you shall know in good time. After the Farmer had done his business
in the market and in the town, he went to the inn where the dog-cart was
put up and ordered his supper ; for he had been at work all day and was very
hungry, and a very good supper he had. After his supper, and while the
-horse was being put into the trap, Farmer Wurzel went for a short stroll;
and while he was looking up at the sky to see what sort of weather he would
have on his way home, his foot caught in something, and Farmer Wurzel
nearly tumbled down.

“He picked up his hat, which had fallen off, and looked at the some-
thing. It was a bundle. Further Wurzel looked into the bundle and gave a
cry of horror. Farmer Wurzel knew what was in that bundle, and so do I.”






A TERRIBLE PLIGHT.
[ 66 ]

Here the puppy stopped for a moment and looked round at the interested
faces. Not’ an animal said a word. Mrs. Duck stood first on one leg and
then on the other; she was too excited to stand still.

“And you shall know, too, in good time,” continued Smudge. “‘ Dear,
dear, dear, dear me,’ cried Farmer Wurzel, kneeling down by the bundle.
‘Dear, dear, how can this have happened?’ And then he very carefully |
lifted up the bundle and took it to the inn. And there was a commotion ;
waiters and maids were running here and running there. The ostler drove
away in Farmer Wurzel’s dog-cart, and brought back a gentleman with him
to the inn. Well, and to make a long story short, Farmer Wurzel slept at
the inn that night, and drove here in the morning in a shut-up carriage
with that bundle. And as soon as it was in the house, Cook knew what was
inside of it, and Jane, and Biddy, and Tom, and Joe knew what was in that
bundle, and so did I, and so shall you know when the proper time comes.”

At this stage of the narrative Mrs. Duck became hysterical, and had to be
led to the pond, where her head was held under the water until she revived,
when she remarked she was ready to hear the end of the story.

“Perhaps we had better put it off till to-morrow, if dear Mrs. Duck is

unwell ?” said Smudge, smiling sweetly.




“No, no, no, no,” cried all the animals. “She’s all right now; you will
make her worse if you stop. Go on. Go on.”

So Smudge went on.

“I will not keep you any longer in suspense. Why should 1? You
have all been so patient while I have been telling my story, and I am so
sorry that poor Mrs. Duck has been made ill by excitement. Now, hush for
one moment, and then talk as much as you like; hush, while I tell you
this wonderful secret, for wonderful it is! You will be surprised to hear
there was a little girl in that bundle. A little tiny girlk And what, you
ask, was the little girl doing in that bundle? I will tell you. She was
starving in it. Starving for want of food; starving for want of warmth. She
was dying in that bundle. So Farmer Wurzel brought her home and fed her,
and warmed her, took her out of that bundle and put her to bed, and she is
sleeping now in that room looking over this yard. And, although she is not

starving now, the strange gentleman who comes here every day, and who is a:

doctor, looks very grave because he thinks she may be—she may be dying

still.” :
Smudge said this in a very low voice. All the animals turned their

heads and looked at the window of the room, and then turned back their
heads and looked at the ground, but. said nothing. Big tears trickled down
from the cow’s soft eyes; the seven little ducklings nestled close to their
mother; the goat sighed, and looked anxiously at her kids; and the geese
looked as miserable as the rest. -

,
feoee

“Tg there nothing that we can do for her?” at
‘last said Mrs. Duck, mournfully.

“Well, yes, I think there is,’ replied Smudge;
-.“T heard the doctor say that quiet is what she required.
~y Let us all make as little noise as possible, and then,
@ perhaps, she will get better.”

“A grand idea,” they all said. “ Yes, there should
be no noise in the farm-yard.”

The meeting then sadly broke up and the animals
went quietly away.

“Good gracious,” cried Farmer Wurzel, the next day. ‘What on earth
has come to all the animals, have they all caught cold in their heads?”

It was enough to surprise any farmer. For the cock crowed in a
whisper, the cow mewed in a whisper, the duck quacked in a whisper, in
fact, all the animals who had anything to say, said it in a whisper.

And, grand to tell, whispers and food and warmth did good, for one
week after that general meeting, Smudge came scampering into the yard.

“Bow, wow-wow,” he barked, by no means in a whisper; “the doctor
says she will not die. The doctor says she will live. Come, we ¢an talk
loud now, three cheers for the baby in the bundle.”

And the animals did cheer, not. three times, but thirty times, each in his
own particular language.

One week more and Biddy brought the baby in the bundle out into the
_farm-yard. Such a baby! Such blue eyes and golden hair! But still very
pale and weak. ,

One year more, and the baby in the bundle toddles into the farm-yard.
Such a baby! Her eyes are bluer, and her golden curly hair is longer, and
she is as plump as a partridge, and as rosy as an apple. And she holds on
to Smudge; not the Smudge of a year ago, but a fine, handsome colley dog,




han





beloved and respected by all the animals in the yard. v

Farmer Wurzel, not being able to find : z \ . ye
the father or mother of the baby in the — . / eee
bundle, adopted her as his own little “ / Ly co
daughter. And he, and everybody, and YJ

every animal agreed with Mrs. Duck when 3
she exclaimed :— i \ :
“Sage and onions! She is the best “WK
and sweetest little creature that I ever
did see. Sweeter even than frogs!” Xs
Edric Vredenburg. iy ee

ae
y

= Ni op eee
bE og
\ Sax =
MO NKEY—NUTS.

J is some years ago since I became intimate with those
I mischievous mites called Monkeys, although I have been

acquainted with the funny little creatures, in a casual sort

of way, all my life. But I was not formally introduced to them

till long after I had passed what I may call “the young

Monkey stage” of my own existence, and had taken to drawing

funny pictures to please you little people. But once, when I
wanted to draw something very funny indeed, I went to the Zoological Gardens
of the city in which I was then living, to paint a picture of monkeys, and
it was there that I got to know these queer little animals intimately.

Dear me! what a time I had in that Monkey-house! The first little
fellow I tried to paint had a comical face, with bright brown eyes, and a very
long tail. He used to look at me out of the corner of those bright eyes, and
at first seemed very much interested in what I was doing, coming to the bars
of the cage and trying to get a peep at my picture. Then he would try to
steal my brushes, which was, of course, very naughty of him; and because I
wouldn't let him have them, would fling. himself on the ground, and hide
his face in the straw, as much as to say, “Then I shan’t play anymore.”
But I was ready for him, and bribed him to be good by producing nuts from
my pocket. This had a grand effect. He sat cracking away for a good
half-hour or more, and I think he might have retained his good opinion of
me for some time longer if he had not, unfortunately, caught sight of his
portrait. He must evidently have thought it a bad one, and so got offended ;
for he pieked up a handful of sawdust, and running up the wires of his cage, ~
he threw it all over me, making hideous grimaces all the while.

I had to- have recourse to more nuts, and some apples and cakes; and
at last “Dick”—for that was my little friend’s name—and the three other
“monkeys in the same cage, began to know me almost as well as they knew
their keeper, and would sit in a row whenever I made my appearance,
chattering like so many girls and boys just out of school, and watching
eagerly to see what I had brought them. And although I believe they all
thought I had not painted Dick half handsome enough, I think they forgave
me on account of my good nature,


for]

I painted a good many different sorts of monkeys after that, and saw
some very funny things happen in the big cage, where there was quite a
crowd of comical fellows, both big and little.-

One day a man put a ball of string into this cage, which was at once
pounced upon by one of the large monkeys, who, having found the end,
immediately began to unwind it; while another monkey, catching ‘hold of ©
a piece that was hanging down, ran off with it. Then -one wee monkey
snatched hold of another bit, and a big monkey grabbed hold of another
piece; and so on, and so on, till they had unwound the- whole ball, and
it was in one great tangle all over the cage.

Then the mischief, and the noise, and worry began.

Gabble, gabble, gabble! Squeak, squeak, squeak! Scratch, scratch, scratch!
One after another they got caught, till half of them were tied up like
brown paper parcels. Then they all ran to the top of the cage to hold a
meeting protesting against balls of . string and the people who put them
there; and I think they were quite pra HN
right.

_ I got so fond of my little friends,
that at last I bought one and took

























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be]

him home to live in a comfortable cage in
my studio. ~To live in a cage did I say?
But that was just the place where he did
not live; for he got so tame that he was
allowed to go just where he wanted, though
at first he broke a good many things, and
was always eating something that did not
agree with him. Then I had to give him
physic, and it was a very difficult matter to
make him take it, I can assure you; but I
remembered how the late Mr. Frank Buckland,
the great naturalist, used to treat his pet
monkeys. | Whenever one of them wanted —~
doctoring, Mr. Buckland would get a bottle“
and let the patient watch him mix up the :
dose, and then he would go and pretend to Saeeai ee
hide it behind some books or something, just as it he didn’t want
anybody to know where it was, the monkey watching him very slyly
all the time; and as soon as Mr. Buckland went out he would go
and get the bottle, taste what was in it, and generally empty it. I
tried this plan with+ “Nuts”—that was the name of my little fellow—and
it was nearly always. successful. A

But his great delight was to get a looking glass, (one of those small hand
glasses) with which he would sit and admire himself, and smile, and grin, and nod,
and make faces until we could not help laughing at him; and then he would
get into a rage and run up the curtains, and scold us from the curtain-pole.

When the Winter came we bought Nuts a companion, another monkey
called Pat, and the two would sit before the fire warming their hands and
toasting their toes just as you or I. would have done. But Pat was too full
of mischief, so had to be sent away. -

The next Summer we went into the country to stay with some friends,
but as our friends didn’t invite the monkey, Nuts was left at home. And
fancy our dismay on hearing that our little favourite was lost. He was
hunted for high and low, we advertised in the papers, and offered rewards fo1
his recovery, but it was no good, and it was months before we saw him again.

But one day, when I was stopping in a town miles and miles from where
I lived, I was attracted by a crowd round an Italian organ-man, who had a
performing monkey. I stopped to look at the poor little thing in a red
jacket and a hat and feathers, turning somersaults on the muddy road, when





[ 72 |

suddenly he caught sight of me, and with one jump snatched the chain that
held him out of the man’s hand, and bounding up on to my shoulder, put
both arms round my neck and began rubbing his face against mine.

It was: poor little Nuts! i

The organ-man was very indignant at my claiming my pet, and brought a
policeman.

“How do you know,” said the policeman, “that this monkey is yours ?”

“Keep the organ-man and the monkey here for a few minutes and I will
prove it,” said I, and I hurried off to a confectioner’s near at hand, and brought
a few sweet biscuits, which I put into my waistcoat pocket.

“Nuts,” said I, when I got back to where the poor little fellow was fairly
shrieking at the idea of losing me again. ‘ Where are the cakes?”

In an instant he was up at my pocket, and brought out the biscuits, to
the great amusement of the policeman and the crowd that had gathered round.

The organ-man (who I found out afterwards had been seen in the neigh-
bourhood of my house the day Nuts was lost) thought it was time to be
off, so shouldered his organ and went away without another word.

Fancy the delight of everybody at home when Nuts made his appear-
ance on the dining-room table that evening! But none of us were more
delighted than our little pet himself, who turned somersaults, for ten minutes
at least, all over the hearth-rug.

7 R. KK. Mounsey.



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