THE: â€œFORTUNES U UU
The Baldwin Library
RmB we |
THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW
â€”â€”â€” SS Z a
BZ vk Â£Â£ EE
WMV \ FE GALE
THE CIRCUS CHILD.
(See page 88.)
FORTUNES OF THE. FELLOW
A Companion Book to
The Farvierâ€™s Doy and His Fellow
WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
By L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
Colonial WBress :
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U.S, A.
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS
LooKING THINGS IN THE FACE
Tue LitrLe Kipâ€™s Foixks
â€œI CANâ€™T, BECAUSE I LovE HIM.â€
THE LirrLe TINSEL LADY
â€œTHE LIGHT THAT SHINES â€
PassinG Ir ON
Lucky Docs .
THE CIRCUS CHILD . â€˜ : , Frontispiece
Â«â€œÂ¢Hkr AINâ€™T BUDGED FROM THAT BENCHâ€™â€ . 17
â€œTHE DOG HAD HIS SUPPER OUT OF THE
BOYâ€™S PLATE : : i : : 3 27
THE STORY OF OLD QUEEN . : ;. 5 37
â€œTHE CHURCH BELLS WERE RINGINGâ€ . : 52
THE â€œFELLOWâ€ AT HIS SELF-IMPOSED WORK . 57
â€œÂ¢WHOSE BOY ARE YouU?â€™â€ , ; ene 63
â€œ PATCHING AND DARNING THEIR CLOTHESâ€. 82
THE â€œ FELLOWâ€ AS NURSE : : 5 . I01
THE TRAMP SMITH . ; : Â° . i Ill
FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
- CHAPTER I.
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS.
Tue farrier sat back in his sooty old shop,
among the dust and cinders, and rusted old
irons, drawing at his cob pipe, and chuckling.
Through the open door, where the south wind
came puffing, laden with the odor of wild
grape blossoms from the river woods, half a
mile away, the farrier was watching the new
boy, the little waif he had picked up in the
streets of the city and brought to his home.
It had been just one hour since they three
â€” the farrier, the dog, and his fellow â€” had
landed in the village. And all that hour the
farrier had been â€œrighting upâ€ his shop,
12 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
the dog had run off, making mysterious calls
somewhere among his old haunts, and the fe/-
low had been sitting precisely where he had
dropped down at the moment of arrival, on
the three-legged old wooden bench that stood
under the shed before the door of the smithy.
He had said very little. More than once the
farrier had called to him from within the shop,
and had received no answer. The little waif
was getting acquainted with nature; the brown
feet, that had known nothing but the hard pave-
mentâ€™s blistering and burning, had, at last, felt
the soft grass, dewy and deliciously restful.
His glance, as he rested by the smithy door,
was fixed upon a long line of hills, rising
beyond the river, and trending away to the
southward, like a wall of living, waving green.
The farrier peeped at his new charge, and
â€œNow that there boy,â€ said he, in a whisper,
and with a glance around the shop, as though
an unseen presence might have been there (as
who shall say there was not), â€œthat there boy
has set there on that there bench, a-watchinâ€™ of
them hills, for one hour. He ainâ€™t had no eyes
for nothinâ€™ else. A body would aâ€™most think
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. 13
they was the hills oâ€™ heaven, the way that there
little chap takes to â€™em. Just drapped down
there, and ainâ€™t stirred since, not even to look
in the shop, let alone the â€” house.â€
At that, the beaming old face turned about
to look through the side door (for it was one
of the good farrierâ€™s peculiarities always to
fling every door wide open; he was fond of
the sun and air, and as for the light, he
â€œthanked God always he hadnâ€™t any cause
to hide from itâ€â€™) that opened off a little green
patch that he called his yard, and across which,
not ten feet from the smithy door, opened the
back door of the farrierâ€™s house.
A woman was standing there, â€”a neighbor,
who sometimes came in to tidy up things for
the wifeless old smith, and who looked after his
washing, and kept him always in fresh aprons
and a clean shirt.
She had a white cloth tied about her head,
and a dust-broom in her hand, and she was
beckoning the smith to come to her.
â€œTtâ€™s all fixed and ready now,â€ she said,
when the farrierâ€™s big body filled the doorway.
â€œTtâ€™s all real clean and sweet, and the little
bedâ€™s fit for a king to sleep in. I scoured the
14 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
day you went away, and itâ€™s a mercy I did, with
just one hourâ€™s notice of a boy cominâ€™. Now,
how do you think it all looks?â€
She waved the dust-broom about her head,
taking in, in one grand sweep, the modest
little room and all its furnishings. First, there
was the farrierâ€™s own big bed, pushed back a
bit to make room for the little white cot that
stood against the foot of it. It seemed very odd
to the big blacksmith to see that little childâ€™s
bed, all white and sweet, in his own lonesome
old room, and for a moment he couldnâ€™t quite
get familiar with it. Yet, it had a cozy look,
too, â€”a â€œhomeyâ€ look, the farrier called it.
Then there was a table for the lamp, a tall
bureau with a cracked mirror on top of it, with
just glass enough left to show the smith his
own jolly old face, when he wanted to shave
himself. The mantel was covered with clean
newspapers, scalloped around the edges, and,
on one end of it, the smithâ€™s eye fell upon
something that brought a smile to his lips.
â€œNow,â€ said he, â€œthat looks zwe//, that looks
right. 1 wanted that put there to remind that
boy of his old hardships, if he was ever tempted
to grumble at Providence ; and to remind him
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. 15
of his humble beginninâ€™s, if he ever gits pros-
perous and proud. And then again, I allowed
it would make things feel more homeful like, if
he found his own old things here waitinâ€™ for him.â€
He stepped over to the mantel, and moved a
trifle more to one side a little kit of bootblack
furnishings, â€” brushes and boxes of blacking
that he had picked up, unknown to the boy,
at the old tenement house in the city.
Â«â€œ Theyâ€™ll be like old friends, aâ€™most,â€™â€™ said he,
â€œYes,â€ said the woman, â€œthey will ; I â€™most
know they will. Somethinâ€™ carried along that
way seems â€™most like folks to us when we meet
it ina strange place. I fetched a gourd along
onceâ€™t, when: we-all moved from Noâ€™th to Kel-
liny; and I used to think sometimes Iâ€™d â€™aâ€™
fairly died 0â€™ homesickness if it hadnâ€™t been
for that gourd. Whenever Iâ€™d feel special far
off and alone, Iâ€™d just say, â€˜â€™Tainâ€™t so far ; ainâ€™t
the gourds growinâ€™ behind the kitchen? And
thereâ€™s one of â€™em.â€™ Does the little boy seem
satiâ€™'fied now ?â€
â€œ Satâ€™ fied? Peep at him, yonder,â€ said the
farrier. â€œ Heainâ€™t budged from that bench since
he struck it one hour ago. And he ainâ€™t spoke
16 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
except to ask once what it was a-growinâ€™ in the
wheat field over yonder â€™cross the way; andâ€™
once to want to know if the birds didnâ€™t sing
uncommon loud, and what it was made the wind
smell so sweet. Iâ€™ve just let him be; heâ€™s get-
tinâ€™ acquainted with nature, and sheâ€™s a sight
better teacher than a blacksmith, I reckon.
Heâ€™s a likely boy, and somehow I took to him.
I donâ€™t know anything about him, but I canâ€™t
worst him any; I know that. Why, that boy
never saw a wheat field before in his life, let
alone the woods, and wild things a-growinâ€™.â€
â€œThe land of mercy!â€ cried the woman, her
hands uplifted in horror.
â€œJust so,â€ said the smith; â€œdonâ€™t know
nothinâ€™ about the grass a-growinâ€™, and a good
bed to lie in nights, and soft looks, and some
one to speak to him kind. I tell you, maâ€™m,
that boyâ€™? â€” the smith brought his hammer
hand down on the table in a way that set
every window in the room dancing â€” â€œhe donâ€™t
know anything but bricks, and mortar, and hard
words, and scuffle, and starvation, and dogs.
And now, please God, maâ€™m, heâ€™s got to see
the other side oâ€™ things. Trees and flowers ; the
good green grass a-growinâ€™; Godâ€™s sun a-shininâ€™
Â«â€œÂ¢HE AINâ€™T BUDGED FROM THAT BENCH.
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. IQ
in his heaven. Heâ€™s got to know the feel of a
friendly hand, and the sound of a voice to speak
him well, now and then. Yes, maâ€™m, please
God, heâ€™s got to.â€
â€œYes,â€ said the woman, running her hand in
a half-caressing way over the white spread of
the waifâ€™s little cot, â€œheâ€™s got to see the other
side now. And we are all ready to help you,
farrier; thatâ€™s what my man said when you
sent me word to get things cleaned up for you.
Says my man, â€˜Weâ€™re all poor enough, Lord
love us, but we ainâ€™t going to get so poor we
canâ€™t lend a hand to help a good deed along.
So,â€™ says he, â€˜you go over there and help that
old Good-Heart git things righted.â€™ â€˜ And,â€™ says
I, â€˜that I will; for when a man has a heart
â€œPooh, pooh!â€ said the farrier, who didnâ€™t
at all like to hear himself praised, â€œI am bound
to tell you to let up on that. That there boy
is a treasure ; I ainâ€™t out anything, and I am in;
TIâ€™minason. And I thank you, maâ€™m, mightily,
for rightinâ€™ up things. It takes a woman to
make things shine. And now, maâ€™m, Iâ€™m goinâ€™
to call the boy in, and, if you please, I'll bid you
- good day.â€
20 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
The woman understood that the farrier con-
sidered there might be a scene; and that he
preferred that they two should alone be sharers
of the waifâ€™s home-coming. So, while she could
but wonder if the smith was â€œgrowing a trifle
too soft-hearted,â€ and â€œif the street boy wouldnâ€™t
be skittinâ€™ of it back to the city soon,â€ she said
â€œgood day,â€™ and passed on through a gap in
the fence to her own place, next door.
And so were they left alone, the farrier and
the fellow, in the first, sweet hour of ome that
~ one of them, at all events, had ever known.
The big fellow touched up the white pillows,
tucked a sheet a trifle more squarely under the
small mattress, moved the kit, or fancied he
moved it, a little more to the light so that it
should be the first thing to attract the boyâ€™s
attention, then he said, aloud, and with right
hearty approval :
Â«There, allâ€™s ready.â€
And indeed it was quite time,â€” even the .
smith smiled, thinking what a great time he had
been spending fixing up so little. â€œAnybody
would think I had a palace,â€ said he, â€œand that
the king was a-cominâ€™ to occupy it.â€ Then he
stepped to the door and called:
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. 21
The boy jumped up and looked about him
like one dazed. The farrier laughed.
â€œCome on, son, wonâ€™t you?â€ said he. â€œI
want you special.â€
The boy stood staring, â€”all his courage, his
old vagabond daring, and the independence with
which he had learned to meet the ills and
misfortunes of life, had suddenly deserted him.
The throat that had been parched with the
dust of the city was now choked with a
strange, new feeling of happiness. His heart
was beating in his bosom like a trip-hammer.
And all because a big, burly old blacksmith,
â€˜with a hard hand and a soft heart, had, in a
great, gruff, tender tone, said, â€œSon.â€
He wasnâ€™t a baby, this boy who had fought a
real manâ€™s battle in his few short years, and
who had, as the farrier often said, â€œâ€˜toughed it
mightily with misfortunes ;â€â€™ so when the smith
called him â€œson,â€ in that croaking voice of his,
he got up very quickly, blinked his eyes rather
too briskly to be entirely natural, looked around
as though he had lost something, and cried,
â€œNow I wonder where that there dog is!â€
For he had forgotten all about his old
22 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
â€œfellowâ€ the while he had been resting and
dreaming on the smithâ€™s bench.
The farrier laughed until he shook the ashes
out of his pipe. â€œNever mind the dog, son,â€
said he. â€œHeâ€™s all right; just gone visitinâ€™.
You can always trust a triflinâ€™ dog to come
home at meal hours, every time.â€
Â«Â«Â¢Triflinâ€™?â€™â€ The boy forgot siete: in
defending his old friend, as indeed the farrier
meant he should. â€œTI say â€˜triflinâ€™.â€™â€â€™
Â« Ainâ€™t you cominâ€™ in?â€ said the smith; and
even as he said it the old soft-heart stepped out
the door and went across the yard to the shed,
to walk home with his new â€œson.â€
And the neighbors, watching from their
windows, declare to this good day that they
never hope to witness a happier sight than the
way in which the street waif slipped his arm
through the arm of the smith, and walked along
at his side, quite familiar and comfortable, as
though they two had been companions near and
dear for many and many a day.
And the fatherly way in which the smith
looked down into the brown, boyish face, up-
turned to his, the neighbors said, â€˜was beautiful
and good to see.â€â€™
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. 23
But the neighbors, if they could see, couldnâ€™t
hear what was being said; and that was really
the best part of it. It must have been; for
they walked very slowly, sometimes quite stop-
ping, indeed, as though the distance to the
house was all too short for that which they had
The good farrier had a feeling in his heart
that this boy had not been dropped down, as it
were, into his life without a purpose; and he
understood that he was vested with a certain
great, grand responsibility: the guiding, for a
season, of a young, impressionable soul, the
shaping of a manâ€™s life. And he resolved that
his very first move in this new duty of his
should be a thorough understanding of this
human waif, whom the waves of misfortune had
brought to his door. So he said, in quite a
confidential way :
Â«What was you thinkinâ€™ about all that time
you've been settinâ€™ there on the bench lone-
sominâ€™ all by yourself, son?â€
â€œWell, now,â€ said the boy, with a touch of
that old-time independence when he had walked
the streets of a great city with only a dog for
company, â€œI might â€™aâ€™ been countinâ€™ of my
24 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
money, but I wasnâ€™t. I was just a-settinâ€™ there
on that bench of yours alookinâ€™ things in the
face. And thatâ€™s all.â€
Â«And do you like the looks of â€™em, son?â€
â€œWell,â€ said the boy, a funny little twinkle
in his eye, â€œ J just do.â€
â€œWell, then,â€ said the smith, â€œcome inside;
and see how you like the looks of things in
And he led the way into the house that was
to be theirs until one of them, at all events,
should pass on to the great, last home.
The boy stopped on the threshold and took
in the room at a glance: the table and chairs
and bureau, the broken mirror, and the familiar
old kit of brushes. But it was not the re-
minders of his former hardships that riveted
and held his attention. His glance swept
beyond all things else to the farrierâ€™s big
bed, and the slender, white-draped cot beyond
It was a boyâ€™s bed; he was the only boy in
that establishment. Such a bed as it was, too,
all square, and soft, and white, and altogether
restful. His busy young brain flashed back-
ward for an instant to the rat-eaten floor of the
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. 20
old tenement house, with its hard pallet of
-musty quilts. Then, in a glance, he drew the
comparison between his former poverty-pinched
couch and this wonderful creation of clean
sheets and white pillows. He turned to the
farrier, his brown face beaming :
Â«Say, now! is all that for me? All them
white things, and â€” and â€” al/?â€
â€œYes,â€ said the smith, who was enjoying
himself fully as much as the boy, â€œit is your
bed. I hope you will find your sleep pleasant
in your new bed. But I want you not to for-
get these.â€ The tall farrier tapped the brown
box of brushes on the mantel with his big
forefinger. â€˜Never forget, not in all your life,
whatever that may be, that you have been a
poor boy, who earned his bread with these
brushes. I want you to always keep â€™em nigh
you. You'll understand better some day why
I want it, and I am sure you will always
remember what I say.â€
The boyâ€™s face was a study; he stood quite
still for a moment, then whirled about with a
great concern, and said:
â€œT wonder, now, where that there dog is.â€
And before the smith could say another word
26 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
he was out the door, in the street, back turned
the smithâ€™s way, whistling as though he had
signed a sudden contract to summon all the
dogs in the country within the moment.
The farrier leaned against the low mantel to
â€œWell, now,â€ said he, â€œif that ainâ€™t the
peartest boy in Â¢4zs village. Goinâ€™ to let show
the tears in his eyes? Not him!â€
_ When he had conquered his laughter, and the
boy his tears, the smith stepped to the window
and called out, cheerily :
Â« Never mind the dog, son; heâ€™s gone visitinâ€™,
Baydaw has. He always pays them visits, night
and morninâ€™. I'll tell you about â€™em, sometime.
Your supperâ€™s ready, now.â€
There was anâ€˜extra plate at the kitchen table,
and a chair that looked as though it had been
waiting specially, all those years, for this very
boy who had had zo chair, and who had at last
come to claim it.
He sat down opposite the smith and began to
eat. He had never heard of a blessing, and the
smith had never learned one. But if they were
a very hungry and a very tired pair, they
were also a very happy pair; so it may be
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. 27
the good God accepted their happiness â€” for
happiness in his creatures cannot be otherwise
than pleasing â€”as an unspoken thanksgiving,
and was satisfied. At all events we are going
to believe so. .
When the meal was finished the dog had his
supper off the boyâ€™s plate, while the boy sat on
the doorstep and watched the sun go down, and
the moon rise over the green hills. The far-
rier smoked his pipe, the fattest, happiest
farrier anywhere, under the smithy shed; the
crickets chirped in the clover ; the dog finished Â©
28 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
his supper and stretched himself out in the
moonlight. After awhile the boy slipped down
by the curâ€™s side, and lay with his head against
the shaggy coat his faithful â€œfellowâ€ had been
so near losing. He lay with his face up, and
his eyes wide open; so still was he that the
smith called out to him by and by, to ask if he
â€œNo,â€ said the boy. â€œI was just a-countinâ€™
of the stars. I didnâ€™t know there was so
The farrier got up and put away his pipe.
The little brown heap of boy and dog and dirt
had reminded him of something.
He went back to the house and pulled a
bundle out of his big valise, telling himself
he â€œhoped it would all fit.â€ Then he stepped
out into the moonlight and spoke to the boy
â€œSon,â€ said he, â€œsâ€™posâ€™nâ€™ we walk to the
river, now? Iâ€™ve a mind to show you how to
The riverâ€”the boy was a boy; he needed
no second invitation, but was on his feet in an
instant, following the farrier, the dog following
the boy, straight down the one street of the vil-
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS. 29
lage, across the meadow beyond, to the broad,
silverish-looking stream sweeping past the green
hills, â€œflowing right alongâ€ to find the deeper,
stiller current of another river miles away to
â€œI saw a creek onceâ€™t,â€™ the boy said, when
the full sweep of the stream first lay revealed
to his astonished vision. â€œI saw a creek once'â€™t.
But it was little, and muddy, and skimp. Used
to dry up summer times, and you could smell
the dead frogs in it. But Â¢#zs is a river right.
And how the bushes do smell! Hey, Crinkle?â€
The dog wagged his tail, and without more
ado let himself down into the water.
â€œNow,â€ said the smith, â€œdo you throw away
them rags and follow me. You're goinâ€™ to
know the feel of cleanness from this on.â€
Later, fresh, and clean, and sleepy, the boy
drifted off to dreams between the white sheets
of his new bed. He had never said a prayer in
all his little vagabond life,â€” scarcely understood
the meaning of such things, indeed. But as his
head touched the pillow, that charity and a
great human sympathy had provided, it was
lifted for a last look at his big friend sitting in
the moonlight by the open window, and â€”
30 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
Â« Say, now,â€ he sang out in his cheery way,
â€œI'm mighty glad God made you.â€
And with the gladness in his heart the weary
â€œfellowâ€ drifted off to dreams.
The smith smoked on, the boy slept, and the
yellow cur shook himself, stretched his lazy
legs, and trotted off, down the village street,
upon one of those mysterious â€œ visitingsâ€ con-
cerning which the farrier had promised more
light, â€œby and by.â€
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE.
Tue boy had begun to feel at home, â€”he
had begun to know the trees, to call them by
name, and the feel of the cool grass under his
The farrier had begun to feel at home with
a boy around. To be sure, there were times
when this new boy would drop down upon him
in a manner that reminded him strangely and
strongly of that other boy, that dear, dear, little
boy, who went upon that â€œlong journey.â€ And
whenever that happened, the smith would, al-
most unconsciously, glance towards the spot
where he had buried the anvil that had been
the other boyâ€™s favorite seat. Yet were the
two boys very unlike, â€” very unlike in 4ll things
save in their love for the big farrier.. He had a
way about him, had this soft-hearted old tinker
in iron, that went straight to a boyâ€™s heart, and
32 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
captured it on the instant. Some people are
that way; not everybody, however. No, indeed ;
for boys and dogs are alike in this one respect,
â€”when they take to anybody they always know
that the somebody is a lover of boys, or of dogs,
as the case may be.
One day the smith was quite upset to observe
this new boy of his industriously digging away
the leaves in the hole where he had flung the
anvil the day his first little friend died. He
â€œdropped his hammer with a great clatter among
some stray bits of iron, and went hurrying to
Â«Now, now,â€ said he, â€œwhat are you a-doinâ€™
of? Didnâ€™t I tell you all about that there anvil
The boy looked up from his self-appointed
â€œYes, you did,â€ said he; â€œbut that ainâ€™t any
way to git shed oâ€™ thinkinâ€™. And trouble ainâ€™t
a-goinâ€™ to stay buried after it zs buried. The
only way is just to look it in the face.â€
Â«W-e-l-1,â€ said the smith, slowly,â€” he was
beginning to have great respect for the little
waifâ€™s wisdom, â€” â€œw-e-l-l, all right, then.â€
When again he looked up from a shoe he was
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. 33
shaping, the old anvil was in its familiar place,
with the new boy astride it, the yellow cur
curled up at his heels, and, as he afterwards
declared, â€œboth of them trying to grin him out
After the first surprise the smith was rather
pleased to see the boy there. Somehow, it was
almost as though the other friend had come
back again, â€”a little older, browner, more grown
up, and a great deal more worldly wise, â€” thanks
to the streets for that. The smith stroked his
chin until it was hardly visible for the smut his
hands left on it.
â€œNow,â€ said he, â€œI am glad to see you there.
_ If you could make out to ask me for a story
now, I could aâ€™most believe it was my little
friend come back again.â€
But the boy shook his head, he didnâ€™t like
stories, â€” his own hard childhood was to blame
for this perhaps, for he said:
Â« Always seemed to me they wasnâ€™t any sense
in tryinâ€™ to make believe things is what they
ainâ€™t ; all show, and shine, and fun, you know.
Always seemed to me â€™twas a heap more
better to just look things in the face, like
34 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
Â«â€œ But,â€ said the farrier, â€œthere are true
stories, you see.â€
â€œ But the true ones is mostly bad ones,â€ said
the boy. â€œAll about work, and scuffle, and
steal, and starvation. I know â€™em; and itâ€™s
better to let â€™em be.â€
â€œWell, now,â€ said the smith, â€œsâ€™pose you tell
me a story, then, while Iâ€™m a-shapinâ€™ of this
â€œMe?â€ cried the boy. â€œI never knew no
stories; never had time to learn none, did we,
He was patting the curâ€™s back, and thinking
hard. That yellow cur, shaven and shorn and
forlorn as he had found him, was the one fairy
tale that had touched his starved little life.
That was his one sweet story. And the smith
was already acquainted with that. But if the
cur could talk, â€”ah, if the dog could tell what
he knew of those vagabond days together !
â€œWell,â€ said the farrier, â€œif you donâ€™t
know any real stories, just tell me how you
picked up that way of â€˜looking things in the
â€œOh, chat! I reckin I got that from Old
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. 35
â€œWho was she, now?â€ said the smith. â€˜Tell
me about Old Queen.â€
And, without in the least suspecting that he
was doing so, the boy settled himself in the
other boyâ€™s place and began to tell a story.
And the old farrier was just thinking as hard
as he could, Â« Now if the other one could only
â€˜a been here to hear this story.â€ For some-
thing told him it was going to be a very true
story the boy was going to tell, and a sad one.
â€œ Everybody called her Old Queen,â€ said the
boy. â€˜And she wasnâ€™t so old, neither ; though
she was poor, and worked her back all bent.
She was a mighty good friend oâ€™ mine, that
time she lived in the tenement. She showed
me how to lay a hoe-cake, and to run a seam,
and to fixa button on. She washed my clothes,
sometimes, when she had a minute. "Women is
mighty good, â€” some women; and â€”â€
â€œWell, well,â€ said the smith, â€œgo on, son;
â€œT was just wishinâ€™ that there hammer would
git done talkinâ€™.â€
At this the smith showed alarm. He tossed
the hammer aside, and, looking keenly at the
boy, said :
36 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
â€œSee here, now; you ainâ€™t sick, are you, nor
The boy laughed so long and so loud that the
farrier was quite relieved. Though he didnâ€™t
take up the hammer again just then; and he
didnâ€™t explain to his new friend how his com-
plaint against the hammerâ€™s interrupting the
story had so reminded him of the other little
friend that it almost frightened him for the
moment. In fact, while he was not at all ner-
vous or superstitious, he had almost permitted
himself to think he had suffered a presentiment.
He mopped his face with his sleeve again
and again, took his pipe down from a chink in
the wall, and, seating himself on the edge of his
own slack tub, said:
â€œWell, well, son; go on now.â€
â€œWell,â€ said the boy, who had been a prince
of the pavement too long not to be saucy, â€œ first
Td like to ask if you have them spells often?â€
â€œRight sharp,â€ said the sth, Â« And what
was it Old Queen done?â€
â€œEvrything; â€™cept starve to death; and I
ainâ€™t certain she didnâ€™t do that, at last. She
lived next room to me onceâ€™t in the tenement,
and she had a girl, a right peart, pretty girl,
= SSS SX SAS
SEES Ss AY
THE STORY OF â€œOLD QUEEN.â€
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. 39
too, that made her see a sight of trouble. For
Queen was poor, and the girl liked nice things,
such as her mother couldnâ€™t buy for her. For,
somehow, after her old man died Queen got
down in the world. And you know how awful
hard it is to git up when a feller gits down in
the world. So, Queen she got down: out of
work, out of victuals, out of friends, out of grit,
â€”thatâ€™s what I call down. She had a way,
when things looked darkest, of settinâ€™ herseâ€™f
down and kind oâ€™ figgerinâ€™ on â€™em like. â€˜Lookinâ€™
of â€™em in the face,â€™ she called it. And she use-
ter say that after she once stared â€™em square in
the face, looked â€™em all over, they never seemed
quite so skeery to her again. And most always
she allowed she could find a chink of light for
to go by.
Â« But one day her little girl run away with the
circus and never come back any more. And
Old Queen set on the floor all night in the
dark, all still, and not sayinâ€™ of a word to
Â« At daylight she was still there, and I went
in, and says to her, â€˜What you doinâ€™ there so
long and so still, Queen?â€™ And she looked up,
and says she, â€˜Iâ€™m just alookinâ€™ of things in
40 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
the face.â€™ And I says to her ,â€˜ Never mind ;
maybe she'll come back to-morrer.â€™ But she
shook her head, and says, â€˜I ainâ€™t planninâ€™ no
to-morrers; Iâ€™m just a-facinâ€™ of to-day, little
master.â€™ Then she set there summinâ€™ of it all
up: â€˜No money, no home, no child. If Iâ€™dâ€™aâ€™ had
some money she never would have gone. But
now she zs gone Iâ€™ve got to set about savinâ€™ of
her. And Iâ€™ve got to get some work, and thatâ€™s
all.â€™ And she did, â€”a man let her take keer of
his office, and clean up his rooms. And she
made good money, and laid some: by if, may
chance, the girl ever come back.
Â« And one day there was a circus come to town,
â€” it was the â€˜Carrigan Circus and Menagerie,â€™
â€”and that night Queen didnâ€™t come home. She
never did come any more.
â€œThe next day I went to look for her, for she
had been real good to me; and when I found
her she was in jail.
â€œThey let on how she robbed the man she was
a-workinâ€™ for. Stole a diâ€™mont pin and a lot of
money out of his room when she went to clean
Â«â€œ But she didnâ€™t do it.
â€œTJ always knowed she didnâ€™t do it, from the
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. 4I
very first minute. And I wanted to prove it,
but Queen wouldnâ€™t let me.
â€œYou see, I went to see the janitor of the
buildinâ€™; Iâ€™d seen him before, and onceâ€™t I give
him a shine, â€™cause he was tolerâ€™ble poor, with
lots of little kids to keer for. And he talked
out plain to meâ€”he liked Old Queen, too,
â€”â€”all liked her whatever knowed her. But he
said she war bound to â€™aâ€™ been the one as took
the things, because there hadnâ€™t been a soul in
that room all day but just Queen, and for one
minute only a little lady all dressed in silk, who
went up and come straight down again. Be-
cause, she said, she was mistaken in the place,
â€” she allowed her brotherâ€™s room was up there,
but she had got the wrong number. Then she
asked him about another house and went
â€œ And I asked him how the little, dressed-up
lady looked, and if she hada little red Spou on
her chin, dright red.
â€œAnd he said Â¢ veer and â€˜her hair was like
little goldish ropes all twisted about her head in
â€œSo I knew it was Queenâ€™s own child had
robbed the man, and I knew Queen knew it, too,
42 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
and that she was in prison, innocent, for her
Â«So I went to the jail and told her I knew all
about it, and that I meant to tell, and make
them set her free.
Â« And she burst out cryinâ€™, and said I must
never, never do that. She said if I keered for her,
and if I felt any kind feelinâ€™ for the little things
she had done for me, I must never breathe a
word about herâ€˜baby.â€™ â€˜For,â€™ said Old Queen,
â€˜I have looked things in the face, and it would
never do for Jenny to go to jail. Sheâ€™s wilful,
and heady, and foolish, and vain, but sheâ€™s got
- honest blood behind her, and all my love and
prayers to think of. They have followed her all
her life, evâ€™ry step. And theyâ€™ll find the heart
of her some day, and break it with repentinâ€™,
But not if she goes to prison; that would kill
the soul of her, and thatâ€™s what Iâ€™m tryinâ€™ to
save. Iâ€™m countinâ€™ on my love for her to help
me. As long as sheâ€™s safe thereâ€™s a chance for
her to repent and come home to mother. And
maybe if she knew her mother suffered for her,
willinâ€™, it would make a better girl of her, little
master ; at least it seems so to me, after lookinâ€™
things in the face. So, unless you want to give
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. 43
Old Queen the worst lick you can, donâ€™t you
send her girl to jail.â€™
â€œSo thatâ€™s the way it went fora week. And
me a-thinkinâ€™ Queen had been a great simple-
ton for thinkinâ€™ that vain Jenny cared for her
sufferinâ€™, or her love and prayers, either. And
one morninâ€™, at the end of a week, they found
Old Queen dead in her bed.
Â«The jailer said she hadnâ€™t eat anything for
days, and that the night before she died she called
him to her, and told him she wasnâ€™t feelinâ€™ so
well, and that sheâ€™d been a-lookinâ€™ of things in
the face, and says she, â€˜I ainâ€™t afeared to go.â€™
And Old Queen went. And thatâ€™s all.â€
There! Who ever heard of a blacksmith with
a heart like wax? The farrier got up, wiped
his eyes, blew his nose, wiped his eyes again and
â€œT do believe this pipe is smokinâ€™.â€
â€œYes,â€ laughed the boy, â€œ most pipes do when
theyâ€™re chug full of tobacco and have a coal of fire
at one end, anda manâ€™s mouthat the other. But
(and the boy grew grave again) what I was
thinkinâ€™ of was Old Queen. Seems to me God
makes some folks just to work, and suffer, and
adie. It donâ€™t look right, 7 say.â€
44 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
The smith got up, pipe in hand, went outside
and called to the boy to come to him. Across
the way, where there were no houses, lay alow,
level stretch of meadow, and through it, away
to the left, straight as an arrow, ran a long red
lane, seemingly endless.
The smith lifted his hand, welding? the fireless
pipe, and pointed.
Â«See that red lane, son?â€
â€œYes,â€ said the boy, â€œI see.â€
â€œLooks like it ainâ€™t got any end to it, now
donâ€™t it, son?â€
â€œYes,â€ said the boy, â€œit does look long.
. As if it might just go on, and keep goinâ€™.â€
â€œTve seen â€™em a sight longer than that,â€ said
the smith. â€œ Away out in Texas where thereâ€™s
miles and miles oâ€™ level, and never a tree, nora
hill, nor a house to break the view; and them
long lanes a-runninâ€™ until it seemed as though
they might â€™aâ€™ girdled the whole round world.
But they didnâ€™t. Them was long lanes, but
they had their end, too. Itâ€™s a mighty long
lane that donâ€™t have its end, somewhere, some-
zzme. And thatâ€™s what I fetched you out here
to tell you. So donâ€™t you be a-frettinâ€™ over
them as has to suffer and struggle in the long
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. 45
lane of this worldâ€™s disappâ€™intmints. And donâ€™t
be a-faultinâ€™ of God Aâ€™mightyâ€™s ways. At the
end oâ€™ them lanes lies Aeaven, certain ; if only
one can make out to travel of â€™em patient, and
faithful, andtrue. â€™Tainâ€™t for us to be a-ques-
tioninâ€™ if we ought to tramp on, or to set by,
under the shade with the rich and happy. God
Aâ€™mighty never made a creature yit without
makinâ€™ a use for it, and as sure as the sun
shines in his sky, heaven lies at the end oâ€™ the
long lanes oâ€™ sorrow.â€
The boy rose; there was a gulp in his
throat ; for he was thinking of his own â€œlong
laneâ€ that had so very suddenly ended among
the cool brooks and pleasant shades. â€œNow,â€
said he, â€œI wonder where that there dog
The smith pointed down the street where a
streak of yellow fur was making a retreat in a
cloud of yellow dust.
â€œYonder he goes, son. Sâ€™posâ€™nâ€™ you follow
him. It'll do you good.â€
The boy started off after his old partner,
straight up the hill to a tall, stately brick dwell-
ing, set back ina grove of rustling green trees,
among whose shades the sleek white body of
46 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
an ancient beech, solemn and ghostly, gleamed
here and there.
The gate was locked, but the dog vaulted
lightly over the low iron fence, and the boy, full
of interest, soon followed him. Then it seemed
for an instant the cur might have dropped
through the earth, out of sight, so entirely had
he disappeared in the tall, waving blue grass
that covered the lawn. His tawny body crept
like a snake through the billowy green, the boy
following, filled with a strange awe, straight up
to the neglected doorstep. The white stones
were foot deep in the last yearâ€™s drifted leaves ;
_there was a musty odor of decaying foliage,
where the same brown drifts were heaped about
the great oaken doors.
â€œTt looks like dead folksâ€™ things,â€ said the
boy, â€œthis house does. Crink, old feller?â€
But the dog paid no heed; he ran-on, nose
to the ground, up the steps to the big front
door, sniffing and whining. Then straight down
the steps again to the next door, and so on
to every door, stopping at last by the big, low
window where once, one sweet summer, a
babyâ€™s arms had reached out to rescue him
from the mill-pond. Then he stopped again,
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. 47
sniffed, crouched under the silent, sombre sill,
and, lifting his head, gave one long, wailing
howl,â€”a cry of grief, of disappointment, of
loneliness, as distinctly expressive as any
human cry could be.
The boy watched and listened; as that cry
of desolation rang out over the deserted lawn
he shut his ears with his hands and burst into
tears. He had seen many human beings suffer,
in many ways; but they could speak their
sorrow, and seek sympathy and consolation.
In all his life, varied and checkered as it had
been, it was the first time he had ever come
face to face with the mental suffering of a
â€œOh, that poor, poor dog!â€ he sobbed;
â€œhis heartâ€™s broke; thatâ€™s what ails Azm ;
and heâ€™s huntinâ€™ for the little kid what died.â€
That evening, when the moon was climbing
over the hill, he followed the dog to the
graveyard, and saw the white shaft of marble
that marked the spot where the curâ€™s first
master was sleeping. The place was over-
grown with weeds, and the tall, dank growth
that attaches to graveyards. For the man
who had been left in charge of the house and
48 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
the graves had been very sick, and there was
no one to look after things. :
The boy stood a moment in contemplation,
then he said :
Â«See here, now, Crink, this wonâ€™t do; you
and me have got to better this up some, son.â€
And when later the good round moon looked
down as she sailed over the spot, her mellow
light revealed the dog lying in the cleared
space which the boy had made, and which
all the time was growing larger and larger,
as the brave fellow patiently plied his knife.
It was a pleasant task, evidently; for when
at last he left off to go home he stood for a
â€œmoment in deep thought. Then he said:
Â«â€œ He done a lot for me, that there little kid
down there did. And for the smith, too, and
for that there dog there. Come, son; supper;
the baconâ€™s broilinâ€™.â€
That night, as he sat with the smith after
supper, in their favorite place outside the door
in the moonlight, while the smith plied his
pipe, the boy, who had been silent a long time,
thinking of the other boy, now under the white
slab, said :
â€œ Now, ainâ€™t it quare, how the love of a little
LOOKING THINGS IN THE FACE. ~ 4O
kid like him made so much light in the world?
First for a dog, then for a boy.â€
Â«And for a man, too,â€ said the smith.
â€œFor the light oâ€™ the little boyâ€™s love used to
shine in the old shop amazinâ€™.
love; the only light that always shines azd
shines, and no wind or weather can put it out.
It just shines all the way. Always remember
that, son. A good and faithful love is a light
that shines all the way.â€
After awhile the boy crept into his cot,
softly; through the window he could see the
smith sitting in the moonlight with a strangely
tranquil something in his face ; the same some-
thing that was nestling in the boyâ€™s heart, per-
haps ; for long after he fell asleep there was a
smile upon his lips, as though his dreams might
be of pleasant ways through summer woods,
bordered with flowers, and alive with singing
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS.
THE farrier was getting feeble; the long, hot
Southern. summer was telling on him. The
usually noisy hammer was still many a day
indeed, while the farrier found it necessary to
take a little rest.
These were the days when the boy proved a
â€œgenuine blessing. He was not fond of the
work ; didnâ€™t, as he admitted, â€œtake to the shop
mightily,â€ but did the best he could, and
honestly tried to like it for the sake of his
good friend, the farrier. In the house, too,
the smith felt how good it was to have him, â€”
he got the dinner, mended up their clothes,
tidied up the place, and did numberless little
jobs that relieved and comforted the old man
in his weakness. But the smith wasnâ€™t alto-
gether easy about the boy; his brain had been
busy about him for some time.
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 51
One night this brain-work of the smithâ€™s
took positive shape.
The boy was creeping into his bed, laughing
and happy, when the farrier was suddenly re-
minded of something. Perhaps it was his own
failing health suggested the thought, but as he
looked at the bright young face against the
pillow the good smith said to himself:
Â«â€œ Now that there boy ought to be learninâ€™ of
a prayer to say. And whoever is to teach it
to him â€”J donâ€™t know.â€ ;
The next morning, when the church bells were
ringing and the children of the village were
hurrying down the street, he said :
Â«Son, put on your hat and go along with
the balance oâ€™ the young folks to Sunday
school. I want it special.â€
That was quite enough to send the boy off.
When he was gone the smith held another long
consultation with his own conscience. His
thoughts ran thus:
Â«Now a man ainâ€™t fitten to raise a child. A
woman would â€™aâ€™ had that boy on his knees the
first night he landed on this floor. But I ainâ€™t
thought of it till this blessed minute. But it
will be all right now; thereâ€™s a young woman at
52 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
that Sunday school takes all the new boys that
come there, and tells them what to do. Iâ€™ve
heard of her ; thereâ€™sâ€˜some allows sheâ€™s a sort 0â€™
mother to such as ainâ€™t got any. And she'll
right my boy; sheâ€™ll sense the soul in him, too,
and the deeps of it. Ill trust her for that.â€
An hour later the boy came back, breathless
and eager. He flung off his cap and seized the
smith by both hands:
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 53
â€œTve come for you,â€ said he. â€œQuick!
Theyâ€™re singing, and I want you to hear. Itâ€™s
like â€” itâ€™s like â€” heaven.â€
The good farrier hadnâ€™t the heart to disap-
point the boy who had counted so strongly upon
his enjoying the church choir, so he put on his
hat and his best Sunday necktie, dusted his
pantaloons, and together they walked off to the
village church at the end of the street. That
was the first of their journeys there together; .
there were many such journeys afterward ; in-
deed, the smith used to declare it was the â€œ begin-
ning of their start for the Promised Land.â€ The
boy, however, thought differently ; the boy de-
clared the â€œstartâ€ was made that day in the
â€œratty old tenement house where a boy and a
dog was a-tryinâ€™ to part company.â€
At all events the journey was now begun ;
well and truly begun. For that noon when the
two sat down to their dinners the smith noticed
that the boy was restless. He had just lifted
the carving-knife to thrust it into the big boiled
ham when the boy raised his hand. The smith
paused, knife in hand.
â€œWell, son,â€ said he, â€œwhat is it?â€
The boy was very near blushing ; but he was
54 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW,
a brave boy, and one who never turned back
when once he had set out to do athing. So he
plunged right on, boldly, into what he had to
Â«The lady said at the school this morninâ€™,â€
said he, â€œas how itâ€™s a mighty small feller,
â€˜soulâ€™ she put it, â€˜as can eat and enjoy, day in,
day out, and never thank his God for it.â€™ I
reckined maybe you wouldnâ€™t mind doinâ€™ of it.â€
The old farrier was a deal nearer blushing
than the boy had been. It was a great moment
with him; a great, grave moment. He felt the
power of this moment over all the boyâ€™s after
life. He had never asked a blessing himself,
though he had not failed to be thankful, surely.
And he couldnâ€™t have put his thanks in words
now, no, not if his life had hung upon it.
It was a serious moment with him, truly. Sud-
denly a way opened to him. He dropped the
carving-knife across the platter, folded his hard
old hands, and said:
â€œYou ask it, son.â€
It wasnâ€™t an ordinary thanksgiving the boy
offered, not at all. It was odd, and short, and
perhaps a trifle funny. But I am quite sure it
reached the ear for which it was intended, and
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 55
that the originality of it was quite lost in the
simple sincerity in which it was offered.
He had merely bowed his head and thanked
God for those things which had been to him as
blessings, and for which he was, in truth, most
sincerely grateful. â€œO Lord,â€ said he, â€œI
thank you for a friend, and a dinner, and a dog.
He never forgot to thank God for the smith,
never; not in all his after life; and a very
unusual life it was, too, marked with many
blessings, but none great enough to blot out the
memory of his first benefactor.
That night, at retiring, the smith noticed
again the boyâ€™s restlessness. He was beginning
to understand him so well now that he couldâ€™
almost interpret his thought, at times.
â€œThat boy,â€ said he to his cob pipe, â€œ wants
to kneel down and say his prayers, and he
wonâ€™t do it because he ainâ€™t ever seen me kneel
The boy went out after awhile into the
kitchen, and when he had been gone quite a
while the farrier tip-toed after him to see what
he might be doing.
There was no lamp in the kitchen, but the
56 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
moon shone through the curtainless window,
and in the full radiance knelt the boy, with
folded hands, saying his evening prayer.
The farrier went back softly, and undressing,
made ready for bed. When the boy came in,
the old friend, farrier, and father went over to
his own big bed, knelt down, and folded his
hard old hands like a little child, and prayed.
There was no more dodging after that. Prayer
and praise had been established in the smithâ€™s
house, and, strange to say, it was the little street
waif had introduced both. And they were des-
tined to remain, despite the smithâ€™s whispered
confidence to his hammer next morning that
â€œraisinâ€™ of boys was makinâ€™ an old softy of
The boy had set himself a new task: keeping
the little plat about the white slab in order. So
when one morning a man sent for the farrier to
come out to his plantation and doctor a sick
horse, the boy closed the shop and went over to
the graveyard, with the dog at his heels, as was
always the case when he made that little pil-
grimage of love and gratitude.
Somehow, he loved to think of that boy; he
didnâ€™t understand, for he was only an ignorant,
THE â€œFELLOWâ€ AT HIS SELF-IMPOSED WORK,
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 59
impressionable boy as yet, how a good and pure
life, though it be ever so short, blesses all with
whom it comes in contact ; and even after the
little life is ended goes on blessing and helping.
As you have seen sad-hearted mothers some-
times giving away the little clothes and play-
things of their own dead babies, to comfort and
gladden some other less fortunate little ones.
And if you think of it well, it will take the form
of a blessing, making a blessing out of death
indeed, and passing it on down, something to
blossom, like a rose, in a dry and thirsty land.
But the boy knew nothing of such things; as
he hurried to his task, he was thinking of what
the good farrier had said about the â€œlight that
shines all the way.â€ That was a very beautiful
thought to him, and he remembered at the same
time something the preacher had said on Sun-
day morning in his sermon. It was something
about â€œLet your light so shine,â€ and hearing it
he remembered what the farrier had said, and
wondered if it might not mean the same thing.
So lost in thought was he that he was about
to pass by the big house on the hill without
noticing that the grass had been cut, the weeds
and dead leaves cleared away, and that every
60 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
window and door stood wide open. Smoke
was rising from the kitchen chimney, and a
black cook with a white turban on his head
appeared for a moment at an open window.
â€œThere!â€ said the boy, â€œthem there folks of
the little kidâ€™s must be cominâ€™ home, Crinkle;
else somebodyâ€™s makinâ€™ themseâ€™ves mightily at
But the dog was gone over the fence like a
yellow flash, straight into the open window
where he rolled out of a tangle of white lace
curtains into the arms of a housemaid who was
patting and petting him, and calling him Â« Bay-
daw boy,â€ and crying, with her face hid in the
dogâ€™s yellow hair.
The street boy knew without telling that this
was the nurse who had tended the little boy
that died, and with his own eyes dim he
passed on up the hill to the graveyard. So
he failed to see that the dog escaped from the
nurse to be caught by the cook who gave him
another hugging; and then, after sniffing at
every door, nosing into every familiar corner,
and failing to find the missing master, leaped
the fence and went trotting on up the hill after
his new comrade.
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 61
The boy was busy clearing away the weeds
that still obtruded around the pedestal of the
white slab, â€”so busy that he did not notice
the dogâ€™s approach, or observe that a lady was
sitting on a rustic chair under a tree near by,
intently watching his every movement. A tall,
stately woman dressed in heavy black, and with
the traces of tears still shining in her beautiful
He was upon his knees, the boy who had been
self-elected to keep the grave plat, clipping
away here and there, pausing now and then to
pat the small mound affectionately. At last his
work was finished; he put aside his knife,
pushed back his hat, observed the dog in the
grass, and said:
Â«Son, if I could make out to read whatâ€™s
writ there on that there white stone Iâ€™d give a
heap, 7 would.â€
The dog got up, looked steadily at the boy,
then at the stone. It was the very best he
could do, but it didnâ€™t interpret the inscription
on the slab.
â€œT know,â€ said the boy, patting the yellow
head, â€œyou'd like to help me, but you donâ€™t
know the language; no more do J. But we
62 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
know each other, son, and thatâ€™s something, I
can tell you.â€
He leaned forward to brush away some dust
marks that clung to the white marble, saying as
he did so:
â€œMustnâ€™t be any dust on the little kidâ€™s
stone. Poor little kid; I wonder if he knows
now how much lonesomer he lefâ€™ the world
when he went, and â€” how much drighter.â€
He started, and almost tripped over the tiny
mound, as a hand was placed upon his shoulder,
and a ladyâ€™s voice said:
Â«Whose boy are you?â€
He looked up to see the black-robed figure
at his side, and the beautiful tear-washed eyes
looking down into his own. He knew it was
the little boyâ€™s mother; and after one glance
at the sad face under its black bonnet he said
to himself :
, â€œHerâ€™n broke, too,â€ â€”he was thinking of
the day when he discovered that the dog had
a broken heart.
â€œWhose boy are you?â€ said the lady again,
her hand still on his shoulder.
Well, maâ€™m, I ainâ€™t rightly and really no-
bodyâ€™s boy, I reckins. Though the blacksmith
â€œ* WHOSE BOY ARE you?â€™â€
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 65
down yonder has got the biggest claim to me,â€
said the boy.
Â«Are you his son?â€
â€œYes, maâ€™m; since the day he picked me up,
along of another stray dog, and fetched me
The boy had never been so embarrassed in
all his life; and there was a suspicious sparkle
in his eyes that were constantly lowered, and
a sort of tremble to his voice that made him
almost afraid to speak.
â€œYou've been taking care of my little boyâ€™ s
grave ?â€ said the lady.
The boy inched nearer the dog and wished
himself a hundred miles away from the spot, and
swallowed, and blinked, and blurted out gruffly :
Â«Sort oâ€™ cut the weeds, if you call that any-
thing. / donâ€™t. Iâ€™d ought to â€™aâ€™ done lots more,
seeinâ€™ how much the little kidâ€™s gone and done
for me, But â€” but â€” now I wonder where that
there dog is.â€
Â«There is the dog, just under your feet,â€
said the lady, smiling. â€œAre you going? Little
boy? I say, little boy? Come up to my house
to-morrow, â€” that is it, yonder among the trees.
I want to see you particularly.â€
66 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
The boy nodded without once looking back.
When he was well on the road home he turned
to the dog at his side, and said:
â€œTf us boys is goinâ€™ to be babies, I think
we'd better fix us up some sugar rags and
stay at home; eh, Crinkle?â€
But the dog was evidently interested in other
things, for he trotted off down the street, wag-
ging his yellow tail as though something very
unusual and exceedingly pleasant was about to
And perhaps it may have been ; for a strange
gentleman crossing the street at that moment
spied the yellow cur and stopped.
Yes, they were evidently old acquaintances,
for the stranger stopped to pat the face lifted
to his, while to his caressing touch and gently
spoken â€œBaydaw! Baydaw, old boy! What!
you are still hunting for the little master?
Poor Baydaw; dear old doggie; we canâ€™t
The cur rubbed his nose against the strangerâ€™s
nose, whined, and tried to lick his hand. The
boy stood watching, in his heart that old feel-
ing of fear awakened that had been there the
night when the farrier had tracked him to the
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 67
rat-infested old tenement and preferred claims
to his â€œ fellow.â€
â€œ Now,â€ said he, â€˜I wonder what fÂ¢his
For when one has once suffered a great
shock, or a great grief, one is forever after
half fearing, half dreading a similar experience.
As the boy drew near, the man looked up
from petting the dog to inquire:
â€œTs this your dog?â€
Instantly the boy assumed the old swagger of
the bootblacking days.
â€œT donâ€™t call him by no such names,â€ said
he. â€˜â€œThatâ€™s my pardner, and him and me is
The man looked keenly at the boy, and then
affectionately at the dog; he even smiled, as
though (the boy thought) the partner might be
a rather shabby and unaristocratic party. And
thinking thus, the boy was instantly on the
defensive for his â€œfellow.â€
Â«Say, now,â€ said he, â€œdonâ€™t you be a-reflect-
inâ€™ on that dog. He may not shine up as peart
as some gentlemen youâ€™ve run across, but he
ainâ€™t any scrub, that dog ainâ€™t. Look at that
tail; see the crinkle to it? Now if that there
68 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
dog could always saunter backwards, soâ€™s to in-
troduce his tail first, heâ€™d be lots more admired.
I tell him so, constant. â€˜Show your good side
to strangers.â€™ But dogs are mightily like folks,
â€” determined to pitch through life head fore-
most. But he /as got a nice tail. Why, heâ€™s
named after his own tail, that there dog is:
Crinkle, â€” Crink for short.â€
He drew the big brush through his palms
gently ; there was an affectionate suggestion in
the touch of the slender brown fingers, and he
seemed to have forgotten the stranger and to
be back again among the hard days when they
twoâ€” boy and dogâ€”tramped together the
streets of vagabondia, as he said softly :
Â«J â€” always â€” liked â€” his â€” tail.â€
Was there a mist in the strange manâ€™s eyes?
Had he heard that compliment before from a
boyâ€™s lips? A dear, dear boy who had gone
away forever upon a long, long journey? Else
what was there in the simple words to set his
heart beating thus, and to cause it to go out in.
tender sympathy for the rescued waif upon
whom he had never before set eyes, no, not in
all his life? And to be sure, he couldnâ€™t see
him now, either, for the mist that blinded him.
THE LITTLE KIDâ€™S FOLKS. 69
So without a word he turned away and went
rapidly up the hill to the big brick house amorig
the trees, where a lady stood waiting for him at
the gate. It was the same black-robed lady
who had been in the graveyard, and as the man
drew near she pointed down the street where the
â€œfellows â€™â€â€™ were still standing (or rather stand-
ing still, for neither of them had stirred from
the spot), and said :
â€œTI want that boy.â€
The boy, meanwhile, was doing a little think-
ing on his own account. â€œNow,â€ said he, â€œI
just do wonder whatâ€™s up this time.â€ Then,
with sudden vagabondish humor, not without its
touch of wisdom too, he said as the dog evinced
a disposition to follow the stranger on up to the
house on the hill:
â€œCome back here, sir.â€â€™ The cur stopped,
reconsidered, and turned back. â€œSee here,
Crinkle ; you certainly have got the largest
circle of admirers of any gentleman of my ac-
quaintance. And you have got a mighty failinâ€™
for following the last whistle, old boy. Thereâ€™s
lots of folks ready to do the same thing, Iâ€™ve
noticed, special if the whistle be uncommon
good-lookinâ€™, and backed up with good clothes
7O THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
and a glib tongue. Ainâ€™t that wisdom we're
talking? Ah, son, you and me ainâ€™t studied so-
ciety from the sidewalks all these years. A
great school, son, where we got our learninâ€™ ;
but what we learned was â€” folks. Now that
â€œmanâ€” Hush! isthatahammer? To be sure,
and not a soul to strike for him. Come, son,
the hammerâ€™s a-callinâ€™ of us, and I misdoubts the
I CAN'T, BECAUSE I LOVE HIM.
CERTAINLY the farrier wasnâ€™t as strong as he
had been. He sat about the shop door more
than was his custom, and dreamed over his pipe
under the shed. Yet was he a very happy old
farrier. There was a new something in the
old face of him; and if the big hammer didnâ€™t
ring as it had rung, he quite forgot it in the
ring of the young voice sounding in his ears.
And if the old feet began to grow weary, there
were young feet, able, willing, glad to run in
their stead. The summer passed,â€”such a
glad, good summer to the boy, such a tranquil,
quiet summer to the farrier.
The autumn came, and there was the sound
of the wary fox in the wood, as he robbed the
wild grape-vines, or pillaged among the persim-
mon-trees. Nuts were falling, â€” chestnut and
the sweet wild scaleybark. Pigs were fattening
72 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
â€™ on the bountiful mash nature had provided. In
the river, where the boy had learned the first
lesson of cleanliness and had first felt the cool,
delicious sense of running water upon his little
sun-baked, sand-tortured body, fish were biting,
â€”the perch, the cat, and the pretty speckled
trout. The boy had been happy in summer ;
in autumn he was exultant. But the days
chilled ; the nuts disappeared, the fox sought
covert. The hoar frost came, and the snow.
And with the changing weather the old smith
failed. One day when he was at work in the
shop (for he had told the boy the hammer
would be the last thing he would lay by), and
the smithy door stood wide open to admit the
winterâ€™s sunlight, a shadow fell upon the anvil
and across the floor.
The smith looked up, nodded, finished off the
red edge of a plowshare he was repairing, and
then laid down his hammer.
â€œWell,â€ said he, â€œhowâ€™s the folks this morn-
â€œNot so well,â€ said the visitor, who had taken
a seat on the smithâ€™s own stool, â€œnot so well ;
and I have come over here, farrier, to â€”â€â€™ He
paused ; somehow it seemed a very selfish,
I CANâ€™T, BECAUSE I LOVE HIM. 3
cruel errand he had come upon. Then he
thought of the sad, childless woman in the
big house on the hill, and took courage.
â€œ Got a sick horse, too?â€ said the farrier.
The visitor shook his head.
Â«My wife sent me down here to talk to you,
or toask youto come up there and talk to her.â€
He paused again, and looked about the shop ;
then said :
Â« Whereâ€™s your dog, farrier ?â€
The farrier smiled. Somehow all of his em-
barrassed friends found a refuge in that lazy
old dog of his.
â€œWhy,â€ said he, â€œI donâ€™t really lay claim to
that dog now. I really donâ€™t. You know I
gave him to the little master, sir, long ago.â€
Â«But my son gave him back to you, farrier,â€
said the visitor. â€œYou surely havenâ€™t forgotten,
farrier.â€™ The farrier stood up straight, and
mopped his brow. ;
â€œForgot?â€ said he. â€œWhy, it was like yes-
terday the little one cried out to me: â€˜Iâ€™ve sent
for you to give you back your dog, farrier.â€™â€
The visitor lifted his hand:
â€œDonâ€™t,â€ said he. â€œWe havenâ€™t learned.
to talk about him yet â€” at the house.â€
74. THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
Then there came to the smith the lesson he
had learned from the â€œstrayâ€ he had picked
up in the city streets, and he resolved to pass
the lesson on to his unhappy, if more pros-
â€œNow, sir,â€ he began, just as the boy had
done, â€œthat ainâ€™t any way to git shed of sor-
-row. Sorrowâ€™s somethinâ€™ wonâ€™t stay buried,
after it zs buried. The best way is to look it
in the face; stare it out oâ€™ countenance, so to
speak. Set beside it, till it clears out. dy
boy learned me that much.â€
His boy: ah! the good farrier had opened
the way to the very object of the visitorâ€™s call.
Â«Where is your boy?â€ he asked, feeling his
way gently, carefully.
Â« Off rabbit huntinâ€™ somâ€™ers. Be back soon.
Â« Y-e-s; I want to talk about him.â€
The smith grew nervous. He dragged up an
empty nail keg and sat down upon it, got up,
turned around, and sat down again.
Â«See here now,â€ said he, â€œI hope there ainâ€™t
anything youâ€™ve come to say aginst the chap.
He seems mighty clever and â€” and â€” handy
â€” to me.â€
I CANâ€™T, BECAUSE I LOVE HIM. 75
â€œNo,â€ said the visitor, â€œI know nothing
whatever against him. In fact, I was about to
remark that he was an unusually bright, clever
â€œTo be sure,â€ said the smith. â€œI suspected
he was, myself.â€
Â«And he hasnâ€™t much opportunity here,
The farrier gasped. In the honest goodness
of his heart he had done what he could for
the lad, and indeed his conscience had quite
acquitted him of neglect.
â€œJ ainâ€™t rich,â€ was all the reply he could
â€œNo,â€ the visitor went on, with merciless
slowness. â€œYou're a poor man, farrier. You
canâ€™t do. much for him. He ought toâ€™ be at
school. Ought to have been there all winter.â€
Â«â€œT done the best I could,â€ said the poor old
smith, looking and speaking precisely like a
man before the bar of justice. â€œI truly done
the best I could.â€
â€œTam sure you did. And I am sure it is
the best you ever can do. You are getting to
be an old man, farrier.â€ 4
Â«Yes, an old man. â€”Toâ€”beâ€”sure.â€
76 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
Â«And the shop isnâ€™t paying a great deal.â€
â€œNo, not a great sight.â€
Â« And your hammer arm isnâ€™t what it used
to be when another boy sat on that empty
anvil there and listened to the blows your strong
arm made with the ironhammer. The arm will
not be able to strike so hard, and so true, for
this boy, farrier.â€
Â« But itâ€™s ready to strike until the good Lord
says â€˜ Stop,â€™â€â€™ said the smith, with something of
his old spirit.
â€œYes, yes,â€ said the visitor, â€œI know that.
But what I wanted to say is, that this boy is
capable of a great future. The best you can
do for him, with all your love and labor, will be
to make a first-class blacksmith of him, and to
teach him, maybe, to doctor a sick horse.
Now, that boy would make his mark in the
world, with half a showing. He could be a
lawyer, farrier; one of the best. He has a
ready wit, a keen perception, and a nimble
tongue. He ought to have this opportunity ;
and â€” there are no children at my place, farrier.
And my wife is grieving for the dead child, and
begging for this boy.â€
The smith stood up, tall and grand looking, Â°
I CANâ€™T, BECAUSE I LOVE HIM. 77
even in his common old apron of striped ticking.
He was pale, under the soot and cinder, and his
eyes were misty. But the brave old heart of
him never once faltered.
â€œSay no more,â€ he cried. â€œSay no more. I
canâ€™t begin to make out to you what that little
keen-witted, nimble-tongued chap has been to
me. Heâ€™s taught me to say my prayers, that
â€˜boy has. And to thank my God three times a
day for my victuals. And heâ€™s taught me, all
hours of the day axd night, to thank him for
the boy himself. Heâ€™s pâ€™inted out to me many
a mercy that Iâ€™d overlooked. But I ainâ€™t no
fool; I know everâ€™ word you say is gospel true,
sir. I am old, and poor, and gettinâ€™ feeble, and
I need him more for that. But I shaâ€™nâ€™t stand
in the ladâ€™s way, sir. He shall decide for him-
self. Yonder he comes, across the street, with
his fishinâ€™ poles across his shoulder. Speak to
him ; Iâ€™ll step outside, sir, for Iâ€™ve got a tattlinâ€™
old face, and the boy will read it like a book,
And so, in order that his old face might
not â€˜betray the yearning in his heart and so
influence him against his good fortune, the
farrier stepped outside the back door of the
78 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
shop and waited, seated on a broken wagon bed,
while the boy made his choice of homes and
He sat very near the door, where he could
hear every word; for there were no secrets
about the offer which meant so much to all.
The old dog came out where he was and sniffed
at his feet, and licked his big brown fist clinched
upon his knee, reminding the smith of the
night when he had come to part those two com-
rades in the tenement. He reached his hand
and stroked the curâ€™s head.
â€œT reckin I feel just as he felt that night, old
doggie, when he said, â€˜Heâ€™s all the friend Iâ€™ve
Then he heard the boyâ€™s voice in the shop,
and listened while the man from the big house
made his offer.
It was a great offer, indeed: a home of
plenty, books, schooling, toys, and better than
all twice told and over, loving hearts to keep
and guide him.
The boy listened silently, â€”so silently the
smith wondered, and strained his ear, thinking
anxiety had made him deaf to the voice he
I CAN'T, BECAUSE I LOVE HIM. 79
But when the voice came at last, so clear and
honest, the foolish old farrier was quite beside
himself with joy.
â€œItâ€™s mighty good of you,â€ was what the boy
was saying, â€œand I donâ€™t know how I ever
thought folks wasnâ€™t good and kind. Itâ€™s a
nice home of yours, and itâ€™s mighty good in
the lady to want me in the place of the little
kid what died. I reckin itâ€™s because of â€˜the
lightâ€™ makes her want me. Sheâ€™s got it, too;
the â€˜light that shines.â€™- But I canâ€™t go.â€
Â« You canâ€™t go?â€
â€œNo,â€ said the boy. â€œI canâ€™t leave the
â€œHadn't you better think again before you
decide?â€ said the man.
â€œTf I was to think always,â€ said the boy, Â«I
couldnâ€™t ever stop thinkinâ€™ of the smith. Why,
he picked me up out of the streets, the smith
did, when all the friend I had in the world was
adog. But that ainâ€™t why I canâ€™t go. He fed
me, and give me clothes, and a clean bed to lie
in oâ€™ nights, and showed me what it is to be
clean and honest. But Â¢hat ainâ€™t why I canâ€™t
go. Heâ€™s gittinâ€™ old now, and feeble; he donâ€™t
sleep well oâ€™ nights, and he gives out at the
80 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
anvil sometimes; he needs me. But Â¢haz ainâ€™t
why I canâ€™t go. He fetched me here, a stray
dog, too, like Crinkle, and he called me â€˜ Sox ,â€™
and I canâ€™t go because I love him. And thatâ€™s
THE LITTLE TINSEL LADY.
One day, when the grass was growing green
again, and there was an odor of new mould in
the air, where some industrious plowman was
overturning the sod, the boy had something
very like an adventure.
He had been fishing, for the smith had said |
he needed to get away from the shop awhile.
Indeed, he had been a very industrious boy the
long, slow winter months, waiting on his ailing
old friend, patching and darning their clothes,
and thinking a great deal of Old Queen, who
had taught him to sew, and who had died in
prison rather than suffer her guilty daughter to
be punished. He had kept the place in order,
and the shop going ; and he made many a penny
that had stood them well, those days when the
snow came, and there were scant food and fuel
in the farrierâ€™s house. The greatest thing he
82 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
did was to shoe a horse one day when food was
so scarce he felt almost glad the farrier could
not walk to the kitchen and take a peep into the
But at last the
spring came again ;
the farrier hobbled
back to the shop, and,
ordered the boy off
With the dog at his
heels, a bucket of
bait, and a rod, the
boy set off, taking a
near cut through the
meadow that bordered
the village street, and
had just climbed the
fence that let him into
the cool woods when
something, moving very slowly down the road,
attracted his attention.
First, to his astonished gaze, a little puffy,
rolling cloud of yellow dust, out of which slowly
evolved into shape and distinctness a long line
THE LITTLE TINSEL LADY. 83
of vehicles, followed by a yet longer line of ani-
mals. The boyâ€™s eyes and mouth were wide
open; there were few phases of vagabondism
with which he was not more or less familiar.
â€œNow!â€ cried he; â€œif them ainâ€™t gypsies!
Come here, Crinkle, them yonder folks has a
fine nose for dogs, son, and a powerful likinâ€™.â€
As the caravan drew nearer, the tall tops of
chariots and cages gleaming in the sun, with a
glitter of brass here and there, the whole as-
sumed a more familiar aspect. Often such pro-
cessions paraded the city streets, but away out
here in a country lane to come upon such a
procession quite took his breath away.
In his excitement he had set his bare brown
feet in a creek that gurgled across the road.
As the water rose to his ankles, he gave vent
to his astonishment in one loud whistle, that
seemed to set the dogâ€™s ears tingling.
Â«A circus!â€ he cried. â€œA circus away out
He had been â€˜too closely confined with the
ailing farrier to notice the posters scattered
about the village, announcing that the â€œ great
showâ€ would exhibit that day at the county
seat, three miles distant.
84 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
He had no desire to see the circus, â€” he had
seen a great many, â€œtoo many,â€ he told him-
self, â€œto hanker after others.â€ He understood
just what humbugs they were, and knew how
even the seemingly jolly old clowns had a hard
enough time of it, when out of the ring.
But he waited to see the procession pass ; he
was boy enough for that, at all events. And
the procession was all there, for it was only a
little distance to the town at which the show
had just exhibited.
Â« Theyâ€™re all alike, son, â€” big tales, big blow,
same old horses, same old tricks, same old ani-
mals, same old sme//, If thereâ€™s a blessed
thing new about this one, you may have half
my dinner to-day.â€
But there was something decidedly new, â€”
the boy held his breath and gasped when
there came .a sudden, great, grinding crash ;
a cage, big and heavy, swayed, reeled, dropped
one end heavily, and parted squarely in the
The caravan came to an abrupt halt; then
there was sudden and intense excitement, and
a great shout of fear, almost of horror, went
up, as a lithe, tawny shape flashed through
THE LITTLE TINSEL LADY. 85
space, and, with a lightning leap, cleared the
fence, and disappeared in the woods beyond
the meadow. The old lioness had escaped.
There were hurried orders, followed by a
wild pursuit ; and, as the boy stood watching,
speechless, but jubilant at the prospect of an
adventure, a shrill little voice called to him
from the caravan :
â€œLittle boy! Oh, little boy, do give me a
cup of water out of the river where you are
standing with your feet?â€
The boy forgot the lank lioness scurrying
through the woods, forgot his rods, flung on
the ground, and his bucket of bait, as he
turned to see a little wasplike figure dressed
in scarlet and seated in a great gilded chariot,
bending down like a queen from her throne
to command a drink from the brook by the
roadside. She held a little silver cup which
she was waiting for him to take, and he noticed
that the fingers and arms were bare, and coy-
ered with tawdry jewels. He was quite bewil-
dered for a moment, then he remembered Old
Queen, and his heart hardened.
â€œGet down and get it,â€ he replied. â€œYou
ainâ€™t got nothing to hinder, as I can see.â€
86 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
In the deep blue eyes fixed upon his face,
the tears were starting.
A cross-looking woman on the seat beside
her gave the child a sharp nudge of her elbow,
and commanded her to â€œhold her tongue, and
not be silly.â€
â€œBut I am so thirsty,â€ wailed the little crea-
ture. â€œMy throat is parched with dust, and
my feet ache so. I rode in the ring five times
last night, and climbed the trapeze twice.
And I must do it all over again to-night, and
ride in the procession too, on one foot. See!
My ankle is all swelled now.â€
She thrust a tiny foot forward, to show how
the poor ankle was puffed and swollen; she had
slipped her shoe off; the little red stocking
was stretched to the utmost.
Without another word of objection, the boy
stepped to the side of the chariot, and took the
cup from the childâ€™s hand. The sight of that
little tortured foot had stirred memories that al-
ways set his sympathies throbbing. A whiff of
the dusty streets filled his nostrils, â€”a glimpse
of a stray cur fleeing from persecution, â€”a
man who had â€œhanded the cup of water,â€ in
the name of humanity.
THE LITTLE TINSEL LADY. 87
He stooped where the cool spring nestled
deep among the rocks and mosses beyond the
road, among the shades of the quiet woods, and
handed the cup, sparkling and brimming, to the
thirsty circus child.
Â«So good!â€ she laughed. â€œMight I have
another drink? Seems like I could drink as
much as the camels.â€
â€œ Creekâ€™s free,â€ said the boy, â€œand I ainâ€™t
charginâ€™ for services.â€ Again he tramped
back to the spring, even giving a drink to
the cross woman in the carriage, after which .
they all.became quite talkative and friendly.
There were no men left in the caravan, ex-
cept those who had charge of the animals, and
- they had strict orders not to go away for an
instant. So the boy brought water, and made
himself of some use. Then he said to the
little circus girl:
â€œTf you will slip off your stockings, and let
your feet down into the runninâ€™ water, it will
take all the swell and the ache out of them.
The little circus girl had braved too many
deaths, on the bare-backed horses, the deadly
trapeze, and the tight rope, to be afraid. So
88 â€œTHE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
at a nod from the cross woman, who had been
mollified by the boyâ€™s good nature, the little
rider jerked off her stockings, and a moment
later the red skirts were flashing over the
stream that laughed, and danced, and gurgled
about the poor ankles with delicious coolness.
They waded up and down for awhile, and the
boy â€œpooh-poohedâ€ imaginary snakes, while
the circus child went off into shrieks of laugh-
ter, that made the little baby monkeys tear
at their cages and chatter like magpies.
Even the lazy old rhinoceros yawned and
grunted, and the brain of the cross woman
went dreaming of another woods, another
stream, and another child, who had waded in
the clear, cool water, and believed that child-
hood and happiness were everlasting.
And when they were tired of wading the boy
found a seat among the gray rocks, where the
little feet could swing down into the current
still. Suddenly, with a touch of his street-self,
the boy sang out, sharply:
Â«Say, now, what zs this circus, anyhow ? Is it
the Royal Red Lady, or is it the Runaway Lion
show? Thatâ€™s what I want to know.â€
â€œOh!â€ said the little red lady, â€œbut this is
THE LITTLE TINSEL LADY. 89
the great Carrigan Brothersâ€™ circus and me-
The boy drew in his breath quickly, and let
it out again in a sudden whistle. But the child
went right on with her prattle without seeming
to notice his surprise.
Â«â€œT am the Bare-back Baby Rider,â€ said she;
â€œthe â€˜Little Child Wonderâ€™ they call me on the
bills. And some take me for the â€˜Little Tin-
sel Lady,â€™ but I am not. She was another girl ;
and she is dead.â€
The child nodded. â€˜I saw her, when she
was done dead, and she was in a white coffin ;
and she had some roses on her, white ones.
And they said her mother killed her.â€
â€œOh, now,â€ said the boy, â€œyou ought to
know that isnâ€™t true. How could she? TIâ€™ll be
bound it was a horse kicked her in the stomach,
â€œNo, it didnâ€™t. Our horses donâ€™t kick. She
was a bigger girl than me, and lots older; but
they dressed her up to look lots littler than
she was. They do me, too. Iâ€™m old. Iâ€™m
twelve, but the bills say Iâ€™m six. And the
other girl was awful bad; sheâ€™d even swear.
go THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
And they said she szoZe once. But sheâ€™s dead,
now. I saw her; and she looked so still and
easy and happy lying there all white, that I
think of her whenever Iâ€™ve rode, and rode, and
played trapeze all day, and it seems real good to
be dead and go to sleep in a white coffin, and
The boy listened, eagerly, intently. Sud-
denly a great suspicion seized him. Surprise,
wonder, doubt, were choking him dumb, so that
he could scarcely stammer out the questions
that sprang to his lips. â€˜â€˜Wh-at w-was her
name? That other one?â€
â€œ Gloria,â€ said the child, lifting a pink pebble
with her toes. The boyâ€™s face fell. He did
not know any Gloria.
â€œThey called her the â€˜ Little Tinsel Lady,â€™â€â€™
the child went on. â€˜And I heard an ugly old
woman call her-â€˜Jennyâ€™ in the streets once,
when we was showing. She got mighty mad
about it, and told the old woman she neednâ€™t
ever come â€˜ Jennyingâ€™ her any more, for nobody
knew her as that. She was bad, I think, for one
day when she was riding in the ring some one told
about a woman who died in jail. They said she
stole some money, but nobody believed, much,
THE LITTLE TINSEL LADY. QI
that she was a thief, but thought she was just
pretendinâ€™ it, to save somebody else. And they
said she starved herself to death with grief.
And when Gloria heard it she grew right white,
and her knees shook and trembled so that she
asked the ring-master not to make her ride
right then. But the people were waitinâ€™, and
two clowns were holdinâ€™ up a big paper hoop
for Gloria to jump through. And the ring-
master told her to â€˜go on.â€™ She began to cry,
then, and begged not to go. Then the ring-
master lifted his whip and struck her across the
bare shoulders, and told her to â€˜clear out to the
ring.â€™ And she went out, sobbing ; and a long
piece of tinsel trailed behind her on the ground
where it had ripped off her tarlatan dress.
red welt showed on her bare shoulder: I saw
it. And her knees shook so when she put her
foot in the ring-masterâ€™s hand to mount you'd
a-thought she would shake all to pieces. And
the ring-master swore an oath, and said he
guessed heâ€™d â€˜fix her when she came off that
horse again!â€™ But he didnâ€™t, â€” she was â€˜fixedâ€™
already when they brought her back and laid her
on the straw. And there was blood on her
breast, dyeing the tinsel all red. She had
92 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
missed the ponyâ€™s back, and fell under his feet
when she was jumping through the hoops; and
he had set his iron foot on her breast, and tram-
_ pled her awful. The circus went right on,
though, for the ring-master came out and told
the people the â€˜young lady was all right, but
scared.â€™ So I rode in her place, and Iâ€™ve been
riding in it ever since.
Â«She came to her senses when the doctor
was fixing her wounds, and began to cry for her
mother, and to beg somebody to send for the
preacher man. And nobody wouldnâ€™t, but
the boy that feeds the apes; he went. For
the doctor said she was hurt inside and bound
to die. When the man got there Gloria cried
to him, â€˜Git me out of this, let me die decent !â€™
So they fetched her to the hospital, and all the
time she was praying to God. Just before she
died she got real quiet, and lay real still until
_ the last minute. Then she opened her eyes
and smiled, and said â€˜mother,â€™ and died like a
They had left the stream and were seated by
the roadside, the childâ€™s little feet dangling
in the water the while she talked. The boy
had sat quite still, and listened. When the
THE LITTLE TINSEL LADY. 93
story ended he sat so quiet the child turned to
look at him and there were tears in his eyes:
Then a shout sounded across the meadow, and
they saw the circus men coming back. Some
one had shot the escaped lioness, and so they
had turned back. The child climbed again into
her gilded chariot, and the boy turned back into
the meadow path to the village. There was a
great sorrow in his heart, and a great wonder in
his soul. It was the first time, in all his varied
experiences, that he had really come face to
face with the triumph of faith, and it thrilled
him with a strange, sweet sense of Godâ€™s near- -
ness and his love. k
The smith was lying on his bed, asleep, when
the boy entered the room at noon. He had
begun to feel the necessity of a noonday nap,
of late, and the boy tiptoed to the kitchen and
began to prepare a bite for their dinner.
When he looked into the room again the
smith was awake and sitting by the open win-
dow, with his hands folded and a look of peace
in his face. The boy felt that it was a good
time to speak. He crossed to the side of the
big arm-chair, and, leaning against the shoulder
of his old friend, slipped his arm around his neck.
94 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
â€œWell, son,â€ said the farrier, â€œwhat is it?â€
For he hadnâ€™t studied this odd boy for a year
and failed to understand when something moved
the heart of him.
â€œWhy,â€ said the boy, â€œI have been a-lookinâ€™
things in the face to-day, and Iâ€™ve come in to
tell you that Old Queen was right, and that her
prayers to God were answered. The little tin-
sel lady was her daughter, and she died in theâ€™
hospital, â€˜like a little child,â€™ and thatâ€™s all.â€
All! the finish of a beautiful faith, born of
sorrow, and perfected in death: the Amen toa
â€œTHE LIGHT THAT SHINES.â€
Ir was June; across the meadow from the
smithâ€™s house, beyond the village street, the
Southern wheat had mellowed to a rich, ruddy
golden. At sunrise one bright. morning the
hum of a reaper was heard in the field, and
the village folks, awakening to the familiar
sound, rejoiced to remember that it was the
beginning of the Southern harvest.
The farrier, weak as alittle child, turned
upon his pillow, and listening, caught the hum
of the blade among the golden grain.
He heard the boy stirring in the kitchen, and
called to him; for the weary old smith had
had a message; and although it had come in
the day dawn, before he was fully awake
indeed, there was no mistaking the message.
One might almost have thought the reaper
96 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
itself had brought it, the old farrierâ€™s solemn
The boy came hurrying in, as though he, too,
might have heard the good smithâ€™s summons.
He sat up in bed:
Â«We wonâ€™t open the shop to-day, son,â€ said
he. â€œBut help me into my clothes and fling
open the window. Iâ€™ve a mind to watch the
reapers at work.â€
The boy dragged the big chair to the window
and threw back the shutters. The river breeze
came floating in to fan the sick manâ€™s temples ;
he drew it into his nostrils, deep, delicious
draughts, and smiled:
â€œT can smell the wild grapes a-bloominâ€™,â€ he
said. â€˜I always loved â€™em so; they always
make me think of some lives Iâ€™ve known;
humble and sweet, and bloominâ€™ in the wilder-
ness. Of all the wild things in the woods there
ainâ€™t ever been anything so sweet to me as the
grape blooms in early June time. I rickerlict
â€œem first in the woods at home, whenst I was
a boy, like you, and followed my pappy to the
woods. He was a wood-cutter, and I was
just a boy; and whenever I smell the white
grape blossoms since, Iâ€™ve been a boy again,
â€œTHE LIGHT THAT SHINES.â€ 97
followinâ€™ my pappy through the Southern
The boy was silent, awed, and half afraid;
it was the first time he had ever heard the
farrier talk of his home and his boyhood, and
it filled him with a strange, sad fear.
â€œLet the dog in, son,â€ the smith called out
to him cheerily. â€œLet our little friendâ€™s old
dog in; heâ€™s been one of the old farrierâ€™s
friends, too. We want all of our friends
about us to-day.â€
The boy choked back the lump in his throat,
â€˜and said, quite bravely, from behind the smithâ€™s
big chair :
â€œDonâ€™t say he â€˜as beenâ€™ your friend, sir ;
he zs your friend, and will always be; because
he ainâ€™t no common dog, that ainâ€™t, and he
senses whoâ€™s been good to him better than
some folks I could name. Heâ€™s a great dog
that; him and me was fellers once.â€™
Â« Ay, ay,â€ said the farrier. â€œI ainâ€™t forgot
it. Let himin, son; let the cur in; I want to
feel his faithful old nose against my knees once
more, before I go.â€
The boy started to obey, when the farrier
called him back:
98 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
â€œSon,â€ said he slowly, his eyes fixed upon the
golden harvest where the reaperâ€™s blade shone,
like a silver cycle, in the sun; â€œsometimes in a
long life it is given to a man to do no: great
deeds ; but only, it may be, just to hand a cup
of water to some sick and suffâ€™rinâ€™ beast. But
when the long life comes to the last mile post,
itâ€™s good to sit a minute by the way and think
of that poor cup of water. I ainâ€™t done no
great deeds; I have only helped a suffâ€™rinâ€™
horse out of its misery, now and then, and
flung a bone to a dog. It was all I could do,
son; and I love to know I done it, now.â€
Â«Say, now,â€ cried the boy, â€œif you donâ€™t want
to hurt my feelinâ€™s mighty bad, youâ€™ll hush
talkinâ€™ that a-way. I reckin / ainâ€™t forgot an-
other stray you picked up, and that you ainâ€™t
mentioned in your list oâ€™ dogs and horses. Now
Iâ€™m a-goinâ€™ to cook your breakfast. Thatâ€™s all.â€
It wasnâ€™t quite â€œall,â€ however; for instead
of going straight back to the kitchen the boy
went out to the old dog waiting at the door.
He dropped down beside his first friend, and
put his arms around the shaggy neck, and
burying his face there, wept:
â€œHeâ€™s goinâ€™ from us, Crinkle,â€™ said he;
â€œTHE LIGHT THAT SHINES.â€ 99
â€œour old friendâ€™s goinâ€™ from us. When us
two was fellers he was mighty- good to us.
And I ainâ€™t forgot my duty to him since that
time he called me â€˜Son.â€™ â€
â€œSon?â€ the familiar voice and call came to
him through the still closed door. â€œLet the
dog in, son.â€ \
He opened the door, and the sick old farrier
smiled to see how brave was his effort to hide
' Â«Go in there,â€™ he commanded; â€œand be
sure you mind your manners in a sick-room.â€
And with a wag of his big tail, poor Baydaw,
who had been patted, and petted, and fattened
to a lazy old age, went into the smithâ€™s room,
the only heart among the circle of the good
manâ€™s friends that was not heavy with the
shadow of the great parting.
The smith wasnâ€™t hungry, though the boy
did his best with the breakfast.
Â«J ainâ€™t in a notion to eat, son,â€ he said,
when the little cook presented himself, tray in
hand, at his side. â€œI couldnâ€™t eat, noways.
Give the dog a bite, and when you've finished
yours, come and set by me. I want to speak
to you, son, special.â€
100 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
All the long morning they sat there; the
smith had many things, many last things to say
to the waif of his adopting.
Â« You've been mighty good to me,â€ said the
boy. â€œI reckin there ainâ€™t many boys had
such a friend as Iâ€™ve had.â€
Â«Then pass it, son,â€ said the farrier. â€œ Pass
the good deeds on to some other unlucky
fellow on the way.â€
â€œSome other lucky dog, you'd better say,â€
the boy declared.
â€œT ainâ€™t done much,â€ the farrier insisted,
â€œT couldn't. The little oneâ€™s father could â€™aâ€™.
done a sight more; but I done what I could,
and thatâ€™s all the Master asks of any. And
you must do the best you can for yourself,
and for others, â€” never forget thereâ€™s others,
son, when Iâ€™m gone. The shopâ€™s yours, itâ€™s
all Iâ€™ve got to leave you, except the â€˜light ;â€™
the â€˜light that shines,â€™ Iâ€™ve always â€” given â€”
you â€” that, â€” son â€”â€â€™ ;
He pressed the boyâ€™s hand and was silent.
When he roused up the boy thought he had best
lie down on his bed awhile, but the farrier said no.
â€œT want to see them finish that field,â€ said
he, â€œbefore the sun goes down.â€
) i ny Ra
nu \ \ AN A}
ve a es
THE â€œFELLOWâ€ AS NURSE.
â€œTHE LIGHT THAT SHINES.â€ 103
Later, he called the boy to him again, and said :
Â«Son, bury me under the good green grass.
Donâ€™t ever put a stone over me. I want the
grass ; just the good green grass to cover me.
You wonâ€™t forget, son?â€
The boy said indeed he would not forget,
but to him was not given the prophetic vision
that was the passing farrierâ€™s. Me knew that
the young lad baking his own bread, and mak-
ing it too, would not always be an humble and
obscure fellow, spending his days amid the soot
and ashes and gloom of a blacksmithâ€™s shop.
He saw a day, a golden day for the boy, when
his great manâ€™s heart, alive with gratitude and
tender memories, would thrill with pride to be
able to write the dead smithâ€™s name ona marble
Later on into the afternoon visitors came in :
the gentleman from the house on the hill, and
the good neighbors who had helped prepare the
smithâ€™s house for the boyâ€™s coming that other
June time. But the smith was drowsy, and
wanted to watch the reapers rather than to talk.
The doctor dropped in, too, during the day, but
only to shake his head and whisper that he
â€œwouldnâ€™t last the night through.â€
104 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW. -
At sunset he rallied, and spoke again of the
wild grape blossoms, and patted the dogâ€™s head,
and talked a great deal about the little boy who
had been his former friend. â€œIt was him made
me take to this boy,â€ he said to the dead boyâ€™s
father. â€œIt was him made me take to all boys,
and to all dogs; him as made my heart some-
thinâ€™ softer than my old anvil out yonder.â€
The visitor leaned forward, and pressed the
knotted old hammer hand of his boyâ€™s dear
â€œYes,â€ said he, â€œyou remember what the
book says : â€˜A little child shall lead them!â€™ â€
â€œThatâ€™s a pretty sayinâ€™,â€ said the smith. â€œA
little child shall lead them! You mind what
he said to me that day he sent for me?
am goinâ€™ on a long journey, but I am not
afraid.â€ â€”amâ€” not â€” afraid.â€
He dozed off into a peaceful slumber after
that, and did not waken again until the reapers
were leaving the field across the way, for their
work was finished. So, too, was the farrierâ€™s ;
for as the last sound of the reaping died away
he stirred in his sleep, felt for the boyâ€™s hand,
held it fast in his own, and murmured softly of
â€œthe light that shines all the way.â€
PASSING IT ON.
THE old shop had not been open for a week.
The boy, after the farrierâ€™s death, had not felt
strong enough to brave the desolation of the
old smithy. But one morning there came to
him a great longing to go there again, and to sit
among the smithâ€™s old tools, and hold com-
munion with their absent owner. For the pos-
sessions of those we love seem very, very near
to us after their owners have left us, so near
that we can almost fancy at times the blessed
dead hover about their old haunts and belong-
ings, and that only the shifting of a scene, the
lifting of a veil, would let us into the beloved
So the boy crossed the yard to the back door
of the smithy, the dog at his heels, and sat
down on the farrierâ€™s own old stool to look
about him. For it seemed to him as though
106 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
somehow he must take the farrierâ€™s place, and
the low seat on the anvil, that had been the
proper place for boys to sit, was not the place
for him any more at all. In fact, it was as
though the boy he ad been had died along of
the smith, and the feeling of desolation that
overcame him was almost too much for him,
until a yellow old head brushed his legs, and
he looked down to see the dog begging in his
dumb fashion to be recognized.
â€œYou're the only friend Iâ€™ve got,â€ he said,
just as he had said it once before. â€œI reckin
we'll have to be fellows, like we was then, hey,
Crinkle?â€â€ For the poor boy, left again to the
companionship of the dog, had fallen back upon
his old habit of talking to him. So when the
cur crept to the big front door and whined,
the boy said:
Â«What? You want the door opened, and
the light let in? Oh, you dog, you; how can
you ask it, and /zm not here? What? He
loved the light, did he? So he did, boy; so
he did. And so weâ€™ll let it into his shop.â€
He was taking the bar down from across the
doors while he talked, and as the big chain
rattled back against the wall, the doors swung
PASSING IT ON. 107
open, and a broad, bright sheet of yellow sun-
light burst into the dark old smithy. The boy
began to look about him at the traces of neglect
and of desertion.
â€œNo need to dodge, son,â€™ he said, as he
picked up the smithâ€™s old hammer. â€œThe very
things we run from are the things that are
going to jump out oâ€™ their coverts to scare us
when we ainâ€™t thinkinâ€™ of â€™em. Better face â€™em,
son; better always and always look things square
in the face ; Old Queen said so, and Old Queen
knowed a lot, I can tell you. Now, look here!â€
He held the hammer up to the light, the
dog looking on, as though he understood every
blessed word his poor comrade was saying, and
as though he knew precisely what a struggle
was going on in the lonely heart of him. â€œThis
hammer has got 7vwsÂ¢ on it.â€
And sureâ€™enough, as the boy said, there was
a broad brown band of rust across the farrierâ€™s
industrious old hammer.
â€œThis wonâ€™t do,â€ said he; â€œsomethinâ€™s got
to be done. Now, Crinkle, we must look things
in the face, son. Somethinâ€™s got to be done.
We canâ€™t set down so.â€ :
And as though the â€œsomethingâ€ had come
108 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
to meet him, a shadow darkened the smithy
door. The boy looked up, half expecting to see
the farrier enter; for one doesnâ€™t grow accus-
tomed to the absence of familiar forms for a
long, long time after they have disappeared.
But it was not the farrierâ€™s shadow; oh, no;
it was only a weary, dusty, old tramp, who
nodded to the small boy in possession and
said : j
Â«â€œWhereâ€™s the smith?â€
The boy was silent; the trampâ€™s query had
hurt him somehow, â€” as though there could be
any necessity for such a question with the use-
less anvil and the rusted hammer telling, as
plain as words, where the smith was gone.
â€œSay?â€ the tramp began again, â€œWho's the
boss here?â€ ;
â€œWell,â€ said the boy, â€œif youâ€™ve got anything
to say you can say it to me. Iâ€™m boss, I reckon,
â€”leastways me and my pardner together.â€
â€œWell, sonny,â€ said the tramp, â€œwhere's
your pardner, then?â€
The boy pointed to the dog stretched out
beside the fireless forge.
Across the face of the tramp flitted a look of
PASSING IT ON, 109
Â« Say, sonny,â€ said he, â€œIâ€™m an old man, and
Iâ€™m mighty weary, and hungry, and thirsty. It
ainâ€™t any joke to me to stand here and ask
questions. I give you a plain question and Iâ€™d
like a fair answer. I am a smith by trade, and
I heard the smith over here was ailinâ€™ and |
tramped fifty miles to get here to ask a job of
him. I ainâ€™t tasted victuals since yesterday,
and I ainâ€™t stopped tramping, I was that pressed
to get here, to see the smith â€”â€â€™
â€œOh,â€ said the boy, â€œyou are too late, too
late; heâ€™s gone.â€
The boy gulped, and nodded.
â€œHeâ€™s dead,â€ said the boy, and right there
the poor waif broke down. Broke down after
such a brave fight as he had made; it was too
sad, too sad. Even the tramp was touched by
his grief, forgot his own sufferings in the sorrow
of the boy.
Â«â€œ Now, now then,â€ said he, with a new soft-
ness in his voice, â€œdonâ€™t you give way ; keep up
your spirits. It'll all come round right some-
how. Donâ€™t you fret, and donâ€™t you lose heart,
IIo THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
Â« He was all the friend I had,â€ said the boy ;
â€œand he rescued me. He was all the friend I
ever had, â€™ceptinâ€™ of that old dog there, and now
heâ€™s dead. Seems like there ainâ€™t anybody left
livinâ€™ in the wide world, so it does.â€
â€œYes,â€ said the man; â€œI know it does. It
always does feel that way when some one we
love dies, or goes false to us. But time softens,
time softens. Donâ€™t you lose your grip, and
it'll all come round right bimeby. It always
does. Might I havea gourd of water, sonny?â€
The boy instantly remembered the long tramp
and the fast the traveller had mentioned.
Â«Sit down there on that bench outside and
rest,â€ said he, â€œwhile I go fetch you some
water fresh from the well. You can rest all
day if youâ€™re minded, and I'll knock you up a
bite to eat.â€
The old tramp was thankful indeed, and the
boy was not sorry to have company for awhile.
He forgot his loneliness in preparing food for
his guest, and in seeing an old face opposite
him at the table. For in spite of the neighbor
womanâ€™s efforts to coax him away from the
empty house, he had persistently remained there.
He knew how to take care of himself quite
PASSING IT ON. III
well; he had not been lacking in experience,
Later in the day a man passed through the
village with a
drove of horses,
and many of
them had cast
their shoes, or
worn them too
badly for further
travel. He drew
up before the
door of the
called for the
boy would have
sent him away,
but the tramp
blow up a blaze
in the forge.
â€œ Blow up the fire,â€ said he; â€œI can shoe the
lot for you. I owe you that much for hospi-
tality, anyhow. I always try to pay my way.â€
And while the old tramp pared and smoothed
I1i2 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
the worn hoofs, fitted and nailed and hammered, .
the boy planned and thought, and planned again.
And that night, when they closed the shop
door, and the man was about to start upon his
weary way again, the boy spoke:
â€œT dunno,â€ said he, â€œas Iâ€™m a-doinâ€™ right or
not. I ainâ€™t nothinâ€™ but a boy, and Iâ€™ve got to
act for myself. You're old, and poor, and alone
too. fe took me in onceâ€™t, the farrier did, and
I'd like to do for a old man what a old man
did for a boy. You can open up the shop
to-morrer if youâ€™re a, minded to.â€
â€œOn shares,â€ said the man. â€œOnly on shares,
I ainâ€™t goinâ€™ to take no mean advantage of a
boy thatâ€™s needâ€™nâ€™ help and company. Besides,
you're takinâ€™ of me without a recommend; I
ainâ€™t forgettinâ€™ of that.â€
â€œHe took me without any,â€ said the boy;
â€œand he said I was to â€˜pass it on,â€™ and Iâ€™ve
done it, and thatâ€™s all.â€â€™
But it was not quite â€œall.â€ For that night,
while the tramp lay fast asleep in the dead
farrierâ€™s bed, a sweet sense of peace came to
the boy who had taken him in. All his grief
and doubt dropped from him for the time, and
he knew that he had done well and made no
blunder in â€œpassing it on.â€
TuE anvil was ringing again, sweet and clear
as a bell; the sound went pealing down the
village street, causing more than one sym-
pathetic neighbor to declare he was â€œright
glad to hear it.â€
The blaze waved in the forge, and the
shadows that hung about the gloomy old
shop fled before the good, glad sunshine of
industry and hope.
Only in the heart of the boy the shadows
lingered. The old shop wasnâ€™t the same, â€”
the ring of the hammer had a different mean-
ing to his ears. And while he felt glad to see
the place open and the old man contentedly
fitting horseshoes, he couldnâ€™t, try as he would,
drive away the feelings of regret for the old
days when the farrier plied the hammer.
Ii4 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
He had never loved the work, and now it
became almost hateful to him. He understood
now that it was the farrier made it tolerable,
and without him the black soot became black
soot in reality; the cinders something to be
scrubbed off and detested.
His new friend was very thoughtful of him in
his loneliness, his first great battle with sorrow,
and very kind; begged him to run away to the
woods, or to go visiting for awhile, until he
should grow accustomed to the change. But
the boy shook his head, and hugged his old
â€œT ainâ€™t never run away from nothinâ€™ yet,â€
said he, â€œand I donâ€™t know how to dodge. I
always liked Old Queenâ€™s way better: just to
look things in the face. But I â€œave wondered
if houses and hammers and things didnâ€™t know
when their folks was dead. I most know flowers
do, because I believe there isnâ€™t a wild grape
blossom in the woods. He loved the wild
grape blossoms, â€” said they made him think
oâ€™ home. And now I think they must know
he has gone home, and that theyâ€™ve left ot
â€œSee here,â€ said the man, looking up from
LUCKY DOGS. ITs
the forge where he was watching a long red
bar of iron grow redder. â€œYou run away
awhile. Ill work for the two of us; I owe
you that much anyhow, and a lot more.
Why, see here; youâ€™ve took me in, â€” youâ€™ve â€”
â€œWell,â€ said the boy, â€œwe'll just say Iâ€™ve
adopted you. That'll do. But I aimed to say
to you last night that whatever I have done, I
have done in his name, and you're to take it as
cominâ€™ from him.â€
The new smith was only a rough old tinker
in iton, a shoer of horses, accustomed to the
rougher side of life, and of humanity. Yet he
understood that some souls are more keenly
strung than others; and that the sensitive,
poetic, and sentimental chords may vibrate to
beautiful measures even in the heart of the
humblest. And he knew, that which the soft-
hearted, partial old farrier never did and never
would have known, that he had as well hope to
hammer snow out of the iron bar on the anvil
as to expect to make a blacksmith out of this
boy who understood human nature like an open
book ; and who, while he walked among the
cinders, lived in reality among the clouds.
116 THE FORTUNES OF THE. FELLOW.
â€œHe'd take to books like a duck to water,â€
was the new smithâ€™s thought ; â€œand itâ€™s mighty
queer some one ainâ€™t found that out afore
Some one had, â€” the good we wait for always
comes about at last, and it came to the boy.
He was sitting on the bench by the smithy
door when the little boyâ€™s father (for he has
been â€œthe little boyâ€ to us so long that he
must continue so to the end of the chapter
indeed) came down the street from the house
on the hill.
He saw the solitary figure on the bench, the
faithful old dog at his feet, and there sprang to
his lips the same words the boy had once used
in speaking to the dog:
â€œThat poor, poor boy!â€
For he had heard the hum of the hammer,
and full of curiosity had hastened down to see
who was at work in the shop.
He had other business there, however ; for
he had held a long .and confidential con-
sultation with his wife that morning, and the
result of the conference was this visit to the
The boy had not observed his approach; he
LUCKY DOGS. 117
was lost in thought, though now and then he
roused himself and spoke to the dog, in his old
Â«We're fellows now,â€ he would say ; or else,
Â«â€œ We was fellows onceâ€™t before,â€ or â€œYou're
all the friend thatâ€™s left me, Crink.â€â€™
So that when the visitor laid his hand on the
half bowed head and said right heartily :
Â«â€œ Good morning, soz,â€ the boy almost laughed
out for very joy.
It was so like the good times come back again ;
and it was as though the farrier himself had
spoken; and the birds woke up and began to
sing their June matins; and the river breeze
sprung up among the trees and brought the
odor of wild grapes straight into the old shop,
and filled it with the sweet wild fragance.
The visitor seated himself on the bench beside
the boy and fanned himself with his broad straw
hat. He scarcely knew how to begin. â€œ Did
you think we'd forgotten you?â€ he said, at last ;
â€œleft you alone in your trouble?â€
Â«â€œTâ€™ve been alone a sight before now,â€ said
the boy. â€œAnd I had the dog; he was a sight
oâ€™ company, Crinkle was. Hey, son?â€
Â« But a dog isnâ€™t the only companion a boy
118 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
needs,â€ said the man, â€œand I have come to
carry you home now, son.â€ 2
â€œ Home?â€ The boy stared, as though the
word had stunned him with the sweet power of
its meaning. He had learned what home meant,
Â«Yes; Ihave come for you. There is no
loving duty, no nice distinction of gratitude to
hinder your coming now; and your room, your
father and mother, are waiting for you.â€
It was quite impossible for the boy to speak ;
all that it meant, this wonderful offer, was not
clear to him; but that one word â€œmotherâ€ had
nestled in his heart like a benediction, and
Â«Did you think we had no feeling, no care
for you?â€ the man went on, â€œthat we left you
alone this long week? We were trying you;
we had a wish to see how you would manage ;
how work your way alone. Now that we know
that you are brave, and true, and willing to do
your best, we wish to help you. Come, shut
up the old shop and letâ€™s be going home â€” Â¢o
To mother ; in all his little life he had never
known what that meant; to â€œgo home to
LUCKY DOGS. 119
mother.â€ But he knew what a mother meant, â€”
the love, the tenderness, the undying devotion ;
for had he not known Old Queen?
He rose with his visitor, â€”a new light in his
little brown face, a new joy inhisheart. â€œIâ€™ve
got to go in there first,â€ he said, indicating with
his head the house where he had lived with the
smith for a year.
â€œYou donâ€™t need any of that,â€ said the gen-
tleman. â€œGive it all away if you like, and the
â€œNo,â€ said the boy, â€œIâ€™ve got to go in there.
Thereâ€™s an old kit oâ€™ brushes and blackinâ€™ Iâ€™ve
got to fetch along â€”â€
â€œGo get the kit,â€ said the gentleman. â€œYou
are quite right to keep italways. Quite right.â€
And as the boy sped away to do his bidding he
thought how those old brushes must one day
appear as humble stepping-stones to braver
duties and nobler ends to the man that mast
develop out of this boy he was taking into his
heart and home.
When boy and box joined him under the shed,
he said: â€œNow about the shop, shall we close
â€œNo, sir; I think â€” well, the farrier said I
120 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
was to pass it on, what he done for me, and â€”
and â€” Iâ€™ve done it.â€
â€œYou've done what, my boy ?â€â€™ said the gen-
tleman. â€œYou have given the smithy away?
â€œWell,â€ said the boy, a twinkle of his old
vagabondish humor in his eye, â€˜you've
adopted a boy, but Iâ€™ve adopted a man, I
â€œCome,â€ laughed the gentleman; â€œcome
home. I want you to forget everything that
lies behind you; I want you to be a Joy, to
learn to skip and run and whoop, to ride a
horse, to spin a top, and to forget everything
that lies behind you.â€
â€œYes,â€ said the boy, â€œI will. Everything
but the farrier. Come, Crinkle, we are going
And the big bushy tail waved and wagged
such magnificent approval that the boy was
fain to remark:
â€œTf that dog donâ€™t understand the present
perceedinâ€™s, he ought to be made to haul down
his sign, because itâ€™s obtaininâ€™ benefits under
false pretences. And thatâ€™s all.â€
â€œAll?â€ No, not all. Not by any means
LUCKY DOGS. 121
â€œall.â€ The good glad years seem to go by on
wings. The sound of childrenâ€™s voices may be
heard at the brick house on the hill. A new
baby, a gray-eyed little girl, toddles about in the
room of her absent brother. And summer days
a toothless old dog, fat, pampered, and lazy, lies
beside a babyâ€™s carriage, out under the green
trees ; fancying, it may be, that he is keeping
guard over the child asleep among the silken
cushions. Perhapsâ€”for who can discern the
depths of a dogâ€™s mind ?â€” he is even dreaming
that he watches again by the little boy who
went upon that long, mysterious journey.
Sometimes a boyâ€™s careless step, light and
springy, as boyhoodâ€™s step should ever be, may
be heard along the pebbly walk. Often the
steps stop beside the babyâ€™s carriage, and the
sleepy old guard hears his â€œfellowâ€ talking to
the baby sister crowing and cooing, baby-fashion,
among her pillows.
If the old dog shows signs of jealousy, a hand
is put out to stroke his shaggy, yellow throat,
and a familiar voice says :
â€œWe are lucky dogs, Crink, lucky dogs, you
And the farrier under the green grass_ is
122 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW.
not forgotten, nor the little boy under the white
slab. No, never forgotten; because each of
them, man and boy, left behind that which alone
can make life beautiful, and memory precious
and eternal, â€”
Â«The light that shines all the way.â€
COSY CORNER SERIES
CHARMING JUVENILE STORIES
Price, Fifty Cents Each
THE ADVENTURES OF A FELLOW. By WILL ALLEN
THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. By ANNIE FELLOWS-
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. A Modern Version. By MARTHA
THE YOUNG ARCHER. By CHARLES E. BRIMBLECOM.
A LITTLE PURITAN REBEL. By EpDITH ROBINSON.
THE FARRIERâ€™S DOG AND HIS FELLOW. By WILL ALLEN
THE PRINCE OF THE PIN ELVES. By CHARLES LEE
A DOG OF FLANDERS. By â€œ Ourpa.â€
THE NURNBERG STOVE. By â€˜â€œ OurpA.â€
OLE MAMMYâ€™S TORMENT. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON,
THE LITTLE COLONEL. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
BIG BROTHER. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
A LOYAL LITTLE MAID. By EpItTH ROBINSON.
THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE. By Miss MuLoc#.
THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE. By Miss MuLoca.
HIS LITTLE MOTHER. By Miss MULOcH.
WEE DOROTHYâ€™S TRUE VALENTINE. By LAuRA UPDE-
LA BELLE NIVERNAISE. The Story of an Old Boat and Her
Crew. By ALPHONSE DAUDET.
A GREAT EMERGENCY. By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.
THE TRINITY FLOWER. By JuLIANA HORATIA EWING,
STORY OF A SHORT LIFE. By JuuIANA HORATIA EwIna.
JACKANAPES. By JULIANA HoRATIA EwIne.
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS. By Dr. JoHN BROWN.
THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER. A Legend of Stiria.
By Joun Ruskin.
THE YOUNG KING. THE STAR CHILD, â€˜Two Tales.
Published by L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
196 Summer Street, Boston
COSY CORNER SERIES
A Series of Short Original Stories, or Reprints of Well-known
Favorites, Sketches of Travel, Essays and Poems.
The books of this series answer a long-felt need for a half-hourâ€™s enter-
taining reading, while in the railway car, during the summer outing in the
country or at the seaside, or by the evening lamp at home. They are par-
ticularly adapted for reading aloud, containing nothing but the best from a
literary standpoint, and are unexceptionable in every way. They are printed
from good type, illustrated with original sketches by good artists, and neatly
bound in cloth. The size is a 16mo, not too large for the pocket.
PRICE, FIFTY CENTS EACH
MEMORIES OF THE MANSE. Glimpses of Scottish Life and
. Character. By ANNE BREADALBANE.
CHRISTMAS AT THOMPSON HALL. By Anruony TROLLoPE-
A PROVENCE ROSE. By Louisa pz 1a Rame (Ourpa).
IN DISTANCE AND IN DREAM. By M. F. Swretser.
WILL Oâ€™ THE MILL. By Rozerr Louris STEVENSON.
THREE CHILDREN OF GALILEE. A Life of Christ for
the Young. By Joun Gorpon. rvol., 12mo, cloth, illustrated fr.50
Beautifully illustrated with more than one hundred text and full-page
illustrations of Holy Land scenery.
There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the young, and this
book has been written in answer to this demand. That it will meet with
great favor is beyond question, for parents have recognized that their boys
and girls want something more than a Bible Story, a dry statement of facts,
and that, in order to hold the attention of the youthful readers, a book on
this subject should have life and movement as well as scrupulous accuracy
and religious sentiment.
Published by L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
196 Summer Street, Boston
GIFT BOOK SERIES FOR BOYS
â€˜Tall 12mo, } Volume, Price, $1.00 Each
A series of well-written, popular copyright books, by such well-
known authors as Mrs. Wesselhoeft, Will Lita, Daa COre: Har-
riet Martineau, John Gordon, and others. Each story has been
carefully selected with a view.to. making a series of clean, whole-
some, and interesting books, especially suitable as presents for
boys and girls from eight to sixteen. Each book is profusely ilius-
trated with full-page and text illustrations, the type is clear and
good, the binding rich and attractive, and each volume has a
separate cover design.
THREE LITTLE CRACKERS. By WiLL ALLEN DROMGOOLE,
author of â€˜â€˜ The Farrierâ€™s Dog,â€™ etc., with fifty text and full-
A fascinating story for boys and girls. The adventures of a
family of Alabama children who move to Florida and grow up in
the South are described, with the combined humor and pathos
which give this gifted young Southern author so high a place in
the ranks of American writers.
THREE CHILDREN OF GALILEE. A Lire or CHRIST FoR
THE YOUNG. By JOHN GORDON. Beautifully illustrated with
more than one hundred text and full-page illustrations of
Holy Land scenery.
There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the young,
and this book has been written in answer to this demand. That
it will meet with great favor is beyond question, for parents have
recognized that their boys and girls want something more than a
Bible Story, a dry statement of facts, and that, in order to hold
the attention of the youthful readers, a book on this subject
should have life and movement as well as scrupulous accuracy
and religious sentiment.
MISS GRAYâ€™S GIRLS; or, SUMMER DAYS IN THE SCOTTISH
HIGHLANDS. By JEANNETTE A. GRANT. With about sixty
illustrations in half-tone and pen-and-ink sketches of Scottish
A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland,
somewhat out of the beaten track.
THE FAIRY FOLK OF BLUE HILL. A Srory oF FcuK-
Lorz. By Lity F. WessmLiorrr, author of â€œSparrow the
Tramp,â€ etc., with fifty-five illustrations from original draw-
ings by Alfred C. Eastman.
A new volume by Mrs. Wesselhoeft, well known as one of our
best writers for the young, and who has made a host of friends
among the young people who have read her delightful books.
This Book ought to interest and appeal to every child who has
read her earlier works.
GIFT BOOK SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. â€” Continued.
FEATS ON THE FIORD. A TALE or NORWEGIAN LIFE. By
HARRIET MARTINEAU. With about sixty original illustra-
tions and a colored frontispiece. :
This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young
people, dÃ©serves to be brought to the attention of parents in
search of wholesome reading for their children to-day. It is
something more than a juvenile book, being really one of the .
most instructive books about Norway and Norwegian life and
manners ever written, well deserving liberal illustration and the
luxury of good paper now given to it.
SONGS AND RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES. Compiled
by Mary WHITNEY Morrison (Jenny Wallis). New edition,
with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney, and eight
No better description of this admirable book can be given
than Mrs. Whitneyâ€™s happy introduction.
â€œOne might almost as well offer June roses with the assur-
ance of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little gathering
of verse which announces itself, like them, by its own delicious-
ness... . The most bewitching book of songs for little people
that we have ever known.â€
THE YOUNG PEARL DIVERS. A SToRY OF AUSTRALIAN
ADVENTURE BY LAND AND BY SEA. By Lirur. H. PHELPS
WHITMARSH, author of â€œThe Mysterious Voyage of the
Daphne,â€ etc. Illustrated with twelve full-page half-tones, by
H. Burgess, whose drawings have exactly caught the spirited tone
of the narrative.
This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes in
vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and adventures with
which he is personally acquainted.
TIMOTHY DOLE. By Junrata SALSBURY. With twenty-five or
thirty illustrations from drawings and pen-and-ink sketches.
The title gives no clue to the character of the book, but the
reader who begins the first chapter will not stop until he has
finished the whole. The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he
proves to be, starts from home, loses his way, meets with startling
adventures, finds friends, kind and many, grows to be a manly
man, and is able to devote himself to bettering the condition of
the poor in the mining region of Pennsylvania, the scene of his
early life and adventures.
Published by L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
196 Summer Street, Boston
xml version 1.0
xml-stylesheet type textxsl href daitss_disseminate_report_xhtml.xsl
REPORT xsi:schemaLocation 'http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitss http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitssdaitss2Report.xsd' xmlns:xsi 'http:www.w3.org2001XMLSchema-instance' xmlns 'http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitss'
DISSEMINATION IEID 'E20090314_AAAAAC' PACKAGE 'UF00087263_00001' INGEST_TIME '2009-03-13T20:30:23-04:00'
AGREEMENT_INFO ACCOUNT 'UF' PROJECT 'UFDC'
DISSEMINATION_REQUEST NAME 'disseminate request placed' TIME '2013-12-09T17:47:03-05:00' NOTE 'request id: 299605; Dissemination from Lois and also Judy Russel see RT# 21871' AGENT 'Stephen'
finished' '2013-12-13T09:12:08-05:00' '' 'SYSTEM'
FILE SIZE '3' DFID 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfile0' ORIGIN 'DEPOSITOR' PATH 'sip-files00137.txt'
MESSAGE_DIGEST ALGORITHM 'MD5' bc949ea893a9384070c31f083ccefd26
EVENT '2012-01-14T14:17:09-05:00' OUTCOME 'success'
'392149' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABJY' 'sip-files00001.jp2'
'163952' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABJZ' 'sip-files00001.jpg'
'229' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKA' 'sip-files00001.pro'
'34267' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKB' 'sip-files00001.QC.jpg'
'9422068' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKC' 'sip-files00001.tif'
'7795' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKE' 'sip-files00001thm.jpg'
'397586' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKF' 'sip-files00002.jp2'
'67352' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKG' 'sip-files00002.jpg'
'1783' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKH' 'sip-files00002.pro'
'14787' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKI' 'sip-files00002.QC.jpg'
'9549276' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKJ' 'sip-files00002.tif'
'87' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKK' 'sip-files00002.txt'
'3806' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKL' 'sip-files00002thm.jpg'
'320706' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKM' 'sip-files00005.jp2'
'41097' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKN' 'sip-files00005.jpg'
'953' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKO' 'sip-files00005.pro'
'8003' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKP' 'sip-files00005.QC.jpg'
'2584812' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKQ' 'sip-files00005.tif'
'69' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKR' 'sip-files00005.txt'
'2013' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKS' 'sip-files00005thm.jpg'
'320986' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKT' 'sip-files00008.jp2'
'142633' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKU' 'sip-files00008.jpg'
'2014' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKV' 'sip-files00008.pro'
'36089' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKW' 'sip-files00008.QC.jpg'
'97' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKY' 'sip-files00008.txt'
'9188' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABKZ' 'sip-files00008thm.jpg'
'320998' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLA' 'sip-files00009.jp2'
'68844' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLB' 'sip-files00009.jpg'
'4578' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLC' 'sip-files00009.pro'
'15904' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLD' 'sip-files00009.QC.jpg'
'264' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLF' 'sip-files00009.txt'
'4045' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLG' 'sip-files00009thm.jpg'
'34773' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLI' 'sip-files00010.jpg'
'3796' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLJ' 'sip-files00010.pro'
'7862' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLK' 'sip-files00010.QC.jpg'
'2584808' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLL' 'sip-files00010.tif'
'289' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLM' 'sip-files00010.txt'
'1994' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLN' 'sip-files00010thm.jpg'
'320888' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLO' 'sip-files00011.jp2'
'69090' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLP' 'sip-files00011.jpg'
'9045' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLQ' 'sip-files00011.pro'
'18156' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLR' 'sip-files00011.QC.jpg'
'482' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLT' 'sip-files00011.txt'
'5234' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLU' 'sip-files00011thm.jpg'
'320978' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLV' 'sip-files00012.jp2'
'62495' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLW' 'sip-files00012.jpg'
'11463' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLX' 'sip-files00012.QC.jpg'
'2372' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABLZ' 'sip-files00012thm.jpg'
'320895' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMA' 'sip-files00013.jp2'
'102654' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMB' 'sip-files00013.jpg'
'11135' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMC' 'sip-files00013.pro'
'26185' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMD' 'sip-files00013.QC.jpg'
'605' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMF' 'sip-files00013.txt'
'6569' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMG' 'sip-files00013thm.jpg'
'320887' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMH' 'sip-files00014.jp2'
'48266' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMI' 'sip-files00014.jpg'
'8787' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMJ' 'sip-files00014.QC.jpg'
'1818' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABML' 'sip-files00014thm.jpg'
'320966' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMM' 'sip-files00015.jp2'
'93881' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMN' 'sip-files00015.jpg'
'16887' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMO' 'sip-files00015.pro'
'26820' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMP' 'sip-files00015.QC.jpg'
'719' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMR' 'sip-files00015.txt'
'6561' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMS' 'sip-files00015thm.jpg'
'320960' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMT' 'sip-files00016.jp2'
'143612' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMU' 'sip-files00016.jpg'
'31074' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMV' 'sip-files00016.pro'
'42996' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMW' 'sip-files00016.QC.jpg'
'1228' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMY' 'sip-files00016.txt'
'10312' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABMZ' 'sip-files00016thm.jpg'
'320922' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNA' 'sip-files00017.jp2'
'135239' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNB' 'sip-files00017.jpg'
'30144' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNC' 'sip-files00017.pro'
'39129' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABND' 'sip-files00017.QC.jpg'
'1198' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNF' 'sip-files00017.txt'
'9886' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNG' 'sip-files00017thm.jpg'
'320865' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNH' 'sip-files00018.jp2'
'132670' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNI' 'sip-files00018.jpg'
'31848' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNJ' 'sip-files00018.pro'
'38469' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNK' 'sip-files00018.QC.jpg'
'1259' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNM' 'sip-files00018.txt'
'9413' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNN' 'sip-files00018thm.jpg'
'135091' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNP' 'sip-files00019.jpg'
'30262' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNQ' 'sip-files00019.pro'
'38943' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNR' 'sip-files00019.QC.jpg'
'1212' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNT' 'sip-files00019.txt'
'9540' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNU' 'sip-files00019thm.jpg'
'320943' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNV' 'sip-files00020.jp2'
'141855' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNW' 'sip-files00020.jpg'
'31311' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNX' 'sip-files00020.pro'
'41288' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABNY' 'sip-files00020.QC.jpg'
'1238' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOA' 'sip-files00020.txt'
'9984' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOB' 'sip-files00020thm.jpg'
'122894' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOD' 'sip-files00021.jpg'
'1176' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOE' 'sip-files00021.pro'
'30691' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOF' 'sip-files00021.QC.jpg'
'139' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOH' 'sip-files00021.txt'
'7835' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOI' 'sip-files00021thm.jpg'
'320789' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOJ' 'sip-files00022.jp2'
'44569' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOK' 'sip-files00022.jpg'
'8327' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOL' 'sip-files00022.QC.jpg'
'1833' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABON' 'sip-files00022thm.jpg'
'320802' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOO' 'sip-files00023.jp2'
'130415' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOP' 'sip-files00023.jpg'
'29413' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOQ' 'sip-files00023.pro'
'38674' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOR' 'sip-files00023.QC.jpg'
'1170' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOT' 'sip-files00023.txt'
'9525' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOU' 'sip-files00023thm.jpg'
'320973' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOV' 'sip-files00024.jp2'
'135778' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOW' 'sip-files00024.jpg'
'30569' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOX' 'sip-files00024.pro'
'40070' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABOY' 'sip-files00024.QC.jpg'
'1214' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPA' 'sip-files00024.txt'
'9522' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPB' 'sip-files00024thm.jpg'
'137765' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPD' 'sip-files00025.jpg'
'29046' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPE' 'sip-files00025.pro'
'38805' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPF' 'sip-files00025.QC.jpg'
'1162' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPH' 'sip-files00025.txt'
'9435' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPI' 'sip-files00025thm.jpg'
'127979' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPK' 'sip-files00026.jpg'
'29699' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPL' 'sip-files00026.pro'
'37465' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPM' 'sip-files00026.QC.jpg'
'1177' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPO' 'sip-files00026.txt'
'9396' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPP' 'sip-files00026thm.jpg'
'130348' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPR' 'sip-files00027.jpg'
'29570' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPS' 'sip-files00027.pro'
'38822' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPT' 'sip-files00027.QC.jpg'
'1181' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPV' 'sip-files00027.txt'
'9694' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPW' 'sip-files00027thm.jpg'
'320901' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPX' 'sip-files00028.jp2'
'128833' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPY' 'sip-files00028.jpg'
'28497' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABPZ' 'sip-files00028.pro'
'37278' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQA' 'sip-files00028.QC.jpg'
'1141' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQC' 'sip-files00028.txt'
'9466' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQD' 'sip-files00028thm.jpg'
'320743' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQE' 'sip-files00029.jp2'
'125710' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQF' 'sip-files00029.jpg'
'28967' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQG' 'sip-files00029.pro'
'38349' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQH' 'sip-files00029.QC.jpg'
'1155' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQJ' 'sip-files00029.txt'
'9425' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQK' 'sip-files00029thm.jpg'
'320927' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQL' 'sip-files00030.jp2'
'122995' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQM' 'sip-files00030.jpg'
'28997' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQN' 'sip-files00030.pro'
'36195' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQO' 'sip-files00030.QC.jpg'
'1159' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQQ' 'sip-files00030.txt'
'9368' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQR' 'sip-files00030thm.jpg'
'320769' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQS' 'sip-files00031.jp2'
'110325' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQT' 'sip-files00031.jpg'
'14452' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQU' 'sip-files00031.pro'
'30454' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQV' 'sip-files00031.QC.jpg'
'576' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQX' 'sip-files00031.txt'
'8001' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABQY' 'sip-files00031thm.jpg'
'126739' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRA' 'sip-files00032.jpg'
'27409' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRB' 'sip-files00032.pro'
'36537' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRC' 'sip-files00032.QC.jpg'
'1096' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRE' 'sip-files00032.txt'
'9597' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRF' 'sip-files00032thm.jpg'
'320831' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRG' 'sip-files00033.jp2'
'132277' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRH' 'sip-files00033.jpg'
'30886' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRI' 'sip-files00033.pro'
'39710' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRJ' 'sip-files00033.QC.jpg'
'1224' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRL' 'sip-files00033.txt'
'9582' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRM' 'sip-files00033thm.jpg'
'320773' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRN' 'sip-files00034.jp2'
'73198' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRO' 'sip-files00034.jpg'
'11493' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRP' 'sip-files00034.pro'
'19350' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRQ' 'sip-files00034.QC.jpg'
'465' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRS' 'sip-files00034.txt'
'5036' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRT' 'sip-files00034thm.jpg'
'320811' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRU' 'sip-files00035.jp2'
'98778' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRV' 'sip-files00035.jpg'
'21893' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRW' 'sip-files00035.pro'
'28788' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRX' 'sip-files00035.QC.jpg'
'891' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABRZ' 'sip-files00035.txt'
'7186' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSA' 'sip-files00035thm.jpg'
'320953' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSB' 'sip-files00036.jp2'
'128416' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSC' 'sip-files00036.jpg'
'28512' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSD' 'sip-files00036.pro'
'37556' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSE' 'sip-files00036.QC.jpg'
'1142' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSG' 'sip-files00036.txt'
'9081' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSH' 'sip-files00036thm.jpg'
'320837' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSI' 'sip-files00037.jp2'
'124594' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSJ' 'sip-files00037.jpg'
'28676' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSK' 'sip-files00037.pro'
'37177' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSL' 'sip-files00037.QC.jpg'
'1145' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSN' 'sip-files00037.txt'
'9300' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSO' 'sip-files00037thm.jpg'
'320985' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSP' 'sip-files00038.jp2'
'107660' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSQ' 'sip-files00038.jpg'
'26089' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSR' 'sip-files00038.pro'
'33692' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSS' 'sip-files00038.QC.jpg'
'1046' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSU' 'sip-files00038.txt'
'8791' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSV' 'sip-files00038thm.jpg'
'320974' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSW' 'sip-files00039.jp2'
'113142' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSX' 'sip-files00039.jpg'
'27869' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSY' 'sip-files00039.pro'
'35696' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABSZ' 'sip-files00039.QC.jpg'
'1114' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTB' 'sip-files00039.txt'
'9097' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTC' 'sip-files00039thm.jpg'
'320902' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTD' 'sip-files00040.jp2'
'124779' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTE' 'sip-files00040.jpg'
'29848' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTF' 'sip-files00040.pro'
'35914' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTG' 'sip-files00040.QC.jpg'
'1190' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTI' 'sip-files00040.txt'
'8855' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTJ' 'sip-files00040thm.jpg'
'320981' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTK' 'sip-files00041.jp2'
'122611' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTL' 'sip-files00041.jpg'
'931' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTM' 'sip-files00041.pro'
'31373' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTN' 'sip-files00041.QC.jpg'
'133' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTP' 'sip-files00041.txt'
'8010' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTQ' 'sip-files00041thm.jpg'
'320803' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTR' 'sip-files00042.jp2'
'34534' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTS' 'sip-files00042.jpg'
'6639' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTT' 'sip-files00042.QC.jpg'
'1597' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTV' 'sip-files00042thm.jpg'
'120756' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTX' 'sip-files00043.jpg'
'30350' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTY' 'sip-files00043.pro'
'37920' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABTZ' 'sip-files00043.QC.jpg'
'1200' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUB' 'sip-files00043.txt'
'9011' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUC' 'sip-files00043thm.jpg'
'320963' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUD' 'sip-files00044.jp2'
'123422' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUE' 'sip-files00044.jpg'
'28744' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUF' 'sip-files00044.pro'
'37810' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUG' 'sip-files00044.QC.jpg'
'1153' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUI' 'sip-files00044.txt'
'9446' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUJ' 'sip-files00044thm.jpg'
'320979' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUK' 'sip-files00045.jp2'
'123433' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUL' 'sip-files00045.jpg'
'29175' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUM' 'sip-files00045.pro'
'37707' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUN' 'sip-files00045.QC.jpg'
'1160' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUP' 'sip-files00045.txt'
'9301' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUQ' 'sip-files00045thm.jpg'
'320977' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUR' 'sip-files00046.jp2'
'121396' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUS' 'sip-files00046.jpg'
'31696' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUT' 'sip-files00046.pro'
'37147' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUU' 'sip-files00046.QC.jpg'
'1255' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUW' 'sip-files00046.txt'
'9366' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUX' 'sip-files00046thm.jpg'
'320944' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUY' 'sip-files00047.jp2'
'115753' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABUZ' 'sip-files00047.jpg'
'29578' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVA' 'sip-files00047.pro'
'34971' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVB' 'sip-files00047.QC.jpg'
'1217' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVD' 'sip-files00047.txt'
'8947' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVE' 'sip-files00047thm.jpg'
'121662' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVG' 'sip-files00048.jpg'
'29349' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVH' 'sip-files00048.pro'
'36114' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVI' 'sip-files00048.QC.jpg'
'1174' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVK' 'sip-files00048.txt'
'9344' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVL' 'sip-files00048thm.jpg'
'320914' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVM' 'sip-files00049.jp2'
'116318' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVN' 'sip-files00049.jpg'
'37956' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVP' 'sip-files00049.QC.jpg'
'9138' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVS' 'sip-files00049thm.jpg'
'320993' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVT' 'sip-files00050.jp2'
'120581' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVU' 'sip-files00050.jpg'
'30487' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVV' 'sip-files00050.pro'
'37316' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVW' 'sip-files00050.QC.jpg'
'1213' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVY' 'sip-files00050.txt'
'9449' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABVZ' 'sip-files00050thm.jpg'
'320964' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWA' 'sip-files00051.jp2'
'112314' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWB' 'sip-files00051.jpg'
'29365' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWC' 'sip-files00051.pro'
'37245' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWD' 'sip-files00051.QC.jpg'
'1167' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWF' 'sip-files00051.txt'
'9265' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWG' 'sip-files00051thm.jpg'
'320996' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWH' 'sip-files00052.jp2'
'118017' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWI' 'sip-files00052.jpg'
'28786' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWJ' 'sip-files00052.pro'
'37803' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWK' 'sip-files00052.QC.jpg'
'1150' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWM' 'sip-files00052.txt'
'9235' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWN' 'sip-files00052thm.jpg'
'320984' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWO' 'sip-files00053.jp2'
'94002' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWP' 'sip-files00053.jpg'
'23025' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWQ' 'sip-files00053.pro'
'29672' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWR' 'sip-files00053.QC.jpg'
'925' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWT' 'sip-files00053.txt'
'7519' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWU' 'sip-files00053thm.jpg'
'320896' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWV' 'sip-files00054.jp2'
'99835' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWW' 'sip-files00054.jpg'
'21190' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWX' 'sip-files00054.pro'
'29293' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABWY' 'sip-files00054.QC.jpg'
'893' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXA' 'sip-files00054.txt'
'7434' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXB' 'sip-files00054thm.jpg'
'320949' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXC' 'sip-files00055.jp2'
'119019' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXD' 'sip-files00055.jpg'
'28508' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXE' 'sip-files00055.pro'
'37893' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXF' 'sip-files00055.QC.jpg'
'9310' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXI' 'sip-files00055thm.jpg'
'320969' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXJ' 'sip-files00056.jp2'
'100419' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXK' 'sip-files00056.jpg'
'11357' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXL' 'sip-files00056.pro'
'29479' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXM' 'sip-files00056.QC.jpg'
'457' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXO' 'sip-files00056.txt'
'7704' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXP' 'sip-files00056thm.jpg'
'320988' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXQ' 'sip-files00057.jp2'
'117965' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXR' 'sip-files00057.jpg'
'36797' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXT' 'sip-files00057.QC.jpg'
'1207' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXV' 'sip-files00057.txt'
'9126' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXW' 'sip-files00057thm.jpg'
'320983' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXX' 'sip-files00058.jp2'
'119754' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXY' 'sip-files00058.jpg'
'29734' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABXZ' 'sip-files00058.pro'
'38444' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYA' 'sip-files00058.QC.jpg'
'9536' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYD' 'sip-files00058thm.jpg'
'320931' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYE' 'sip-files00059.jp2'
'115876' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYF' 'sip-files00059.jpg'
'28207' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYG' 'sip-files00059.pro'
'36532' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYH' 'sip-files00059.QC.jpg'
'1126' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYJ' 'sip-files00059.txt'
'9077' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYK' 'sip-files00059thm.jpg'
'320997' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYL' 'sip-files00060.jp2'
'119787' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYM' 'sip-files00060.jpg'
'30847' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYN' 'sip-files00060.pro'
'37800' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYO' 'sip-files00060.QC.jpg'
'1222' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYQ' 'sip-files00060.txt'
'9207' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYR' 'sip-files00060thm.jpg'
'320935' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYS' 'sip-files00061.jp2'
'107609' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYT' 'sip-files00061.jpg'
'1282' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYU' 'sip-files00061.pro'
'30075' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYV' 'sip-files00061.QC.jpg'
'153' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYX' 'sip-files00061.txt'
'7846' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYY' 'sip-files00061thm.jpg'
'320946' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABYZ' 'sip-files00062.jp2'
'33972' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZA' 'sip-files00062.jpg'
'6718' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZB' 'sip-files00062.QC.jpg'
'1615' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZD' 'sip-files00062thm.jpg'
'320995' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZE' 'sip-files00063.jp2'
'125675' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZF' 'sip-files00063.jpg'
'32597' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZG' 'sip-files00063.pro'
'39233' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZH' 'sip-files00063.QC.jpg'
'1284' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZJ' 'sip-files00063.txt'
'9361' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZK' 'sip-files00063thm.jpg'
'320945' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZL' 'sip-files00064.jp2'
'113675' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZM' 'sip-files00064.jpg'
'29326' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZN' 'sip-files00064.pro'
'36843' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZO' 'sip-files00064.QC.jpg'
'1164' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZQ' 'sip-files00064.txt'
'8987' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZR' 'sip-files00064thm.jpg'
'107917' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZT' 'sip-files00065.jpg'
'28398' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZU' 'sip-files00065.pro'
'35073' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZV' 'sip-files00065.QC.jpg'
'1131' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZX' 'sip-files00065.txt'
'8895' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZY' 'sip-files00065thm.jpg'
'320958' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAABZZ' 'sip-files00066.jp2'
'114797' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAA' 'sip-files00066.jpg'
'26524' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAB' 'sip-files00066.pro'
'34347' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAC' 'sip-files00066.QC.jpg'
'1065' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAE' 'sip-files00066.txt'
'9112' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAF' 'sip-files00066thm.jpg'
'116631' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAH' 'sip-files00067.jpg'
'3002' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAI' 'sip-files00067.pro'
'29287' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAJ' 'sip-files00067.QC.jpg'
'206' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAL' 'sip-files00067.txt'
WARNING CODE 'Daitss::Anomaly' Invalid character
'7636' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAM' 'sip-files00067thm.jpg'
'320942' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAN' 'sip-files00068.jp2'
'29569' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAO' 'sip-files00068.jpg'
'5935' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAP' 'sip-files00068.QC.jpg'
'1488' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAR' 'sip-files00068thm.jpg'
'111384' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAT' 'sip-files00069.jpg'
'27063' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAU' 'sip-files00069.pro'
'35978' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAV' 'sip-files00069.QC.jpg'
'1088' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAX' 'sip-files00069.txt'
'9171' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAY' 'sip-files00069thm.jpg'
'320992' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACAZ' 'sip-files00070.jp2'
'120396' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBA' 'sip-files00070.jpg'
'28797' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBB' 'sip-files00070.pro'
'36428' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBC' 'sip-files00070.QC.jpg'
'1146' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBE' 'sip-files00070.txt'
'8916' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBF' 'sip-files00070thm.jpg'
'320990' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBG' 'sip-files00071.jp2'
'113428' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBH' 'sip-files00071.jpg'
'26648' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBI' 'sip-files00071.pro'
'33022' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBJ' 'sip-files00071.QC.jpg'
'1081' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBL' 'sip-files00071.txt'
'8795' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBM' 'sip-files00071thm.jpg'
'320910' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBN' 'sip-files00072.jp2'
'121784' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBO' 'sip-files00072.jpg'
'31124' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBP' 'sip-files00072.pro'
'38080' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBQ' 'sip-files00072.QC.jpg'
'1237' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBS' 'sip-files00072.txt'
'9395' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBT' 'sip-files00072thm.jpg'
'122321' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBV' 'sip-files00073.jpg'
'30090' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBW' 'sip-files00073.pro'
'37330' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBX' 'sip-files00073.QC.jpg'
'1194' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACBZ' 'sip-files00073.txt'
'8903' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCA' 'sip-files00073thm.jpg'
'320692' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCB' 'sip-files00074.jp2'
'73187' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCC' 'sip-files00074.jpg'
'10944' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCD' 'sip-files00074.pro'
'18865' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCE' 'sip-files00074.QC.jpg'
'441' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCG' 'sip-files00074.txt'
'4706' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCH' 'sip-files00074thm.jpg'
'320968' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCI' 'sip-files00075.jp2'
'105554' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCJ' 'sip-files00075.jpg'
'22169' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCK' 'sip-files00075.pro'
'30429' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCL' 'sip-files00075.QC.jpg'
'902' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCN' 'sip-files00075.txt'
'7326' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCO' 'sip-files00075thm.jpg'
'320822' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCP' 'sip-files00076.jp2'
'122501' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCQ' 'sip-files00076.jpg'
'29919' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCR' 'sip-files00076.pro'
'37023' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCS' 'sip-files00076.QC.jpg'
'1189' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCU' 'sip-files00076.txt'
'9450' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCV' 'sip-files00076thm.jpg'
'320980' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCW' 'sip-files00077.jp2'
'113599' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCX' 'sip-files00077.jpg'
'27849' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCY' 'sip-files00077.pro'
'34322' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACCZ' 'sip-files00077.QC.jpg'
'1134' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDB' 'sip-files00077.txt'
'8667' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDC' 'sip-files00077thm.jpg'
'320991' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDD' 'sip-files00078.jp2'
'120194' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDE' 'sip-files00078.jpg'
'27371' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDF' 'sip-files00078.pro'
'35665' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDG' 'sip-files00078.QC.jpg'
'1110' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDI' 'sip-files00078.txt'
'8869' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDJ' 'sip-files00078thm.jpg'
'320987' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDK' 'sip-files00079.jp2'
'113438' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDL' 'sip-files00079.jpg'
'25327' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDM' 'sip-files00079.pro'
'32922' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDN' 'sip-files00079.QC.jpg'
'1024' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDP' 'sip-files00079.txt'
'8682' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDQ' 'sip-files00079thm.jpg'
'320957' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDR' 'sip-files00080.jp2'
'117627' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDS' 'sip-files00080.jpg'
'29138' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDT' 'sip-files00080.pro'
'35512' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDU' 'sip-files00080.QC.jpg'
'9200' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDX' 'sip-files00080thm.jpg'
'320972' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDY' 'sip-files00081.jp2'
'123333' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACDZ' 'sip-files00081.jpg'
'37859' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEB' 'sip-files00081.QC.jpg'
'9314' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEE' 'sip-files00081thm.jpg'
'118984' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEG' 'sip-files00082.jpg'
'26475' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEH' 'sip-files00082.pro'
'34836' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEI' 'sip-files00082.QC.jpg'
'1077' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEK' 'sip-files00082.txt'
'8919' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEL' 'sip-files00082thm.jpg'
'320932' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEM' 'sip-files00083.jp2'
'122749' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEN' 'sip-files00083.jpg'
'28917' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEO' 'sip-files00083.pro'
'36003' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEP' 'sip-files00083.QC.jpg'
'8996' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACES' 'sip-files00083thm.jpg'
'320819' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACET' 'sip-files00084.jp2'
'52987' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEU' 'sip-files00084.jpg'
'6021' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEV' 'sip-files00084.pro'
'13025' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEW' 'sip-files00084.QC.jpg'
'247' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEY' 'sip-files00084.txt'
'3281' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACEZ' 'sip-files00084thm.jpg'
'105048' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFB' 'sip-files00085.jpg'
'21968' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFC' 'sip-files00085.pro'
'30313' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFD' 'sip-files00085.QC.jpg'
'895' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFF' 'sip-files00085.txt'
'7308' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFG' 'sip-files00085thm.jpg'
'128581' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFI' 'sip-files00086.jpg'
'20338' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFJ' 'sip-files00086.pro'
'35486' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFK' 'sip-files00086.QC.jpg'
'1232' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFM' 'sip-files00086.txt'
'9125' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFN' 'sip-files00086thm.jpg'
'133392' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFP' 'sip-files00087.jpg'
'29718' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFQ' 'sip-files00087.pro'
'38510' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFR' 'sip-files00087.QC.jpg'
'1185' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFT' 'sip-files00087.txt'
'9672' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFU' 'sip-files00087thm.jpg'
'109567' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFW' 'sip-files00088.jpg'
'29122' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFX' 'sip-files00088.pro'
'34614' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACFY' 'sip-files00088.QC.jpg'
'1158' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGA' 'sip-files00088.txt'
'8605' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGB' 'sip-files00088thm.jpg'
'110116' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGD' 'sip-files00089.jpg'
'28490' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGE' 'sip-files00089.pro'
'35640' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGF' 'sip-files00089.QC.jpg'
'320929' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGJ' 'sip-files00090.jp2'
'116324' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGK' 'sip-files00090.jpg'
'29252' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGL' 'sip-files00090.pro'
'35734' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGM' 'sip-files00090.QC.jpg'
'320975' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGQ' 'sip-files00091.jp2'
'112403' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGR' 'sip-files00091.jpg'
'28463' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGS' 'sip-files00091.pro'
'35288' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGT' 'sip-files00091.QC.jpg'
'1152' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGV' 'sip-files00091.txt'
'8928' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGW' 'sip-files00091thm.jpg'
'320940' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGX' 'sip-files00092.jp2'
'117786' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGY' 'sip-files00092.jpg'
'30609' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACGZ' 'sip-files00092.pro'
'37581' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHA' 'sip-files00092.QC.jpg'
'9294' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHD' 'sip-files00092thm.jpg'
'104188' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHF' 'sip-files00093.jpg'
'27237' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHG' 'sip-files00093.pro'
'33945' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHH' 'sip-files00093.QC.jpg'
'1090' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHJ' 'sip-files00093.txt'
'8725' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHK' 'sip-files00093thm.jpg'
'320989' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHL' 'sip-files00094.jp2'
'120103' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHM' 'sip-files00094.jpg'
'30021' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHN' 'sip-files00094.pro'
'37883' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHO' 'sip-files00094.QC.jpg'
'1192' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHQ' 'sip-files00094.txt'
'9398' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHR' 'sip-files00094thm.jpg'
'320924' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHS' 'sip-files00095.jp2'
'125104' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHT' 'sip-files00095.jpg'
'31832' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHU' 'sip-files00095.pro'
'38578' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHV' 'sip-files00095.QC.jpg'
'1253' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHX' 'sip-files00095.txt'
'9488' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACHY' 'sip-files00095thm.jpg'
'118528' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIA' 'sip-files00096.jpg'
'30614' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIB' 'sip-files00096.pro'
'36528' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIC' 'sip-files00096.QC.jpg'
'1226' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIE' 'sip-files00096.txt'
'9373' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIF' 'sip-files00096thm.jpg'
'119378' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIH' 'sip-files00097.jpg'
'31436' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACII' 'sip-files00097.pro'
'37698' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIJ' 'sip-files00097.QC.jpg'
'1242' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIL' 'sip-files00097.txt'
'9143' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIM' 'sip-files00097thm.jpg'
'320863' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIN' 'sip-files00098.jp2'
'85890' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIO' 'sip-files00098.jpg'
'14884' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIP' 'sip-files00098.pro'
'22708' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIQ' 'sip-files00098.QC.jpg'
'622' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIS' 'sip-files00098.txt'
'5778' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIT' 'sip-files00098thm.jpg'
'98701' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIV' 'sip-files00099.jpg'
'20398' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIW' 'sip-files00099.pro'
'28047' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIX' 'sip-files00099.QC.jpg'
'856' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACIZ' 'sip-files00099.txt'
'6941' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJA' 'sip-files00099thm.jpg'
'117776' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJC' 'sip-files00100.jpg'
'28065' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJD' 'sip-files00100.pro'
'35018' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJE' 'sip-files00100.QC.jpg'
'1136' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJG' 'sip-files00100.txt'
'9096' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJH' 'sip-files00100thm.jpg'
'320911' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJI' 'sip-files00101.jp2'
'115474' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJJ' 'sip-files00101.jpg'
'26838' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJK' 'sip-files00101.pro'
'34592' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJL' 'sip-files00101.QC.jpg'
'1079' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJN' 'sip-files00101.txt'
'8960' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJO' 'sip-files00101thm.jpg'
'320812' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJP' 'sip-files00102.jp2'
'125740' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJQ' 'sip-files00102.jpg'
'31586' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJR' 'sip-files00102.pro'
'38402' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJS' 'sip-files00102.QC.jpg'
'1257' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJU' 'sip-files00102.txt'
'9616' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJV' 'sip-files00102thm.jpg'
'320918' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJW' 'sip-files00103.jp2'
'113665' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJX' 'sip-files00103.jpg'
'27683' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJY' 'sip-files00103.pro'
'35634' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACJZ' 'sip-files00103.QC.jpg'
'1121' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKB' 'sip-files00103.txt'
'8881' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKC' 'sip-files00103thm.jpg'
'112874' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKE' 'sip-files00104.jpg'
'28214' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKF' 'sip-files00104.pro'
'34874' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKG' 'sip-files00104.QC.jpg'
'1129' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKI' 'sip-files00104.txt'
'8931' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKJ' 'sip-files00104thm.jpg'
'108841' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKL' 'sip-files00105.jpg'
'831' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKM' 'sip-files00105.pro'
'28407' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKN' 'sip-files00105.QC.jpg'
'7436' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKQ' 'sip-files00105thm.jpg'
'25067' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKS' 'sip-files00106.jpg'
'4796' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKT' 'sip-files00106.QC.jpg'
'1294' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKV' 'sip-files00106thm.jpg'
'113539' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKX' 'sip-files00107.jpg'
'30133' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKY' 'sip-files00107.pro'
'35832' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACKZ' 'sip-files00107.QC.jpg'
'1193' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLB' 'sip-files00107.txt'
'8747' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLC' 'sip-files00107thm.jpg'
'124418' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLE' 'sip-files00108.jpg'
'30517' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLF' 'sip-files00108.pro'
'38022' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLG' 'sip-files00108.QC.jpg'
'9899' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLJ' 'sip-files00108thm.jpg'
'96796' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLL' 'sip-files00109.jpg'
'21617' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLM' 'sip-files00109.pro'
'27638' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLN' 'sip-files00109.QC.jpg'
'887' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLP' 'sip-files00109.txt'
'7104' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLQ' 'sip-files00109thm.jpg'
'119009' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLS' 'sip-files00110.jpg'
'30369' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLT' 'sip-files00110.pro'
'36864' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLU' 'sip-files00110.QC.jpg'
'1201' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLW' 'sip-files00110.txt'
'9391' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLX' 'sip-files00110thm.jpg'
'112368' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACLZ' 'sip-files00111.jpg'
'29242' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMA' 'sip-files00111.pro'
'35121' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMB' 'sip-files00111.QC.jpg'
'1161' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMD' 'sip-files00111.txt'
'8606' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACME' 'sip-files00111thm.jpg'
'320961' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMF' 'sip-files00112.jp2'
'119241' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMG' 'sip-files00112.jpg'
'27065' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMH' 'sip-files00112.pro'
'35515' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMI' 'sip-files00112.QC.jpg'
'1086' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMK' 'sip-files00112.txt'
'8763' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACML' 'sip-files00112thm.jpg'
'320891' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMM' 'sip-files00113.jp2'
'111082' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMN' 'sip-files00113.jpg'
'26738' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMO' 'sip-files00113.pro'
'31986' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMP' 'sip-files00113.QC.jpg'
'1075' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMR' 'sip-files00113.txt'
'8352' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMS' 'sip-files00113thm.jpg'
'121139' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMU' 'sip-files00114.jpg'
'30735' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMV' 'sip-files00114.pro'
'36420' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMW' 'sip-files00114.QC.jpg'
'1225' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMY' 'sip-files00114.txt'
'9137' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACMZ' 'sip-files00114thm.jpg'
'320894' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNA' 'sip-files00115.jp2'
'102915' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNB' 'sip-files00115.jpg'
'15699' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNC' 'sip-files00115.pro'
'30330' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACND' 'sip-files00115.QC.jpg'
'647' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNF' 'sip-files00115.txt'
'7869' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNG' 'sip-files00115thm.jpg'
'320936' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNH' 'sip-files00116.jp2'
'130904' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNI' 'sip-files00116.jpg'
'30753' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNJ' 'sip-files00116.pro'
'38875' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNK' 'sip-files00116.QC.jpg'
'9417' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNN' 'sip-files00116thm.jpg'
'98871' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNP' 'sip-files00117.jpg'
'18952' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNQ' 'sip-files00117.pro'
'27747' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNR' 'sip-files00117.QC.jpg'
'787' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNT' 'sip-files00117.txt'
'7016' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNU' 'sip-files00117thm.jpg'
'121859' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNW' 'sip-files00118.jpg'
'28836' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNX' 'sip-files00118.pro'
'36826' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACNY' 'sip-files00118.QC.jpg'
'1154' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOA' 'sip-files00118.txt'
'9262' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOB' 'sip-files00118thm.jpg'
'320954' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOC' 'sip-files00119.jp2'
'119143' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOD' 'sip-files00119.jpg'
'36066' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOF' 'sip-files00119.QC.jpg'
'9110' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOI' 'sip-files00119thm.jpg'
'117127' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOK' 'sip-files00120.jpg'
'26882' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOL' 'sip-files00120.pro'
'34068' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOM' 'sip-files00120.QC.jpg'
'1080' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOO' 'sip-files00120.txt'
'8746' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOP' 'sip-files00120thm.jpg'
'320848' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOQ' 'sip-files00121.jp2'
'121692' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOR' 'sip-files00121.jpg'
'29081' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOS' 'sip-files00121.pro'
'35328' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOT' 'sip-files00121.QC.jpg'
'8999' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOW' 'sip-files00121thm.jpg'
'114674' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOY' 'sip-files00122.jpg'
'28248' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACOZ' 'sip-files00122.pro'
'36387' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPA' 'sip-files00122.QC.jpg'
'1123' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPC' 'sip-files00122.txt'
'110628' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPF' 'sip-files00123.jpg'
'27694' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPG' 'sip-files00123.pro'
'33854' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPH' 'sip-files00123.QC.jpg'
'1102' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPJ' 'sip-files00123.txt'
'8752' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPK' 'sip-files00123thm.jpg'
'118774' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPM' 'sip-files00124.jpg'
'25475' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPN' 'sip-files00124.pro'
'35615' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPO' 'sip-files00124.QC.jpg'
'1034' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPQ' 'sip-files00124.txt'
'9196' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPR' 'sip-files00124thm.jpg'
'127442' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPT' 'sip-files00125.jpg'
'29433' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPU' 'sip-files00125.pro'
'37587' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPV' 'sip-files00125.QC.jpg'
'1168' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPX' 'sip-files00125.txt'
'320724' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACPZ' 'sip-files00126.jp2'
'72458' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQA' 'sip-files00126.jpg'
'7468' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQB' 'sip-files00126.pro'
'16496' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQC' 'sip-files00126.QC.jpg'
'340' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQE' 'sip-files00126.txt'
'3931' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQF' 'sip-files00126thm.jpg'
'132531' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQH' 'sip-files00127.jpg'
'33722' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQI' 'sip-files00127.pro'
'36004' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQJ' 'sip-files00127.QC.jpg'
'1473' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQL' 'sip-files00127.txt'
'9075' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQM' 'sip-files00127thm.jpg'
'131477' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQO' 'sip-files00128.jpg'
'43491' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQP' 'sip-files00128.pro'
'35304' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQQ' 'sip-files00128.QC.jpg'
'1890' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQS' 'sip-files00128.txt'
'320962' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQU' 'sip-files00129.jp2'
'160382' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQV' 'sip-files00129.jpg'
'60894' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQW' 'sip-files00129.pro'
'40369' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQX' 'sip-files00129.QC.jpg'
'2558' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACQZ' 'sip-files00129.txt'
'9879' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRA' 'sip-files00129thm.jpg'
'320879' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRB' 'sip-files00130.jp2'
'150093' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRC' 'sip-files00130.jpg'
'56703' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRD' 'sip-files00130.pro'
'38730' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRE' 'sip-files00130.QC.jpg'
'2378' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRG' 'sip-files00130.txt'
'9494' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRH' 'sip-files00130thm.jpg'
'407576' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRI' 'sip-files00135.jp2'
'66665' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRJ' 'sip-files00135.jpg'
'14381' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRK' 'sip-files00135.QC.jpg'
'9791772' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRL' 'sip-files00135.tif'
'3767' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRM' 'sip-files00135thm.jpg'
'379766' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRN' 'sip-files00136.jp2'
'146467' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRO' 'sip-files00136.jpg'
'27339' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRP' 'sip-files00136.QC.jpg'
'9119676' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRQ' 'sip-files00136.tif'
'5139' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRR' 'sip-files00136thm.jpg'
'67969' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRS' 'sip-files00137.jp2'
'34932' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRT' 'sip-files00137.jpg'
'228' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRU' 'sip-files00137.pro'
'7836' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRV' 'sip-files00137.QC.jpg'
'1640712' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRW' 'sip-files00137.tif'
'3258' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRX' 'sip-files00137thm.jpg'
'72' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRY' 'sip-filesprocessing.instr'
'189207' 'info:fdaE20090314_AAAAACfileF20090314_AAACRZ' 'sip-filesUF00087263_00001.mets'
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/'.
The element type "div" must be terminated by the matching end-tag "