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The Animal Story Book by Various
The Animal Story Book by Various
Most people have heard of Alexandre Dumas, the great French novelist who wrote 'The Three Musketeers' and many other delightful historical romances. Besides being a great novelist, M. Dumas was a most kind and generous man-kind both to human beings and to animals. He had a great many pets, of which he gives us the history in one of his books. Here are some of the stories about them in his own words.
I was living, he says, at Monte Cristo (this was the name of his villa at St.-Germains); I lived there alone, except for the visitors I received. I love solitude, for solitude is necessary to anyone who works much. However, I do not like complete loneliness; what I love is that of the Garden of Eden, a solitude peopled with animals. Therefore, in my wilderness at Monte Cristo, without being quite like Adam in every way, I had a kind of small earthly paradise.
This is the list of my animals. I had a number of dogs, of which the chief was Pritchard. I had a vulture named Diogenes; three monkeys, one of which bore the name of a celebrated translator, another that of a famous novelist, and the third, which was a female, that of a charming actress. We will call the writer Potich, the novelist the Last of the Laidmanoirs, and the lady Mademoiselle Desgarcins. I had a great blue and yellow macaw called Buvat, a green and yellow parroquet called Papa Everard, a cat called Mysouff, a golden pheasant called Lucullus, and finally, a cock called C?sar. Let us give honour where honour is due, and begin with the history of Pritchard.
I had an acquaintance named M. Lerat, who having heard me say I had no dog to take out shooting, said, 'Ah! how glad I am to be able to give you something you will really like! A friend of mine who lives in Scotland has sent me a pointer of the very best breed. I will give him to you. Bring Pritchard,' he added to his two little girls.
How could I refuse a present offered so cordially? Pritchard was brought in.
He was an odd-looking dog to be called a pointer! He was long-haired, grey and white, with ears nearly erect, mustard-coloured eyes, and a beautifully feathered tail. Except for the tail, he could scarcely be called a handsome dog.
M. Lerat seemed even more delighted to give the present than I was to receive it, which showed what a good heart he had.
'The children call the dog Pritchard,' he said; 'but if you don't like the name, call him what you please.'
I had no objection to the name; my opinion was that if anyone had cause to complain, it was the dog himself. Pritchard, therefore, continued to be called Pritchard. He was at this time about nine or ten months old, and ought to begin his education, so I sent him to a gamekeeper named Vatrin to learn his duties. But, two hours after I had sent Pritchard to Vatrin, he was back again at my house. He was not made welcome; on the contrary, he received a good beating from Michel, who was my gardener, porter, butler, and confidential servant all in one, and who took Pritchard back to Vatrin. Vatrin was astonished; Pritchard had been shut up with the other dogs in the kennel, and he must have jumped over the enclosure, which was a high one. Early the next morning, when the housemaid had opened my front door, there was Pritchard sitting outside. Michel again beat the dog, and again took him back to Vatrin, who this time put a collar round his neck and chained him up. Michel came back and informed me of this severe but necessary measure. Vatrin sent a message to say that I should not see Pritchard again until his education was finished. The next day, while I was writing in a little summer-house in my garden, I heard a furious barking. It was Pritchard fighting with a great Pyrenean sheepdog which another of my friends had just given me. This dog was named Mouton, because of his white woolly hair like a sheep's, not on account of his disposition, which was remarkably savage. Pritchard was rescued by Michel from Mouton's enormous jaws, once more beaten, and for the third time taken back to Vatrin. Pritchard, it appears, had eaten his collar, though how he managed it Vatrin never knew. He was now shut up in a shed, and unless he ate the walls or the door, he could not possibly get out. He tried both, and finding the door the more digestible, he ate the door; and the next day at dinner-time, Pritchard walked into the dining-room wagging his plumy tail, his yellow eyes shining with satisfaction. This time Pritchard was neither beaten nor taken back; we waited till Vatrin should come to hold a council of war as to what was to be done with him. The next day Vatrin appeared.
'Did you ever see such a rascal?' he began. Vatrin was so excited that he had forgotten to say 'Good morning' or 'How do you do?'
'I tell you,' said he, 'that rascal Pritchard puts me in such a rage that I have crunched the stem of my pipe three times between my teeth and broken it, and my wife has had to tie it up with string. He'll ruin me in pipes, that brute-that vagabond!'
'Pritchard, do you hear what is said about you?' said I.
Pritchard heard, but perhaps did not think it mattered much about Vatrin's pipes, for he only looked at me affectionately and beat upon the ground with his tail.
'I don't know what to do with him,' said Vatrin. 'If I keep him he'll eat holes in the house, I suppose; yet I don't like to give him up-he's only a dog. It's humiliating for a man, don't you know?'
'I'll tell you what, Vatrin,' said I. 'We will take him down to Vésinet, and go for a walk through your preserves, and then we shall see whether it is worth while to take any more trouble with this vagabond, as you call him.'
'I call him by his name. It oughtn't to be Pritchard; it should be Bluebeard, it should be Blunderbore, it should be Judas Iscariot!'
Vatrin enumerated all the greatest villains he could think of at the moment.
I called Michel.
'Michel, give me my shooting shoes and gaiters; we will go to Vésinet to see what Pritchard can do.'
'You will see, sir,' said Michel, 'that you will be better pleased than you think.' For Michel always had a liking for Pritchard.
We went down a steep hill to Vésinet, Michel following with Pritchard on a leash. At the steepest place I turned round. 'Look there upon the bridge in front of us, Michel,' I said, 'there is a dog very like Pritchard.' Michel looked behind him. There was nothing but the leather straps in his hand; Pritchard had cut it through with his teeth, and was now standing on the bridge amusing himself by looking at the water through the railing.
'He is a vagabond!' said Vatrin. 'Look! where is he off to now?'
'He has gone,' said I, 'to see what my neighbour Corrège has got for luncheon.' Sure enough, the next moment Pritchard was seen coming out of M. Corrège's back door, pursued by a maid servant with a broom. He had a veal cutlet in his mouth, which he had just taken out of the frying-pan.
'Monsieur Dumas!' cried the maid, 'Monsieur Dumas! stop your dog!'
We tried; but Pritchard passed between Michel and me like a flash of lightning.
'It seems,' said Michel, 'that he likes his veal underdone.'
'My good woman,' I said to the cook, who was still pursuing Pritchard, 'I fear that you are losing time, and that you will never see your cutlet again.'
'Well, then, let me tell you, sir, that you have no right to keep and feed a thief like that.'
'It is you, my good woman, who are feeding him to-day, not I.'
'Me!' said the cook, 'it's-it's M. Corrège. And what will M. Corrège say, I should like to know?'
'He will say, like Michel, that it seems Pritchard likes his veal underdone.'
'Well, but he'll not be pleased-he will think it's my fault.'
'Never mind, I will invite your master to luncheon with me.'
'All the same, if your dog goes on like that, he will come to a bad end. That is all I have to say-he will come to a bad end.' And she stretched out her broom in an attitude of malediction towards the spot where Pritchard had disappeared.
We three stood looking at one another. 'Well,' said I, 'we have lost Pritchard.'
'We'll soon find him,' said Michel.
We therefore set off to find Pritchard, whistling and calling to him, as we walked on towards Vatrin's shooting ground. This search lasted for a good half-hour, Pritchard not taking the slightest notice of our appeals. At last Michel stopped.
'Sir,' he said, 'look there! Just come and look.'
'Well, what?' said I, going to him.
'Look!' said Michel, pointing. I followed the direction of Michel's finger, and saw Pritchard in a perfectly immovable attitude, as rigid as if carved in stone.
'Vatrin,' said I, 'come here.' Vatrin came. I showed him Pritchard.
'I think he is making a point,' said Vatrin. Michel thought so too.
'But what is he pointing at?' I asked. We cautiously came nearer to Pritchard, who never stirred.
'He certainly is pointing,' said Vatrin. Then making a sign to me-'Look there!' he said. 'Do you see anything?'
'Nothing.'
'What! you don't see a rabbit sitting? If I only had my stick, I'd knock it on the head, and it would make a nice stew for your dinner.'
'Oh!' said Michel, 'if that's all, I'll cut you a stick.'
'Well, but Pritchard might leave off pointing.'
'No fear of him-I'll answer for him-unless, indeed, the rabbit goes away.'
Vatrin proceeded to cut a stick. Pritchard never moved, only from time to time he turned his yellow eyes upon us, which shone like a topaz.
'Have patience,' said Michel. 'Can't you see that M. Vatrin is cutting a stick?' And Pritchard seemed to understand as he turned his eye on Vatrin.
'You have still time to take off the branches,' said Michel.
When the branches were taken off and the stick was quite finished, Vatrin approached cautiously, took a good aim, and struck with all his might into the middle of the tuft of grass where the rabbit was sitting. He had killed it!
Pritchard darted in upon the rabbit, but Vatrin took it from him, and Michel slipped it into the lining of his coat. This pocket had already held a good many rabbits in its time!
Vatrin turned to congratulate Pritchard, but he had disappeared.
'He's off to find another rabbit,' said Michel.
And accordingly, after ten minutes or so, we came upon Pritchard making another point. This time Vatrin had a stick ready cut; and after a minute, plunging his hands into a brier bush, he pulled out by the ears a second rabbit.
'There, Michel,' he said, 'put that into your other pocket.'
'Oh,' said Michel, 'there's room for five more in this one.'
'Hallo, Michel! people don't say those things before a magistrate.' And turning to Vatrin I added, 'Let us try once more, Vatrin-the number three is approved by the gods.'
'May be,' said Vatrin, 'but perhaps it won't be approved by M. Guérin.'
M. Guérin was the police inspector.
Next time we came upon Pritchard pointing, Vatrin said, 'I wonder how long he would stay like that;' and he pulled out his watch.
'Well, Vatrin,' said I, 'you shall try the experiment, as it is in your own vocation; but I am afraid I have not the time to spare.'
Michel and I then returned home. Vatrin followed with Pritchard an hour afterwards.
'Five-and-twenty minutes!' he called out as soon as he was within hearing. 'And if the rabbit had not gone away, the dog would have been there now.'
'Well, Vatrin, what do you think of him?'
'Why, I say he is a good pointer; he has only to learn to retrieve, and that you can teach him yourself. I need not keep him any longer.'
'Do you hear, Michel?'
'Oh, sir,' said Michel, 'he can do that already. He retrieves like an angel!'
This failed to convey to me an exact idea of the way in which Pritchard retrieved. But Michel threw a handkerchief, and Pritchard brought it back. He then threw one of the rabbits that Vatrin carried, and Pritchard brought back the rabbit. Michel then fetched an egg and placed it on the ground. Pritchard retrieved the egg as he had done the rabbit and the handkerchief.
'Well,' said Vatrin, 'the animal knows all that human skill can teach him. He wants nothing now but practice. And when one thinks,' he added, 'that if the rascal would only come in to heel, he would be worth twenty pounds if he was worth a penny.'
'True,' said I with a sigh, 'but you may give up hope, Vatrin; that is a thing he will never consent to.'
Le Tour du Monde; d'Alexandrette au coude de l'Euphrate by Various
It was a grand success. Every one said so; and moreover, every one who witnessed the experiment predicted that the Mermaid would revolutionize naval warfare as completely as did the world-famous Monitor. Professor Rivers, who had devoted the best years of his life to perfecting his wonderful invention, struggling bravely on through innumerable disappointments and failures, undaunted by the sneers of those who scoffed, or the significant pity of his friends, was so overcome by his signal triumph that he fled from the congratulations of those who sought to do him honour, leaving to his young assistants the responsibility of restoring the marvellous craft to her berth in the great ship-house that had witnessed her construction. These assistants were two lads, eighteen and nineteen years of age, who were not only the Professor's most promising pupils, but his firm friends and ardent admirers. The younger, Carlos West Moranza, was the only son of a Cuban sugar-planter, and an American mother who had died while he was still too young to remember her. From earliest childhood he had exhibited so great a taste for machinery that, when he was sixteen, his father had sent him to the United States to be educated as a mechanical engineer in one of the best technical schools of that country. There his dearest chum was his class-mate, Carl Baldwin, son of the famous American shipbuilder, John Baldwin, and heir to the latter's vast fortune. The elder Baldwin had founded the school in which his own son was now being educated, and placed at its head his life-long friend, Professor Alpheus Rivers, who, upon his patron's death, had also become Carl's sole guardian. In appearance and disposition young Baldwin was the exact opposite of Carlos Moranza, and it was this as well as the similarity of their names that had first attracted the lads to each other. While the young Cuban was a handsome fellow, slight of figure, with a clear olive complexion, impulsive and rash almost to recklessness, the other was a typical Anglo-Saxon American, big, fair, and blue-eyed, rugged in feature, and slow to act, but clinging with bulldog tenacity to any idea or plan that met with his favour. He invariably addressed his chum as "West," while the latter generally called him "Carol."
Young Folks Treasury, Volume 2 (of 12) by Various
Embracing a Flash-Light Sketch of the Holocaust, Detailed Narratives by Participants in the Horror, Heroic Work of Rescuers, Reports of the Building Experts as to the Responsibility for the Wholesale Slaughter of Women and Children, Memorable Fires of the Past, etc., etc.
Young Folks Treasury, Volume 3 (of 12) by Various
"Ms. Crawford, it’s time for you to divorce Mr. Larsen and come home. You're the only heiress the Master's waiting for.” ~•~ For the sake of love, Amara accepted the arranged marriage with Tobias William Larsen. She did everything to gain her husband’s heart but when his old love returned, she realized that all her effort was all for naught. Tobias demanded a divorce on the night of their wedding anniversary, even at the price of threatening her. Heartbroken, she finally dropped all her illusions about him and returned home to be the heiress. The next time she met Tobias, they were no longer couples but opponents. "Mr. Larsen, should I remind you again? We've divorced." "Amara, that's the stupidest mistake I've ever made. Please come back to me."
Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...
After spending a night with a strange man on the day before her wedding, Arianna left the country to start her life afresh. The 22-year-old Arianna Jason lived her life pleasing those she loved the most, without knowing that she was simply a prey being nurtured for the day of her ruin. Her life has tasted the butter pill of betrayal. She wants to give back to the world what she's got but how can she change her good, innocent personality to fit into a cruel society and world? Can her sweet nature be contaminated, or will she make it through, paddling on the right path?
"I, Riccardo Saviano, future Alpha of the Grey Shadow Moon Pack, reject you, Artemisia Guerrieri, Daughter of Alpha Franco of the Blood Moon Pack, as my mate and future Luna." One single sentence. One stupid single sentence was all it took to disintegrate my life. And the day of my birthday, on which this sentence was audaciously uttered to me, I lost the love of my life, my future mate, and my wolf, all at once. As I'm still assembling the pieces of my shattered heart years later, there they come. Like lightning out of a crystal blue sky. My Mates. But wait... If I am mated to triplets, how come I'm about to be mated to 5 gorgeous men? *** TW: explicit and foul language; spicy content; explicit sex scenes ***
Everyone was shocked to the bones when the news of Rupert Benton's engagement broke out. It was surprising because the lucky girl was said to be a plain Jane, who grew up in the countryside and had nothing to her name. One evening, she showed up at a banquet, stunning everyone present. "Wow, she's so beautiful!" All the men drooled, and the women got so jealous. What they didn't know was that this so-called country girl was actually an heiress to a billion-dollar empire. It wasn't long before her secrets came to light one after the other. The elites couldn't stop talking about her. "Holy smokes! So, her father is the richest man in the world?" "She's also that excellent, but mysterious designer who many people adore! Who would have guessed?" Nonetheless, people thought that Rupert didn't love her. But they were in for another surprise. Rupert released a statement, silencing all the naysayers. "I'm very much in love with my beautiful fiancee. We will be getting married soon." Two questions were on everyone's minds: "Why did she hide her identity? And why was Rupert in love with her all of a sudden?"
Season 1: Vanessa Saxon was once married to Luca Kensington, the cold and distant CEO of K Group. But when she was seven months pregnant, her adopted sister, Beatriz Langley, falsely accused her of having an affair with her best friend, Daxton Radcliffe, and carrying his child. The worst part? Luca believed Beatriz. In a fit of rage, Luca demanded their baby be removed prematurely, leading to a tragic event where Vanessa nearly died from the ordeal. Saved by Daxton, Vanessa disappeared. Now, five years later, she returns-stronger and determined-alongside her daughter, Isla Saxon, to exact her revenge on those who wronged her. SEASON 2: Framed for a crime she didn't commit, Senna Thorne lost everything-her family, her freedom, and the man she once loved. Betrayed and abandoned, she was sentenced to a fate worse than death. Magnus Voss, the ruthless billionaire who once held her heart, now sees her as nothing more than a murderer, a woman unworthy of mercy. But when fate grants her a second chance, she returns under a new name, Zara Skye-no longer the broken woman he cast aside. Yet Magnus refuses to let go. He sees her, he feels her, and deep down, he knows-she is the ghost that haunts him, the love he once destroyed. But this time, Senna isn't here for love. She's here for vengeance. When their paths collide once more, will he uncover the truth before it's too late? Or will her revenge burn them both to ashes?
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