It’s all right, I am happy to say. We had not to send for the dog-doctor after all. Bob is better, indeed he is quite well, somebody called out “Rats,” and up he jumped, and flew out of his kennel, and was off with Jim, the fox terrier on a rat hunt. My brother says he was shamming. Perhaps you don’t know what that is, it means that he was pretending to be ill, but I don’t think so myself, I believe that the very name of rats is like a medicine to Bob, and does him good.
Our Dear Dogs.
Father Tuck’s Happy Hour Series.
Raphael Tuck & Sons, Ltd.: London-Paris-Berlin-New York-Montreal. Printed in the Fine Art Works in Saxony.
Publishers to Their Majesties The King & Queen, & Her Majesty Queen Alexandra. Ca 1910.
One summer morning when the wee baby was only a few days old, the queen of the fairies flew in at the window of the room where he lay. She touched his cheek lightly with a butterfly kiss and gave him the name of Tom Thumb. She then ordered her fairy tailors to make for Tom a wonderful suit, his hat of an oak leaf, his shirt of a spider’s web, his jacket of thistledown, his trousers of apple-rind, and his shoes of the skin of a mouse, nicely tanned, with the hair inside.
The Pygmies had but one thing to trouble them in the world. They were constantly at war with the cranes, and had always been so, ever since the long-lived Giant could remember. From time to time, very terrible battles had been fought in which sometimes the little men won the victory, and sometimes the cranes. According to some historians, the Pygmies used to go to the battle, mounted on the backs of goats and rams; but such animals as these must have been far too big for Pygmies to ride upon; so that, I rather suppose, they rode on squirrelback, or rabbitback, or ratback, or perhaps got upon hedgehogs, whose prickly quills would be very terrible to the enemy. However this might be, and whatever creatures the Pygmies rode upon, I do not doubt that they made a formidable appearance, armed with sword and spear, and bow and arrow, blowing their tiny trumpet, and shouting their little war cry. They never failed to exhort one another to fight bravely, and recollect that the world had its eyes upon them; although, in simple truth, the only spectator was the Giant Antaeus, with his one, great, stupid eye in the middle of his forehead.