Citation
Famous stories

Material Information

Title:
Famous stories gems of literature and art
Creator:
Lothrop Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Lothrop Publishing Company
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
[194] p. : ill. (some col.) ; 26 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1895 ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1895 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1895
Genre:
Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Contains prose and verse.
General Note:
Frontispiece printed in colors.
Statement of Responsibility:
with numerous illustrations.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026620983 ( ALEPH )
ALG3625 ( NOTIS )
04913465 ( OCLC )

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Full Text
UBLISHING COMPANY
‘ BOST,



t















Famous STORIES

PEMS OF LITERAZURE AND ARE





















WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS

BOSTON
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY



CoryvriIGHT, 1893,

BY
D. LorHrop COMPANY.

CopyRIGHT, 1895,
BY

Loturop PUBLISHING COMPANY.

All rights reserved.











AA
Zz




i:

LPS




A S\ . ER real name was Betty Fry.
(SE (Ie 5 Jack Tyler, then oi ioe years old, fast-
ened the nickname upon her. Her mother took her abroad the year after she left
school — she would not have been graduated had she staid there sixteen, instead
of four years— and Mrs. Tyler, the Frys’ next-door neighbor, gave a lawn party
the week succeeding the return of her traveled friends. Miss Betty, at nine-
teen, was blue-eyed and plump, with peach-blow cheeks, in which dimples came
and went whenever she opened her rosy lips, and a profusion of auburn hair
that made an aureole about a tossing little head. Her Parisian costume was as
gay as good taste would permit, and Jack fairly blinked when she fluttered
down upon him in passing, darted half a dozen swift kisses upon his face and
curls, and called him the “ darlingest darling her eyes had ever lighted upon.”

“This is Miss Betty Fry, my son,’ explained his stately mother. “Speak
to her, as a gentleman should.”

Jack arched a chubby hand over his eyes, more in dazzlement than bashful-
ness, and piped up dutifully :

““ How do you do, Miss Butterfly?” -

The name took, inevitably, and stuck fast to her as long as she lived.

At school she had skimmed text-books as her tiny feet skimmed the ground,
complaining, merrily, that all she was taught went in at one ear and straight
out at the other. In music, languages and drawing, her acquirements were of
' the same sketchy order, with no “ staying power.” She had but one talent —
that of being happy through and through, always and everywhere. She soaked



MISS BUTTERFLY.

herself in sunbeams until she radiated them at the pores. Everybody agreed
that “ there was nothing in her,” yet everybody was fond of and petted her.
People liked to have her around as they liked to cultivate flowers and buy bric-
- a-brac, and set harmonious bits of color in shadowy corners. She was the only
daughter of the richest widow in her native town, and her three brothers were
married men before she was emancipated from the fashionable seminary where
she had learned so little. —*

Years went on multiplying years, and although she made no account of them,
they kept tally upon the peach-blow and creamy skin, and stole, a pound at a
time, of the flesh that at nineteen had looked so pure and sweet. Her eyes had
faded to “ baby blue,” and had paler rims about the irises ; her hair was bleached
to the color of Milwaukee brick-dust, and the rings and waves that once made a
glory above her face were dry, stiffened wisps. The dimples were shallow
ravines, instead of mirthful pools, and Time had dug out the temples, and scraped
at the outer corners of her eyes. Jack Tyler was a mustachioed business-man, |
with a four-year-old namesake of his very own, and Miss Butterfly was still
better known by the sobriquet he had bestowed upon her than as Miss Elizabeth
Fry, the owner and sole resident — barring her servants — of the fine old home-
stead upon the hill. :

It was queer, said the gossips, that with all that money, and her pretty face
and coaxing ways, she had never married; yet she did not look like a woman
witha history. She chatted a great deal, and laughed a great deal more than she
talked. A local poet had once written some verses comparing her laugh to water
running down hill over a pebbly bed. The bed of the stream might be getting
dry now, but the brook — what there was of it — continued to go through the
motions. She had lost none of her little fluttering mannerisms. In anybody
else they would have been called flighty at her age; affectations she should have
outgrown a score of years ago. At her mother’s death, which did not take place
until the daughter was forty, the new mistress had retained the full staff of
servants, and the gossips had their whisper about that, too:

“ Tf ever there was a woman who had it easy! but there, now! Who could
have the heart to begrudge that good-hearted little thing, who had never done a
hand’s turn for herself, the wealth she seemed to enjoy so heartily ?”

I was an intolerant chit of fifteen, who had lived in Book-land and Dream-
world until I was clothed in self-conceit as with a garment, when, on one raw ~
December afternoon, I rang Miss Fry’s door-bell. While waiting to be admitted,
I surveyed the winter-bitten grounds encompassing the great house, and shivered
under my furs at their bleak aspect. Shrubbery was done up in straw tents;
fountains were robed in sackcloth, and the top-dressing of manure spread over
the turf looked, with the hoar-frost upon it, like ashes. The gray stone front
of the dwelling had been enlivened by window-gardens in the summer, and
their absence gave it a jail-like look.



MISS BUTTERFLY.

“¢ And the woman who lives here has no aim and no outlook in life,” mused
I priggishly. “She is a unit with never a cipher at her back to give her value.
Were she to die to-morrow the world would be none the poorer. It is the old
fable of the butterfly who sat in the rose’s heart all summer and starved in the
winter.”

- “Is Miss Fry at. home?” I inquired of the maid who interrupted my
moralizing.
-“Ves, ma'am. Walk in, please.”

“ But she has company,” as the tinkle of a guitar and a babble of singing
proceeded from the library.

“Q, no, ma’am; no more than common. There’s no invited party.”

We reached the inner door just as the music ceased, and a wilder clamor of
small voices arose. “ Please, Miss Butterfly, now sing ‘ Said I, said Te

The hostess did not observe me, and I drew back into the comparative
obscurity of the hall to watch the animated interior. Miss Fry, in a sheeny
satin the color of a robin’s egg, with costly laces drooping over her chest and
wrists, sat upon a low ottoman, guitar in hand, the center of a troop of children.
A smart twang of the strings silenced the hubbub, and the song began in a voice
that reminded one of a thin trickle of syrup, “just on the turn” toward sharp-
ness. The children shrilled out the chorus after each line, every mouth
stretched to its utmost. Miss Betty told me afterward that she had “heard
the ditty ever since she was a child, or had picked it up somewhere — just so.
She never knew how she learned anything.”

*¢ A little old man came riding by, “ An acorn fell as from the sky;
(Said I, said I,) (Said I, said I,)

‘ My dear old man, your horse will die,’ ‘Ah! why did you not stay on high?’
(Said I, said I.) (Said I, said I.)

‘And if he dies I'll tan his skin,’ ‘Why, if I had, you surely see,’
(Said he, said he,) : (Said he, said he,)

‘ And if he lives Pl ride him again,’ ‘That I could never be a tree,’
(Said he, said he.) (Said he, said he.)

«A little bird came hop! hop! hop! «‘An ugly worm crept on the ground;
‘(Said I, said I,) ‘ (Said I, said I,)

‘ My pretty bird, your feathers drop,’ ‘Poor thing! to death you’re surely bound,’
(Said I, said I.) (Said I, said I.)

‘Qh! I shall only keep the best,’ ‘But I was only born to die,’
(Said he, said he,) (Said he, said he,)

‘ And with the rest I’l] line my nest.’ ‘Or I'd not be a butterfly,’
(Said he, said he.) (Said he, said he.) ”

A fire of logs blazed high in the chimney, flickering whenever the shrill
chorus burst forth. The children, of whom there must have been twenty, sat
and lay upon an immense tiger-skin spread in the full glow of the flames. Four
or five had crept as close to the hostess as they could get, crushing the satin
folds with infantine heedlessness.



MISS BULTERELY:

Trying to arise as she espied me, she found herself thus anchored fast, and
sank back with the gurgle that used to be fascinating and was now only funny.

“Tama prisoner, you see. Come in, my dear child, and help yourself to a
seat. I’m ever and ever so glad to see you.”

“Tam afraid that Iam an intruder,” said I, in obeying the request.

“Nota bit; not a bit of it, assure you. These precious pets have a way
of running in to enliven my
solitude when it is not fit
weather for them outside.
It isalways bright and warm
here, and they know it —
bless their hearts! I’m never
so happy as when the house
is brimful of them. They
know that, too, the cun-
ning little things! and their
‘mothers are good enough
to indulge me. You won't
mind it our concert goes on
for a few minutes longer,
will you, dearest girl?”

Everything she sang had

“HOW DU YOU DO, MISS BUTTERFLY ?”’, a chorus, and all the children
joined in with more zeal
than discretion, and more spirit than tune. By and by the guitar was laid
aside ; the folding-doors between library and drawing-room were thrown open,
and there was an uproarious game of hide-and-seek over the rich carpets —
“almost as good,” averred one youngster, “as playing upon the grass.” The
least of the party —the oldest of which could not have been eight years old —
kept nearest to Miss Betty all the while, and were “coached” by her in the
mysteries of the romp. Biscuits and milk —the latter in dainty little mugs —
were dispensed at four o’clock, soon after which, nurses, older sisters, a brother |
or two, and a couple of mothers, arrived to escort the guests to their homes.

At the outcry of protest that ensued, Miss Betty made herself heard.

“ Tf you'll promise to go oe quietly, like dear, good lambies, you shall see
my butterfly take his supper.”

They trooped at her heels to a large Wardian case set In a bay window. It
was full of ferns and flowering plants, and as she raised the peakéd lid, we saw
upon the pink waxen blossom of a beautitul begonia a large brown-and-blue
butterfly, asleep or torpid.

“TIe’s taking his afternoon nap,” gurgled Miss Betty. “ Wake up, my
becuty, and have your tea.”





MISS BUTTERFLY.

She slid him dexterously from the pink petals into a palm that was now,
alas! neither pink nor plump, and carried him back to the fire. Sinking down
upon her ottoman, as the insect poised upon her uplifted hand she held to him
a drop of honey upon the tip of a pearl paper-knife.

“ Hush! hush!” she breathed to the impatient spectators. “He must get
warm before he gets hungry. That’s the way with all teeny-weeny things, you
know.” :

As the warmth of the withered palm passed into the downy body, the odd
pet raised his wings and waved them gently in the firelight; successive thrills
shook his frame; the antenne vibrated, and we could see the proboscis undo
itself, coil after coil, and dip into the honey drop.



i

SSeS

‘* PLEASE, MISS BUTTERFLY, SING ‘SAID I, SAID I.’”’

“That is the most comical exhibition I ever saw,” ejaculated one of the
mothers. “How did you tame it, Betty?” _

“It did itself ;” checking the gurgle lest it should jar her protégé. “TI found
him outside, hanging to the window-sill for dear life, on Thanksgiving Day.
He had come to look for the jardiniére that stood there all summer, I suppose.
So I took him in, and warmed him, and fed him, and have kept him in the fernery
ever since. You wouldn’t believe how much company he is for me. On sunny



MISS BUTTERFLY.

days I give him a promenade on the south window over there, or let him fly
about in the conservatory, and he gets quite gay. Usually, he sleeps most of
the time, however.”

“ But,’ struck in the other matron —by the way, she was Jack Tyler’s wife
— “naturalists tell us that the butterfly is an ephemeron.”

“T beg your pardon?” said Miss Betty inquiringly.

“T mean” — repressing a smile — “ that he lives only one day after leaving
the chrysalis.”

“They must be mistaken,’ Miss Betty opined, amiably complacent. “This
one has been with me three weeks yesterday. I expect to keep him until
spring. All that a butterfly wants is sunshine and honey. When he gets both
he can’t help being contented. And this one has such a lovely disposition.”

She put him back tenderly upon the begonia, when he ceased to sip and
curled up the hair-like tube through which he had drawn his food. Then she
helped get the children into cloaks and caps, kissed each pair of lips, and thanked
their guardians for “lending” them to her.

“Now, sit down, honey,” she bustled back into the library to say to me.
“This chair, please,” pushing a low and luxurious one toward me, then pulling
up another for herself.

“It seems almost sinful for me to be so comfortable,” I said, from the depths
of my satin nest.

Her little laugh trilled out, and J thought of the cricket on the hearth.

“ Now, my idea is that it is really wrong not to be comfortable and happy.
When nobody else is the worse for it, of course. I just love to see people hav-
ing the loveliest sort of times ; gay as larks, happy as kings, pretty as butterflies,
and all that, don’t you know?”

This introduced my errand. My mother hoped Miss Betty would be inter-
ested in the case of a poor family in the lower part of the town, and had charged
me with the sad story. My unspoken contempt for my auditor's intellectual
status was increased by the interjections with which she hearkened to me.

“Dreadful!” “Impossible!” “ Heart-rending!” “Poor woman!” “Qh!
the poor dear little darlings,” were, to my notion, puffs of the idlest breath
ever exhaled. When at length she raised herself from the yielding cushions:
far enough to touch a silver bell upon the table nearest her, I supposed that the
subject was dismissed.

“Tea, Mary, please,” to the maid who appeared on the instant. How well
this luxurious sluggard was served when hundreds had neither fire nor home
upon this bitter afternoon. “And tell Annie to send up some of her nice tea-
cakes with it, Mary, please. I am sure Miss Dowling will enjoy them. There’s
nothing that warms the bottom of one’s heart like a cup of hot tea. How good
your mother is to the poor and. the afflicted! Quite like a ministering angel, I
do always maintain.”



MISS BURTER BEY.

I despised her utterly as she chirped on. She was trite, vapid, and, I was
sure, heartless; a weak, silly, aimless sentimentalist. When the tea and cakes
came I could not enjoy them, delicious as they both were. The china was
exquisite ; the gold spoons tinkled against it with a bell-like chime; into the
summer air of the room stole the odors of the adjoining conservatory; there
were rare pictures, statuary and tapestries. The whole world was padded, and
warmed, and scented for this useless little insect. What mattered it that winter,
and poverty, and illness, and sorrow were in other homes, so long as she still sat
in the rose’s heart ?

“My casket, please, Mary,” twittered the thin voice, after the tea-service
was removed. ‘ And turn the gas up, just a little.”

The-casket — an East Indian toy, all ivory, gold and ebony — was unlocked,
and the smell of sandal-wood gushed forth. Miss Betty giggled in adj usting
her eyeglasses.

“My eyes are weak by artificial light. They ought not to be, but I have
done so much fancy-work. I so often hear of interesting cases after dark, that
I keep checks ready made out. It saves eyesight, and time, and trouble, don’t
you know? Ah!”

She had fumbled among the papers in the casket until she found what she
sought, and passed it over to me as she might a postage stamp.

“Tell your mother how awfully obliged I am to her, and beg her to let me
know if I can do anything else for those poor dear protégés of hers.’’

I lost breath and wits upon seeing that the check was for one hundred
dollars.

“Q, Miss Butterfly! Oh!—I beg your pardon.” I stopped there, red as
fire and longing to sink clean out of sight.

She laughed in short, spasmodic jerks, as if something attached to her vocal
apparatus were going to pieces.

“No offense, I do assure you, my blessed child. All my children call me
that, and I don’t object. God made butterflies, I suppose, and they couldn’t be
ants if they wanted to. I admire energy, and thrift, and all that, immensely,
but, as my slangy nephews say, I wasn’t built that way. I don’t murmur.
The Bible says there are diversities of gifts. All that a butterfly wants is sun-
shine and honey.”

I repeated the phrase often and again that winter. I cannot say that I
found entertainment in the society of one whom, from that afternoon, I learned
to love, but there was gratification in the sight of the simple kindly creature
living out her life with the zest of a child. I went to her almost daily, and
always found her the same; never ruffled in spirit, never unkind in speech,
always carefully and richly dressed, and ever eager to share her sunshine and
honey with all about her. The fancy crossed my mind, sometimes, that she
_was growing thin, and, occasionally, in the forenoon, there was a strange gray-



MISS BUTTERFLY.

ness in her complexion; but there was no abatement in her gayety. The chil-
dren swarmed about and over her, as lawlessly as ever; her girl-nieces and
college-nephews gave parties in her big rooms, and granted her request to be
allowed to order and pay for the luncheons, dinners and suppers served by her
servants. She still twanged the guitar and chirped quaint ditties to her
“babies,” and played waltzes with stiff and willing fingers by the hour for older
merrymakers. The casket of filled-out checks still flew open before a tale of
woe could be finished in her hearing. With it all went the light, sometimes
flippant, prattle of commonplace nothings, and the weak giggle that was no
longer fascinating. JI caught myself wondering, as I saw her feed and talk to
her butterfly, if both were not alike inconsequent, and as well content to take
in all of present delight without premonition of to-morrow’s frost or cloud.

One windy day in March, the old Fry house was burned to the ground with
stables, graperies and conservatories. My mother and I, hastening to the scene
at rumor of the disaster, found Miss Betty im a remote corner of the shrubberies
sitting upon an iron chair in the shelter of a clump of evergreens. Nobody was
near her, and she had a dazed, white look, not in the least her own. The
servants were all busy trying to save something from the flames, which still
roared horribly a little way off. Somebody, probably her maid, had wrapped
our little friend up in an ermine opera-cloak with a white silk hood trimmed
with fur. I could but liken her, in imagination, to a frozen miller moth, as she
sat huddled together, crushed into the fir-branches.

We took her home and put her to bed.

“Thank you, sweet child! God bless you!” she whispered, when I stooped
to kiss the face so pitifully and strangely shrunken and pallid.

“You will soon be all right now, dear Miss Betty.”

“Q, yes!” opening her eyes to smile. “Very, very soon. It would be
sinful not to be thankful and happy. Everybody is always so good to me.
Surely goodness and mercy. have fol” —

She never spoke or moved again.

When we saw that stupor, not sleep, had stolen over her, we sent for her
family physician. Beside her death-bed we learned that she had battled bravely
for two years with an insidious, and what she knew to be a mortal disease.

“She would not let me tell the truth even to her brothers,” said her only
confidant. “It ‘was not worth while to disturb them before it was absolutely
necessary, she said. How she kept up her usual mode of life, and her spirits, I
cannot comprehend. She was either the pluckiest or the least sensitive being
I ever knew. I cannot decide if she were more of a benefactress or of a

{»

butterfly.”
“T can,” sobbed my mother.
So could I.

Marion Harland.









A DREAMLAND SHEPHERD BOY.





A GROUP OF BLUECOAT. BOYS.

THE BLUECOAT SCHOOL.

LL day long, in the heart of London, visitors may see people

on the sidewalk pressing up against a tall iron fence, and
looking through another fence beyond that, to one of the great
clean-paven yards of the famous school called Christ Hospital,
where many red-cheeked bareheaded boys are shouting

Bren Ser and running. They are plunging about, evidently quite
happy, and not encumbered at all, apparently, with their pecu-
liar dress. This dress has never been changed, in color or in
any important detail, since Tudor times; and it issure to take
the amused attention of an American the moment he passes

© through Newgate Street. Let us examine it respectfully.
There is a contagion, to begin with, of bright yellow stock-
ings, and that alone provides the funniest spectacle!—these flying odds and







THE BLUECOAT SCHOOL.

ends of boy looking for all the world like some wild scrimmage of storks,
with their lively cheerful-colored legs in fullest evidence. Their knee-breeches
are of dark-blue; they wear a narrow red leather belt, and the white “ bands”
instead of a collar, shaped like those of the French clergy to-day; bands which
the English clergy dropped several generations ago. The coats, also dark-blue,
have skirts falling all around, as low as the ankle, and when a boy wants some
fun, he has to bundle up yards of unwieldy cloth behind ; which adds, you may
be sure, to the queerness of his general appearance. Sometimes he is so happy
as to possess a jersey for play-hours, and a cap no bigger than the palm of your
hand, which he may put on in the street, if he chooses, but which he never does
choose, even in mid-winter. The little Blues, with their long yellow legs and
browned faces, cannot fail to make a curious picture to the modern eye;
and everybody must stop to watch them, and smile, and sigh, and wish to be
twelve years old again, with no worse vexation than a lesson in Cesar, and no
future anxiety beyond the winning of a game! As you look at them from
their front gates, the gray height of the glorious Hall of the school confronts
you; beyond, and to your left, is the
four-pinnacled tower of the old church
-where Captain John Smith is buried ;
to your right are Smithfield, Little Brit-
ain, and the storied neighborhood of
St. Bartholomew’s, where the Jacobean
gables elbow the more precious Norman
masonry ; and the melancholy highway
where you stand shows you the grim
prison, almost opposite this area, over-
flowing with youth and blameless joy.
Once you are within the Bluecoat pre-
cincts, you become conscious of the
near overhanging dome of St. Paul’s,
which, when viewed from the doors of
the Writing School, seems to fill the
whole horizon and sky, and sustain you,
like an eternal thing. But changes
come, even here; and not very long
after you read these few pages, Christ
Hospital may be sold or. leveled, its
laws altered, and its army of nearly
eight hundred boys transferred to the
country, away from the sad town which will be lonely without their eyes and
voices and eccentric hose, familiar here for three hundred and fifty years.
The many buildings are not all ancient. Little remains of those considered



THE STATUE OF THE FOUNDER.
(The boy-king Edward VI.)



THE BLUBCOAT SGHOOL,

commodious enough in the last century, which sheltered such young heads as
Camden’s, Stillingfleet’s, Samuel Richardson’s, Coleridge’s and Leigh Hunt’s, and
Charles Lamb’s. Ages before them, again, the Priory of the Grey Friars stood
here; and somewhere under these very flags monks and knights, and a Queen
of England, are sleeping, having lain
down penitent in the shadow of monas-
tic altars. The Hospital, as it now is,
was founded by “the boy-patron of
boys,” Edward VI., who had one ques-
tionable habit for a young saint, that
of cheerfully signing the death-warrants
of his uncles. The royal charity has
had great endowments from private
hands, which are, alas! lessened in our
more selfish day. Another king, Charles
II., a clever vagabond who made out
to do a few such kindly deeds as this,
started the Mathematical School in
1673, and the lads who belong to it
wear his badge upon the shoulder.
When a child is appeinted to Christ
Hospital, he makes it his home, and is
chosen to rank in the department best ee Ae ee
suited to his abilities. Some study the
‘classics, some are preparing for sea-Service, some are flourishing a pen all the
afternoon over accounts or outline drawings. The boys have a Court of Gov-
ernors whom they never see; but the President, Treasurer and Almoners busy
. themselves with house-affairs, and the masters and matrons
are everywhere and always at their side. The discipline
is very strict and steady. The boys make their own beds,
set and clear off their own table, polish their own boots and
id-4-% so forth.
They have frequent halt- “holidays, beside the three vaca-
tions, when, if their conduct has given satisfaction, they are
Raed free to visit their relatives and friends, and dispose their
eae. picturesque figures among the city parks and streets.
' 'Fhey sleep in airy wards or dormitories, each in his
little bed, and about forty beds abreast; and they all eat to-
gether in the magnificent Hall, with its organ and spacious
Gothic windows, erected in 1829. They have a very liberal supply of what.
‘would hardly be a favorite drink of American boys—beer! Every pleasant
day, a signal is given in the south playground, seven minutes before dinner-







THE SBEWECOA LP ISGHOOE:

time, and the jolly crowd stops short, abandons its bats, hockey-sticks,
balls, and roller-skates, lets down its coat-tails, and falls into squads and com-
panies, preceded by a dozen of the more musical youngsters, who have or--
ganized a very creditable brass band; and so, left, right, left, away they march
from the wind and the sun, until the last straight little soldier is swallowed
up in the dark arches and disappears. They have a beautiful library, a muscum,
a picture-gallery, a gymnasium (with a splendid swimming-bath in which the
boundary-lines of three parishes converge), and several wide cool cloisters for



OUTSIDE THE GREAT HALL, AT DINNER-TIME.

playgrounds in hot or wet weather. At their doors is Christ Church, where the
innumerable family kneels on Sunday at Morning Prayer and Evensong. Clus-
tered about the great Hall are more chambers and dwellings than would go to
make a sizable village, and in these live the warden, the professors, the kind old
steward, and the society of domestics; all in their offices striving and succeed-
ing, to make the Bluecoat School very dear to the Blues.

Although the pupils pay nothing for what is, in the American sense, a
thorough and excellent public-school education (for a “ public school” in Eng-
land, as you know, means something far more lordly and exclusive) you are not
to infer that the boys are mere paupers and hoodlums. Dependent they must
be; but if the fathers of any of them earn a thousand dollars (two hundred pounds)



RAE BEUECOAT SCHOO.

a year, the boys are still eligible for the nomination to a vacant place. The.
majority are pretty little fellows, with very sweet manners, which could not
be matched m our country, except, perhaps, at some




TAate cloTHs,

passes under

the tutelary im-
age of good King Edward—to dwell
some seven years in the absentee’s
stead.

The place is rich in its own privi-
leges, and traditions, and dramatic
customs. I have not told you how
the whole young flock call upon the
Lord Mayor in Easter week, and re-
ceive, every one, a gleaming shilling-
piece new from the mint; nor how
they sup in public each Thursday in
Lent, and make their annual parting
memorable with a quaint procession,
and speeches, and song; for these
things, would fill a separate article.
Nor have I said a word of the con-
stant training which they receive, in
order to make them serious and manly
Christians, fit to grapple with the
rough old duties of our life. But I
leave you to look at the pictures of
some of these wards of the Three King-
doms, and repeat with me, for the child
Charles Lamb’s sake, the words of the
venerable toast: “God bless the reli-

high-class private school.
a grown “Grecian” who has shown talent and a dispo-
sition for study, is sent up from Christ Hospital, with
loud plaudits and a generous purse of money, to a
career in one of the great universities. The aver-
age lad leaves his desk and goes into business at
\\ ° fifteen or sixteen; and some shy nursling from the pre-
paratory house in Hertford comes up to London, and’



And it often happens that

THE EAST ENTRANCE WITH STATUE OF BLUECOAT BOY.

gious, royal and ancient foundation of Christ Hospital! May those prosper who
love it, and may God increase their number!”

Louise Imogen Guiney.











































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































STREET CHARMERS.



A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE.

T was Christmas Eve, and the streets of the old French city of Tours were
thronged with people hurrying to the Cathedral for the Christmas mass.
Ii lacked but fifteen minutes of midnight, and a few belated peasants from the
adjoining village of St. Symphorien quickened their pace as they approached the
great stone bridge. Among them was a sweet-faced young woman, Félicie Gar-
~ nier, proprietress of a tiny vegetable shop in the street of the Tranchée. She
led by the hand her little eight-year-old son who at that moment was standing
perfectly still in the surprise of his new experience. “Come, my little man,”
said the good Félicie, smiling down proudly upon her brave Pierre, “we must
walk faster. The bridge, the Rue Royale and voila, we are at the Cathedral.”
The child’s face was radiant. It was the first time in his life that he had been
beyond their little shop door after dark.
The scene was far more wonderful. than any he had pictured to himself, as
his mother had described it, over her washing by the river-side. “The river
; will not look like this,’ she had said one day,
FEED straightening back for a moment of rest from
Sy Bk bending over the linen which she was vigor-
ously beating on a smooth
stone. “See, now it is blue,
like the sky; but at night
when the sky is black above
it, the river too grows black.”
“How then can we find our
way?” queried the boy.







t

sn.
Ger




oe fos ZZ = = “ Ah, by the lamps, my Pierre.
Epi es The lamps shine bright on the
Lay < “IW ee bridge and a thousand lights are in
S SSO oN N Y-cF" the windows of the great houses, and the

IN good God will guide us safely to the Cathedral, that we

“xoT LIKE THUS,” S40 FELICIE. may kneel before the beautiful manger and pray for the
soul of the beloved papa.” And Pierre sat silent, won-
dering how his own beautiful Loire could grow black and ugly and dark.

And now the evening of his long anticipation had come. There lay the
river below, dark and mysterious but beautiful still, its ripples gleaming like
burnished metal in the half darkness, and shimmering merrily in the bright
light cast from the bridge lamps. Beyond lay the old town with its many lights
—an enchanted city, and over all stretched the great starry heavens. The city,
the river, the sky were all wrapped in solemn darkness made visible by myriad



A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE.

lights. Pierre’s little heart beat fast till it seemed to clatter in his bosom as
loudly as did his wooden sabots on the stone pavement. Presently he began to
find familiar objects among the city towers, the tower of Charlemagne, St. Mar-
tin’s tower, and finally, the Cathedral spires. Lifted black against the sky, they
were like hands outstretched to Heaven. Pierre’s eyes followed them and lo, the
fingers pointed to a bright star!
“But yes, my little man,” said
the mother Félicie, “the star
stands always over the manger to
lead the wanderers to the Holy
Child.”

They turned at last into the
Cathedral Square, into which all
the narrow streets were pouring
throngs of people. Pierre clung
fast to his mother’s hand and they
mingled in the crowd pushing their
way through the doors. Félicie
paused at the nearest bénitier to
dip her fingers in the holy water
and cross herself. Then advancing
a few steps along the central aisle,
she bowed her knee toward the
grand altar, Pierre gravely follow-
ing her example.

The boy had often been to the
Cathedral before, on bright Sun-
day mornings, and it had always
been with a lingering sigh of regret







Sot
S—=—.
SS

SA
aN.
SS

—






for the sunny square, that he had 5 i
turned into the cold dark interior. LZ LL fo
But as to-night he had found his AT THE BENITIER,

whole world changed, so too the
Cathedral on a Christmas Eve was totally unlike the Cathedral of a Sunday
morning. The mysterious gloom of the vast interior, illumined by glimmering
lights from the burning tapers seemed to the poetic child’s mind like the
solemn grandeur of the midnight through which he had just been led, and his
vague feeling of awe was quickened into genuine reverence. In the cathedral
of Nature he had learned how to enter the cathedral of stone. With a serious
air he walked by his mother’s side toward the manger which was the ultimate
object of this Christmas pilgrimage.

By the steps of an altar in the transept chapel was a rude wooden structure



A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE.

filled with hay in representation of the manger in the Bethlehem inn which re-.
ceived the infant Saviour. In the midst of this straw cradle lay a large waxen
doll, smiling out of bright blue eyes upon the surrounding worshipers.

None were more devout than Félicie and Pierre. The boy, young as he
was, had caught something of the true Christmas spirit. The river and the
starry sky had taught unspeakable things to the child heart; and now, as he
began to whisper softly his Pater Wosters, his prayers seemed to him to be rising
on the wings of the beautiful Christmas music which soared up from the choir
and lost itself amid the arches of the Cathedral.

Félicie hardly knew how she got her sleepy Pierre over the bridge and up



‘¢um FOUND HIMSELF THE CENTER OF A MERRY GROUP.”

the steep street of the Tranchée, home again to the little shop. The savory
odor of soup seemed to arouse the drowsy child. He suddenly found himself in
the little parlor in the center of a merry group of familiar faces. There was
the dear grandmamma kissing her boy on both cheeks, and kind Madame Bonnier
from the bakery over the way; there were Father and Mother Dupin from the
next house and all the good neighbors who had made up the party to and from
the Cathedral. And what a fine cake it was in the center of the table, larger,
it seemed to Pierre than any he had ever seen in the windows of the grand pastry



LITTLE BROTHER.

cooks of the Rue Royale, and gorgeous with pink and white icing. He clapped his
hands with delight at the marvel. And how happy they all were to see him
happy. The pastry cakes (patés) were delicious, his favorite honey-cake (pain
@’épice) more spicy than ever before, and Madame Bonnier’s Christmas biscuits
(estevenous) were baked, so they said, as no one in Tours knew how. It was a
merry supper. Grandmamma bustled around to see that all were bountifully
served, and over the good things many a pleasant tale of bygone times was re-
lated by Father Dupin, many a gay laugh rang through the little room. Pierre
was kissed and petted and feasted to his heart’s content, until the gray light of
dawn peeped in through the back window and the party began to disperse.

The day brought no stockings filled with the gifts of a Santa Claus, no tree
decked with candles and tinsel. These are unknown delights to all French
children of the provinces educated in the Romish Church. Pierre had learned
the story of the Christ-child’s birth from the celebration of the midnight mass in
the Cathedral, and the neighborhood feast had been his Christmas merry-making,
his share in the “ peace on earth, good will to men.”

Estelle M. Hurll.

LITTLE BROTHER.

ITTLE brother did not wake
When the sun shone out to-day ;
Did not answer when I called,
Asking him to come and play.

So I brought him all his toys.

“Nay,” they said, in grave surprise,
“ Brother is an angel now ;

He has gone to Paradise.”

Then I laughed in my delight,
Tossing top and ball aside ;
- But they wept with faces hid,
And I wondered why they cried.
H. R. Hudson.







THE ELF’S CHRISTMAS.

HE little brown elf and his friends, one night,
Had a half-awake dream of a fairy sleigh
That swept to their fire and halted,say —
For as long as the wink of a northern light.

It staid as long as that light could wink,
And it brought to them something — What do you think?

Why the morning disclosed a wonderful sight
Of gifts that were left for this wandering fay,

Including a ticket for “s-elf and friends”

To the land that summer to winter lends —
The far-away land of Florida.

Lilian Crawford True.



aN Oe
Vs | a A
a x

aN



AMONG THE PALMETTOS AND PALMS.



WINTER RANCH LIFE.

(First Series.)

[Rae is a real girl and these are real letters. She is a little city waif without schooling, who spends a
winter with her adopted mother on the ranch of an English gentleman in the Rocky Mountains; the ‘‘ young
youth” mentioned being a lord in embryo. Necessary changes made in spelling and grammar have de-
stroyed much of the piquancy of these letters. — Epirors WIDE AWake. |

DrcEMBER 12th.
AM in a beautiful place. The mountains are very high up in the sky. The
rocks seem to point out like the steeple of a church. The snow is on the
ground. It is cold early in the morning, and late at night. “In the daytime
the sun shines very bright. It is quite hot sometimes. I am sitting on the
piazza while I write this letter. :

I like to stay out here very much. We have pigs, and cows, and horses, and
mules, and two little calves, and two big ones. We have a dog named Shax,
and we have two cats. One cat is black, and one cat is gray. The black cat is
very polite, but the gray cat is not, and we do not like her so well. Shax is not
always in time for his meal. He goes off when it is ready, and sometimes he
comes when we do not want him.

I had a pleasant ride coming up here. I had a very pleasant ride to-day out
in the woods. We went to get wood, and we piled it up in the wagon. We had
to sit on the wood. Jt was very hard for the mules to drag it over the snow and
stones. The gentlemen cut the wood, and we burn it. There are four gentle-
men here. One of them is quite a young youth. They are very polite. We
get their meals for them. There are no children here. I would like a little
girl to play with. We like to look out and see the gentlemen throw sticks for
Shax to go after them. When he does not see where the stick went, then they
motion.

One day one of the gentlemen went out to shoot a rabbit. After a while he
found it and shot it and brought it home. He cut all the skin off and laid it on

the cellar door, and brought the rest of it in for mamma to cook. After a little -

while I saw the cats carrying the skin off, and he ran out and pulled it away
from the cats, and hung it over the clothes-line. He gave me the skin. I put
it further on the line, and it blew down, but the cats did not touch it for I was
watching them. I put it back on the line. Then one of the gentlemen nailed it
to the shop. And the wind blew and the skin blew down. And the pig ate it up.

I found a bluebird in the snow, and I picked it up. It was dead. I asked
one of the gentlemen to cut the wings off. They are very pretty.

I like it here very much. There are trees all over the mountains. It is
more beautiful every day. The snow falls on the mountains, and the sun shines



WHNTER RANCH. LIFE.

on the snow, and more snow comes every day, and not so much sunshine. One
night the sky was beautiful. It was green and purple and red, and all sorts of
colors that are pretty.

I like to look at the sky when it begins to be night. After a little a star
peeps out; then it comes clear out. After a little another star comes out, and
then another until all are out, and the sky looks perfectly charming. Then the
moon comes out and shines on the snow, and there are not so many stars. It
seems to be a queer thing that when the moon shines so bright you can’t see so
many stars. And I said so. And one of the gentlemen said, ‘“‘ Whoop-la!
Sometimes the more light you have the more you can’t see!” And I said,
“Why?” And he only said, “ Whoop-la!”

If you were here you would tell me, wouldn’t you?

Rag.

January 4th.

When the jointed doll came to me, the head was off. I am going to have it
put on again. I have named it Johnny. Do you think Johnny is a pretty
name? Miss Edith is my best girl. She has bangs and lovely eyes that open
and shut. Mr. Goodman gave her to me for Christmas. My dolls live in the
kitchen in the corner. They never get sick although it is so cold now we can-
not walk on the piazza. Jack Frost walks there, and spends his time making
pretty leaves and flowers and ferns all over the windows. Jack Frost is like
Santa Claus; if you should see him he wouldn’t be there. That's a queer thing,
but when I said’so Mr. Charles said, “ This world is full of queer things.” And
I said, ““ What things?” and he said, “ Well, your spelling for one.” And I
said, “ Yes, when you tell me which way the letters go!” And then I was
afraid I had been impudent. I despise being impudent. It isn’t polite, and
sometimes I have to go to bed for it. And I despise going to bed in the day-
time! But Mr. Charles only said, “ Whoop-la! This isa sad world!” And I
said, “ Why?” and he said, “ Sometimes a ray of hope comes to me, and some-
times a(r)ray of questions.” And TI asked him to explain. And then mamma
called me, and we made gingerbread nuts. Jam progressing incooking. I have
helped to make tarts, and I have assisted in making cake. I have not improved
my mind much. Mr. Frederick thinks it is because I have not any mind to im-
prove. Mr. Frederick hears my lessons sometimes when I ask him to. I ‘have
been studying out of my geography. I think it is very interesting, but I cannot
remember it. Ilike to read. I can remember that well enough, but my geog-
raphy I cannot remember. It is harder to get right than spelling. This is
what I do every day: I dust and keep things neat, and I help make beds
and wash dishes. .

Mr. Charles is a nice boy when he wants to be, but sometimes he leaves his
things around. We very often stumble over his boots.



WINTER RANCH LIFE.

We had two pigs once. We had one pig killed, so we have only one pig now.
It runs about.

An English gentleman came here to spend two days. He keeps his mind
well improved, but he keeps his hat on in the house, and his coat needs to be
mended badly. Heis some-
what pious, but not so pious
as Mr. Goodman. Mr.
Goodman has a great many
Bibles in his room, and he
prays. by himself some-
times. I think he is very
kind. He gave me Miss
Edith. Sunday we had
prayer time, and we had
singing and reading out of
the Bible. People came
here to service, and they
had to be fed. There is
not a church for twenty
‘miles away.

Rag.

JanuARY 21st.

I must tell you about
our dear little black puss.
He runs up on top of the
shed and sits there in a
way that looks very affect-
ing, with his paws hang-
ing down in front, and
looking at me out of his
big, green eyes. The gray
cat does not seem to be.so
bright and frolicsome as

“T AM IN A BEAUTIFUL PLACE.” she used to be.

Mr. Charles shot amag-
pie. It was black and white. A lady came up here on Sunday. She told us
that she had twenty-four pink birds. She said she was going to make a twenty-
four pink birds baked in a pie. She gave me six of the wings.

One night mamma was reading, and I asked her what she was laughing
about. She told me she was reading about Miss Knag. She had charge of the
dressmaking for a lady whose husband was not superior. Miss Knag was gaudy,





WINTER RANCH LIFE.

but not neat. I’ve no doubt she was not made to mend when she was young,
Gaudy means fussing, and frizzing hair, and wearing ribbons, and putting ear-
rings on, and bracelets, and finger rings. Miss Knag had a girl to help her sew.
She was very shy and quiet, not grinning, nor lolling on windows and doors to
get people to look at her, but she kept her eyes on her work. When young
men were silly, she tried to think of something she had read, so as not to smile.
Miss Knag dressed as gay when she had wrinkles as if she were rosy and plump.
It would have been better to have improved her mind, and attended to
poor folks.

Last night Mr. Charles brought a paper from England for mamma to see. It
was full of pictures. One page showed all about soldiers and their wives. One
picture was sad and silly —a drunken soldier had to be dragged out of a saloon
by his wife. Iam not going to marry ever, because I do not know whether the
man will be drunk or not. I hope my time will be better spent in teaching
children than to do anything like that.

My. Charles has an English book with silly, funny pictures, and funny, silly
reading under them. I was going to tell you about them, but mamma says to
write something sensible instead of that bosh.

Mr. Charles is in such a hurry to go to the post-office that he sets everybody
into fidgets. He goes on horseback. He has to ride a long ways, and then the
stage comes along and he'gives them the letters. Sometimes the snow is so deep
that we cannot send any letters, and we cannot get any. The windows are so
frozen up we cannot see out of them. It is very cold here.

Rak.

Frepruary 6th.

The snow is still on the ground. I go to walk when the sun is shining.
It is so cold here that the cows are shivering. It is pitiful to look out and see
the poor animals standing out in the snow. They get in the shed and drive
the dog out in the cold. The little black cat is not well. Ido wish there was
some way to make him well. He does not seem to agree with his food. Mr. Fred-
erick said that ’most two miles up in the sky was too near Heaven for cats to be
very happy. And I said, “ Why? Wouldn’t cats be happy in Heaven?”

Mr. Frederick has a very improved mind. Mr. Charles seems to be very
fussy. He wants this and he wants that, and he don’t want this and he don’t
want that. Mamma gets all out of patience with him. If I had fifty boys I
would bring them up to want this and to want that. I would not allow them to
grumble over things because things do not suit them. He comes out and says,
‘““What are you going to have for a pudding?” Mamma tells him. He says,
“No sugar init?” Mamma says, “No!” He asks her what else we are going
to have for dinner. Mamma tells him, and he smiles at her enough to say,
“That is not much of a dinner!”



WINTER RANCH LIFE.

Mr. Charles is more industrious than Mr. Frederick. He stays out of doors
to make himself useful. Mr. Frederick and Mr. Charles have to be amused.
When mamma sits down to write, they come out to talk. They say: “Put up
that beastly pen, and talk to me!” and “O, but, I’d like to whack the cad who
stuffed my dad that it wouldn’t be bad to have a thousand cattle on some hills!”
and “Tl be blowed for a duffer, if things are not going to smash like three
o'clock !”’

Such talk is not nice ina young youth. I’m glad we do not speak the Eng-
lish language! “ Mos’tronary”’ is not right speaking, and oatmeal and molasses
is not good eating, even if they call it “ pawidge and trickle.” Mamma cooked
a rabbit for them, and they called it “jugged hare!” And when mamma made
a jelly-cake they said, “ Give us some more of that jam sandwich!”

English gentlemen. seem-to be queer! .They are not like American people.

Raz.



A DEPUTATION OF BEGGARS,









































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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THE ROLLICKING MASTODON.

ROLLICKING Mastodon lived in Spain,
Jn the trunk of a Tranquil Tree.
His face was plain, but his jocular vein
Was a burst of the wildest glee.
His voice was strong and his laugh so long
That people came many a mile,
And offered to pay a guinea a day
For the fractional part of a smile.
The Rollicking Mastodon’s laugh was wide —
Indeed, ’twas a matter of family pride ;
And, oh! so proud of his jocular vein
Was the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

The Rollicking Mastodon said one day:
“T feel that I need some air;
- For a little ozone’s a tonic for bones,
As well as a gloss for the hair.”
So he skipped along aud warbled a song
In his own triumphulant way.
His smile was bright and his skip was light
As he chirruped his roundelay.
The Rollicking Mastodon tripped along,
And sang what Mastodons call a song ;
But every note of it seem to pain
The Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

A Little Peetookle came over the hill,
Dressed up in a bollitant coat ;—
And he said, “ You need some harroway seed,
And a little advice for your throat.”
The Mastodon smiled, and said, “My child,
There’s a chance for your taste to grow.
If you polish your mind, you'll certainly find
How little, how little you know!”
The Little Peetookle, his teeth he ground
At the Mastodon’s singular sense of sound;
For he felt it a sort of a musical stain
On the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.







THE ROLLICKING MASTODON.

“Alas! and alas! Has it come to this pass?”
Said the Little Peetookle; “Dear me!
It certainly seems your terrible screams
Intended for music must be!”
The Mastodon stopped ; his ditty he dropped,
And murmured, “ Good-morning, my dear.
I never will sing to a sensitive thing
That shatters a song with a sneer!”
The Rollicking Mastodon bade him “ adieu.”
Of course, ’twas a sensible thing to do;
For the Little Peetookle is spared the strain
Of the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.
Arthur Macy.



AN EFFECT IN SHADOWS.



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

(First Paper.)
THE BRIDGE THAT SPANNED THE WORLD.

NE day,in years long gone by, an anxious-faced -
stranger walked the streets of Cordova. The
old Moorish capital was now a Spanish city. The king
and queen of Spain held there’ both court and camp; _
. upon the palace of the caliphs floated the flag of Spain ;
NUR above the buttressed tower of the mosque of a thou-
A MULETEER, sand columns, which the pious Caliph Abderrahman
long before had built, gleamed now the golden cross.

From palace to cathedral, from camp to court, the anxious-faced stranger
wandered, and men said he was a foolish Genoese sailor with some absurd fea
about finding Cathay, the land of gold and spices.

But one day, suddenly, the camp and court of King Ferdinand and Queen
Isabella broke away from Cordova and set themselves before the walls of
Granada, the last unconquered city of the Moors.

Thither the stranger followed it; there again did he renew his solicitations
and his pleas. And how at last he succeeded we all know. For that anxious-
faced waiter upon royalty at the Spanish court and camp was Christopher
Columbus, the Genoese.

Three years ago, as Commissioner for the Columbian Exhibition, I went: to
Spain to study the beginnings of American history. The central figure of that
history is Christopher Columbus. I shall ask you to now revisit with me all the
most important places identified with the great Genoese after he became in-
teresting as the man with a purpose. From Cordova to Cathay, we shall follow
him. We shall take him at the outset of his career of discovery and follow him -
to the end. I am, you will see, assuming that Columbus is the hero of America’s
initial appearance upon the stage of history. In doing this I do not deny the

great Norsemen anything; I only assert that the Italian made his. discovery

known, while the first visitors did not; and through Columbus the way was
opened whereby America was peopled arith those who brought with them the
blessings of civilization.

In the last decade of the fifteenth century Spain’s star was in the ascendant.
Following the successive invasions of the Phoenicians, the. Carthaginians,.the Van-
dals and the Goths, came the Moors, at the opening of the eighth century.
Gothic power terminated with the fall of Roderick, the last Gothic king, who
was overwhelmed beneath the Moorish flood that poured across from Africa.





FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

For nearly seven hundred years the Moors possessed the better part of Spain ;
they built mosques and palaces; they intended that their descendants should
possess this fair land forever. They gave to Spain a distinctive people and
oriental forms of speech and of architecture. The Moorish invasion had been
almost miraculous in its wide-spread conquests; but finally came the time when
they, too, must succumb, and to the prowess of Northern arms. Down from the
mountains of the north, from the Asturias and Pyrenees, swept the Castilian
armies, wave after wave, until the soil and cities the Africans had won with so
much bloodshed were wrested from them, and the conflict of centuries culmi-
nated, in 1492, in the fall of Granada and the expulsion of the Moors from Spain.
Toward the close of the fifteenth century, the only strongholds remaining to the
Moors lay in Andalusia, the southernmost section of Spain. This section is called
by the Spaniards, because of
its delightful climate, its fruit-
ful fields and its natural ad-
vantages asa dwelling-place
for man, La Tierra de Maria
Santissima—“land of the
most Sacred Virgin.”

When at last the union of
Isabella and Ferdinand joined
the forces of Aragon and
Castile, then appeared pos-
sible the long-deferred, long
hoped-for scheme of univer-
sal conquest and the ultimate
expulsion of the Moors from
Spanish territory. The most
fascinating episodes of that
final period of warfare oc-
curred in the beautiful Vega, or great plain of Granada, and among the hills
surrounding It.

Standing conspicuously upon every hill-crest overlooking the Vega, are the
remains of Moorish watch-towers. These they called their atalayas, and from
them the watchful sentinels flashed blazing signal-fires at the ap Dae e of
the enemy.

Even to-day these towers may be seen in various places, lone and solitary
landmarks, useless now around the fruitful valleys they were built to guard.
Centuries have slipped by since the danger signals flamed from their summit-
platforms, and they are now fast going to ruin and decay. One such atalaya
rose above the Hill of Elvira, always visible from the Alhambra at sunset, a black
sentinel against the brilliant sky. This tower I took as the objective point of



“THE MOSQUE OF A THOUSAND COLUMNS,’ CORDOVA.



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

my first foray. One May morning, attended by the gardener José, whom I had
engaged as my guide, I left the quaint cottage in old Granada, where I had
taken lodging, crossed the beautiful grove of elms to the Alhambra, and thence
down the Darro, through the half-sleeping city of Granada, seeking the distant
hills. Had I but the time and space I
should like to tell of the beauties of the
palace we left behind, and the elm grove
in which I have heard the nightingales
singing at midnight, as well as the golden-
sanded Darro, down the right bank of
which we strolled until it took its last
plunge beneath the arches that span it
and finally hide it from view beneath the

vivarambla— the favorite rambling-place PRESSE ae ene aes

of the Moors. It was delightfully cool in

the grove, where the birds were twittering preparatory to their matin music,
and until we were well out upon the plain beyond Granada we did not feel the
heat of the sun.

Three hours later we were reclining at the foot of the tower, which is locally
known as the Atalaya of Arbolote, and from which we had a view outspread that
rewarded us for our long and somewhat dusty walk. Nearly all the Vega lay un-
rolled before us. At our feet lay the remains of the old Roman Illora, dating from
a period near the birth of Christ ; beyond, Granada, dark in the valley, with the
Hill of the Sun, crowned by the Al
hambra, above it; and still beyond,
the shining crests of the Sierra Ne-
vada, broadly breasting the sun

S

—‘‘like silver shields new-burnished for display.”



As in the time of Columbus, so it
is now: smiling plain, dark masses of
olive-trees, silver threads of streams
coursing emerald meadows, frowning
battlements capping the Alhambra
hill, and glistening snow-peaks lying against the sky. Columbus saw all this,
and though he has left no description of the scene, its beauty did impress him,
for in his voyagings through the island-dotted seas, over which we shall follow
him, he constantly recurs to the charms of Andalusia.

But Granada and the Alhambra we have left behind; before us, seen in the
distance far across the beautiful Vega, lies a city seldom visited by strangers,
a city sleeping in the memories of the past, and with no tie connecting it with
the present. It is Santa Fé, the City of the Holy Faith.



A DISTANT VIEW OF SANTA FE.



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

Four centuries ago and two years more, the armies of Isabella and Ferdi-
nand had advanced their line of conquest to the mountain-wall around the Vega.
One after another, the Moorish towns and cities had fallen before the implacable
Ferdinand: Zahara, Antequera, Alhama, Loxa, Illora, Moclin; until, in 1490,
Granada stood alone, isolate, crippled, yet
proudly defiant.

In April, 1491, the Spanish army,
horse and foot, fifty thousand strong,
poured over the hills and into the Vega,
intrenching themselves upon the site of
Santa Fé. It was a situation strategically
important, in the center of the plain.

Granada lay full in sight before them.
Where to-day rise the towers of its great
cathedral, the minaret of a Moslem mosque towered skyward, and from its
summit the Muezzin called the faithful to prayers: “ Allah il Allah! Great
God! Great God! There is none but the one God! Come to prayer! Come
to prayer! It is better to pray than to sleep!”

So near were the soldiers of Ferdinand to the object of their desires that
they could almost hear the summoning cry of the Muezzin. Upon the site of
the fortified camp, which was first of tents, then huts of wood and stone, was
founded in the year 1492 the royal war-town of Santa Fé. It may be seen, as I
saw it that hot day in May, 1888, scarcely
lifting itself above and beyond broad fields
of barley, wheat and alfalfa.

A semi-somnolent city is Santa Fé, com-
pletely walled about, with most picturesque
gates facing the cardinal points. If the
term “ dead-and-alive”’ may be applied to
any place, it certainly may be to this.
Yet its history is interesting, and no
student of the conquest of Granada can =
afford to pass it by without at least a RT ola CRT OAKS NC:
peep into its past. Although we are deal-
ing with Columbus, yet we may not neglect the historical accessories that
make his story worth the telling. A hundred books, at least, in this Columbian
year, will tell the tale of his life and adventures, but will only repeat what is
already familiar to all, until the reader and the listener will weary of Columbus.
Hence it is to avoid the cyclopedic and biographic I shall aim, and shall present
the unfamiliar scenes of his adventures as viewed by myself. Since a multitude
of writers are already on the search, hunting the victim from the cradle to the
grave, we will not join in, but will lie quietly in ambush; perchance we may



THE ALHAMBRA.
(As seen over the roofs of Granada.)





FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

gain glimpses of the great man unawares. So I will claim the privilege of
digressing a bit, merely to relate one of those exciting encounters that took
place while the army was encamped at Santa Fé, and which, while it enlivened
the monotony of camp life, kept up the spirits of the men.

Among the fiercest of the caballeros in command under the Spanish king, as
the army lay before Granada, was, the historians tell us, Hernando del Pulgar.
Casting about one day for an opportunity to distinguish himself, he espied the
city gate of Granada but negligently guarded. Galloping through it, he some-
how ‘evaded the Moorish sentinels and penetrated even to the great mosque
in the center of the city. Losing not a moment, he dashed up to the door
and with his poniard there affixed a bit of wood with the Ave Maria printed on
it. Then he wheeled about and darted through the gateway with great; clat-
ter of hoof and clank of
weapon, and, hurling cries
of defiance at the astonished
Moors, escaped with a whole
skin to the camp.

The Moors at first were
puzzled to account for this
foray ; but when they finally
found the Ave Maria pinned
against the great door of the
mosque, they were beside
themselves with rage. And
the next day an immense
Moor, Yarfe, one of the
most powerful and renowned
of the Moslem warriors, in-
solently paraded before the
Christian host with the sa-
cred emblem attached to the tail of his horse and dragging in the dust. At the
same time he defied all the cavaliers, or any one of them, to meet him in single
combat before the assembled armies.

Now, Ferdinand had forbidden any of his nobles to engage in this manner
with the Moors, because their cavaliers were better horsemen, more skilled in
the feats of the tourney. They generally came off victorious from such en-
counters, thus greatly weakening the esprit de corps of the Spanish host.

But this insult to the Christian religion could not be borne, and the cavaliers
all burned te avenge it. A fiery young Castilian, Garcilasso de la Vega, rushed
before Isabella and importuned her to allow him to defend the holy faith against
this pagan Moor and rescue the Ave Maria from further defilement.

Ter permission reluctantly granted, he armed himself completely and went





THE HEAD OF THE MOOR, AT SANTA FE.



FROM CORDOVA 10 CATHAY.

forth to meet the Moslem. Yarfe was almost twice his size, and was mounted in
asuperior manner. And yet, notwithstanding the apparent odds against him,
young Garcilasso killed the boastful Moor, rescued the sacred emblem, and laid
the head of his adversary at the feet of Isabella.

The site of this memorable encounter and the spot where Isabella sat to
witness it, are marked by a great stone cross protected by an artistic canopy.
Subsequently a church was erected in Santa Fé, in which to-day the sacristan
can show you a silver lamp presented by Isabella; but the strangest thing about
this church stands between its two great towers. At a distance it resembles a
large kite, but nearer view discloses it as a memento of that stirring episode of
the siege of Granada. The marble head of the vanquished Moor, of heroic size,
lies placidly between the towers, and above him rises the lance, or an efficy of
it, used to slay him, flanked with palm leaves and across them the precious
placard of the Ave Maria. ;

Thus, everywhere in Spain, are we reminded of the days of chivalry and
romance, and the scenes of the distant past are brought vividly before us.

But at the door of Isabella’s silken tent another hero stands awaiting royal
favor. He asks no boon of her; he does but seek her aid to carry out his
schemes of conquest; he craves permission, like Garcilasso, to enter the lists
against the infidel.

The Moors are conquered, but mayhap there are other pagans, in the world
unknown beyond the sea. He, Columbus, with the aid of his sovereigns and
by the grace of God, would go forth single-handed to battle for the faith.

It is the month of January, 1492. Briefly the story of Granada’s downfall
may be told. That month Granada capitulated, and the last stronghold of Islam
in Europe passed from the Moors forever. The year that saw the star of Spain
in the ascendant was the birth-year, also, of the history of civilizationin America.

The two great events are coeval; for as the Star of the Orient sank toward
Africa, the Star of the Occident rose upon the horizon. The same year that
witnessed the greatest victory of the Spaniards, by which their nation was
advanced at the time to the foremost place on earth, likewise beheld the open-
ing of a career of conquest in unknown regions, the magnitude of which the
imagination fails to grasp. And it was to come about through the genius of an
obscure, almost unknown, individual, humbly waiting his sovereigns’ pleasure at
Santa Fé. Here in this city of the camp, American history had its beginnings;
here the crucial test was applied that decided for all time the fate of millions of
human beings across the ocean, and changed the character of Spain and her peo-
ple. Her victories hitherto had been on land; for centuries she had been en-
gaged in wresting from the infidel her own lost territory ; foot by foot, year by
year, until at last the great work was accomplished. Now, before their wearied sol-
diers had recovered breath, while their arms were yet tired with wielding the



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

sword, while the blood of their slain was still fresh upon their weapons, the
Spanish sovereigns were again importuned by this Genoese adventurer.

Little wonder that Ferdinand grew impatient and Isabella wearied of his
plea. In the light of their own unsurpassed achievement, when even the
Pope hastened to congratulate them upon their unqualified success in ridding
Europe of the hated Moslems, the schemes of this Unknown must have appeared
ridiculous. The wonder is that they should have maintained him, idle, persis-







THE BRIDGE OF PINES,
(Here the royal courier overtook Columbus and turned him back to the discovery of America.)

tent, an attendant upon their camps for years, from Cordova to Granada. At
last, he had gone away disheartened, but he had returned again at the solicitations
of Juan Perez, the queen’s old confessor, and at the instance of Isabella herself.
He had returned as persistent, as calmly confident of ultimate success from some
quarter, as before. He abated no jot or particle of his ridiculous demands; he
wanted ships and caravels, sailors, provisions, munitions, articles for barter; he
demanded that he be made Admiral of the Ocean Sea and Viceroy over the re-
gions discovered ; that he be granted the privileges of. the aristocracy, and one
tenth of the revenue of the yet undiscovered country ; in truth there seemed no



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

limit to his demands. And this from an unknown man whose only claims were
to possessions yet to be possessed — nothing more nor less than veritable
“ Castles in Spain!”

Perhaps, if the serious queen ever did take a humorous view of a situation,
she may have seen the funny side of this magniloquent proposition and have
yielded at last out of sheer weariness.

At first, however, notwithstanding the
urgent solicitations of her respected con-
fessor, Isabella could not bring herself to
accept the terms of Columbus, and he de-
parted again, this time fully resolved to
abandon Spain entirely. But he was not
to do so, for he had not accomplished
more than two leagues of his journey back
to the Convent of La Rabida before he
was overtaken by a messenger from Isa-
bella, promising acquiescence to his de-
mands. Whether or not the queen did
this of her own volition, or whether her treasurer, Santangel, offered to find
the requisite money for the outlay, or whether she proffered the pledge of her
jéwels, are matters-for the historians to settle.

Thus far the historians seem to be “all at sea,” and makes thisor that state-
ment based more upon his prejudices than on any actual knowledge he possesses
of historical facts. The chances are that,
since they were probably already pledged,
Isabella did not offer to pledge her jewels
to aid in furnishing the sinews of war for
the siege of Granada.

But let it suffice that she promised
assistance, and, once embarked in the en-
terprise, gave the future admiral both
pecuniary and moral support. All the more
creditable is this to Isabella, since it wag
done at a time when the royal treasury
had been completely exhausted by the
drafts upon it for the Moorish wars, and
when she might have been supposed to be already sated with the glory of
conquest and not anxious for further adventures.

The place at which the royal courier overtook Columbus has been preserved
in tradition ever since; it is pointed out to-day with unerring finger. He had
reached a river flowing through the Vega, spanned then as now by a bridge,
known as the “Bridge of Pines.” It is locally known as Pinos puente, and





GATEWAY AND TURRET AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE
BRIDGE OF PINES.



THE GRANITE CROSSES OF ZUBIA.
(Where Isabella escaped from the Moors.



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

was the object of another little journey by José and myself, after we had visited
and I had photographed Santa Fé. We had noted it from our eyrie at the
atalaya tower, and one day, through seas of scarlet and crimson poppies, we had
descended to the valley of the bridge. The Bridge of Pines is picturesque
as well as historic; it is a creditable monument to the artisans who erected it,
and:to the great event that here took place. Even though the discussions took
place at Santa Fé, still this spot may be looked upon as the one at which the



THE TAKING OF MOCLIN.
(From a carving on the choir-stall of Toledo Cathedral.)

Columbian career was opened —as the turning of the tide in his fortunes as
well as the turning-point in his journey. For this reason, and in view of the
far-reaching consequences of this departure, I have chosen to call this Pinos
puente, the “ Bridge that Spanned the World.” It is a structure of stone and
masonry, with a gateway and a turret, spanning the stream’ over two high
arches, and is nearly always a scene of busy life.
José and Lrambled along the banks and climbed the hill above, where are
the remains of an ancient Moorish fort, finally resting at a meson where the
simple folk served us quite cheerfully with coarsest fare — the best they had.



ROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

Another trip on another day was to Moclin, on the outer verge of the Vega,
where the Moorish fortifications are exactly as left after being inierea by the
cannon of King Ferdinand in the year previous to the fall of Channa Among
the wood carvings around the silleria, or choir-stalls, of Toledo cathedral, is
one depicting the taking of Moclin; the whole siege of Granada, in fact, is there
illustrated.

At other times we visited successively Loxa, Tlora and Zubia, at which last
place Isabella suffered a narrow escape from the Moors, and where a group of
great granite crosses marks a religious station or shrine. Granada and its en-
virons present a field for exploration to the enthusiastic student of history,

whether he be interested in the closing
scenes of Moorish domination, the life of
Ferdinand and Isabella, or the dawning
of American history. Around Columbus,
however, cluster the associations of Santa
Fé and of the Bridge of Pines, at the
opening of this drama of the siege of Gra-
nada; thence he followed the court as
it advanced to.take possession of the
city. Tradition relates, with an air of
authenticity, that in the Alhambra itself
Columbus was a visitor a while, and that
he walked gloomily its marble corridors while the issue of his voyage was
pending. According to the painstaking historian, a memorable interview be-
tween him and his royal master and mistress took place in the Hall of Justice,
the Sala de la Justicia, or Sala del Tribunal. It bounds one side of the famous
“Court of the Lions,” is seventy-five feet long, and is most profusely, yet
delicately ornamented, while the vista adown its mosaic pavement is entrancing
in its beauty. Tiles and inscriptions are. on every side, and a lovely latticed
window conveys just a hint of a perfumed garden beyond. Here, did the
swart Moors recline and dream away the noontide hours ; here the stern caliphs
sat, and here, so it is said, Isabella received Columbus.

During a month of delightful days, I dwelt within the garden walls of an
Eden-like retreat in Granada, sallying out upon excursions as narrated; wan-
dering through the Alhambra by moonlight and by daylight, and weaving about
the departed Moors, the Christian conquerors and Columbus himself, the tissue

_ of a fabric I have herein attempted to unfold for my readers’ entertainment.
Frederick A. Ober.



MY GARDEN IN GRANADA.



A HEATHEN MISSIONARY.

(Lines on a Japanese Doll.)

N a vase on my mantel he stands, looking down ;
- Stands, said I? He hangs securely

By a hairpin, hooked in the belt of his gown,
To hold him firmly, surely,

To the vase’s rim; “neath his dangling feet
A porcelain abyss yawns steepy,

Yet he looks on the world with a gaze most sweet,
Calm, bland, but never sleepy.

I first beheld him chez Vantine,
’Mid divers dolls Oriental ;

The wisest face among ninety and nine,
All placid, wise and gentle.

By a beggarly bit of modern pelt —
A.sordid silver quarter —

I won a sage to my mantel-shelf,
And daily I bless the barter.

I keep him there enpulpited,
G Enthroned ” has too worldly a sogutie
With his wide-sleeved, open arms outspread,
In mild benevolence beaming.
To the sky-blue top of his black-fringed pate,
He bears the subtle aroma
Of an antique race and an ancient date;
Oh! “toy” were a sad misnomer.

Not his a simpering, soulless face,
Like doll from frivolous Paris,
Nor like the round-eyed ruddy grace
The German girl-child carries.
Too humble he the babe to calm,
Who cries for glare and glitter ;
His sapient smile: has mystic: balm
For grown-up folk that’s fitter.



A HEATHEN MISSIONARY.



*JAPPY, THE SAINT.”

When oft with anxious, care-worn brow,
And vexed by trivial worry,

I catch his glance in passing, how
He smiles down on my hurry!

I smile response, and straight my heart
Beats lighter for the smiling.

Jappy, my household saint thou art,
Gracious, benign, beguiling !



A HEATHEN MISSIONARY.

Tis true thy garb.is coarse and quaint,
Thy locks are stiff and scrappy,

Thy lip’s sweet curves too red with paint,
And yet thou mak’st me happy.

I love thy scorn of worldly gear ;
Thy smile’s the flower of the ages.

Now foolish fret shall flee from here —
We'll both of us be sages.

Mayhap some esoteric saint,
Thy old sires cultivated
Tn lands and centuries far and faint,
To thee has transmigrated..
So, Jappy, lean down from thy place
With smile serene and gentle,
And preach the charm of a placid face
To at least one Occidental.
Mary McL. Watson.








anemia KIND

A DAUGHTER OF THE PURITANS.





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A MORNING CALL.

OME, little master !
Open wide the door.
Here’s a time for joy and fun,
Here’s a time to bark and run —
Such a sky and such a sun never were before !
All the boughs are dancing on the shining trees,
All the clouds are dancing with the dancing breeze,
Life and sport and sparkle seem to bound and leap —
Don’t you hear them calling? Are you still asleep ?
Listen to the music by the sleigh-bells played;
Look at all the snow-balls waiting to be made ;
Think of shouts and tumbles, laughs and barks and noise —
All the happy tumult dear to dogs and aes
Come, little master,
Can you still delay ?
Here are two who wait for you
Let us off to play!

Come, little master !
Till we see your face,
Something that we long for seems
Dim and distant as in dreams,
Something fair and kindly lacks in the morning’s grace.
It may be the kind hand with its gentle touch,
It may be the brown eyes that we love so much ;



MAMSEY"S .GIGLIO. SPOON.

It may be the glad voice sounding clear and true —
It is something, master, that belongs to you.
And until we see it, here we sit and wait
Though the world is calling and the day is late,
Though the world is calling, and the way is clear,
Waiting for our comrade still we linger here.

Come, little master!

Wherefore now delay ?

Playmates true are here for you,
Prithee, come away !
ME B.

MAMSEY S. GIGHlO SPOON,

AMSEY is making a collection of souvenir spoons.
She picked up the first one herself last year in
Sienna at the time of the famous mediseval festa.
It bears the design of the fabulous Roman wolf
with the twins, this being the device of Sienna.

When Mamsey asked why, she received the
vague response : “ Sienna is the younger sister of
Rome.” But later she read that “Senio, son of
Remus, flying from the wrath of his Uncle Romu-
lus, stopped where Sienna now stands and built
himself a castle.” The city which grew up about

the castle adopted the family device “ La Lupa,” as the Siennese say.

Mamsey proudly displayed the pretty “ricordo” to the children at home,
giving to each one sip of “ truly tea” out of its golden bowl. The second spoon
came from Venice and bore, not a gondola’s prow as many of them do, but the
winged and ringed lion of St. Mark’s. The third was sent from Munich by
Lady Gay, its design being the “ Miinchenes Kind,” the little monk from whom
the city is called; as, Miinchen or Munich.

The fourth was a Florentine specialty, a minute copy of the grotesque Diav-
olino made long ago by Gian of Bologna for the palace of the Vecchietti.
Now, alas! the palace has been torn down owing to the mad modern passion for
straight streets and right angles which is causing the ruthless destruction of
historic landmarks both in Florence and Rome. The quaint bronze imp, which



THE GIGLIO, EMBLEM OF FLORENCE.



MAMSEY’S GIGLIO SPOON...

for three centuries grinned over the mercantile transactions of the Old Market,
was to have been placed in the National Museum; but therd is a rumor that it
has been sold out of Italy.

Mamsey’s fifth spoon came as a Christmas gift from Rome, bearing, as it
needs must, the Roman wolf and the Roman twins. Somewhat longer and
larger and heavier than the spoon of Sienna, befitting the superior grandeur of
the Eternal City and her condescending acknowledgment of Sienna as a younger
sister. .

The sixth was a tiny bit of elegance from Paris, tipped with transparent
colored stones which, held against the light, was suggestive of a stained glass
window. Reading upon the pasteboard box the name of “ Tiffany,” gave
Mamsey the sensation as of walking down Broadway.

Six pretty spoons and a story about each one of them.

Sunday evenings at tea the children were each allowed to use one as an
historically-artistic treat.

But now comes our little Folly’s inspiration.

One morning early he appeared at Mamsey’s bedside.

“ Mamsey,” he said, “ please tell me when your birthday will be. I know it
comes in March — but which day, please?” .

Mamsey had been making up her mind to discard birthdays, so she answered
whimsically :

“ve decided not to have one this year!”

“Not have a birthday, Mamsey!” cried the child, with widening eyes.
“ Why, how can you help it?”

Mamsey smiled.

“Tve thought of a way,” she said. “You see, dear, I’ve had so many of
‘them; one every year for such a long time. One may weary of anything. I
shall halve mine and discount them after this.”

Mamsey laughed to herself, but the boy persisted.

“ Please tell me, Mamsey!”

Mamsey reflected as though over an abstruse problem.

“« After all, I may as well submit to one more not to disappoint you. It will
be on the twentieth, Folly.”

Two days later Mamsey found a note in her work-basket. It was written
with a stubby lead pencil in big blurred letters on a scrap of wrapping paper.

Precious MaMsEY :

Didn’t you say once that I might walk into Florence some day all alone? When you let me go I would
like to take my ten francs with me if you will let me. The ten francs that the Princess May gave me for
Christmas. I would rather not tell you for what I want the ten francs. Will you let me take the ten
francs? It is very necessary for me to take the ten francs. I can go alone because it is only as far as the
Via Tornabuoini.

Your Affectionate Son,
FOLLy.



MAMSEY’S GIGLIO SPOON.

Now Mamsey is gifted with powers of divination and she smiled to herself.
“It will be a giglio spoon —a birthday gift for me!” she divined. She called
the boy and said :

“Now, my dear little Folly, I will let you have your ten francs and
walk to Florence —but not alone. You are too small to spend ten francs by
yourself. You would be sure to buy something you would not care for. I will
ask Herr August to take you; will that do, Folly?” The boy was delighted.

“ And you will not ask me for why, Mamsey?”

“ No, dear, I will not ask you for why.”

Herr. August, the children’s friend, smiled over Mamsey’s divination and
entered into the spirit of Folly’s surprise, as only Herr August could. One day
Mamsey took her trio to the Bargello, that stern old prison-palace of the Middle

_ Ages which is now transformed into the National Museum.

They looked in vain for the Diavolino and paused before the exquisite
bronze of Mercury by Gian of Bologna.

“Why, he made also the Diavolino!” exclaimed Bonnie, for the Florentine
imp is her favorite spoon.

“Yes;” echoed Don, “and the big green statue, of Cosimo I., in the
Piazza della Signoria.”

Mamsey pointed out.the winged cap and sandals of the Mercury, and bade
them observe the delicate poise of the figure which seems about to spring into
the air and wing its untrammeled way far up above the clouds. Then to im-
press the aérial god upon the childish minds, Mamsey added: “One of the
Florentine spoons bears this flying Mercury.”

Bonnie instantly nudged Folly with a vigorous elbow.

‘“A Mercury spoon, a Mercury spoon! ” she whispered.

_ “ Be quiet!” shrieked Folly ; “ she will hear you.”
Mamsey’s face was marvelously impassive, but that evening she said to Herr
August: “Folly will wish to buy a Mercury spoon, but please do not let him
spend more than his ten francs.”
Thus the day came when Folly trudged off to town in his dainty white
- flannel sailor suit with the ten francs tucked safely away in his breast pocket.
Herr August met him at the square of San Marco, and changed the trip into a
_ treat by giving him cakes and chocolate at what Don calls “a sweet shop.”
_ Then — but why tell where they went? Mamsey divined, but she did not

follow.

For a week to come the five children kept the secret bravely. Only Laddie,
the scamp, confided to Mamsey —

“Folly bringed you a buful ’poon!”

And Lella asked again and again; “ What me give you for you birfday,
Mamsey ?”

March twentieth came all too quickly. After thirty, birthdays are so will-



MAMSEY’S GIGLIO SPOON.

ingly skipped. It proved that Folly’s inspiration had spread through the family
in a way Mamsey had failed to divine.

Laddie and Lell came first with their offerings — bookmarks. lLaddie’s was
blue and Lell’s was rose — because she is a bit of a rosebud herself.

— Object-blind folk might have seen only two colored cardboard slips with a
pearly hand at the end of each, and along whose length meandered the modern
legend: ‘ Pear’s Soap. Insures a Skin Like Ivory.”

But Mamsey saw two dainty birthday gifts from loving baby hearts. Bonnie
had worked day and night over an embroidered tea-cloth which she now pre-
sented wrapped in the folds of Garva’s latest newspaper.

Best and last appeared a slender package of soft white tissue-paper, upon
which was written: “For my precious darling Mamsey.”

Mamsey made big eyes; she was never so surprised in her life. Slowly she
unrolled the soft tissue to find the prettiest of silver spoons with a golden bowl,
twisted stem and device of the Florentine giglio.

Now, Folly knows that Mamsey loves the giglio, emblem of Florence, the
fair flower city. It is a conventionalized lily, or rather iris, such as spring wild
and free upon the meadows aud hills about Florence. Even before the old, old
days of the Florentine Republic, the blue iris and the deep red lilies of the fields
had bestowed upon the old walled town the appellation that is hers to-day, the
“Lily City.” Mamsey promised to use the giglio spoon for her “ very special
own,” whereupon all the younglings jumped about the room in delight. All
but Don whose face was overcast.

“]T only have nothing to give. [did not think of it. Why should the others
think always and never1? I should love to give you something, Maimsey.”

It was so like our moony Don. His voice trembled and his throat choked
with the big lump we all find so hard to swallow. Mamsey smiled at him.

“ Let me tell you, Don; I bought myself a new inkstand the other day. A
red one with a lid that clicks. You might make me a present of it. It is
stupid to buy things for one’s self. The inkstand shall be your gift to me.”

Don’s face grew suddenly radiant.

“Oh! I’m so glad, Mamsey. Besides, it is useful, ’specially for you.

“ After writing, Mamsey will refresh herself with a cup of tea served on my
tea-cloth,” said Bonnie.

“‘ And sip her tea with the giglio spoon,” chirruped Folly, with a flourish of
two hilarious heels in the air — so very expressive that it left nothing more to
be said.

Jean Porter Rudd.





THE CHORAL.

(From a Painting by Walther Firle.)

CHRISTMAS TIDE!

HRISTMAS tide is a time of cold,
Of weathers bleak and of winds ablow ;
Never a flower — fold on fold
Of grace and beauty — tops the snow
Or breaks the black and bitter mold.

And yet ’tis warm — for the chill and gloom
Glow with love and with childhood’s glee ;
And yet ’tis sweet — with the rich perfume
Of sacrifice and of charity.

Where are flowers more fair to see?

Christmas tide, itis warm and sweet:

A whole world’s heart at a Baby’s feet !
Richard Burton.









































































































THE PASSING OF THE SHEEP.

T a very early hour one September morning in Florence, I was aroused to
semi-consciousness by a most unusual noise, and, as I lay half-asleep, I felt
as though I ought to arise and investigate the cause of it. A sudden horror
came over me that something was. wrong with the steam pipes, but quickly
followed the remembrance that I was in Italy, where we have no such dis-.
turbers of the domestic peace. Still the strange noise beat upon my ears, and
finally sounded like the tinkling of many small bells in the dim distance.
I was just settling myself for one more nap, feeling sure that the strange





THE “PASSING. OF® TEES pare.

sound was beyond my province, when the bleating of a sheep brought me
quickly to my senses, and I remembered to have heard that at this season the
shepherds come down from the mountains with their flocks, to take them to the
warmer plains below. So I hastily aroused the sleeping children, who only
needed the word “lambs” to make them broad awake, and we flew to the
windows, and lo! what a sight was there.

The whole street and sidewalk below, as far as we could see in either direc-
tion, was filled with a moving mass. Hundreds and thousands of sheep and
lambs ; flocks following each other in quick succession, with only room enough
between for the shepherd, who always leads his sheep with a big crook. The
indispensable: green umbrella is always over one shoulder, and he is generally
carrying one or more tiny lambkins in his arms.

There was no trouble with refractory sheep racing off in the wrong direction;
all were content and happy to follow their beloved shepherds, at whose sides
trotted the faithful dogs (the friends, and not tormentors of the sheep), and
the big leaders of the flocks, that wore the bells. It was the tinkling of these
hundreds of bells that had aroused me so early. Never shall I forget that
strange, weird sound as it rose and fell on the early morning air.

These numerous flocks of sheep pass through the city twice a year—in the
spring, when they leave the warm lowlands around Perugia for the Northern
mountains, and in autumn, when the frosty air drives them back to the plains.
And as they must pass through the cities on their way, they are obliged to
linger outside the city walls until all business in the streets is suspended, when
the night guards open the ponderous gates and allow them to pass through.

It was an impressive sight to see those hundreds of sheep following their
leaders so happily, and spoke volumes for the friendly relations existing between
them, and contrasted strongly with the remembrance I had of sheep driven by
men and chased by dogs, until the poor frightened creatures did not know which
way they ought to go.

Then came home to me with a new force and beauty the familiar words of
Jesus, descriptive of the good shepherd :

“And he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them; and the sheep

follow him, for they know his voice.”
Belle Spalding.









“Hed hase

tp
Wz Loh,
OS eee

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at *%




eee
wr gil 8 Hy Y gi
ml Vale,



THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

ACK WINTER burst into the cheery New England kitchen with a wild
whoop. It was Friday afternoon; the next day was Saturday, and Jack
was going fishing. oa ;

Gran’ ther Green, with his great iron-bound spectacles, sat in his own particu-
lar corner reading the Cape Cod Jtem. The Widow Winter was frying dough-
nuts, and several little Winters were grouped around her with an air of
expectation. .

“ What's that parcel, Jack?” inquired the widow from her place at the
frying-pan.

“Oh! that?” said Jack. “That's a chart; Captain Seth Mallow lent it to
me. He’s teaching me navigation, you know. It’s a chart of Nantucket and
the ‘Vineyard’ and the ‘Cape.’ It’s got everything down on it, but it ain’t
half right. ‘Old Man’ Shoal is about two miles out, and there ain’t any ‘ slue’ in
Point Rip, and lots of things are wrong; but then, some of those Government fel-
lows made it a Jong time ago, and of course it ain’t natural they should know as
much about these waters as we do. And, mother, ’m going fishing to-morrow
— going before daylight so as to catch the tide; ‘Hunk’ Coffin’s going with
me; the mackerel are running like everything on the ‘ Rip, and I'll bring back
a barrelful, or my name’s not Jack Winter.”

Jack was a Nantucketer, a Nantucketer born and bred. Most of his life had
been spent on the little island, and like all the rest of the male inhabitants he
was as nearly amphibious as it is possible for a human being to be; land or
water, it was all the same to him; he was equally at home on either element.
He knew just the place on Maddequet to lie and wait in the early spring for







“WHAT'S THAT PARCEL, JACK?” INQUIRED THE wIDow.





THE PILOT OF -P He NANTUCKET SHOALS.

the brant as they passed over on their northern journey, and every “ foot pond”
among the hills where the black duck settled in the winter twilight.

Probably few who read this story have ever been on the quaint little island.
You may visit it if you like, for now it is quite a famous summer resort; but
you can never see it as Jack saw it. In the old town electric lights sputter
on the corners, and the tinkling bells of the street-car and the whistle of the
locomotive mingle with the roar of the surf at S’conset. Even the moorlands
where Jack used to hunt plover seem to have changed.

Jack had been to Boston once, and once to Halifax in his uncle’s brig, but
that was the extent of his travels; his world was a small one, but what there was
of it he knew thoroughly, in spite of his youth. He was a little over sixteen
then, and there were few better pilots over the dangerous shoals from Gay Head
to Monomoy. ;

Of course he wanted to go to sea; in the old days no self-respecting Nan-
incket maiden would have thought of marrying a man who had not made at
least one whaling voyage ; but his mother had so far managed to keep him
at home.

“Get your ‘edication’ first,” said Gran’ther. “ Edication first if you ever
want to be a master.”

And so Jack had bided his time.

Sometimes he would steal into the parlor, a funny little yoom in the front of
the house that was kept closed and darkened except on occasions of great cere-
mony, and take down from the hook over the mantel an old navy sword with
which he would lunge fiercely at the prim, straight-backed chairs and the shiny
horse-hair sofa.

Tt was his father’s sword; the sword of a gallant young seaman who had sailed
to the war with Farragut — and never returned.

The widow, too, sometimes slipped into the parlor to look at the sword.
Maybe she did so on this night, after all the rest of the household had gone to
bed, and if the visit brought a momentary sigh I am sure it was changed to a
smile when she peeped into Jack’s room, where he and Hunk were snoring in
unison beneath the bedclothes; for, stretched from the bed and out of the window
into the garden, was a stout piece of cod-line. The inner end was tied to Jack’s toe,
and old Seth Williams, when he went to pull his lobster pots at three o’clock in
the morning, had agreed to give the other end a good “yank” as he passed by.

It was pitch dark when the boys emerged from the house, that hour which
the proverb says is the darkest, the one just before dawn. Jack’s toe ached a
little from the energetic pulling, but his spirits were high.

A short walk brought them to the wharf, and in a few moments they were
embarked in Jack’s old weather-beaten cat-boat.

“ She’s pretty well used up, ain’t she, Jack ?”’ remarked Hunk.



THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

“Yes, she is; but she’s got to last this season,” replied Jack. “Take the
tiller, Hunk, while I ‘sweat wp’ the peak; ” and the boat, under the influence of
the light southerly breeze which fanned her tattered sail, glided silently into
~ the darkness.

Slowly she rounded Brant Point, looking dim and ghostly in the gloom, and
then away to the “noth’ard” and “ west’ard,” just skirting the Koskata flats, and
heading as near as might be for the glimmering light on Great Point.

They were now out upon the sound; the inner harbor lay behind them, and
with a free sheet and a steady breeze the little boat bounded merrily over the
short seas. :

Barely visible to windward stretched the low shore of the island, curving like
a big horseshoe, with Great Point at the extreme northern end, upon which
stood the lighthouse for which the boys were steering. Following the line of
the coast and jutting some three miles into the ocean from the point, was the
dangerous reef known as Point Rip. Its outer extremity was marked by a buoy,
but well in near the shore there was a passageway of deep water —a slue, the
fishermen called it.

Far away over the land, they could once in a while catch a glimpse of the
light on Sankaty Head, on the south shore of the island, flashing its warning to
any mariner who might be so unlucky as to be in the vicinity ; for beyond that lay
the shoals — the dreaded Nantucket Shoals, stretching to the south’ard and east-
’ard twenty miles or more to the lightship on Great South Shoal which marked
the limit of the danger space. Woe to the stranger who ever found himself
within that space of shifting sands, tide rips and cross currents; only a local
pilot, and a good one at that, could ever get him out. He might as well throw
his chart overboard ; it was useless in that neighborhood.

“Are you going to try the slue, packs asked Hunk, as Jack moved aft,
having Rniehed. coiling up the “ gear.’

“Yes,” answered Jack. “TI think it will be daylight when we get there; all
that I want is Just light enough to see the water, and I’m all right. Let her go
straight for the point, Hunk.”

As Jack predicted, when Great Point was abeam the dawn began to break.
To an unpracticed eye the water looked alike everywhere, but not so to Jack.
The slight difference in the color and appearance of the deep water was his
guide, and under his direction the boat shot through the narrow channel. The
next moment she was rolling lazily on the long eave swell of the Atlantic.
The sound was passed, the boys were on the ocean.

“ All plain sailing now,” cheerfully remarked Hunk..

“T don’t know, Hunk. I don’t much like this long swell; and the sky looks
nasty, too.”

Hunk glanced to the east’ard, and sure enough the dawn did look red and
threatening.





THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

“ Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning,” he muttered to himself.

Suddenly Jack straightened himself up and took a long steady look to
wind ard.

“Tt’s a-coming ; just our luck

“ What is?” asked Hunk. ‘

“Fog,” replied Jack laconically. “See it?” and he pointed to the south,
where faintly visible on the horizon appeared what seemed to be a low bank of
yellow clouds. Then he added:

“Well, let it come; I think I can find Fishing Rip even if the fog is thick
enough to cut; if we can’t, we'll see what we can pick up off Sankaty. Let her
go southeast.”

They sailed on this course for an hour or more, while slowly but surely the
fog came drifting in. Little by little the land was shut out from view; first
Sankaty and then Wauwinnet faded away, and at last Great Point was swallowed
up in the yellow mist.

“ Pleasant,” remarked Jack, as the mainsail gave a great flap to windward, for
with the coming of the fog the wind had almost departed. “I suppose we will
have to drift around here till the wind takes it into its head to blow again.
Well, it don’t much matter, for I think it would be pretty risky business running
out to ‘Rip’ the way the weather looks to-day. There is one consolation; we
are not likely to get run down in this part of the world.”

For another hour the boat drifted with the tide. They had lowered the sail.

“Tt’s no use letting her flap herself to pieces,” Hunk had remarked economi-
cally ; and then he had got, out their deep-sea fishing lines—not that they
expected to catch much of anything, but it was something to do. “ We might
hook a flounder or two,’

1»

’

remarked Jack.

They fished in silence for a while, and soon both boys were nodding over
their lines. Jack roused himself and peered over the side.

“Tsay, Hunk, we are drifting pretty fast. The tide here runs like a” —

“Mercy on us! What's that ?” suddenly ejaculated Hunk.

Jack was on his feet in an instant, straining his eyes in a vain endeavor to
pierce the fog. The sound that had so startled Hunk was one with which both |
‘boys were familiar — the hoarse blast of a fog-horn.

« Think she’ll run us down?” asked Hunk under his breath.

“Not with this wind,” observed Jack rather dryly. “A fisherman out of his
reckoning, I guess. Get out the oars, Hunk.”

The fog-horn sounded again, this time much nearer, and a few moments
later, dimly discernible, its size magnified to mountainous proportions by the
“loomage” of the fog, there could be distinguished the towering sails and then
the black hull of a large ship.

“ A square rigger, by Jove!” exclaimed Jack. ‘What in the mischief can
she be doing in here?”



CAE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS:

The little boat and the big ship drifted slowly toward one another. There
was a slight commotion on the forecastle, and then the lookout’s voice was heard
as he reported:

“Something on the port bow, sir. I think it is a small boat.”

“Ship ahoy!” sang out Jack.

“ Halloo!” came the response.

“What ship is that ?”

“United States frigate Constitution. Who are you?”

“Cat-boat Flyaway, fishing.”

“Golly! but she’s full of men; look!” and Hunk gazed open-mouthed at her
tall black sides pierced with a dozen gun ports, from each of which a dozen
heads were craned, eager to catch a glimpse of the strangers. Her to’gallant
forecastle was crowded with men and boys, and on the bridge aft a group of
officers in dripping oil-skins seemed to be holding an anxious consultation.

One of them presently hailed the boat:

““ Where are we?” he asked.

“On Nantucket Shoals,” answered Jack.

“Come aboard for a moment, if you please,” continued the officer.

There was a quick, sharp order; a seaman sprang into the chains; the end of
a heaving line fell into the boat, and the next moment they were alongside,
climbing the slippery accommodation ladder.

- A dapper young gentleman in the uniform of a midshipman met them at
the gangway. Jack found out afterward he was called the “gentleman of the
watch.” He conducted Jack to the bridge, while Hunk, too much astonished to
move, seemed rooted to his position in the gangway.

He was surrounded at once by a group of some half-hundred laughing,
questioning youngsters, all boys about his own age. |

They were midshipmen from the Naval Academy on their yearly practice
cruise, and the Constitution was the practice ship.

It takes a good deal to dampen the enthusiasm of a midshipman; neither the
wet fog nor the presence of the ship in a dangerous locality, a fact that most of
of them had already guessed, seemed to have much effect on their excess of
animal spirits.

Jack, on the bridge, however, encountered a very different atmosphere. On
the faces of the officers was imprinted an unmistakable look of anxiety. The
navigator walked rapidly to and fro, every now and then popping his head under
the oil-skin cover to examine the chart; the officer of the deck toyed nervously
with the speaking-trumpet, and the captain, extending his hand to Jack as he
mounted the bridge, looked like a man who had been up all night, as in fact
he had. .

“T am Captain Somerset,” he said. “Maybe you can give us some informa-
tion. Are you acquainted with this locality?”



THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.



“Well,” said Jack, “I
was born and brought up
over there on Nantucket,
and J don’t think there are
many rocks or shoals to
the west’ard of the ‘ Cape’
that I don’t know.”

- «Maybe you can tell
us where we are; that is,
exactly ; of course I know
approximately,” added the
captain.

“ Yes, sir; lcan. You
are about one mile from
‘Old Man,’ and it bears
broad off the port bow.”
“But that is impossible,” interrupted the
navigator. “We have been steering’ north by
east since midnight. Old Man Shoal must be
five miles to the westward,” and he popped his
head into the chart-box.

Captain Somerset looked at Jack inquiringly.

“Tt is on account of the currents,” he ex-.
plained; “you can’t tell anything about the
currents on these shoals, except from experi-
ence; they run every which way, and change
once or twice ina tide. Just now, off to the
east’ard it’s running strong to the north’ard ;
down by the lightship it is just about turning
to the east’ard, and here it is running to the
north’ard and west’ard like a mill-race.”

Jack, in the novelty of his position, had
forgotten for the moment the fact, of which he
was fully aware, that the vessel drifting with

“on, winter, 1 excace you as ror? the strong tide was driving directly on the
dangerous shoal.

The current question had recalled it to his mind, as it did to the captain’s
also at the same moment.

“ Then,” he said, “we are drifting right on to Old Man Shoal Te

“Yes, sir,” responded Jack.

The captain was prompt to make up his mind. He turned quickly to the
officer of the deck.





THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

“Get the starboard anchor ready for letting go, Mr. Marline. How much
water have we?”

‘Five fathoms, sir, last cast.’

“By the deep four,” sang out the leadsman in the chains.

“Tively, my man; another cast. Down with the helm, quartermaster; hard
down. Mr. Marline, let go the starboard anchor,” he shouted.

“Hold on, Captain; for Heaven’s sake, don’t anchor here,” earnestly inter-
rupted Jack. “Try and tack her. If she won’t tack we can still anchor, as a
last resort —and get ashore while we have a chance,” he muttered to himself.
“Tl tell you as soon as we get around why it won’t do to anchor here.”

Captain Somerset glanced searchingly into Jack’s face; something there
seemed to reassure him, for he turned abruptly to the officer of the deck.

“Go about, Mr. Marline,” he said. é

“Do you think she'll go round in this light breeze?” inquired Jack
anxiously.

“TY don’t know, but we can try; at any rate, your idea isa good one. If she
won't tack we are no worse off than we were before,’ answered the captain.

“There is a heavy tide on the weather bow, you know,” Jack continued
shyly, for he had just begun to realize that he had been giving directions to
these old officers who had sailed ships before he was born.

“Very true, my boy. Remember, Mr. Marline, a late haul of the head
yards ;” and turning to Jack with a twinkle in his eye, “ I say, my lad, you seem
to be about as lively a sailor for your years as one is likely to run across.
Where did you say you came from ?”

“ Nantucket, sir; they breed that kind there,” Jack answered simply.

“Ready about! Stations for stays!” shouted the officer of the deck through
the trumpet.

The crowd of “middies” gathered around Hunk vanished like mist before
the sun. ,

Pandemonium seemed to reign supreme- for the space of ten seconds; men
and boys rushed hither and thither with what would have appeared to a lands-
man’s eye the utmost confusion, and then suddenly, as if by magic, the tumult
died away as quickly as it had begun. Even before the shrill pipe of the boat-
swain had ceased, every man stood silently at his station.

Jack now for the first time had an opportunity to look about him. From his

place on the bridge, just forward of the mizzen mast, he saw stretched before
him the broad flush-deck of the frigate ; the crew, mostly composed of boys, with
here and there a sprinkling of grizzly tars, all aft at the main and “ crojic”
braces, silently waiting the word of command to swing the after yards.

They looked very different from the midshipmen he had pictured in his mind —
the young gentleman in Captain Marryat’s novels, with his roundabout and ever-
lasting spyglass, whose chief function in life seemed to be to worry other people.



THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

This was evidently a different lot; there was an unmistakable air of business
about their tar-stained overalls and sunburnt and not over-clean hands and
faces.

“JT guess those fellows who are always talking about crawling in through
the cabin windows never saw this part of it,” he soliloquized.

With the helm hard down the big ship came slowly up into the wind; down
came the head sails at the order, and relieved of the pressure forward she luffed
rapidly.

“ By Jove, I believe she would tack in a calm” thought Jack.

Flap went the spanker, the premonitory signal that the wind was nearly
ahead, and then the order, “ Haul taut! Mainsail, haul!” There was a rush of
feet, a creaking of blocks, the after yards flew round and the vessel “fell off”
slowly on the other tack.

“ Hoist away the head sails! Haulwell taut; let go and haul!” and the head
yards swung quickly into place. ‘Reeve and haul the bowlines! Haul taat the |
weather lifts and braces!” .

The sails bellied out with the light air, the ship forged slowly ahead and
the evolution of tacking was completed.

“T did not think she would do it,” remarked Jack, turning to the captain.

' “Well, you see she did, and now we are around; what next? One thing is
certain, we can't go in far on this tack.”

“No, sir; about four miles; then one must tack again,” answered Jack.

“Excuse me, Captain, but now that we are well clear of that shoal, whatever
it is,’ interrupted the navigator, “don’t you think we had better anchor and
wait for clear weather? We are actually surrounded by shoals, and I don’t:
believe mortal man can get her through in a fog like this.”

“ Yes; I think you are right. We'll run for a few minutes longer and then
bring to; but hold on,” continued the captain ; “ the pilot said something about
not anchoring. I say, Mr. Pilot, is there any reason why we should not
anchor now ?”

Jack felt rather flattered at being addressed so ceremoniously, but he answered
quietly :

“ Yes, sir, there is; we can’t anchor, we must keep on.”

“ But why?” sharply inquired the navigator. “It is the simplest thing in
the world to drop an anchor under foot and wait for the fog to lift.”

“‘ Well, sir,” said Jack, hesitating a little, “it seems a little bit cheeky for a
boy like me to be giving my opinion here amongst all you officers, but I know
our shoals and I know our weather. Do you feel this long swell that is rolling
in? It’s the longest ground swell I ever felt on the shoals, now the glass
is low, and” —

“ How is that, Mr. Marline?” asked the captain.

“Right, sir; been falling since midnight,” answered the officer.

,



CHE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKED- SHOES,

“ And,” continued Jack, “with a falling barometer and a heavy swell from
the south’ard, look out for nasty weather. With the red dawn this morning,
and with this fog and the generally dirty look of the weather, we are almost sure
to have it strong from the southeast. Iam sure we'll get it before nightfall ; if
we do, you might as well be at anchor on Niagara Falls as here. As for getting
out through the fog, I am willing to guarantee to anchor you under the lee of
Nantucket Island, if the wind holds.”

The officers gathered together in a group to discuss the situation, and Jack
retired to the farther end of the bridge, but he could not help occasionally hear-
ing a few words of the consultation. Captain Somerset evidently was disposed
to take his advice, but the other officers seemed to be opposed, the navigator
especially. Jack heard him remark: “Why, he’s only a boy, not as old as some
of our young gentlemen on board.”

The captain appeared dubious, for upon him rested the entire burden of the
responsibility. .

“Jack,” he said earnestly, “are you sure of what you say ?”

“Yes, sir; dead sure. In a little while this fog will turn to rain, the wind
will haul round to the southeast, and then we are in for it.” |

He had hardly spoken when the warning cry from the officer of the fore-
castle ran along the deck, “All in the wind forward, sir.”

“ You see, itis beginning now, sir,” Jack continued; and the vessel’s head fell
off a point or so as the quartermaster jammed the helm up.

“Yes; I see it is,’ Captain Somerset answered slowly, and then suddenly :
“ Mr. Winter, I engage you as pilot. The vessel is in your charge, sir.
Orderly, tell the cabin steward to bring some breakfast on deck for the pilot.”

In the meantime Hunk had not been idle. As soon as he recovered his
presence of mind, he proceeded to answer as well as he was able the hundred
and one questions poured upon him from all sides, and then under the guidance
of some of the older midshipmen proceeded to explore the ship. On the berth-
deck where the middies “slung” their hammocks, at pretty close quarters it
must be confessed, barefooted negro boys were running to and fro with platters
of beefsteak and steaming cups of coffee, for it was nearly the hour for eight
o'clock breakfast. On the gun-deck he noticed a space shut off from the rest
by a screen of canvas.

“That is the sick bay,” explained his guide. “About a dozen fellows are
down with the typhoid, and what’s worse, the surgeon’s got it, too, and they are

afraid he’s going to slip his cable; that’s the reason ‘the old man’ is so anxious .

to make a port, and got us into this megs.”

Hunk breakfasted with his new friends and learned a good deal about mid-
shipmen in general, and practice cruises in particular; but as this story deals
with Jack the pilot, and not Jack the midshipman, we will return to the bridge
where our hero and Captain Somerset were at their breakfast in solitary grandeur.

6



FHE PILO? VOF: PHEYNANTOCKE LT SHOALS:

Jack allowed the frigate to proceed on her southerly course for an hour or
more and then tacked.

The weather began to show unmistakable signs of change; and, as he had pre-
dicted, mixed with the fog came a chilly drizzling rain, so fine as to hardly be .
distinguished from the mist itself. The wind blew in light, fitful squalls, shifting
slowly to the south’ard, and the ship creaked and groaned as she rose and fell in
the long swell.

Of all on board, Jack alone was aware of the position of the ship and the .
peculiar dangers which menaced her. The shoals of Nantucket are rarely
visited by mariners, and it was nothing remarkable that the officers were
entirely ignorant of the existence of the dangerous currents; even the positions
of the shoals were uncertain, for the charts of this region are untrustworthy.

To understand the situation, let us glance for a moment at the chart. Old
Man Shoal lies off the southeast corner of the island. When Jack boarded the
frigate the wind was light from the northeast and she was headed well clear of
the shoal; but the strong westerly current was drifting her directly upon it,
hence Jack’s anxiety to tack and stand to the east’ard, as on this course he could
stand on for three or four miles before encountering the very shallow water of
the line of broken reefs which extended like a belt to the northward till they
nearly met the Point Rip, jutting from the northern end of the island. The
passage between these shoals was marked by the buoy at the end of the “ Rip,”
and to get the ship out of her present dilemma this buoy must be found. Her
only salvation was through the passage; for to the westward lay the island, to
the eastward the long line of shoals, and behind her, stretching for twenty miles,
was the broken ground.

True, the ship had come in safely from that direction, but to Be out was a
different matter.

Jack knew that, long before they could gain the open sea, the gale would be
upon them, and blowing directly ahead, and they would never be able to beat
against the wind and the heavy sea that would “raise” at once in the shoal
water. For the same reason they could not hope to ride out the gale at anchor ;
no ground tackle was ever made strong enough to hold a ship in the short
angry seas that rolled over the shoals in a southeast gale.

All this Jack explained to Captain Somerset as they talked together on the
bridge.

The experience Jack had gained knocking around in all sorts of weather in
his old cat-boat now stood him in good stead. Ordinarily the ship might have
been safely navigated by the usual methods, the log and the compass assisted by
the lead line; but in the currents lay the unknown and dangerous factor. The
salvation of the ship depended upon Jack’s local knowledge of these currents.

“It’s a fine wind now to the buoy,” he remarked to the captain as he gave
the quartermaster the course. ‘‘ We ought to make it in two hours.”





» EXCLAIMED THE CAPTAIN.

“JACK, MY BOY, YOU HAVE SAVED THE SHIP!



THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

Captain Somerset said nothing, but nervously paced the deck ; his reputation,
possibly his commission, hung upon the slender thread of a boy’s knowledge.

Little by little the ordinary noises of ship life ceased, the old sailors conversed
beneath their breath, and even the careless middies peered anxiously ahead.

They had now run nearly the allotted two hours, the wind and sea continued
steadily to rise, but the fog held on as thick as ever. ;

Jack watched the compass narrowly; great drops of sweat stood upon his
brow and he almost repented that he had undertaken the job.

With the freshening wind the ship ploughed through the mist ; before her lay
what? The buoy and safety, or the ragged rocks of the “Rip?” Jack strained
his eyes to their utmost tension as if to pierce the fog by sheer force of will.
«“ Oh! for one moment of daylight,” he groaned; “ one sight of Great Point Light.”

There was a momentary lull in the breeze, flap went the spanker as, the wind
suddenly falling dead calm, the ship rolled sluggishly to windward; and then
patter, patter came the rain falling in great drops perpendicularly from the sky.

«The calm before the storm,” thought Jack; “if this rain beats down the
fog before we get it, we'll be all right.”

“ Mind your helm, quartermaster,” came the warning cry from the officer of
the deck, and the next instant came the first puff of the approaching gale.

Heeling to her gun ports the ship sprang madly forward, and as if by magic
the remnant of the fog in strange fantastic shapes went dancing away to leeward.

“TJ see it, sir; dead ahead, sir,” shouted the lookout.

Jack sprang to the weather-rail and heaved a heavy sigh of relief as he
recognized the object of his search bobbing on the dark water; but in spiv> of
himself his voice trembled a little as he turned to the officer of the deck,
“ Round the buoy, if you please, sir, and stand in close hauled on the port tack.”

« A splendid landfall, by Jove,” exclaimed the captain, shaking Jack warmly
by the hand. ‘Jack, my boy, you have saved the ship.”

The navigator popped his head for the last time into the chart-box and then
slowly withdrew it. He was a prim, punctilious man, but a just one. Walking
slowly along the bridge to where Jack was leaning on the weather-rail, he ex-
tended his hand. “Mr. Winter, I have done you an, injustice; 1. beg your
pardon,” he said solemnly.

Two days later the storm abated, the frigate in the meantime lying comfort-
ably at anchor under the lee of the horseshoe arms of the island. Although
the wind had gone down, the surf still roared savagely on the south shore, and
Jack pointed out to the captain the place where he had thought of anchoring,
now a seething mass of froth and foam.

“ Not a very comfortable anchorage, eh, Captain Ge

“No, not very,” he answered smiling; “you have saved the old Constitution
that’s a fact, and now if you will make out your bill for pilotage, and” —



THE’ PILOT OF THEVNANTD OCHRE TE SHOAES.

“ Excuse me, sir, [can’t do that ; Icould not do it legally, any way, you know,”
exclaimed Jack, “for I haven’t any license. I don’t want to, either,” he continued.
“It’s the duty of one sailor to help another in distress.”

That afternoon the Widow Winter and Captain Somerset had an interview in
the little front parlor ; and Jack heard his mother say, as the captain opened the
door to depart :

“T believe it is the wish dearest to his heart; we Nantucket mothers expect
our sons to go to sea, you know — and serve their country, too,” she added, as
her eye lingered for a moment on the old sword.

A fortnight passed, and Nantucket settled down to its regular humdrum
existence.

Hunk and Jack had gone fishing again, and this time returned with the
promised barrelful of mackerel.

One morning Gran’ther appeared in a flurry, with a letter. It was a big
one, with “ Official Business, Navy Department,” stamped in the corner.

It was addressed to “Mr. John Winter” and, whatever was in it, the letter
seemed to please the boy immensely.

Three days later, bag and baggage, Jack departed from his island home.

In a little while came another letter for the Winter cottage, this time for
the widow.

It was postmarked Annapolis, Md.

“JT wonder if the boy can pass the examination ?” said Mrs. Winter.

“Tm a little ’feard, Mary,” remarked Gran’ther, as he handed her the letter ;
“they say it’s powerful hard.”

The widow tore it open and read it quickly to the end, and then with a smile
thrust the signature under Gran’ther’s spectacles. |

There, in a bold boy’s hand, was subscribed, semi-officially : Jomn WINTER,
Midshipman, U. S. Navy.

Alexander Ritchie.




























HERE sang twelve sparrows on the wall
At even-fall, at even-fall.

When gloomed apace the village doors
Between the silent sycamores,

They heard a sound from mystic shores,
And sang their song for gladness’ sake —
The birds of God were all awake.





There lowed twelve oxen at the bin : js
Behind the inn, behind the inn. —
Along the dark, across the lea,

They knew a sign no man could see.

There was a wonder soon to be;

O, secret of the sons of Shem!

Who told the beasts of Bethlehem ?

There flew twelve angels, clothed in light,

At middle night, at middle night ;

With countless peers of kindred wing

They called, as distant bugles ring,

“ Behold the cradle of the King! ‘
The Son of Heaven, the Prince of earth

Becomes a babe of human birth!”











A CHRISTMAS GAROL.

There knelt twelve shepherds at thy head,
O, manger-bed, O, manger-bed ;

They watched within thy stony shrine
The miracle of Life divine,

And reverent saw around him shine,
Between the sordid stable-bars,

The luster of the Star of stars.





Chime, all ye bells of Christendom:
“Thy kingdom come! Thy kingdom come!”
For every hour a warning charm,

For every moon a sweet alarm,

For every gate of Heaven a psalm;
Nor ring a note of self or sin—

'O, twelve o’clock when Yule comes in!

And joy shall hail from clime to clime
At Christmas time, at Christmas time,
Till every life that walks or wings,
And Death itself saluting sings

The Lord of lords, the King of kings;
And all the world shall smile again
With peace on earth, good-will to men.

Theron Brown.








colder and colder and colder,
“The steward was quike at
& 1055
To find out the reason and
never’ discovered
The cook. stirring up

Chili Sauce |

ABOUT CONCH PEARLS:

“ANY people have the impression that the pearl is found only in the oysters
gathered beneath the waters of tropical America, Persia and India.

It is true that these bivalves frequently secrete the most valuable specimens
of the opaque gem, but they cannot claim the exclusive production of these
much-sought-for articles of commerce.

Oysters grown in any locality frequently contain a prize, while even the
fresh-water clam, which has its home in the beds of the clear-running streams of.
New England, is eagerly hunted, in the hope of finding an occasional pearl.

Nearly every boy or girl has paused before some well-kept garden to admire
the beautiful conical-shaped shells arranged along the sides of the walks, and
wondered what creatures had used these houses for their habitations.

These are the conch-shells; they are found in great profusion about the
Bahamas and West India Islands.

This species of mollusk are pearl-producing, and although the gems do not
rank in price with those taken from the oyster, they are considered by many to



ABOUT CONCH-PEARLS.

be much handsomer, as they are of a most delicate shade of pink, and as a rule
are quite large, not infrequently being found the size of a pea.

A perfect one of this dimension may be purchased in the West Indies for
forty or fifty dollars, according to the financial condition of the finder; but in
the markets of Boston or New York it would bring a much larger sum.

Some few years since, on Key Francis, a small coral island some twelve
miles off the northern coast of Cuba, I met a party of conch-hunters-;who had
come from.the mainland.

All they had to do was to roll up their trousers, wade out upon the reefs
where the water was shallow and gather the clumsy fellows as they crawled
slowly along the bottom.

The oyster-divers spread their catch in the sun to allow the fleshy substance
to decompose, then the shells are washed and the pearl sought for. But the
conch-hunters pursue a different course, and one which seems very cruel.

They take a common fish-hook, to which is attached a piece of string perhaps
two feet in length, insert the sharp point into the orifice of the heavy shell
and bury the barb in the head of the helpless creature. The conchs are then hung
in rows upon poles, whose ends rest on crotched sticks driven into the ground.

Slowly the mollusk is drawn from its abode by the weight of its own habi-
tation, but so tenacious are they of life that two hours or more will elapse ere
they will let go their hold and give up the ghost.

The shell is not as yet wholly clean, but a thorough rinsing round in a tub
of water will dislodge any pearl which may be lurking within.

One would fine that the shells could be bro oe but many blows with a
heavy hammer would be. needed before any impression could be made on the
flint-like substance, and this is too arduous a task for the languid Cub ban.

The conch-pearl hunters never get very rich ; scarcely more than one out of
a thousand conch shells contains a prize, and half a dozen men would not be
able to gather and cleanse half that number in a day.

The shells find a ready market at one dollar and a half or two dollars per
hundred, according to their beauty, and thus the native is enabled to earn a

living even if not fortunate enough to obtain a pearl,
Marlton Downing.























‘

IN) THE
66 ANTER drinker water!” 3
“ Patsy Calloran, if you say that another once before recess, I shall
shut you in the wood closet!”

Miss Carberry’s eyes were very bright, and her cheeks were very pink.
Patsy knew that for a bad sign. He turned to the map of Africa and_ began
a terrible buzzing, that was meant to show Miss Carberry how hard he was
studying. ,

Instead of saying over the names, however, he was merely saying
“ Bz-bz-bz!” like an enormous bumble-bee or an angry blue-bottle fly in a corner
of the window-pane. .

Miss Carberry didn’t like bumble-bees or blue-bottle flies. She walked care-
lessly up behind Patsy and stopped him suddenly in the midst of a terrible “bz!”
that sounded like a whole hive of bumble-bees.

The next minute Patsy found himself tumbled all in a heap into what the
boys called the “‘’Pratus-box.” And then the button turned. , .

The given name of this little dark closet was the “ Apparatus-box,” and it
meant a place in which to keep globes and pointers and chalk and old maps. It
was also used sometimes, as you have seen, to put naughty boys in.

Patsy shivered as the button snapped, and he was caged as fast as any bird.

“Tts dark as a pick-pocket,’ he muttered, and began to cry and wipe
his dirty face on his little ragged sleeve. It was hot, too. Miss Carberry’s
headache must have been very bad indeed or she never could have done it.

He was getting rather drowsy, and might have gone off to sleep to the tune
of “ seven-times-five-are-fifty-five,” as Lillie Dorr was droning it, when a sudden
rustling and shuffling away of books and other litter from the desks made him
sit up and listen with both his ears. Somebody was speaking to Miss Carberry,
and Miss Carberry was answering in tones wonderfully soft and sugary.

“t's the committee-mans,’ said Patsy to himself. “I’m going to see
something!” ..

So he fumbled somewhere in his rags and produced a penknife. A very
good one, too. Patsy could “ trade knives” with anybody.

Softly and cautiously, as a little mouse begins to nibble in the closet, Patsy
began to bore a little hole in the “’Pratus-box.” . How much you can see out
of one little round hole! Patsy saw two thirds of the schoolroom out of this
one, and there was the platform with three old men on it in three old rickety
chairs “that they'll have to sit very still in, or theyll go smash-bang on the
floor,” thought Patsy. Two of them had gold-headed canes, and one wore a
wig that had slipped a little “ unstraight.” All this Patsy noted with interest.



IN THE «“’?PRATUS-BOX.”

The hole, or rather the light that came through it, let Patsy see better inside
as well. “Now what do you suppose was the first thing his eye lighted on as he
looked around him ?

A popgun !

O, Miss Carberry! Didn't you know—didn’t you ever learn “in the





THE THREE COMMITTEE-MEN ON THE PLATFORM.

Normal,” or did you not come at it somehow by the light of nature, that a boy
and a popgun were always meant to go together ?

But ob! for a look at Patsy’s eyes, big and black in the darkness.

“Tye got some peas in my pocket, I know,’ he said in an excited voice,
“and if I don’t straighten his crooked wig for him, it’ll be ’cause I can’t.”

The mild old gentleman on the edge of the platform put his hand to his ear
in a troubled way, as Patsy’s popgun opened fire. Then he ran his fingers
through his hair, making his wig crookeder than ever. ~~ é

Finally he turned to Miss Carberry with a kind of gentle amusement that
made Patsy (who had taken many a ride in “his musty old chaise”’) ashamed of
himself in the “ ’Pratus-box.”

“Tm afraid, ma’am — ahem ! — that — ahem! — some of ‘your boys are a
little roguish this morning.” .

“ Why — what are they doing?” said Miss Carberry, astonished. She hadn’t
~ seen anything. :



IN THE “’PRATUS-BOX.”

“Oh! nothing very bad,’ smiled the blessed old man. “I was a boy once.
Haven’t forgotten it. Firing peas, ma’am.”

“Let me catch one of them!” said Miss Carberry, as grimly as if she were
an ogre or adragon, instead of a very pretty young woman with pink cheeks and
the brightest brown eyes in the world. Every boy on the back seat shook in
his shoes.

“Oh! ain’t it jolly fun?” chuckled Patsy in his closet ; and he began boring
more “cannon holes,” as he called them. Six in all he made. And an old
pointer or two made excellent carriages to mount his popgun battery on.

It was so hot in there that by and by Patsy got tired. He wanted a drink
of water more than ever. At last he snuggled down in a heap of dusty maps
and fell fast asleep.

Meantime a thunder-cloud had rolled up big and black out of the west. The
three old men said they must be going. Miss Carberry looked nervously at the
ragged black sky, and thought of her new hat with the daisies on it.

“Let the school out,” said the committee, “and one of us will take you
home.”

In two minutes the schoolroom was empty ; the little girls were scampering
home with their aprons over their heads; Miss Carberry was spinning along in
the musty-smelling chaise, and the school-
house door was locked —with Patsy left ; |

fast asleep in the “ ’Pratus-box.” ul

About nine o’clock that night Miss
Carberry dropped the comb she was draw-
ing through her long brown hair and broke
it into half a dozen pieces.

“You poor dear little thing!” she |
said, gazing at itin horror; butshe didn’t |
mean the comb.

Before you could tell of it, she. had
tucked the brown hair up under a turban,
snatched up a half-eaten box of bon bons,
whisked downstairs into the pantry for
cakes and cold chicken, and was darting
along the rose-hedged lane that led to the
schoolhouse.

Patsy heard the brass key in the door
and began to cry as loud as he could.
Miss Carberry was glad to hear that. Patsy came out quicker than he went in,
and Miss Carberry drew down his frowsy, cobwebbed head into her lap and
cried too.

“Tm so sorry, Patsy !— here, take a cream-cake — do forgive mo, won't you?





“

“ AIN'T IT JOLLY FUN??? CHUCKLED PATSY:



A PROMISE.

— have some candy —I forgot all about you in the thunder-shower — oh! you
want some water, you poor little fellow!”

And away she flew to get him a dipper of water from the coolest corner of
the well.

Patsy was a good deal bewildered. He wasn’t used to being waited on and
feasted. Hewas rather glad
on the whole. He didn’t
have pound cake and chicken
and candy every day.

Miss Carberry took him
home herself and explained
and apologized. His father
and mother had hardly missed
him. They weren’t apt to
know Patsy's down-sittings
and uprisings very precisely.

Two good things came
out of the afternoon’s
imprisonment.

Miss Carberry and Patsy
each made a resolution that
night and kept it. Patsy
told his, sitting on the floor
with his mouth stuffed full
of pound cake.

“ Ain't gon’ t’ ever fire any more peas ’t the c’mittee-man,” he said. “Kind
o sorry I plagued you so!”

Miss Carberry kept hers to herself, but the children found it out after a while.

She isn’t going to ever put anybody else in the “’Pratus-box.”

Anna F. Burnham.









































“0M SO SORRY, PATSY,’? SHE SAID.



A PROMISE.

HOULD life be melancholy
All the winter long,
There comes at last an April day,

And the bluebird’s song.
Mary F. Butts.



















































NY
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THE ELF’S TENNIS MATCH.

AID the Little Brown Elf to his friends, one day —
In the regions of Christmas past :

“There comes a time when it’s wise to play
Lest, withered with age and with wisdom gray,
We fling but a joyous lite away,

And our time has come at last.”

So they played high jinks on the sands at noon

In the palmetto land of the turtle and coon,

In order that none might be able to say,
“They studied too hard and fast.”

But between you and me,
T never could see
Where the difference lay
"Tween their study and play.
Lilian Crawford True.

















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A= i ;
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A STUDY IN ANIMAL NATURE,






LEASH, sir, can I take out ‘Sanford and Merton’ ?”

Mr. Peters, the librarian of the new Belfield brary,
looked over the top of his spectacles in his absent-
minded way.

The fact was, the volumes were not yet ready for
circulation, it being necessary to hire some one to cover
them. The girl who had spoken seemed about thirteen

years old, and she blushed with timidity as she made her request. He noticed
her more attentively. , ;

She wore a calico gown, faded, but carefully starched and ironed, long
pantalets, and a green gingham sunbonnet— which she had taken off and was
swinging nervously by the string. Her glossy black hair was combed straight
back from her forehead, and cut squarely off at the nape of her neck. It was
plain that she was not one of the village girls, with whom clipped or “ shingled”
hair, and longer gowns without pantalets, had been for some time in vogue;
she evidently belonged to one of the outlying “ districts,” where change seldom
came and the same mode of dress prevailed indefinitely.

“Whose girl are you?” Mr. Peters asked, with interest.

“Mr. Prior’s. Jam Hetty Prior, sir.”

“J thought likely. Well, now, I don’t like to refuse you the book, you've
come so far. Over two miles, isn’t it? Here. But promise you'll cover it;
they’re all to be covered before going out.”

“Thank you, sir.’ Hetty’s dark eyes expressed more than her timid words.
She clasped the story-book close, and started away.

She had not been gone ten minutes when Mr. Peters exclaimed :

“ Why didn’t I hire that girl to cover the books? She looked just like the
one to be glad of the work. But I’m always behind time, like the man who
remembered he’d got to go to mill when he'd let the horse out to pasture.”

At the old-fashioned farmhouse to which she came, Hetty had scarcely time
to speak of the librarian’s kindness, when her mother called to her:



HETTY’S RED GOWN.

“Come right here, Hetty! There’s something nice to tell you if ’twarn’t
for the lack of a gown. You've be’n ast to Susan Lowe’s party for a week
from to-day.”

“Susan Lowe’s party!” repeated Hetty in wonder.

“TJ s’pose it’s come about through the new minister’s boardin’ with the
Lowes. He’s a lib’ral-minded man; I heard him at the Sunday-school Conven-
tion. They say he’s a master hand for bringin’ folks together.”

“Tf T only could go!” said Hetty, with a longing desire to attend, for once,
a village girl’s party.

“T could make you a white apurn,” said Mrs. Prior. “ Your father’s got a





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‘¢ PLEASE SIR, CAN I TAKE OUT SANFORD AND MERTON?”









fine shirt that’s givin’ out, and you could have it’s well’s not. But what to do
for a gown?”
Hetty put her book on the table. Its fascination had departed.
_ “Tf your Aunt Abigail Sage had only sent some things this year,” went on
Mrs. Prior. “ But she’s like the laylock bush by the gate, for giving. One
year it will be all a-clusterin’ over with-flowers, an’ the next not a bunch on it.”
“QO, dear!” sighed Hetty.
“You might try pickin’ blackberries,” said her mother; “though father



HETTY’S RED GOWN.

says the village folks swarm the pastur’ like crows. Come in kerridges,
sometimes.”

Hetty cast one look at her book, and then went for her tin pail and little
dipper. She found the rocky pasture had been well gleaned, as her mother had 7
said. Yet she staid, gathering what few berries she could.

One of the pickers drew near her. Hetty knew the girl very well. It was
Ann Pellet, and Hetty always tried to avoid her. Her family was not looked upon
as very respectable. She was dressed in the style of the village girls, although
ina shabby and tawdry way. Hetty particularly noticed a string of green glass
beads she wore on her neck — which looked as if it had been seldom washed.
She was dark, like Hetty, but she had a secretive expression, very different from
. Hetty’s frank innocent one. Hetty had never forgotten the time she left her
pail filled with blackberries beside the stone wall, and came back to find it
empty, and Ann hurrying home.

“Halloo!” called Ann. “Berries are skurce, ain’t they? Mother ’greed
to let me have all the money I could earn pickin’ ’em ; but I guess she’s safe
sayin’ it.”

Hetty’s only reply was to look up a moment. She resumed her search for
berries.

“You needn’t feel so big,’ Ann snapped out. ‘“ With your long pantalets
and short hair, youre a perfect gawk. The girls all say so.”

With this speech she darted away.

Hetty remained in the pasture till after sundown, busy with other than
cheerful thoughts.

“JT can’t pick enough,” she said dejectedly to her mother, as she showed the
meager quart of berries she had gathered. ;

“Tt?s no matter, for you've got a chance you'd never dream of. Jes’ after
you'd gone, Mr. Peters come down— there’s the marks of his kerridge wheels
’fore the door—an’ he ast if you could be spared couple o’ days to cover them
lib’ry books. Said you looked keerful an’ tidy.”

‘OQ, mother! if I could buya pretty red gown — could have it long, without
pantalets—I should be so happy. And my hair shingled.”

“ Heavens an’ earth!” cried Mrs. Prior; “as if your father’d hear to sech a
thing. "Bout your hair, mean. He sets astore on’t. He’s said time ’n’ ag’in
them shingled heads looked wuss ’n’ plucked geese. He mentioned the other ‘
day ’twas ’bout time your hair was let to grow long.”

“« Mother,” exclaimed Hetty excitedly, “1 couldn’t have it grow long. I
do so want it shingled like the village girls.”

“’Bout the gown an’ pantalets,”’ Mrs. Prior said reflectively, “mebbe ’t’d
be a good plan, now you're beginnin’ to grow up.”

Taking a little comfort in this partial concession, Hetty busied herself cover-
ing the library book. She took great care in view of her new duties.



HETTY’S RED GOWN.

“That's done nice,” her mother commended.

“Tf I could just have my hair shingled,” sighed poor Hetty.

“ What's that *bout shinglin’ hair?” said Mr. Prior, coming in; “’fore I
see one 0’ my gals sheared that way I'll put her in a ’sylum.”

The way he shut the door showed Hetty it would be well not to approach
the subject again. She turned to her book for consolation.

At the close of her work im the library, Hetty brought home a two-dollar
bill. It seemed a large sum in the farmer’s family, where little ready money
circulated.

The next morning Hetty went to pick blackberries with her friend, Angie
Holmes. As they rested on a big rock, Hetty told how she had earned the
money for a new red gown, and the good time she expected to have at Susan
Lowe’s party. Neither of the girls had noticed that Ann Pellet had slyly drawn
near, until she called out:

«“ Yow ll make a nice slow Ww ty that head o hair! Susan Lowe’ll be awful
-proud on you ’n’ your red gown.”

The two girls jumped up and ran away. The disagreeable Ann laughed
maliciously. She knew her words would rankle in Hetty’s heart.

In the afternoon Mr. Prior harnessed for a trip to the village. He would
exchange some produce, and Hetty could make the purchase of ber new gown.
Mrs. Prior was anxious to accompany her daughter, but her best gown had ceased
to be presentable in the village.

“ You must be sure and get a good quality of stuff,” she urged Hetty, “and
Mr. Lowe must warrant it not to fade. Pick an’ choose with care.”

“ Your mother must have a new gown soon. It must come by hook or by
crook,” Mr. Prior said, after they drove away.

He was a man of few words. This was, in fact, the only remark he made on
the drive.

It helped to make more distinct a thought that had visited Hetty more than
once. Why should she have a new gown when her mother needed one even
more? Ought she to buy it? Could she be happy with it, even at Susan
Lowe’s party ? .

She shut her eyes tight, a way she had when any inward struggle was going
on. That her mother had promised to make it as she wished did not seem to
weigh in the balance in her own favor. She had already had a bright thought
of putting her hair into curl papers the night before the party, so that neither
Ann Pellet nor any other girl could laugh at her. Still, this happy settling of
her difficulties could not blind her to her mother’s need—her mother who
never seemed to think of herself in her care for others.

They reached the store, and Hetty was yet undecided.

“Show my gal some stuff for a gown,” said Mr. Prior to the storekeeper ;
-and then left to attend to his own business.



HETEYS RED GOWN.

“ Red all-wool delaine,” said Hetty, in a low voice.

“ Here’s a very nice piece you can have for forty cents a yard. I have been
selling it for fifty,” said the storekeeper. °

It was a beautiful shade, and Hetty’s eyes grew bright m admiration. As
she tested its fineness and softness she knew she needed not to repeat her
mother’s precautions. She had not supposed her two dollars could buy anything
so lovely. She was about to say, “ Cut me off five yards of it,” when her eyes
fell on a piece of dark-gray cloth close beside her.

What a suitable gown for her mother that would make! How well it would
look on her, and how grateful she would be to Hetty! She stammered:

“ How much — what does that cost a yard?”

“That gray? - It’s a remnant — seven and a half yards. Tl sell it for two
dollars. Its a great bargain.”

Hetty pushed the red cloth aside ; she said, choking back her feelings :

“Tl take — the gray.”

“Not the red? That'll make the -prettiest gown for you. It’s an extra
nice piece.”

SIN'O; 10 |

Mr. Lowe, who saw plainly that she wanted the red, was drawing it toward
her, but she turned away from it. So he folded the gray cloth and wrapped it
up, and Hetty waited at the store door, hardly knowing whether to be glad or
sorry for what.she had done. Once, thinking of the beauty of the red cloth,
she was almost ready to go in and ask for an exchange ; but love for her mother
triumphed, and she began to find more comfort in the thought of the pleasure
in store for her.

“T’ve got to go ’round to Pellet’s and collect last month’s milk bill,’ said
Mr. Prior, as Hetty placed her bundle on the top of his numerous packages in
the back of the wagon.

They had difficulty in rousing any one in the house, and Mr. Prior was
obliged to get out and go to the barn to learn if any of the men folks were
there.

Ann now appeared, and stood laughing at Hetty from the doorstep.

Hetty was determined not to speak to her, and kept her gaze bent steadily
before her. She expected to hear Ann’s cutting gibes, but for once she was
saved them. Ann went around behind the wagon, and Hetty heard her go into
a little shed and shut the door.

Mr. Prior came back to say that no one seemed to be on the place.

“ Ann’s just gone into the shed,” said Hetty.

“What'd she know "bout the money ?” ” said Mr. Prior crossly ; and they
drove away.

When Hetty reached home, and her father brought the purchases into the
house, what was the consternation of both to find the new gown missing.



HETTY’S RED GOWN.

“ How could it ’a’ rolled off them bags ’n’ things?” said Mr. Prior. “I see
you put it on ’em safe.”

Hetty thought of Ann, but it was impossible to believe she would commit so
bold a theft. She could not bring herself to suggest it to her parents.

They inspected the packages again, and Mr. Prior went back over the road
for some distance to look for the lost article.

Hetty had no heart to tell her mother of the different purchase she had
made. Mrs. Prior had seemed on the point of speaking of some agreeable
matter, but withheld it to condole with Hetty.

“ Wal, I do declare!” exclaimed Mr. Prior, at sight of the tears on Hetty’s
cheeks — an unusual thing, for she had much self-control —“if the child ain’t
a-takin’ on bad. S’pose I don’t realize how much her mind was sot on that
gown.”

“Come, git into the wagon,” he added, “an’ I'll drive ye back to town ’y’
git your hair shingled. It’s the next best thing, I s’pose.”

“Yes, she shall, mother,’ he said, with a laugh

at the woman’s exclamation of “I never!” “If it

EE takes my last cent, she shall, an’ if she comes out with

her head lookin’ like the field after Pve fired it over
in the spring.”

. Hetty needed no second bidding, but came out

i jp drying her tears and smiling.

_) “We'll keep an eye for the bundle,” said her
father; but Hetty felt certain that it would not be
found.

“She don’t look so bad now, does she, mother ?”’ observed

Mr. Prior when they had returned, and Hetty took off her

sunbonnet.

“She looks reel prutty,’ replied her mother, in
admiration.

When Hetty saw herself in the glass she was almost con-
soled for the loss of her gown. No one could think her old-
fashioned and singular now; she looked quite as well as the
village girls.

Two or three times Hetty set out to tell her mother
about the gray gown she had purchased instead of the red
one, but she had an ashamed feeling that her mother would think her tears
were partly on account of the sacrifice. She noticed Mrs. Prior hastily putting
away a box that looked suspiciously like one of Aunt Abigail Sage’s gifts.

When Hetty came down the next morning her mother said :

“T sot up late last night cutting you out a white apurn, an’ there’s a blue
ribbon to tie it with behind. I can make a fair-lookin’ gown for you out o’ the




“LAND 0? GOSHEN, HETTY!””



HETTY’S RED GOWN.

back breadths o’ my summer gingham, if you think you'll be willin’ to wear it
to the party, Hetty?”

But the girl’s lips quivered.

Just then Mr. Prior opened the door.

“Land o’ Goshen, Hetty! ef I hain’t found your store bundle right on the
front step this mornin’. Must ’a’ ben settin’ there all night from the dew on it.
Who in the ’varsal world fetched it back, I wonder ?”

Mrs. Prior hastened to open it. ‘“ Why — whatever's this?” é

“T thought — you needed —it most, mother.”

Hetty abruptly left the room.

“Tf that ain’t jes’ like the child! Good as gold, she is. Now, father, you
harness up quick’s a flash, an’ take it back an’ tell Mr. Lowe to exchange it for
the pruttiest red one in the store.” .

Here Hetty, having overheard, called in muffled tones :

“ Please, mother! don’t, father! I ain’t crying —for the red one.”

“You be still, Hetty. You go right along, father. Hain’t your Aunt
Abigail Sage sent me an almost bran’ -new black gown, which I couldn’t a-bear
to speak on’t to you, thinkin’ your red one lost ? Hurry up, father!”

Hetty came from her hiding-place, smiling through her tears.

“T’'ll jes’ make that gown up less ’n no time,” said Mrs. Prior, as she hustled
about to procure her pabtems:

“ But who do you s’pose fetched it back ?”

That question was never answered; and it always remained a surmise that
Ann Pellet took it for Hetty’s red gown, and returned it when she found it only
a plain gray one for the mother.

“Wal, if she did take it, your thoughtfulness for me saved you your gown,
Hetty,” said Mrs. Prior, when at last her daughter confided the secret to her ;
“but I guess I wouldn’t think on her that way ’thout more proof.”

Mrs. Prior was as good as her word in making the gown. It received its
last stitch in ample time for the party. It was tried on and pronounced “jes’ as
nice a fit as a dressmaker’s.”’ ;

“Them styles are improvin’, after all,” observed Mrs. Prior, as Hetty, all
smiling and happy, was about to. start for Susan Lowe’s. “ An’ who ever would
believe she’d look so well in shingled hair an’ without pantalets? Now you
be careful, child, an’ spread your handkerchief in your lap when they pass
round the cake. Mis’ Lowe’s cake is awful rich, an’ you might spot your new
gown. I know, ’cause I tasted some at the Sunday-school Convention.”

. Abby M. Gannett.





BUILDING ON TUE RUINS.

BUILDING ON THE RUINS,





FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

(Second Paper.)
AT THE NEW WORLD’S PORTAL.

Swe have seen, Columbus, crowned with success,

departed for Palos, invested with all the rights

and privileges he had been for years so anxious to
obtain.

But two months after the surrender of Boabdil to
Ferdinand and Isabella, the same hands that had received
the emblems of their triumph over the Moors, affixed the
royal sign-manual to a-paper confirming Columbus in his
ele to a yet undiscovered country beyond the unknown sea. iA commemorative
chapel on the bank of the Xenil marks the spot made famous by the surrender
of the Moor; in the royal chapel attached to the cathedral of Granada the
alabaster tombs of the king and queen are sacred shrines, to which pilgrims by
thousands annually wend ahem way; but no monument rises above the spot
where the great navigator engaged to barter a world for prospective emolument
and titular honors.

_ We know with what tenacity he clung to the scheme he had formulated for
the enrichment and ennobling of himeelf and his family, preferring to abatidon
the country rather than to
abate one iota of his project.
And it was with doubtful
pace that he followed the
messenger from Isabella, who
had overtaken him at the
Bridge of Pines, with the
promise of her consent.

But at last he was on his
way back to Palos, trium-
phant at every point. And,
while he is pursuing his
way toward the coast, let us
briefly review his history
hitherto.

He was born in Genoa, the historians tell us, in the year 1446. This may
not be the exact date, and respecting his youth and early manhood there is the



THE MOORISH ARCH, PALOS.



eB EBay ge ae et mo Gees Palas «

THE CHURCH OF ST. GEORGE, PALOS.



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

same obscurity; but about the year 1470, we find him residing in Portugal, the
birthplace of his wife, and,somewhat later engaged in correspondence with
Toscanelli. According to his son’s statement, in 1477 he “ navigated one hun-
dred leagues beyond Thule;” but in 1482 he is in the south of Spain, having
vainly endeavored to enlist the king of Portugal in his plans, and is sent to Isa-





THE MIRADOR OF LA RABIDA,
(Looking out upon the stream down which Columbus sailed from Palos to the sea.)

bella by the Duke of Medina Celi, at the court in Cordova. He follows the
court to Salamanca in 1486, and there has audience with the queen. In 1487
he is before the Council in the Dominican Convent, returns to Cordova the same
year in the train of Isabella, whence he is summoned to the military camp at
Malaga.. The year 1489 finds him before the walls of Baza, where he witnessed
the surrender of the Moors under Boabdil the Elder, and doubtless conversed
with the two monks who came there to the queen from Jerusalem. 1490 sees
him in Seville and Cordova, whence he finally departs in disgust for the port
of Huelva, stopping on his way at the Convent of La Rabida, where he attracts
the attention of the prior, and subsequently has the famous conference with the
friar, the village doctor of Palos, and Martin Alonso Pinzon of Moguer. This



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

conference in the convent took place in the latter part of the year 1491; as the
result a messenger was dispatched: to Isabella, then. in camp at Santa Fé, who
returned after fourteen days with royal orders for the prior to come to Granada ;
he departs in haste, and eventually returns with the queen’s command for
Columbus to appear before the court, and with the necessary money for the
trip. Columbus arrives at Santa Fé the first week in January, 1492, in good
time (as we have seen) to witness the surrender of Granada; he has audience
‘with his sovereigns, cannot agree upon terms, prepares to depart from Spain, is
overtaken by the queen’s courier at Puente de Pinos, returns, and is finally
made happy with the royal consent.

The “capitulation” for conquest and exploration is signed April 17, 1492,
and May 12 he sets out for Palos. Ten days later, the twenty-third, the royal
command for the people of Palos to furnish men for the voyage is read in the
church of St. George, and the Pinzon family come to his assistance. Prepara-
tions are hurried forward, and by the first of August the vessels drop down the
Rio Tinto to the Domingo Rubio, where the final departure is taken at the Con-
vent of La Rabida. This much for a chronological statement of events.

We will now retrace our steps and visit in person the scenes of the great,
discoverer’s weary wanderings and his final gladsome trip through Andalusia.
Memorials of Columbus are scattered throughout Spain to-day: in Madrid the
royal armory contains his armor, the naval museum one of his charts; at Valla-
dolid, in 1506, he died, and the house is still pointed out in which he drew
his last breath; the convent, also, in which his remains were first interred.

But, though we may trace the wanderings of our hero over a great portion
of Spain, it isin the South that the most interesting event occurred. Vastly
rich is Seville, the queen city of the Guadalquivir, in Columbian memories ; for
here we find that valuable library, the Colombina, bequeathed the city by his
son, Fernando, containing twenty thousand volumes, among them some that
once pertained to the great man himself; one with marginal notes by his own
hand, and one of his charts. Those very islands of the Bahamas, which I myself
have seen, dim and shadowy, and shining in the sun, are here outlined by the
great discoverer himself, upon paper discolored and stained by sea-salt, as
though it had accompanied him on all his voyages,

That, however, which oftenest drew me and longest held me was the marble
slab in the pavement of the great cathedral, that formerly covered the remains -
of Columbus, and now marks the resting-place of his son Fernando, with its
world-famous inscription: A Castilla y a Leon Mundo Nuevo dio Colon ND
Castile and to Leon a New World gave Columbus.” Thus, although the
remains of Columbus himself are now in the New World, many glorious memo-
rials of him are to be seen in Spain, and mainly in Seville.

At Seville, I dwelt in the house of a cleric, and my friend gave me a letter
of introduction to the Cura of Moguer, the town nearest to Palos. It was on



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

a bright morning in April that I left the city for a trip to Palos, and the valley
of the Guadalquivir was bright in greenest fields of grain and of olive orchards.
Seville is in truth of queenly aspect, sitting in the midst of the fertile plain, her
towering Giralda rising far above the outline of distant hills. For two thirds
the distance the railroad runs through a fertile and highly-cultivated plain, but
the rest was mainly barren, though covered with sheets and beds of purple
flowers in beautiful bloom.

We passed the ruins of a Roman fortification of times most ancient, and
then crossed a river flowing over iron-colored rocks, curiously worn. The
character of the soil was shown in its color, which was yellow and deep red;
and when JI
noted this I
inferred, and
rightly, that we
had seen at last
the historic
Rio Tinto, that
Wine-colored
River, from
which Colum-
bus sailed four
hundred years
ago.

Just sixty

SEVILLE, QUEEN CITY OF THE GUADALQUIVIR. years b efore



















































































(The Giralda, or “‘ tower of gold,” in the foreground.) .
: a me, in the

spring of 1828, a man more famous than I traversed this same route, and with
the same intent—gentle and genial Washington Irving. But there was no
railroad in those days, and he was obliged to make the journey on horseback,
taking as many days, perhaps, as I did hours, but enjoying it, every mile.

Leaving the railway at the station of San Juan del Puerto, I took the diligen-
cia, an old carriage, for the town of Moguer, a league distant on a hill, where I
found, contrary to my expectations, good accommodations: a fonda, or house of
entertainment, with clean beds and an excellent table. I was soon served with
a good breakfast, and “mine host” took quite a fancy to me, insisting on
taking me to the places of interest, and telling me all the local news.

But he was lamentably ignorant respecting things Columbian, though intel-
ligent and inquisitive. When I inquired about the scenes of interest to one
studying Columbus, he excused himself, saying he was from another province,
and not posted regarding the affairs of Palos. “But thisman Columbus, when did
he sail, Sefior? And are you sure he sailed from Palos? No ship of any size has
left there this many a year; the village, even, is half a mile from the river.



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

“ Come now, abandon this search for a dead man’s relics and go with me out
to my vineyard, the like of which is not elsewhere in Spain.”

I thanked my friend, but assured him that Columbus had the prior claim, and
that I must go on to Palos.

“Very well, amigo, but you may regret it; Colon must be a dry subject.
My wife will find you a boy as guide ; I’ve no patience with you.”

The boy she secured must have been the surliest specimen in Spain; but the
poor little fellow had lost an arm, early in life, and I suppose that must have
soured him; at any rate, he probably had a hard time of it in his struggle for
bread. :

He led up a donkey, hooked my valise on his arm-stump, seized the rope
attached to the donkey’s nose, and then strode ahead, without a glance at me.
Don Pedro sent an emphatic Spanish word flying after him that halted him
instanter, at least long enough to allow me to scramble upon the burro’s back,
then he marched on again, pursued by the maledictions of my friend.

“ What a beast of a boy, to be sure; and to think that 1, Pedro Val Verde,
a respected householder of Moguer, should have been the means of putting a
distinguished American traveler in his charge — one who has come all the way
from America,
too, just to see
our little port
of Palos. Bien,
Vayacon Dios,
Sefior” (God
be with thee).
“You have a
stick, let the
burro feel the
force of your
arm.”

Palos and
Moguer are at
least three





THE CONVENT OF LA RABIDA. ;
(Where Columbus and his son asked for supper.) miles apart 5

the road _ be-

tween them is broad and smooth, but traversed by carts only in the vintage
season, when the wines are carried to the port of Palos. There was no saddle
on the beast I rode, and I sat astride an enormous pack of old bags, using my
cudgel as a balancing-pole, but frequently obliged to bring it down upon the
donkey’s resounding sides, at which, much pleased apparently, he would wag his
ears and amble gently onward.

The boy was abstracted, and the donkey absorbed in meditation, so I gained



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

little from their companionship; but after an hour I sighted the hamlet. Palos,
the ancient port whence Columbus sailed on his first voyage to America, to-day
consists of a few mean houses scattered along a hillside, and one long straggling
street. It is nearly half a mile from the river now, but it was a port in the time



OUTSIDE THE CONVENT.

(* Figs and orunges had possessed themselves of space for luxuriant growth.’)

of Columbus, and is called so now. There may be some eight hundred inhab-
itants, all told, and not one of them, that I could find, was aware that the ham-
let had a history known to the world beyond its limits. Some of them had
heard of Columbus, some remembered that it was said he had sailed hence, once
upon a time, to a country called America; but no one could tell me anything,
and I must see the cura —the parish priest — to know more.

After an hour of waiting I found that he knew no more than the others, but
the sacristan of the church, fortunately, was also the schoolmaster, and took an
interest in my mission. He took me to the church of St. George, the veritable
one in which Columbus read the royal commands to the terrified sailors of
Palos, and I found it as it doubtless stood then: a simple church of stone,
guarding the entrance of the town. I photographed its eastern front and also
its rear, where there is a Moorish doorway draped in vines.



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

The interior of the church is very plain, the chief ornament being an enor-
mous wooden image of St. George, the patron saint of the church, slaying a
terrible dragon. As St. George stood in a corner so dark that I could not
obtain a photograph of his cheerful countenance, the sacristan and his boy
obligingly trundled him out into the sunlight where he was visible.

It was with great reluctance that I left the church and turned my face again
toward Moguer; but the day was nearly ended, there was no accommodation of
any sort for a traveler at Palos, and the boy and the burro were anxious to be
away. Don Pedro of the inn received me cordially, spreading a table with fruit
of his garden and wine of his vineyard, and afterward invited me to come forth
and view the town. He first conducted me to the church, and then to the
house of the Pinzon family, still in possession of a descendant of the great Pin-
zon who sailed with Columbus. Over the doorway is their coat-of-arms. I was
delighted to learn that the present representative of the family is prosperous,
and holds the position of admiral in the Spanish navy.

It was not my good fortune to be entertained, as Irving was, by a descend-
ant of the great Pinzon, though I should have valued that attention more highly
than any other in Spain; for it was to the two brothers Pinzon that Columbus
was indebted for success. When he came here, penniless and without authority,
they were prosperous citizens, men of influence over their neighbors, and we all
know the part they took in that first voyage, furnishing money, men and ves-
sels. Even the royal proclamation read in the church of St. George, was of no
less avail than their brave example. Badly treated as they were by Columbus
and by Ferdinand, yet posterity will not refuse them their meed of honor. In
truth, the deeds of the Genoese pale somewhat before their steady glow of sturdy
independence. The needy adventurer whom they befriended, and who treated
them so basely, has left no direct descendants, but the sturdy Pinzon stock still
flourishes in the birthplace of its progenitors.

Our next visit was to the convent-church of Santa-Clara, where Columbus
and his sailors fulfilled their vows after their return from the first voyage. You
will recall, perhaps, that they promised that, if they were saved from a dreadful
storm that threatened to destroy them, they would spend their first night ashore
in prayer. And it was in this very church that they performed their vows,
Columbus kneeling here all night on its cold marbles, and before the altar.

The day following, returning to Palos, a sturdy donkey boy attended me —
and we made the distance merrily, halting at the town only for a lunch. As the
place came into view, I drew up my donkey on the brow of the hill and looked |
long at the white-walled Palos, so silent before me, so lifeless, so sad. I need
not tell the thoughts that possessed me, nor the pictures that rose before my
mental vision, for I am an American, and have a share in that common heritage
left us by Columbus.

Four hundred years only have passed since the great Genoese came, to



PROM “CORDOVA TO CATHAY,

this very port of Palos, and sailed away with its sailor-citizens to the discovery
of a continent; and though since then the cynosure of all eyes, little Palos has
slumbered on ainda of itsfame. One by one its prosperous men were gath-
ered out of sight; one by one its houses sank to ruins; one by one its fleets were
depleted of its vessels, until naught remains save the memory of its greatness.

About three miles beyond Palos, passing through scenery unattr ractive and

sad, you sight some clumps of trees. Then a hill rises against the sky.

Slowly climbing, you bring the roofs and cupolas of a lone white building into
view ; they are found to pertain to a convent structure of the olden style. It is
a eanbline building but compactly inclosed within a high wall, and is extremely
picturesque. I was very fortunate, later on, in securing a fine photograph of it,
as clouds lay massed beyond and a flock of ie slowly grazed before it.

And it was thus I found it, this Convent of La Rabida, at the gate of which
Columbus halted to request refreshment for his son. How he came to such a
secluded place as La Rabida, no one has explained; but he probably made for
the coast of Spain, thinking perhaps to obtain a vessel at Huelva, then, as now,
a shipping port to foreign parts. Indeed, this very spot is the Tarshish of the
Bible, and the Phoenicians came here more than two thousand years ago; those
men of Tyre, who discovered a passage between the Pillars of Hercules.

But Columbus came here, halted at the gate (the arched entrance at the
right), and the prior of the convent chanced to see him and to enter into con-
versation with him. Struck by his dignified appearance, and also by his evident
learning, the prior invited him to tarry a while, and soon he had his visitor’s
story: it was a tale of long-deferred plans, of wearisome waiting and of crushing
defeat. That very night the prior caused his mule to be saddled and started for
Granada, pursuing the same weary road through Palos and Moguer that I have
traversed (only he was not favored by steam or stage) to the camp, perhaps two
hundred miles away.

The convent to-day is in excellent preservation, having been carefully re-
stored and placed in the care of a faithful old soldier. I found the family in
possession so simple and so kindly disposed, that I craved permission to pass the
day and night there, which they readily granted. So, paying my donkey boy
double wages, and sending him back to Mogeur with a kind message for the
friendly landlord, I was soon placed in control of the convent, isolate from all
the world. Not Fray Perez could have possessed it more completely. I wan-
dered at will through its corridors, its cloisters and vacant refectory ; I rambled
over the hills back and beyond the convent — hills covered with artemisia and
stunted pines — and indulged in solitary reverie to my heart’s content.

Climbing the winding stairway to the mirador, I had before me through the
arched openings, broad vistas of the river and the sea. Directly beneath, the
hill sloped rapidly to the halfsubmerged lands of the river and sound. Half-
way down its slope was a date-palm, said to have been there in the time of Colum-



FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

bus; perhaps equally old are a gnarled and twisted fig-tree and two gray-green
olives that keep it company. Extending southward, even to the mouth of the
Guadalquivir, are the Arenas Gordas, or the great sands that make this coast a
solitary waste. Truly, it is a lonesome spot, this upon which the building is
perched, and the soul of Columbus must have been aweary as he drew near the
convent portal. The Domingo Rubio, a sluggish stream tributary to the Tinto,
separates from Rabida a sandy island, where there is an ancient watch-tower
and a camp of carbineers on the watch for contrabandistas. A little to the west
the Domingo Rubio meets with, and is lost in, the Rio Tinto, and the two join
with the Odiel and flow tranquilly on to the ocean, where the foaming breakers



THE $f COLUMBUS ROOM?’ AT LA RABIDA,

(Here the Admiral, the Prior and the Doctor held the conversation that led to the monk’s intercession with Isubella.)

roar with a sound that reaches even to La Rabida. Beyond their united waters
again is another sandy island and another distant watch-tower, till the low coast.
fades away in the distance. Down this channel sailed, or floated, Columbus,
bringing his boats from Palos, on his way to the sea.

The landscape is flat, with distant woods, and, farther off, a hint of purple
hills. Opposite, across the bay, lies Huelva, like a snowdrift white upon a
tongue of land between copper-colored hills and the sea. A dreary landscape,
yet a bright sun in its setting might make it transiently glorious,





FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

The old soldier in charge of the convent, Don Cristobal Garcia, the concerge,
was evidently straitened in circumstances, yet he was cheerful, and his hospi-
tality shone forth resplendently. He laughingly informed me that he rejoiced
in the same name as Columbus, Cristobal; but, he added, he had never done
anything to make it illustrious. He and his family lived in a primitive and even
pitiful state —at meal times gathering around a common platter; but my own
meals they served me on snowy linen at a table apart. There were six of them:
the old man, his wife, a little girl named Isabel, some twelve years old, and
three boys. Isabel, poor child, pattered about the stone pavement with bare feet ;
but they were pretty feet, and her little
brown ankles were neatly turned. There |

f Tl Mb
was another member of the family, evi- #RQEES cass
dently an intruder, a little chap clad solely
in a short shirt, who had squint eyes and
a great shock of bristly black hair. Don
Cristobal told me that he was a descendant
of one of the Indians brought to Spain
from America on the first voyage ; and as .
the child’s face was certainly that of an
Indian, I was more than half inclined to
believe the story. The little people were THE COURTYARD OF LA RABIDA,
delighted with the peeps I gave them
through my camera, and capered about with delight at the sight of the court
and its flowers spread out before them in miniature, and nearly jumped out of
their jackets at the image of the grave old concerge standing on his head.
“ Mira! Mira!” they exclaimed, and gazed at me with awe and wonder.

Don.Cristobal gave me a bed in one of the cloister-cells — the very one, he
assured me, that Columbus occupied. I slept well through the night. It
was a disappointment to me that I did not dream and receive a visitation from
some steel-clad hidalgo, or from a girdled monk or two. At six in the morning
I was awakened by the good concerge, who inquired if Don Federico would not
like a little refreshment. Don Federico would; and well he did, for it was three
or four hours before he received a hint of breakfast. The eldest boy had gone
to Palos for twenty cents’ worth of meat and two eggs, making apparent the
poverty of my host. He did not return until ten, and then we had breakfast ;
and there were the two eggs, which the mistress could not have regarded more
proudly had they been golden, for they were very scarce at that time in Palos,
and it was waiting on a hen’s pleasure that caused the boy’s delay. He had been
told to bring back two eggs, and if two hens had not happened along quite
opportunely, I might have been waiting that boy’s return to this day.

The rain had fallen all the forenoon and had made the convent cold and
cheerless, so a fire was built in the fireplace of the ancient monks, and as it





FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

crackled and leaped in the huge chimney throat, we were warmed to our very
hearts. After the rain had ceased, and while the sun was struggling fiercely
with the clouds, we ate our dinner in the corridor, which ran around a court or
patio open to the sky. This court was filled with flowers; vines crept up the -
pillars; figs and oranges had possessed themselves of space enough for luxuriant
growth. From it many cloisters opened out, but there was one, still farther in,
where the chamber-cells of the monks were very numerous. Off at one side is
the chapel where it is said Columbus knelt in prayer, and on the opposite side .
a passage leads to the refectory, where the stone benches on which the good
monks sat are empty and chill.

Climbing a narrow stairway, you come to a corner room overlooking the
Rio Tinto — a large square room, with floor of earthen tiles and ceiling of cedar,
with dark beams overhead. This is the “Columbus Room,” where the great
Admiral, the Prior and the learned Doctor held the famous consultation which
resulted in the monk’s intercession with Isabella. Many a painting has repre-
sented this historic scene, perhaps none more faithfully than the one hung in
the room itself. An immense table — old, but sturdy still, and around which the
great men are said to have gathered — occupies the center of the room, and on it
is the tintero, or inkstand, said to have been used by them. Around the wall
are hung several excellent pictures: one representing the discovery of land, one
showing Columbus at the convent gate, another the consultation, the embark-
ation at Palos, the publication of the king’s commands, and the final departure.

I wonder if the old monks of the days gone by enjoyed, as I did, the seclusion

of the place and the sunset view from the mirador? In pleasant weather, when
the hot sun shines, it must be supremely attractive to one sitting in the shade
and looking forth upon the sea. Drowsy insects hum outside, the half-sup-
pressed noises of maritime life float in on the breeze, and lively swallows fly in
and out, twittering to one another as they seek their nests. Ah! pleasant
mirador, aperloOkine the historic Rio Tinto and the sea. The view afforded
here comprises the scenes attendant upon the momentous departure. Right
before us, on the Domingo Rubio, it was, that Columbus careened his vessels
and took aboard his stores, just before setting sail; somewhere near the mole
he took his final farewell of the good prior, the last, best friend he had in
Spain; and beyond the sand-spits glimmer the breakers on the Bar of Saltes.

Down the stream, beyond the Tinto, glide lateen-sails toward the bar the
sailors crossed in 1492. Don Cristobal went down to engage passage for me in
a mystick, or little sloop, that was lading with ballast at the river bank, and
soon I followed him to the mole, where a carabinero rowed me across the inlet. -
It was on, or near, this very spot that Columbus cleared for his voyage; and
what thoughts filled my mind as I tarried here! But not a thought had the
men for aught save their sand, which they would take to Huelva and sell for
ballast. If I would wait I was welcome to a passage ; but they thought that by



Full Text


UBLISHING COMPANY
‘ BOST,



t



Famous STORIES

PEMS OF LITERAZURE AND ARE





















WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS

BOSTON
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY
CoryvriIGHT, 1893,

BY
D. LorHrop COMPANY.

CopyRIGHT, 1895,
BY

Loturop PUBLISHING COMPANY.

All rights reserved.








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i:

LPS




A S\ . ER real name was Betty Fry.
(SE (Ie 5 Jack Tyler, then oi ioe years old, fast-
ened the nickname upon her. Her mother took her abroad the year after she left
school — she would not have been graduated had she staid there sixteen, instead
of four years— and Mrs. Tyler, the Frys’ next-door neighbor, gave a lawn party
the week succeeding the return of her traveled friends. Miss Betty, at nine-
teen, was blue-eyed and plump, with peach-blow cheeks, in which dimples came
and went whenever she opened her rosy lips, and a profusion of auburn hair
that made an aureole about a tossing little head. Her Parisian costume was as
gay as good taste would permit, and Jack fairly blinked when she fluttered
down upon him in passing, darted half a dozen swift kisses upon his face and
curls, and called him the “ darlingest darling her eyes had ever lighted upon.”

“This is Miss Betty Fry, my son,’ explained his stately mother. “Speak
to her, as a gentleman should.”

Jack arched a chubby hand over his eyes, more in dazzlement than bashful-
ness, and piped up dutifully :

““ How do you do, Miss Butterfly?” -

The name took, inevitably, and stuck fast to her as long as she lived.

At school she had skimmed text-books as her tiny feet skimmed the ground,
complaining, merrily, that all she was taught went in at one ear and straight
out at the other. In music, languages and drawing, her acquirements were of
' the same sketchy order, with no “ staying power.” She had but one talent —
that of being happy through and through, always and everywhere. She soaked
MISS BUTTERFLY.

herself in sunbeams until she radiated them at the pores. Everybody agreed
that “ there was nothing in her,” yet everybody was fond of and petted her.
People liked to have her around as they liked to cultivate flowers and buy bric-
- a-brac, and set harmonious bits of color in shadowy corners. She was the only
daughter of the richest widow in her native town, and her three brothers were
married men before she was emancipated from the fashionable seminary where
she had learned so little. —*

Years went on multiplying years, and although she made no account of them,
they kept tally upon the peach-blow and creamy skin, and stole, a pound at a
time, of the flesh that at nineteen had looked so pure and sweet. Her eyes had
faded to “ baby blue,” and had paler rims about the irises ; her hair was bleached
to the color of Milwaukee brick-dust, and the rings and waves that once made a
glory above her face were dry, stiffened wisps. The dimples were shallow
ravines, instead of mirthful pools, and Time had dug out the temples, and scraped
at the outer corners of her eyes. Jack Tyler was a mustachioed business-man, |
with a four-year-old namesake of his very own, and Miss Butterfly was still
better known by the sobriquet he had bestowed upon her than as Miss Elizabeth
Fry, the owner and sole resident — barring her servants — of the fine old home-
stead upon the hill. :

It was queer, said the gossips, that with all that money, and her pretty face
and coaxing ways, she had never married; yet she did not look like a woman
witha history. She chatted a great deal, and laughed a great deal more than she
talked. A local poet had once written some verses comparing her laugh to water
running down hill over a pebbly bed. The bed of the stream might be getting
dry now, but the brook — what there was of it — continued to go through the
motions. She had lost none of her little fluttering mannerisms. In anybody
else they would have been called flighty at her age; affectations she should have
outgrown a score of years ago. At her mother’s death, which did not take place
until the daughter was forty, the new mistress had retained the full staff of
servants, and the gossips had their whisper about that, too:

“ Tf ever there was a woman who had it easy! but there, now! Who could
have the heart to begrudge that good-hearted little thing, who had never done a
hand’s turn for herself, the wealth she seemed to enjoy so heartily ?”

I was an intolerant chit of fifteen, who had lived in Book-land and Dream-
world until I was clothed in self-conceit as with a garment, when, on one raw ~
December afternoon, I rang Miss Fry’s door-bell. While waiting to be admitted,
I surveyed the winter-bitten grounds encompassing the great house, and shivered
under my furs at their bleak aspect. Shrubbery was done up in straw tents;
fountains were robed in sackcloth, and the top-dressing of manure spread over
the turf looked, with the hoar-frost upon it, like ashes. The gray stone front
of the dwelling had been enlivened by window-gardens in the summer, and
their absence gave it a jail-like look.
MISS BUTTERFLY.

“¢ And the woman who lives here has no aim and no outlook in life,” mused
I priggishly. “She is a unit with never a cipher at her back to give her value.
Were she to die to-morrow the world would be none the poorer. It is the old
fable of the butterfly who sat in the rose’s heart all summer and starved in the
winter.”

- “Is Miss Fry at. home?” I inquired of the maid who interrupted my
moralizing.
-“Ves, ma'am. Walk in, please.”

“ But she has company,” as the tinkle of a guitar and a babble of singing
proceeded from the library.

“Q, no, ma’am; no more than common. There’s no invited party.”

We reached the inner door just as the music ceased, and a wilder clamor of
small voices arose. “ Please, Miss Butterfly, now sing ‘ Said I, said Te

The hostess did not observe me, and I drew back into the comparative
obscurity of the hall to watch the animated interior. Miss Fry, in a sheeny
satin the color of a robin’s egg, with costly laces drooping over her chest and
wrists, sat upon a low ottoman, guitar in hand, the center of a troop of children.
A smart twang of the strings silenced the hubbub, and the song began in a voice
that reminded one of a thin trickle of syrup, “just on the turn” toward sharp-
ness. The children shrilled out the chorus after each line, every mouth
stretched to its utmost. Miss Betty told me afterward that she had “heard
the ditty ever since she was a child, or had picked it up somewhere — just so.
She never knew how she learned anything.”

*¢ A little old man came riding by, “ An acorn fell as from the sky;
(Said I, said I,) (Said I, said I,)

‘ My dear old man, your horse will die,’ ‘Ah! why did you not stay on high?’
(Said I, said I.) (Said I, said I.)

‘And if he dies I'll tan his skin,’ ‘Why, if I had, you surely see,’
(Said he, said he,) : (Said he, said he,)

‘ And if he lives Pl ride him again,’ ‘That I could never be a tree,’
(Said he, said he.) (Said he, said he.)

«A little bird came hop! hop! hop! «‘An ugly worm crept on the ground;
‘(Said I, said I,) ‘ (Said I, said I,)

‘ My pretty bird, your feathers drop,’ ‘Poor thing! to death you’re surely bound,’
(Said I, said I.) (Said I, said I.)

‘Qh! I shall only keep the best,’ ‘But I was only born to die,’
(Said he, said he,) (Said he, said he,)

‘ And with the rest I’l] line my nest.’ ‘Or I'd not be a butterfly,’
(Said he, said he.) (Said he, said he.) ”

A fire of logs blazed high in the chimney, flickering whenever the shrill
chorus burst forth. The children, of whom there must have been twenty, sat
and lay upon an immense tiger-skin spread in the full glow of the flames. Four
or five had crept as close to the hostess as they could get, crushing the satin
folds with infantine heedlessness.
MISS BULTERELY:

Trying to arise as she espied me, she found herself thus anchored fast, and
sank back with the gurgle that used to be fascinating and was now only funny.

“Tama prisoner, you see. Come in, my dear child, and help yourself to a
seat. I’m ever and ever so glad to see you.”

“Tam afraid that Iam an intruder,” said I, in obeying the request.

“Nota bit; not a bit of it, assure you. These precious pets have a way
of running in to enliven my
solitude when it is not fit
weather for them outside.
It isalways bright and warm
here, and they know it —
bless their hearts! I’m never
so happy as when the house
is brimful of them. They
know that, too, the cun-
ning little things! and their
‘mothers are good enough
to indulge me. You won't
mind it our concert goes on
for a few minutes longer,
will you, dearest girl?”

Everything she sang had

“HOW DU YOU DO, MISS BUTTERFLY ?”’, a chorus, and all the children
joined in with more zeal
than discretion, and more spirit than tune. By and by the guitar was laid
aside ; the folding-doors between library and drawing-room were thrown open,
and there was an uproarious game of hide-and-seek over the rich carpets —
“almost as good,” averred one youngster, “as playing upon the grass.” The
least of the party —the oldest of which could not have been eight years old —
kept nearest to Miss Betty all the while, and were “coached” by her in the
mysteries of the romp. Biscuits and milk —the latter in dainty little mugs —
were dispensed at four o’clock, soon after which, nurses, older sisters, a brother |
or two, and a couple of mothers, arrived to escort the guests to their homes.

At the outcry of protest that ensued, Miss Betty made herself heard.

“ Tf you'll promise to go oe quietly, like dear, good lambies, you shall see
my butterfly take his supper.”

They trooped at her heels to a large Wardian case set In a bay window. It
was full of ferns and flowering plants, and as she raised the peakéd lid, we saw
upon the pink waxen blossom of a beautitul begonia a large brown-and-blue
butterfly, asleep or torpid.

“TIe’s taking his afternoon nap,” gurgled Miss Betty. “ Wake up, my
becuty, and have your tea.”


MISS BUTTERFLY.

She slid him dexterously from the pink petals into a palm that was now,
alas! neither pink nor plump, and carried him back to the fire. Sinking down
upon her ottoman, as the insect poised upon her uplifted hand she held to him
a drop of honey upon the tip of a pearl paper-knife.

“ Hush! hush!” she breathed to the impatient spectators. “He must get
warm before he gets hungry. That’s the way with all teeny-weeny things, you
know.” :

As the warmth of the withered palm passed into the downy body, the odd
pet raised his wings and waved them gently in the firelight; successive thrills
shook his frame; the antenne vibrated, and we could see the proboscis undo
itself, coil after coil, and dip into the honey drop.



i

SSeS

‘* PLEASE, MISS BUTTERFLY, SING ‘SAID I, SAID I.’”’

“That is the most comical exhibition I ever saw,” ejaculated one of the
mothers. “How did you tame it, Betty?” _

“It did itself ;” checking the gurgle lest it should jar her protégé. “TI found
him outside, hanging to the window-sill for dear life, on Thanksgiving Day.
He had come to look for the jardiniére that stood there all summer, I suppose.
So I took him in, and warmed him, and fed him, and have kept him in the fernery
ever since. You wouldn’t believe how much company he is for me. On sunny
MISS BUTTERFLY.

days I give him a promenade on the south window over there, or let him fly
about in the conservatory, and he gets quite gay. Usually, he sleeps most of
the time, however.”

“ But,’ struck in the other matron —by the way, she was Jack Tyler’s wife
— “naturalists tell us that the butterfly is an ephemeron.”

“T beg your pardon?” said Miss Betty inquiringly.

“T mean” — repressing a smile — “ that he lives only one day after leaving
the chrysalis.”

“They must be mistaken,’ Miss Betty opined, amiably complacent. “This
one has been with me three weeks yesterday. I expect to keep him until
spring. All that a butterfly wants is sunshine and honey. When he gets both
he can’t help being contented. And this one has such a lovely disposition.”

She put him back tenderly upon the begonia, when he ceased to sip and
curled up the hair-like tube through which he had drawn his food. Then she
helped get the children into cloaks and caps, kissed each pair of lips, and thanked
their guardians for “lending” them to her.

“Now, sit down, honey,” she bustled back into the library to say to me.
“This chair, please,” pushing a low and luxurious one toward me, then pulling
up another for herself.

“It seems almost sinful for me to be so comfortable,” I said, from the depths
of my satin nest.

Her little laugh trilled out, and J thought of the cricket on the hearth.

“ Now, my idea is that it is really wrong not to be comfortable and happy.
When nobody else is the worse for it, of course. I just love to see people hav-
ing the loveliest sort of times ; gay as larks, happy as kings, pretty as butterflies,
and all that, don’t you know?”

This introduced my errand. My mother hoped Miss Betty would be inter-
ested in the case of a poor family in the lower part of the town, and had charged
me with the sad story. My unspoken contempt for my auditor's intellectual
status was increased by the interjections with which she hearkened to me.

“Dreadful!” “Impossible!” “ Heart-rending!” “Poor woman!” “Qh!
the poor dear little darlings,” were, to my notion, puffs of the idlest breath
ever exhaled. When at length she raised herself from the yielding cushions:
far enough to touch a silver bell upon the table nearest her, I supposed that the
subject was dismissed.

“Tea, Mary, please,” to the maid who appeared on the instant. How well
this luxurious sluggard was served when hundreds had neither fire nor home
upon this bitter afternoon. “And tell Annie to send up some of her nice tea-
cakes with it, Mary, please. I am sure Miss Dowling will enjoy them. There’s
nothing that warms the bottom of one’s heart like a cup of hot tea. How good
your mother is to the poor and. the afflicted! Quite like a ministering angel, I
do always maintain.”
MISS BURTER BEY.

I despised her utterly as she chirped on. She was trite, vapid, and, I was
sure, heartless; a weak, silly, aimless sentimentalist. When the tea and cakes
came I could not enjoy them, delicious as they both were. The china was
exquisite ; the gold spoons tinkled against it with a bell-like chime; into the
summer air of the room stole the odors of the adjoining conservatory; there
were rare pictures, statuary and tapestries. The whole world was padded, and
warmed, and scented for this useless little insect. What mattered it that winter,
and poverty, and illness, and sorrow were in other homes, so long as she still sat
in the rose’s heart ?

“My casket, please, Mary,” twittered the thin voice, after the tea-service
was removed. ‘ And turn the gas up, just a little.”

The-casket — an East Indian toy, all ivory, gold and ebony — was unlocked,
and the smell of sandal-wood gushed forth. Miss Betty giggled in adj usting
her eyeglasses.

“My eyes are weak by artificial light. They ought not to be, but I have
done so much fancy-work. I so often hear of interesting cases after dark, that
I keep checks ready made out. It saves eyesight, and time, and trouble, don’t
you know? Ah!”

She had fumbled among the papers in the casket until she found what she
sought, and passed it over to me as she might a postage stamp.

“Tell your mother how awfully obliged I am to her, and beg her to let me
know if I can do anything else for those poor dear protégés of hers.’’

I lost breath and wits upon seeing that the check was for one hundred
dollars.

“Q, Miss Butterfly! Oh!—I beg your pardon.” I stopped there, red as
fire and longing to sink clean out of sight.

She laughed in short, spasmodic jerks, as if something attached to her vocal
apparatus were going to pieces.

“No offense, I do assure you, my blessed child. All my children call me
that, and I don’t object. God made butterflies, I suppose, and they couldn’t be
ants if they wanted to. I admire energy, and thrift, and all that, immensely,
but, as my slangy nephews say, I wasn’t built that way. I don’t murmur.
The Bible says there are diversities of gifts. All that a butterfly wants is sun-
shine and honey.”

I repeated the phrase often and again that winter. I cannot say that I
found entertainment in the society of one whom, from that afternoon, I learned
to love, but there was gratification in the sight of the simple kindly creature
living out her life with the zest of a child. I went to her almost daily, and
always found her the same; never ruffled in spirit, never unkind in speech,
always carefully and richly dressed, and ever eager to share her sunshine and
honey with all about her. The fancy crossed my mind, sometimes, that she
_was growing thin, and, occasionally, in the forenoon, there was a strange gray-
MISS BUTTERFLY.

ness in her complexion; but there was no abatement in her gayety. The chil-
dren swarmed about and over her, as lawlessly as ever; her girl-nieces and
college-nephews gave parties in her big rooms, and granted her request to be
allowed to order and pay for the luncheons, dinners and suppers served by her
servants. She still twanged the guitar and chirped quaint ditties to her
“babies,” and played waltzes with stiff and willing fingers by the hour for older
merrymakers. The casket of filled-out checks still flew open before a tale of
woe could be finished in her hearing. With it all went the light, sometimes
flippant, prattle of commonplace nothings, and the weak giggle that was no
longer fascinating. JI caught myself wondering, as I saw her feed and talk to
her butterfly, if both were not alike inconsequent, and as well content to take
in all of present delight without premonition of to-morrow’s frost or cloud.

One windy day in March, the old Fry house was burned to the ground with
stables, graperies and conservatories. My mother and I, hastening to the scene
at rumor of the disaster, found Miss Betty im a remote corner of the shrubberies
sitting upon an iron chair in the shelter of a clump of evergreens. Nobody was
near her, and she had a dazed, white look, not in the least her own. The
servants were all busy trying to save something from the flames, which still
roared horribly a little way off. Somebody, probably her maid, had wrapped
our little friend up in an ermine opera-cloak with a white silk hood trimmed
with fur. I could but liken her, in imagination, to a frozen miller moth, as she
sat huddled together, crushed into the fir-branches.

We took her home and put her to bed.

“Thank you, sweet child! God bless you!” she whispered, when I stooped
to kiss the face so pitifully and strangely shrunken and pallid.

“You will soon be all right now, dear Miss Betty.”

“Q, yes!” opening her eyes to smile. “Very, very soon. It would be
sinful not to be thankful and happy. Everybody is always so good to me.
Surely goodness and mercy. have fol” —

She never spoke or moved again.

When we saw that stupor, not sleep, had stolen over her, we sent for her
family physician. Beside her death-bed we learned that she had battled bravely
for two years with an insidious, and what she knew to be a mortal disease.

“She would not let me tell the truth even to her brothers,” said her only
confidant. “It ‘was not worth while to disturb them before it was absolutely
necessary, she said. How she kept up her usual mode of life, and her spirits, I
cannot comprehend. She was either the pluckiest or the least sensitive being
I ever knew. I cannot decide if she were more of a benefactress or of a

{»

butterfly.”
“T can,” sobbed my mother.
So could I.

Marion Harland.






A DREAMLAND SHEPHERD BOY.


A GROUP OF BLUECOAT. BOYS.

THE BLUECOAT SCHOOL.

LL day long, in the heart of London, visitors may see people

on the sidewalk pressing up against a tall iron fence, and
looking through another fence beyond that, to one of the great
clean-paven yards of the famous school called Christ Hospital,
where many red-cheeked bareheaded boys are shouting

Bren Ser and running. They are plunging about, evidently quite
happy, and not encumbered at all, apparently, with their pecu-
liar dress. This dress has never been changed, in color or in
any important detail, since Tudor times; and it issure to take
the amused attention of an American the moment he passes

© through Newgate Street. Let us examine it respectfully.
There is a contagion, to begin with, of bright yellow stock-
ings, and that alone provides the funniest spectacle!—these flying odds and




THE BLUECOAT SCHOOL.

ends of boy looking for all the world like some wild scrimmage of storks,
with their lively cheerful-colored legs in fullest evidence. Their knee-breeches
are of dark-blue; they wear a narrow red leather belt, and the white “ bands”
instead of a collar, shaped like those of the French clergy to-day; bands which
the English clergy dropped several generations ago. The coats, also dark-blue,
have skirts falling all around, as low as the ankle, and when a boy wants some
fun, he has to bundle up yards of unwieldy cloth behind ; which adds, you may
be sure, to the queerness of his general appearance. Sometimes he is so happy
as to possess a jersey for play-hours, and a cap no bigger than the palm of your
hand, which he may put on in the street, if he chooses, but which he never does
choose, even in mid-winter. The little Blues, with their long yellow legs and
browned faces, cannot fail to make a curious picture to the modern eye;
and everybody must stop to watch them, and smile, and sigh, and wish to be
twelve years old again, with no worse vexation than a lesson in Cesar, and no
future anxiety beyond the winning of a game! As you look at them from
their front gates, the gray height of the glorious Hall of the school confronts
you; beyond, and to your left, is the
four-pinnacled tower of the old church
-where Captain John Smith is buried ;
to your right are Smithfield, Little Brit-
ain, and the storied neighborhood of
St. Bartholomew’s, where the Jacobean
gables elbow the more precious Norman
masonry ; and the melancholy highway
where you stand shows you the grim
prison, almost opposite this area, over-
flowing with youth and blameless joy.
Once you are within the Bluecoat pre-
cincts, you become conscious of the
near overhanging dome of St. Paul’s,
which, when viewed from the doors of
the Writing School, seems to fill the
whole horizon and sky, and sustain you,
like an eternal thing. But changes
come, even here; and not very long
after you read these few pages, Christ
Hospital may be sold or. leveled, its
laws altered, and its army of nearly
eight hundred boys transferred to the
country, away from the sad town which will be lonely without their eyes and
voices and eccentric hose, familiar here for three hundred and fifty years.
The many buildings are not all ancient. Little remains of those considered



THE STATUE OF THE FOUNDER.
(The boy-king Edward VI.)
THE BLUBCOAT SGHOOL,

commodious enough in the last century, which sheltered such young heads as
Camden’s, Stillingfleet’s, Samuel Richardson’s, Coleridge’s and Leigh Hunt’s, and
Charles Lamb’s. Ages before them, again, the Priory of the Grey Friars stood
here; and somewhere under these very flags monks and knights, and a Queen
of England, are sleeping, having lain
down penitent in the shadow of monas-
tic altars. The Hospital, as it now is,
was founded by “the boy-patron of
boys,” Edward VI., who had one ques-
tionable habit for a young saint, that
of cheerfully signing the death-warrants
of his uncles. The royal charity has
had great endowments from private
hands, which are, alas! lessened in our
more selfish day. Another king, Charles
II., a clever vagabond who made out
to do a few such kindly deeds as this,
started the Mathematical School in
1673, and the lads who belong to it
wear his badge upon the shoulder.
When a child is appeinted to Christ
Hospital, he makes it his home, and is
chosen to rank in the department best ee Ae ee
suited to his abilities. Some study the
‘classics, some are preparing for sea-Service, some are flourishing a pen all the
afternoon over accounts or outline drawings. The boys have a Court of Gov-
ernors whom they never see; but the President, Treasurer and Almoners busy
. themselves with house-affairs, and the masters and matrons
are everywhere and always at their side. The discipline
is very strict and steady. The boys make their own beds,
set and clear off their own table, polish their own boots and
id-4-% so forth.
They have frequent halt- “holidays, beside the three vaca-
tions, when, if their conduct has given satisfaction, they are
Raed free to visit their relatives and friends, and dispose their
eae. picturesque figures among the city parks and streets.
' 'Fhey sleep in airy wards or dormitories, each in his
little bed, and about forty beds abreast; and they all eat to-
gether in the magnificent Hall, with its organ and spacious
Gothic windows, erected in 1829. They have a very liberal supply of what.
‘would hardly be a favorite drink of American boys—beer! Every pleasant
day, a signal is given in the south playground, seven minutes before dinner-




THE SBEWECOA LP ISGHOOE:

time, and the jolly crowd stops short, abandons its bats, hockey-sticks,
balls, and roller-skates, lets down its coat-tails, and falls into squads and com-
panies, preceded by a dozen of the more musical youngsters, who have or--
ganized a very creditable brass band; and so, left, right, left, away they march
from the wind and the sun, until the last straight little soldier is swallowed
up in the dark arches and disappears. They have a beautiful library, a muscum,
a picture-gallery, a gymnasium (with a splendid swimming-bath in which the
boundary-lines of three parishes converge), and several wide cool cloisters for



OUTSIDE THE GREAT HALL, AT DINNER-TIME.

playgrounds in hot or wet weather. At their doors is Christ Church, where the
innumerable family kneels on Sunday at Morning Prayer and Evensong. Clus-
tered about the great Hall are more chambers and dwellings than would go to
make a sizable village, and in these live the warden, the professors, the kind old
steward, and the society of domestics; all in their offices striving and succeed-
ing, to make the Bluecoat School very dear to the Blues.

Although the pupils pay nothing for what is, in the American sense, a
thorough and excellent public-school education (for a “ public school” in Eng-
land, as you know, means something far more lordly and exclusive) you are not
to infer that the boys are mere paupers and hoodlums. Dependent they must
be; but if the fathers of any of them earn a thousand dollars (two hundred pounds)
RAE BEUECOAT SCHOO.

a year, the boys are still eligible for the nomination to a vacant place. The.
majority are pretty little fellows, with very sweet manners, which could not
be matched m our country, except, perhaps, at some




TAate cloTHs,

passes under

the tutelary im-
age of good King Edward—to dwell
some seven years in the absentee’s
stead.

The place is rich in its own privi-
leges, and traditions, and dramatic
customs. I have not told you how
the whole young flock call upon the
Lord Mayor in Easter week, and re-
ceive, every one, a gleaming shilling-
piece new from the mint; nor how
they sup in public each Thursday in
Lent, and make their annual parting
memorable with a quaint procession,
and speeches, and song; for these
things, would fill a separate article.
Nor have I said a word of the con-
stant training which they receive, in
order to make them serious and manly
Christians, fit to grapple with the
rough old duties of our life. But I
leave you to look at the pictures of
some of these wards of the Three King-
doms, and repeat with me, for the child
Charles Lamb’s sake, the words of the
venerable toast: “God bless the reli-

high-class private school.
a grown “Grecian” who has shown talent and a dispo-
sition for study, is sent up from Christ Hospital, with
loud plaudits and a generous purse of money, to a
career in one of the great universities. The aver-
age lad leaves his desk and goes into business at
\\ ° fifteen or sixteen; and some shy nursling from the pre-
paratory house in Hertford comes up to London, and’



And it often happens that

THE EAST ENTRANCE WITH STATUE OF BLUECOAT BOY.

gious, royal and ancient foundation of Christ Hospital! May those prosper who
love it, and may God increase their number!”

Louise Imogen Guiney.








































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































STREET CHARMERS.
A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE.

T was Christmas Eve, and the streets of the old French city of Tours were
thronged with people hurrying to the Cathedral for the Christmas mass.
Ii lacked but fifteen minutes of midnight, and a few belated peasants from the
adjoining village of St. Symphorien quickened their pace as they approached the
great stone bridge. Among them was a sweet-faced young woman, Félicie Gar-
~ nier, proprietress of a tiny vegetable shop in the street of the Tranchée. She
led by the hand her little eight-year-old son who at that moment was standing
perfectly still in the surprise of his new experience. “Come, my little man,”
said the good Félicie, smiling down proudly upon her brave Pierre, “we must
walk faster. The bridge, the Rue Royale and voila, we are at the Cathedral.”
The child’s face was radiant. It was the first time in his life that he had been
beyond their little shop door after dark.
The scene was far more wonderful. than any he had pictured to himself, as
his mother had described it, over her washing by the river-side. “The river
; will not look like this,’ she had said one day,
FEED straightening back for a moment of rest from
Sy Bk bending over the linen which she was vigor-
ously beating on a smooth
stone. “See, now it is blue,
like the sky; but at night
when the sky is black above
it, the river too grows black.”
“How then can we find our
way?” queried the boy.







t

sn.
Ger




oe fos ZZ = = “ Ah, by the lamps, my Pierre.
Epi es The lamps shine bright on the
Lay < “IW ee bridge and a thousand lights are in
S SSO oN N Y-cF" the windows of the great houses, and the

IN good God will guide us safely to the Cathedral, that we

“xoT LIKE THUS,” S40 FELICIE. may kneel before the beautiful manger and pray for the
soul of the beloved papa.” And Pierre sat silent, won-
dering how his own beautiful Loire could grow black and ugly and dark.

And now the evening of his long anticipation had come. There lay the
river below, dark and mysterious but beautiful still, its ripples gleaming like
burnished metal in the half darkness, and shimmering merrily in the bright
light cast from the bridge lamps. Beyond lay the old town with its many lights
—an enchanted city, and over all stretched the great starry heavens. The city,
the river, the sky were all wrapped in solemn darkness made visible by myriad
A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE.

lights. Pierre’s little heart beat fast till it seemed to clatter in his bosom as
loudly as did his wooden sabots on the stone pavement. Presently he began to
find familiar objects among the city towers, the tower of Charlemagne, St. Mar-
tin’s tower, and finally, the Cathedral spires. Lifted black against the sky, they
were like hands outstretched to Heaven. Pierre’s eyes followed them and lo, the
fingers pointed to a bright star!
“But yes, my little man,” said
the mother Félicie, “the star
stands always over the manger to
lead the wanderers to the Holy
Child.”

They turned at last into the
Cathedral Square, into which all
the narrow streets were pouring
throngs of people. Pierre clung
fast to his mother’s hand and they
mingled in the crowd pushing their
way through the doors. Félicie
paused at the nearest bénitier to
dip her fingers in the holy water
and cross herself. Then advancing
a few steps along the central aisle,
she bowed her knee toward the
grand altar, Pierre gravely follow-
ing her example.

The boy had often been to the
Cathedral before, on bright Sun-
day mornings, and it had always
been with a lingering sigh of regret







Sot
S—=—.
SS

SA
aN.
SS

—






for the sunny square, that he had 5 i
turned into the cold dark interior. LZ LL fo
But as to-night he had found his AT THE BENITIER,

whole world changed, so too the
Cathedral on a Christmas Eve was totally unlike the Cathedral of a Sunday
morning. The mysterious gloom of the vast interior, illumined by glimmering
lights from the burning tapers seemed to the poetic child’s mind like the
solemn grandeur of the midnight through which he had just been led, and his
vague feeling of awe was quickened into genuine reverence. In the cathedral
of Nature he had learned how to enter the cathedral of stone. With a serious
air he walked by his mother’s side toward the manger which was the ultimate
object of this Christmas pilgrimage.

By the steps of an altar in the transept chapel was a rude wooden structure
A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE.

filled with hay in representation of the manger in the Bethlehem inn which re-.
ceived the infant Saviour. In the midst of this straw cradle lay a large waxen
doll, smiling out of bright blue eyes upon the surrounding worshipers.

None were more devout than Félicie and Pierre. The boy, young as he
was, had caught something of the true Christmas spirit. The river and the
starry sky had taught unspeakable things to the child heart; and now, as he
began to whisper softly his Pater Wosters, his prayers seemed to him to be rising
on the wings of the beautiful Christmas music which soared up from the choir
and lost itself amid the arches of the Cathedral.

Félicie hardly knew how she got her sleepy Pierre over the bridge and up



‘¢um FOUND HIMSELF THE CENTER OF A MERRY GROUP.”

the steep street of the Tranchée, home again to the little shop. The savory
odor of soup seemed to arouse the drowsy child. He suddenly found himself in
the little parlor in the center of a merry group of familiar faces. There was
the dear grandmamma kissing her boy on both cheeks, and kind Madame Bonnier
from the bakery over the way; there were Father and Mother Dupin from the
next house and all the good neighbors who had made up the party to and from
the Cathedral. And what a fine cake it was in the center of the table, larger,
it seemed to Pierre than any he had ever seen in the windows of the grand pastry
LITTLE BROTHER.

cooks of the Rue Royale, and gorgeous with pink and white icing. He clapped his
hands with delight at the marvel. And how happy they all were to see him
happy. The pastry cakes (patés) were delicious, his favorite honey-cake (pain
@’épice) more spicy than ever before, and Madame Bonnier’s Christmas biscuits
(estevenous) were baked, so they said, as no one in Tours knew how. It was a
merry supper. Grandmamma bustled around to see that all were bountifully
served, and over the good things many a pleasant tale of bygone times was re-
lated by Father Dupin, many a gay laugh rang through the little room. Pierre
was kissed and petted and feasted to his heart’s content, until the gray light of
dawn peeped in through the back window and the party began to disperse.

The day brought no stockings filled with the gifts of a Santa Claus, no tree
decked with candles and tinsel. These are unknown delights to all French
children of the provinces educated in the Romish Church. Pierre had learned
the story of the Christ-child’s birth from the celebration of the midnight mass in
the Cathedral, and the neighborhood feast had been his Christmas merry-making,
his share in the “ peace on earth, good will to men.”

Estelle M. Hurll.

LITTLE BROTHER.

ITTLE brother did not wake
When the sun shone out to-day ;
Did not answer when I called,
Asking him to come and play.

So I brought him all his toys.

“Nay,” they said, in grave surprise,
“ Brother is an angel now ;

He has gone to Paradise.”

Then I laughed in my delight,
Tossing top and ball aside ;
- But they wept with faces hid,
And I wondered why they cried.
H. R. Hudson.




THE ELF’S CHRISTMAS.

HE little brown elf and his friends, one night,
Had a half-awake dream of a fairy sleigh
That swept to their fire and halted,say —
For as long as the wink of a northern light.

It staid as long as that light could wink,
And it brought to them something — What do you think?

Why the morning disclosed a wonderful sight
Of gifts that were left for this wandering fay,

Including a ticket for “s-elf and friends”

To the land that summer to winter lends —
The far-away land of Florida.

Lilian Crawford True.
aN Oe
Vs | a A
a x

aN



AMONG THE PALMETTOS AND PALMS.
WINTER RANCH LIFE.

(First Series.)

[Rae is a real girl and these are real letters. She is a little city waif without schooling, who spends a
winter with her adopted mother on the ranch of an English gentleman in the Rocky Mountains; the ‘‘ young
youth” mentioned being a lord in embryo. Necessary changes made in spelling and grammar have de-
stroyed much of the piquancy of these letters. — Epirors WIDE AWake. |

DrcEMBER 12th.
AM in a beautiful place. The mountains are very high up in the sky. The
rocks seem to point out like the steeple of a church. The snow is on the
ground. It is cold early in the morning, and late at night. “In the daytime
the sun shines very bright. It is quite hot sometimes. I am sitting on the
piazza while I write this letter. :

I like to stay out here very much. We have pigs, and cows, and horses, and
mules, and two little calves, and two big ones. We have a dog named Shax,
and we have two cats. One cat is black, and one cat is gray. The black cat is
very polite, but the gray cat is not, and we do not like her so well. Shax is not
always in time for his meal. He goes off when it is ready, and sometimes he
comes when we do not want him.

I had a pleasant ride coming up here. I had a very pleasant ride to-day out
in the woods. We went to get wood, and we piled it up in the wagon. We had
to sit on the wood. Jt was very hard for the mules to drag it over the snow and
stones. The gentlemen cut the wood, and we burn it. There are four gentle-
men here. One of them is quite a young youth. They are very polite. We
get their meals for them. There are no children here. I would like a little
girl to play with. We like to look out and see the gentlemen throw sticks for
Shax to go after them. When he does not see where the stick went, then they
motion.

One day one of the gentlemen went out to shoot a rabbit. After a while he
found it and shot it and brought it home. He cut all the skin off and laid it on

the cellar door, and brought the rest of it in for mamma to cook. After a little -

while I saw the cats carrying the skin off, and he ran out and pulled it away
from the cats, and hung it over the clothes-line. He gave me the skin. I put
it further on the line, and it blew down, but the cats did not touch it for I was
watching them. I put it back on the line. Then one of the gentlemen nailed it
to the shop. And the wind blew and the skin blew down. And the pig ate it up.

I found a bluebird in the snow, and I picked it up. It was dead. I asked
one of the gentlemen to cut the wings off. They are very pretty.

I like it here very much. There are trees all over the mountains. It is
more beautiful every day. The snow falls on the mountains, and the sun shines
WHNTER RANCH. LIFE.

on the snow, and more snow comes every day, and not so much sunshine. One
night the sky was beautiful. It was green and purple and red, and all sorts of
colors that are pretty.

I like to look at the sky when it begins to be night. After a little a star
peeps out; then it comes clear out. After a little another star comes out, and
then another until all are out, and the sky looks perfectly charming. Then the
moon comes out and shines on the snow, and there are not so many stars. It
seems to be a queer thing that when the moon shines so bright you can’t see so
many stars. And I said so. And one of the gentlemen said, ‘“‘ Whoop-la!
Sometimes the more light you have the more you can’t see!” And I said,
“Why?” And he only said, “ Whoop-la!”

If you were here you would tell me, wouldn’t you?

Rag.

January 4th.

When the jointed doll came to me, the head was off. I am going to have it
put on again. I have named it Johnny. Do you think Johnny is a pretty
name? Miss Edith is my best girl. She has bangs and lovely eyes that open
and shut. Mr. Goodman gave her to me for Christmas. My dolls live in the
kitchen in the corner. They never get sick although it is so cold now we can-
not walk on the piazza. Jack Frost walks there, and spends his time making
pretty leaves and flowers and ferns all over the windows. Jack Frost is like
Santa Claus; if you should see him he wouldn’t be there. That's a queer thing,
but when I said’so Mr. Charles said, “ This world is full of queer things.” And
I said, ““ What things?” and he said, “ Well, your spelling for one.” And I
said, “ Yes, when you tell me which way the letters go!” And then I was
afraid I had been impudent. I despise being impudent. It isn’t polite, and
sometimes I have to go to bed for it. And I despise going to bed in the day-
time! But Mr. Charles only said, “ Whoop-la! This isa sad world!” And I
said, “ Why?” and he said, “ Sometimes a ray of hope comes to me, and some-
times a(r)ray of questions.” And TI asked him to explain. And then mamma
called me, and we made gingerbread nuts. Jam progressing incooking. I have
helped to make tarts, and I have assisted in making cake. I have not improved
my mind much. Mr. Frederick thinks it is because I have not any mind to im-
prove. Mr. Frederick hears my lessons sometimes when I ask him to. I ‘have
been studying out of my geography. I think it is very interesting, but I cannot
remember it. Ilike to read. I can remember that well enough, but my geog-
raphy I cannot remember. It is harder to get right than spelling. This is
what I do every day: I dust and keep things neat, and I help make beds
and wash dishes. .

Mr. Charles is a nice boy when he wants to be, but sometimes he leaves his
things around. We very often stumble over his boots.
WINTER RANCH LIFE.

We had two pigs once. We had one pig killed, so we have only one pig now.
It runs about.

An English gentleman came here to spend two days. He keeps his mind
well improved, but he keeps his hat on in the house, and his coat needs to be
mended badly. Heis some-
what pious, but not so pious
as Mr. Goodman. Mr.
Goodman has a great many
Bibles in his room, and he
prays. by himself some-
times. I think he is very
kind. He gave me Miss
Edith. Sunday we had
prayer time, and we had
singing and reading out of
the Bible. People came
here to service, and they
had to be fed. There is
not a church for twenty
‘miles away.

Rag.

JanuARY 21st.

I must tell you about
our dear little black puss.
He runs up on top of the
shed and sits there in a
way that looks very affect-
ing, with his paws hang-
ing down in front, and
looking at me out of his
big, green eyes. The gray
cat does not seem to be.so
bright and frolicsome as

“T AM IN A BEAUTIFUL PLACE.” she used to be.

Mr. Charles shot amag-
pie. It was black and white. A lady came up here on Sunday. She told us
that she had twenty-four pink birds. She said she was going to make a twenty-
four pink birds baked in a pie. She gave me six of the wings.

One night mamma was reading, and I asked her what she was laughing
about. She told me she was reading about Miss Knag. She had charge of the
dressmaking for a lady whose husband was not superior. Miss Knag was gaudy,


WINTER RANCH LIFE.

but not neat. I’ve no doubt she was not made to mend when she was young,
Gaudy means fussing, and frizzing hair, and wearing ribbons, and putting ear-
rings on, and bracelets, and finger rings. Miss Knag had a girl to help her sew.
She was very shy and quiet, not grinning, nor lolling on windows and doors to
get people to look at her, but she kept her eyes on her work. When young
men were silly, she tried to think of something she had read, so as not to smile.
Miss Knag dressed as gay when she had wrinkles as if she were rosy and plump.
It would have been better to have improved her mind, and attended to
poor folks.

Last night Mr. Charles brought a paper from England for mamma to see. It
was full of pictures. One page showed all about soldiers and their wives. One
picture was sad and silly —a drunken soldier had to be dragged out of a saloon
by his wife. Iam not going to marry ever, because I do not know whether the
man will be drunk or not. I hope my time will be better spent in teaching
children than to do anything like that.

My. Charles has an English book with silly, funny pictures, and funny, silly
reading under them. I was going to tell you about them, but mamma says to
write something sensible instead of that bosh.

Mr. Charles is in such a hurry to go to the post-office that he sets everybody
into fidgets. He goes on horseback. He has to ride a long ways, and then the
stage comes along and he'gives them the letters. Sometimes the snow is so deep
that we cannot send any letters, and we cannot get any. The windows are so
frozen up we cannot see out of them. It is very cold here.

Rak.

Frepruary 6th.

The snow is still on the ground. I go to walk when the sun is shining.
It is so cold here that the cows are shivering. It is pitiful to look out and see
the poor animals standing out in the snow. They get in the shed and drive
the dog out in the cold. The little black cat is not well. Ido wish there was
some way to make him well. He does not seem to agree with his food. Mr. Fred-
erick said that ’most two miles up in the sky was too near Heaven for cats to be
very happy. And I said, “ Why? Wouldn’t cats be happy in Heaven?”

Mr. Frederick has a very improved mind. Mr. Charles seems to be very
fussy. He wants this and he wants that, and he don’t want this and he don’t
want that. Mamma gets all out of patience with him. If I had fifty boys I
would bring them up to want this and to want that. I would not allow them to
grumble over things because things do not suit them. He comes out and says,
‘““What are you going to have for a pudding?” Mamma tells him. He says,
“No sugar init?” Mamma says, “No!” He asks her what else we are going
to have for dinner. Mamma tells him, and he smiles at her enough to say,
“That is not much of a dinner!”
WINTER RANCH LIFE.

Mr. Charles is more industrious than Mr. Frederick. He stays out of doors
to make himself useful. Mr. Frederick and Mr. Charles have to be amused.
When mamma sits down to write, they come out to talk. They say: “Put up
that beastly pen, and talk to me!” and “O, but, I’d like to whack the cad who
stuffed my dad that it wouldn’t be bad to have a thousand cattle on some hills!”
and “Tl be blowed for a duffer, if things are not going to smash like three
o'clock !”’

Such talk is not nice ina young youth. I’m glad we do not speak the Eng-
lish language! “ Mos’tronary”’ is not right speaking, and oatmeal and molasses
is not good eating, even if they call it “ pawidge and trickle.” Mamma cooked
a rabbit for them, and they called it “jugged hare!” And when mamma made
a jelly-cake they said, “ Give us some more of that jam sandwich!”

English gentlemen. seem-to be queer! .They are not like American people.

Raz.



A DEPUTATION OF BEGGARS,






































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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THE ROLLICKING MASTODON.

ROLLICKING Mastodon lived in Spain,
Jn the trunk of a Tranquil Tree.
His face was plain, but his jocular vein
Was a burst of the wildest glee.
His voice was strong and his laugh so long
That people came many a mile,
And offered to pay a guinea a day
For the fractional part of a smile.
The Rollicking Mastodon’s laugh was wide —
Indeed, ’twas a matter of family pride ;
And, oh! so proud of his jocular vein
Was the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

The Rollicking Mastodon said one day:
“T feel that I need some air;
- For a little ozone’s a tonic for bones,
As well as a gloss for the hair.”
So he skipped along aud warbled a song
In his own triumphulant way.
His smile was bright and his skip was light
As he chirruped his roundelay.
The Rollicking Mastodon tripped along,
And sang what Mastodons call a song ;
But every note of it seem to pain
The Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

A Little Peetookle came over the hill,
Dressed up in a bollitant coat ;—
And he said, “ You need some harroway seed,
And a little advice for your throat.”
The Mastodon smiled, and said, “My child,
There’s a chance for your taste to grow.
If you polish your mind, you'll certainly find
How little, how little you know!”
The Little Peetookle, his teeth he ground
At the Mastodon’s singular sense of sound;
For he felt it a sort of a musical stain
On the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.




THE ROLLICKING MASTODON.

“Alas! and alas! Has it come to this pass?”
Said the Little Peetookle; “Dear me!
It certainly seems your terrible screams
Intended for music must be!”
The Mastodon stopped ; his ditty he dropped,
And murmured, “ Good-morning, my dear.
I never will sing to a sensitive thing
That shatters a song with a sneer!”
The Rollicking Mastodon bade him “ adieu.”
Of course, ’twas a sensible thing to do;
For the Little Peetookle is spared the strain
Of the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.
Arthur Macy.



AN EFFECT IN SHADOWS.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

(First Paper.)
THE BRIDGE THAT SPANNED THE WORLD.

NE day,in years long gone by, an anxious-faced -
stranger walked the streets of Cordova. The
old Moorish capital was now a Spanish city. The king
and queen of Spain held there’ both court and camp; _
. upon the palace of the caliphs floated the flag of Spain ;
NUR above the buttressed tower of the mosque of a thou-
A MULETEER, sand columns, which the pious Caliph Abderrahman
long before had built, gleamed now the golden cross.

From palace to cathedral, from camp to court, the anxious-faced stranger
wandered, and men said he was a foolish Genoese sailor with some absurd fea
about finding Cathay, the land of gold and spices.

But one day, suddenly, the camp and court of King Ferdinand and Queen
Isabella broke away from Cordova and set themselves before the walls of
Granada, the last unconquered city of the Moors.

Thither the stranger followed it; there again did he renew his solicitations
and his pleas. And how at last he succeeded we all know. For that anxious-
faced waiter upon royalty at the Spanish court and camp was Christopher
Columbus, the Genoese.

Three years ago, as Commissioner for the Columbian Exhibition, I went: to
Spain to study the beginnings of American history. The central figure of that
history is Christopher Columbus. I shall ask you to now revisit with me all the
most important places identified with the great Genoese after he became in-
teresting as the man with a purpose. From Cordova to Cathay, we shall follow
him. We shall take him at the outset of his career of discovery and follow him -
to the end. I am, you will see, assuming that Columbus is the hero of America’s
initial appearance upon the stage of history. In doing this I do not deny the

great Norsemen anything; I only assert that the Italian made his. discovery

known, while the first visitors did not; and through Columbus the way was
opened whereby America was peopled arith those who brought with them the
blessings of civilization.

In the last decade of the fifteenth century Spain’s star was in the ascendant.
Following the successive invasions of the Phoenicians, the. Carthaginians,.the Van-
dals and the Goths, came the Moors, at the opening of the eighth century.
Gothic power terminated with the fall of Roderick, the last Gothic king, who
was overwhelmed beneath the Moorish flood that poured across from Africa.


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

For nearly seven hundred years the Moors possessed the better part of Spain ;
they built mosques and palaces; they intended that their descendants should
possess this fair land forever. They gave to Spain a distinctive people and
oriental forms of speech and of architecture. The Moorish invasion had been
almost miraculous in its wide-spread conquests; but finally came the time when
they, too, must succumb, and to the prowess of Northern arms. Down from the
mountains of the north, from the Asturias and Pyrenees, swept the Castilian
armies, wave after wave, until the soil and cities the Africans had won with so
much bloodshed were wrested from them, and the conflict of centuries culmi-
nated, in 1492, in the fall of Granada and the expulsion of the Moors from Spain.
Toward the close of the fifteenth century, the only strongholds remaining to the
Moors lay in Andalusia, the southernmost section of Spain. This section is called
by the Spaniards, because of
its delightful climate, its fruit-
ful fields and its natural ad-
vantages asa dwelling-place
for man, La Tierra de Maria
Santissima—“land of the
most Sacred Virgin.”

When at last the union of
Isabella and Ferdinand joined
the forces of Aragon and
Castile, then appeared pos-
sible the long-deferred, long
hoped-for scheme of univer-
sal conquest and the ultimate
expulsion of the Moors from
Spanish territory. The most
fascinating episodes of that
final period of warfare oc-
curred in the beautiful Vega, or great plain of Granada, and among the hills
surrounding It.

Standing conspicuously upon every hill-crest overlooking the Vega, are the
remains of Moorish watch-towers. These they called their atalayas, and from
them the watchful sentinels flashed blazing signal-fires at the ap Dae e of
the enemy.

Even to-day these towers may be seen in various places, lone and solitary
landmarks, useless now around the fruitful valleys they were built to guard.
Centuries have slipped by since the danger signals flamed from their summit-
platforms, and they are now fast going to ruin and decay. One such atalaya
rose above the Hill of Elvira, always visible from the Alhambra at sunset, a black
sentinel against the brilliant sky. This tower I took as the objective point of



“THE MOSQUE OF A THOUSAND COLUMNS,’ CORDOVA.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

my first foray. One May morning, attended by the gardener José, whom I had
engaged as my guide, I left the quaint cottage in old Granada, where I had
taken lodging, crossed the beautiful grove of elms to the Alhambra, and thence
down the Darro, through the half-sleeping city of Granada, seeking the distant
hills. Had I but the time and space I
should like to tell of the beauties of the
palace we left behind, and the elm grove
in which I have heard the nightingales
singing at midnight, as well as the golden-
sanded Darro, down the right bank of
which we strolled until it took its last
plunge beneath the arches that span it
and finally hide it from view beneath the

vivarambla— the favorite rambling-place PRESSE ae ene aes

of the Moors. It was delightfully cool in

the grove, where the birds were twittering preparatory to their matin music,
and until we were well out upon the plain beyond Granada we did not feel the
heat of the sun.

Three hours later we were reclining at the foot of the tower, which is locally
known as the Atalaya of Arbolote, and from which we had a view outspread that
rewarded us for our long and somewhat dusty walk. Nearly all the Vega lay un-
rolled before us. At our feet lay the remains of the old Roman Illora, dating from
a period near the birth of Christ ; beyond, Granada, dark in the valley, with the
Hill of the Sun, crowned by the Al
hambra, above it; and still beyond,
the shining crests of the Sierra Ne-
vada, broadly breasting the sun

S

—‘‘like silver shields new-burnished for display.”



As in the time of Columbus, so it
is now: smiling plain, dark masses of
olive-trees, silver threads of streams
coursing emerald meadows, frowning
battlements capping the Alhambra
hill, and glistening snow-peaks lying against the sky. Columbus saw all this,
and though he has left no description of the scene, its beauty did impress him,
for in his voyagings through the island-dotted seas, over which we shall follow
him, he constantly recurs to the charms of Andalusia.

But Granada and the Alhambra we have left behind; before us, seen in the
distance far across the beautiful Vega, lies a city seldom visited by strangers,
a city sleeping in the memories of the past, and with no tie connecting it with
the present. It is Santa Fé, the City of the Holy Faith.



A DISTANT VIEW OF SANTA FE.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

Four centuries ago and two years more, the armies of Isabella and Ferdi-
nand had advanced their line of conquest to the mountain-wall around the Vega.
One after another, the Moorish towns and cities had fallen before the implacable
Ferdinand: Zahara, Antequera, Alhama, Loxa, Illora, Moclin; until, in 1490,
Granada stood alone, isolate, crippled, yet
proudly defiant.

In April, 1491, the Spanish army,
horse and foot, fifty thousand strong,
poured over the hills and into the Vega,
intrenching themselves upon the site of
Santa Fé. It was a situation strategically
important, in the center of the plain.

Granada lay full in sight before them.
Where to-day rise the towers of its great
cathedral, the minaret of a Moslem mosque towered skyward, and from its
summit the Muezzin called the faithful to prayers: “ Allah il Allah! Great
God! Great God! There is none but the one God! Come to prayer! Come
to prayer! It is better to pray than to sleep!”

So near were the soldiers of Ferdinand to the object of their desires that
they could almost hear the summoning cry of the Muezzin. Upon the site of
the fortified camp, which was first of tents, then huts of wood and stone, was
founded in the year 1492 the royal war-town of Santa Fé. It may be seen, as I
saw it that hot day in May, 1888, scarcely
lifting itself above and beyond broad fields
of barley, wheat and alfalfa.

A semi-somnolent city is Santa Fé, com-
pletely walled about, with most picturesque
gates facing the cardinal points. If the
term “ dead-and-alive”’ may be applied to
any place, it certainly may be to this.
Yet its history is interesting, and no
student of the conquest of Granada can =
afford to pass it by without at least a RT ola CRT OAKS NC:
peep into its past. Although we are deal-
ing with Columbus, yet we may not neglect the historical accessories that
make his story worth the telling. A hundred books, at least, in this Columbian
year, will tell the tale of his life and adventures, but will only repeat what is
already familiar to all, until the reader and the listener will weary of Columbus.
Hence it is to avoid the cyclopedic and biographic I shall aim, and shall present
the unfamiliar scenes of his adventures as viewed by myself. Since a multitude
of writers are already on the search, hunting the victim from the cradle to the
grave, we will not join in, but will lie quietly in ambush; perchance we may



THE ALHAMBRA.
(As seen over the roofs of Granada.)


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

gain glimpses of the great man unawares. So I will claim the privilege of
digressing a bit, merely to relate one of those exciting encounters that took
place while the army was encamped at Santa Fé, and which, while it enlivened
the monotony of camp life, kept up the spirits of the men.

Among the fiercest of the caballeros in command under the Spanish king, as
the army lay before Granada, was, the historians tell us, Hernando del Pulgar.
Casting about one day for an opportunity to distinguish himself, he espied the
city gate of Granada but negligently guarded. Galloping through it, he some-
how ‘evaded the Moorish sentinels and penetrated even to the great mosque
in the center of the city. Losing not a moment, he dashed up to the door
and with his poniard there affixed a bit of wood with the Ave Maria printed on
it. Then he wheeled about and darted through the gateway with great; clat-
ter of hoof and clank of
weapon, and, hurling cries
of defiance at the astonished
Moors, escaped with a whole
skin to the camp.

The Moors at first were
puzzled to account for this
foray ; but when they finally
found the Ave Maria pinned
against the great door of the
mosque, they were beside
themselves with rage. And
the next day an immense
Moor, Yarfe, one of the
most powerful and renowned
of the Moslem warriors, in-
solently paraded before the
Christian host with the sa-
cred emblem attached to the tail of his horse and dragging in the dust. At the
same time he defied all the cavaliers, or any one of them, to meet him in single
combat before the assembled armies.

Now, Ferdinand had forbidden any of his nobles to engage in this manner
with the Moors, because their cavaliers were better horsemen, more skilled in
the feats of the tourney. They generally came off victorious from such en-
counters, thus greatly weakening the esprit de corps of the Spanish host.

But this insult to the Christian religion could not be borne, and the cavaliers
all burned te avenge it. A fiery young Castilian, Garcilasso de la Vega, rushed
before Isabella and importuned her to allow him to defend the holy faith against
this pagan Moor and rescue the Ave Maria from further defilement.

Ter permission reluctantly granted, he armed himself completely and went





THE HEAD OF THE MOOR, AT SANTA FE.
FROM CORDOVA 10 CATHAY.

forth to meet the Moslem. Yarfe was almost twice his size, and was mounted in
asuperior manner. And yet, notwithstanding the apparent odds against him,
young Garcilasso killed the boastful Moor, rescued the sacred emblem, and laid
the head of his adversary at the feet of Isabella.

The site of this memorable encounter and the spot where Isabella sat to
witness it, are marked by a great stone cross protected by an artistic canopy.
Subsequently a church was erected in Santa Fé, in which to-day the sacristan
can show you a silver lamp presented by Isabella; but the strangest thing about
this church stands between its two great towers. At a distance it resembles a
large kite, but nearer view discloses it as a memento of that stirring episode of
the siege of Granada. The marble head of the vanquished Moor, of heroic size,
lies placidly between the towers, and above him rises the lance, or an efficy of
it, used to slay him, flanked with palm leaves and across them the precious
placard of the Ave Maria. ;

Thus, everywhere in Spain, are we reminded of the days of chivalry and
romance, and the scenes of the distant past are brought vividly before us.

But at the door of Isabella’s silken tent another hero stands awaiting royal
favor. He asks no boon of her; he does but seek her aid to carry out his
schemes of conquest; he craves permission, like Garcilasso, to enter the lists
against the infidel.

The Moors are conquered, but mayhap there are other pagans, in the world
unknown beyond the sea. He, Columbus, with the aid of his sovereigns and
by the grace of God, would go forth single-handed to battle for the faith.

It is the month of January, 1492. Briefly the story of Granada’s downfall
may be told. That month Granada capitulated, and the last stronghold of Islam
in Europe passed from the Moors forever. The year that saw the star of Spain
in the ascendant was the birth-year, also, of the history of civilizationin America.

The two great events are coeval; for as the Star of the Orient sank toward
Africa, the Star of the Occident rose upon the horizon. The same year that
witnessed the greatest victory of the Spaniards, by which their nation was
advanced at the time to the foremost place on earth, likewise beheld the open-
ing of a career of conquest in unknown regions, the magnitude of which the
imagination fails to grasp. And it was to come about through the genius of an
obscure, almost unknown, individual, humbly waiting his sovereigns’ pleasure at
Santa Fé. Here in this city of the camp, American history had its beginnings;
here the crucial test was applied that decided for all time the fate of millions of
human beings across the ocean, and changed the character of Spain and her peo-
ple. Her victories hitherto had been on land; for centuries she had been en-
gaged in wresting from the infidel her own lost territory ; foot by foot, year by
year, until at last the great work was accomplished. Now, before their wearied sol-
diers had recovered breath, while their arms were yet tired with wielding the
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

sword, while the blood of their slain was still fresh upon their weapons, the
Spanish sovereigns were again importuned by this Genoese adventurer.

Little wonder that Ferdinand grew impatient and Isabella wearied of his
plea. In the light of their own unsurpassed achievement, when even the
Pope hastened to congratulate them upon their unqualified success in ridding
Europe of the hated Moslems, the schemes of this Unknown must have appeared
ridiculous. The wonder is that they should have maintained him, idle, persis-







THE BRIDGE OF PINES,
(Here the royal courier overtook Columbus and turned him back to the discovery of America.)

tent, an attendant upon their camps for years, from Cordova to Granada. At
last, he had gone away disheartened, but he had returned again at the solicitations
of Juan Perez, the queen’s old confessor, and at the instance of Isabella herself.
He had returned as persistent, as calmly confident of ultimate success from some
quarter, as before. He abated no jot or particle of his ridiculous demands; he
wanted ships and caravels, sailors, provisions, munitions, articles for barter; he
demanded that he be made Admiral of the Ocean Sea and Viceroy over the re-
gions discovered ; that he be granted the privileges of. the aristocracy, and one
tenth of the revenue of the yet undiscovered country ; in truth there seemed no
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

limit to his demands. And this from an unknown man whose only claims were
to possessions yet to be possessed — nothing more nor less than veritable
“ Castles in Spain!”

Perhaps, if the serious queen ever did take a humorous view of a situation,
she may have seen the funny side of this magniloquent proposition and have
yielded at last out of sheer weariness.

At first, however, notwithstanding the
urgent solicitations of her respected con-
fessor, Isabella could not bring herself to
accept the terms of Columbus, and he de-
parted again, this time fully resolved to
abandon Spain entirely. But he was not
to do so, for he had not accomplished
more than two leagues of his journey back
to the Convent of La Rabida before he
was overtaken by a messenger from Isa-
bella, promising acquiescence to his de-
mands. Whether or not the queen did
this of her own volition, or whether her treasurer, Santangel, offered to find
the requisite money for the outlay, or whether she proffered the pledge of her
jéwels, are matters-for the historians to settle.

Thus far the historians seem to be “all at sea,” and makes thisor that state-
ment based more upon his prejudices than on any actual knowledge he possesses
of historical facts. The chances are that,
since they were probably already pledged,
Isabella did not offer to pledge her jewels
to aid in furnishing the sinews of war for
the siege of Granada.

But let it suffice that she promised
assistance, and, once embarked in the en-
terprise, gave the future admiral both
pecuniary and moral support. All the more
creditable is this to Isabella, since it wag
done at a time when the royal treasury
had been completely exhausted by the
drafts upon it for the Moorish wars, and
when she might have been supposed to be already sated with the glory of
conquest and not anxious for further adventures.

The place at which the royal courier overtook Columbus has been preserved
in tradition ever since; it is pointed out to-day with unerring finger. He had
reached a river flowing through the Vega, spanned then as now by a bridge,
known as the “Bridge of Pines.” It is locally known as Pinos puente, and





GATEWAY AND TURRET AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE
BRIDGE OF PINES.



THE GRANITE CROSSES OF ZUBIA.
(Where Isabella escaped from the Moors.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

was the object of another little journey by José and myself, after we had visited
and I had photographed Santa Fé. We had noted it from our eyrie at the
atalaya tower, and one day, through seas of scarlet and crimson poppies, we had
descended to the valley of the bridge. The Bridge of Pines is picturesque
as well as historic; it is a creditable monument to the artisans who erected it,
and:to the great event that here took place. Even though the discussions took
place at Santa Fé, still this spot may be looked upon as the one at which the



THE TAKING OF MOCLIN.
(From a carving on the choir-stall of Toledo Cathedral.)

Columbian career was opened —as the turning of the tide in his fortunes as
well as the turning-point in his journey. For this reason, and in view of the
far-reaching consequences of this departure, I have chosen to call this Pinos
puente, the “ Bridge that Spanned the World.” It is a structure of stone and
masonry, with a gateway and a turret, spanning the stream’ over two high
arches, and is nearly always a scene of busy life.
José and Lrambled along the banks and climbed the hill above, where are
the remains of an ancient Moorish fort, finally resting at a meson where the
simple folk served us quite cheerfully with coarsest fare — the best they had.
ROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

Another trip on another day was to Moclin, on the outer verge of the Vega,
where the Moorish fortifications are exactly as left after being inierea by the
cannon of King Ferdinand in the year previous to the fall of Channa Among
the wood carvings around the silleria, or choir-stalls, of Toledo cathedral, is
one depicting the taking of Moclin; the whole siege of Granada, in fact, is there
illustrated.

At other times we visited successively Loxa, Tlora and Zubia, at which last
place Isabella suffered a narrow escape from the Moors, and where a group of
great granite crosses marks a religious station or shrine. Granada and its en-
virons present a field for exploration to the enthusiastic student of history,

whether he be interested in the closing
scenes of Moorish domination, the life of
Ferdinand and Isabella, or the dawning
of American history. Around Columbus,
however, cluster the associations of Santa
Fé and of the Bridge of Pines, at the
opening of this drama of the siege of Gra-
nada; thence he followed the court as
it advanced to.take possession of the
city. Tradition relates, with an air of
authenticity, that in the Alhambra itself
Columbus was a visitor a while, and that
he walked gloomily its marble corridors while the issue of his voyage was
pending. According to the painstaking historian, a memorable interview be-
tween him and his royal master and mistress took place in the Hall of Justice,
the Sala de la Justicia, or Sala del Tribunal. It bounds one side of the famous
“Court of the Lions,” is seventy-five feet long, and is most profusely, yet
delicately ornamented, while the vista adown its mosaic pavement is entrancing
in its beauty. Tiles and inscriptions are. on every side, and a lovely latticed
window conveys just a hint of a perfumed garden beyond. Here, did the
swart Moors recline and dream away the noontide hours ; here the stern caliphs
sat, and here, so it is said, Isabella received Columbus.

During a month of delightful days, I dwelt within the garden walls of an
Eden-like retreat in Granada, sallying out upon excursions as narrated; wan-
dering through the Alhambra by moonlight and by daylight, and weaving about
the departed Moors, the Christian conquerors and Columbus himself, the tissue

_ of a fabric I have herein attempted to unfold for my readers’ entertainment.
Frederick A. Ober.



MY GARDEN IN GRANADA.
A HEATHEN MISSIONARY.

(Lines on a Japanese Doll.)

N a vase on my mantel he stands, looking down ;
- Stands, said I? He hangs securely

By a hairpin, hooked in the belt of his gown,
To hold him firmly, surely,

To the vase’s rim; “neath his dangling feet
A porcelain abyss yawns steepy,

Yet he looks on the world with a gaze most sweet,
Calm, bland, but never sleepy.

I first beheld him chez Vantine,
’Mid divers dolls Oriental ;

The wisest face among ninety and nine,
All placid, wise and gentle.

By a beggarly bit of modern pelt —
A.sordid silver quarter —

I won a sage to my mantel-shelf,
And daily I bless the barter.

I keep him there enpulpited,
G Enthroned ” has too worldly a sogutie
With his wide-sleeved, open arms outspread,
In mild benevolence beaming.
To the sky-blue top of his black-fringed pate,
He bears the subtle aroma
Of an antique race and an ancient date;
Oh! “toy” were a sad misnomer.

Not his a simpering, soulless face,
Like doll from frivolous Paris,
Nor like the round-eyed ruddy grace
The German girl-child carries.
Too humble he the babe to calm,
Who cries for glare and glitter ;
His sapient smile: has mystic: balm
For grown-up folk that’s fitter.
A HEATHEN MISSIONARY.



*JAPPY, THE SAINT.”

When oft with anxious, care-worn brow,
And vexed by trivial worry,

I catch his glance in passing, how
He smiles down on my hurry!

I smile response, and straight my heart
Beats lighter for the smiling.

Jappy, my household saint thou art,
Gracious, benign, beguiling !
A HEATHEN MISSIONARY.

Tis true thy garb.is coarse and quaint,
Thy locks are stiff and scrappy,

Thy lip’s sweet curves too red with paint,
And yet thou mak’st me happy.

I love thy scorn of worldly gear ;
Thy smile’s the flower of the ages.

Now foolish fret shall flee from here —
We'll both of us be sages.

Mayhap some esoteric saint,
Thy old sires cultivated
Tn lands and centuries far and faint,
To thee has transmigrated..
So, Jappy, lean down from thy place
With smile serene and gentle,
And preach the charm of a placid face
To at least one Occidental.
Mary McL. Watson.








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A DAUGHTER OF THE PURITANS.


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A MORNING CALL.

OME, little master !
Open wide the door.
Here’s a time for joy and fun,
Here’s a time to bark and run —
Such a sky and such a sun never were before !
All the boughs are dancing on the shining trees,
All the clouds are dancing with the dancing breeze,
Life and sport and sparkle seem to bound and leap —
Don’t you hear them calling? Are you still asleep ?
Listen to the music by the sleigh-bells played;
Look at all the snow-balls waiting to be made ;
Think of shouts and tumbles, laughs and barks and noise —
All the happy tumult dear to dogs and aes
Come, little master,
Can you still delay ?
Here are two who wait for you
Let us off to play!

Come, little master !
Till we see your face,
Something that we long for seems
Dim and distant as in dreams,
Something fair and kindly lacks in the morning’s grace.
It may be the kind hand with its gentle touch,
It may be the brown eyes that we love so much ;
MAMSEY"S .GIGLIO. SPOON.

It may be the glad voice sounding clear and true —
It is something, master, that belongs to you.
And until we see it, here we sit and wait
Though the world is calling and the day is late,
Though the world is calling, and the way is clear,
Waiting for our comrade still we linger here.

Come, little master!

Wherefore now delay ?

Playmates true are here for you,
Prithee, come away !
ME B.

MAMSEY S. GIGHlO SPOON,

AMSEY is making a collection of souvenir spoons.
She picked up the first one herself last year in
Sienna at the time of the famous mediseval festa.
It bears the design of the fabulous Roman wolf
with the twins, this being the device of Sienna.

When Mamsey asked why, she received the
vague response : “ Sienna is the younger sister of
Rome.” But later she read that “Senio, son of
Remus, flying from the wrath of his Uncle Romu-
lus, stopped where Sienna now stands and built
himself a castle.” The city which grew up about

the castle adopted the family device “ La Lupa,” as the Siennese say.

Mamsey proudly displayed the pretty “ricordo” to the children at home,
giving to each one sip of “ truly tea” out of its golden bowl. The second spoon
came from Venice and bore, not a gondola’s prow as many of them do, but the
winged and ringed lion of St. Mark’s. The third was sent from Munich by
Lady Gay, its design being the “ Miinchenes Kind,” the little monk from whom
the city is called; as, Miinchen or Munich.

The fourth was a Florentine specialty, a minute copy of the grotesque Diav-
olino made long ago by Gian of Bologna for the palace of the Vecchietti.
Now, alas! the palace has been torn down owing to the mad modern passion for
straight streets and right angles which is causing the ruthless destruction of
historic landmarks both in Florence and Rome. The quaint bronze imp, which



THE GIGLIO, EMBLEM OF FLORENCE.
MAMSEY’S GIGLIO SPOON...

for three centuries grinned over the mercantile transactions of the Old Market,
was to have been placed in the National Museum; but therd is a rumor that it
has been sold out of Italy.

Mamsey’s fifth spoon came as a Christmas gift from Rome, bearing, as it
needs must, the Roman wolf and the Roman twins. Somewhat longer and
larger and heavier than the spoon of Sienna, befitting the superior grandeur of
the Eternal City and her condescending acknowledgment of Sienna as a younger
sister. .

The sixth was a tiny bit of elegance from Paris, tipped with transparent
colored stones which, held against the light, was suggestive of a stained glass
window. Reading upon the pasteboard box the name of “ Tiffany,” gave
Mamsey the sensation as of walking down Broadway.

Six pretty spoons and a story about each one of them.

Sunday evenings at tea the children were each allowed to use one as an
historically-artistic treat.

But now comes our little Folly’s inspiration.

One morning early he appeared at Mamsey’s bedside.

“ Mamsey,” he said, “ please tell me when your birthday will be. I know it
comes in March — but which day, please?” .

Mamsey had been making up her mind to discard birthdays, so she answered
whimsically :

“ve decided not to have one this year!”

“Not have a birthday, Mamsey!” cried the child, with widening eyes.
“ Why, how can you help it?”

Mamsey smiled.

“Tve thought of a way,” she said. “You see, dear, I’ve had so many of
‘them; one every year for such a long time. One may weary of anything. I
shall halve mine and discount them after this.”

Mamsey laughed to herself, but the boy persisted.

“ Please tell me, Mamsey!”

Mamsey reflected as though over an abstruse problem.

“« After all, I may as well submit to one more not to disappoint you. It will
be on the twentieth, Folly.”

Two days later Mamsey found a note in her work-basket. It was written
with a stubby lead pencil in big blurred letters on a scrap of wrapping paper.

Precious MaMsEY :

Didn’t you say once that I might walk into Florence some day all alone? When you let me go I would
like to take my ten francs with me if you will let me. The ten francs that the Princess May gave me for
Christmas. I would rather not tell you for what I want the ten francs. Will you let me take the ten
francs? It is very necessary for me to take the ten francs. I can go alone because it is only as far as the
Via Tornabuoini.

Your Affectionate Son,
FOLLy.
MAMSEY’S GIGLIO SPOON.

Now Mamsey is gifted with powers of divination and she smiled to herself.
“It will be a giglio spoon —a birthday gift for me!” she divined. She called
the boy and said :

“Now, my dear little Folly, I will let you have your ten francs and
walk to Florence —but not alone. You are too small to spend ten francs by
yourself. You would be sure to buy something you would not care for. I will
ask Herr August to take you; will that do, Folly?” The boy was delighted.

“ And you will not ask me for why, Mamsey?”

“ No, dear, I will not ask you for why.”

Herr. August, the children’s friend, smiled over Mamsey’s divination and
entered into the spirit of Folly’s surprise, as only Herr August could. One day
Mamsey took her trio to the Bargello, that stern old prison-palace of the Middle

_ Ages which is now transformed into the National Museum.

They looked in vain for the Diavolino and paused before the exquisite
bronze of Mercury by Gian of Bologna.

“Why, he made also the Diavolino!” exclaimed Bonnie, for the Florentine
imp is her favorite spoon.

“Yes;” echoed Don, “and the big green statue, of Cosimo I., in the
Piazza della Signoria.”

Mamsey pointed out.the winged cap and sandals of the Mercury, and bade
them observe the delicate poise of the figure which seems about to spring into
the air and wing its untrammeled way far up above the clouds. Then to im-
press the aérial god upon the childish minds, Mamsey added: “One of the
Florentine spoons bears this flying Mercury.”

Bonnie instantly nudged Folly with a vigorous elbow.

‘“A Mercury spoon, a Mercury spoon! ” she whispered.

_ “ Be quiet!” shrieked Folly ; “ she will hear you.”
Mamsey’s face was marvelously impassive, but that evening she said to Herr
August: “Folly will wish to buy a Mercury spoon, but please do not let him
spend more than his ten francs.”
Thus the day came when Folly trudged off to town in his dainty white
- flannel sailor suit with the ten francs tucked safely away in his breast pocket.
Herr August met him at the square of San Marco, and changed the trip into a
_ treat by giving him cakes and chocolate at what Don calls “a sweet shop.”
_ Then — but why tell where they went? Mamsey divined, but she did not

follow.

For a week to come the five children kept the secret bravely. Only Laddie,
the scamp, confided to Mamsey —

“Folly bringed you a buful ’poon!”

And Lella asked again and again; “ What me give you for you birfday,
Mamsey ?”

March twentieth came all too quickly. After thirty, birthdays are so will-
MAMSEY’S GIGLIO SPOON.

ingly skipped. It proved that Folly’s inspiration had spread through the family
in a way Mamsey had failed to divine.

Laddie and Lell came first with their offerings — bookmarks. lLaddie’s was
blue and Lell’s was rose — because she is a bit of a rosebud herself.

— Object-blind folk might have seen only two colored cardboard slips with a
pearly hand at the end of each, and along whose length meandered the modern
legend: ‘ Pear’s Soap. Insures a Skin Like Ivory.”

But Mamsey saw two dainty birthday gifts from loving baby hearts. Bonnie
had worked day and night over an embroidered tea-cloth which she now pre-
sented wrapped in the folds of Garva’s latest newspaper.

Best and last appeared a slender package of soft white tissue-paper, upon
which was written: “For my precious darling Mamsey.”

Mamsey made big eyes; she was never so surprised in her life. Slowly she
unrolled the soft tissue to find the prettiest of silver spoons with a golden bowl,
twisted stem and device of the Florentine giglio.

Now, Folly knows that Mamsey loves the giglio, emblem of Florence, the
fair flower city. It is a conventionalized lily, or rather iris, such as spring wild
and free upon the meadows aud hills about Florence. Even before the old, old
days of the Florentine Republic, the blue iris and the deep red lilies of the fields
had bestowed upon the old walled town the appellation that is hers to-day, the
“Lily City.” Mamsey promised to use the giglio spoon for her “ very special
own,” whereupon all the younglings jumped about the room in delight. All
but Don whose face was overcast.

“]T only have nothing to give. [did not think of it. Why should the others
think always and never1? I should love to give you something, Maimsey.”

It was so like our moony Don. His voice trembled and his throat choked
with the big lump we all find so hard to swallow. Mamsey smiled at him.

“ Let me tell you, Don; I bought myself a new inkstand the other day. A
red one with a lid that clicks. You might make me a present of it. It is
stupid to buy things for one’s self. The inkstand shall be your gift to me.”

Don’s face grew suddenly radiant.

“Oh! I’m so glad, Mamsey. Besides, it is useful, ’specially for you.

“ After writing, Mamsey will refresh herself with a cup of tea served on my
tea-cloth,” said Bonnie.

“‘ And sip her tea with the giglio spoon,” chirruped Folly, with a flourish of
two hilarious heels in the air — so very expressive that it left nothing more to
be said.

Jean Porter Rudd.


THE CHORAL.

(From a Painting by Walther Firle.)

CHRISTMAS TIDE!

HRISTMAS tide is a time of cold,
Of weathers bleak and of winds ablow ;
Never a flower — fold on fold
Of grace and beauty — tops the snow
Or breaks the black and bitter mold.

And yet ’tis warm — for the chill and gloom
Glow with love and with childhood’s glee ;
And yet ’tis sweet — with the rich perfume
Of sacrifice and of charity.

Where are flowers more fair to see?

Christmas tide, itis warm and sweet:

A whole world’s heart at a Baby’s feet !
Richard Burton.






































































































THE PASSING OF THE SHEEP.

T a very early hour one September morning in Florence, I was aroused to
semi-consciousness by a most unusual noise, and, as I lay half-asleep, I felt
as though I ought to arise and investigate the cause of it. A sudden horror
came over me that something was. wrong with the steam pipes, but quickly
followed the remembrance that I was in Italy, where we have no such dis-.
turbers of the domestic peace. Still the strange noise beat upon my ears, and
finally sounded like the tinkling of many small bells in the dim distance.
I was just settling myself for one more nap, feeling sure that the strange


THE “PASSING. OF® TEES pare.

sound was beyond my province, when the bleating of a sheep brought me
quickly to my senses, and I remembered to have heard that at this season the
shepherds come down from the mountains with their flocks, to take them to the
warmer plains below. So I hastily aroused the sleeping children, who only
needed the word “lambs” to make them broad awake, and we flew to the
windows, and lo! what a sight was there.

The whole street and sidewalk below, as far as we could see in either direc-
tion, was filled with a moving mass. Hundreds and thousands of sheep and
lambs ; flocks following each other in quick succession, with only room enough
between for the shepherd, who always leads his sheep with a big crook. The
indispensable: green umbrella is always over one shoulder, and he is generally
carrying one or more tiny lambkins in his arms.

There was no trouble with refractory sheep racing off in the wrong direction;
all were content and happy to follow their beloved shepherds, at whose sides
trotted the faithful dogs (the friends, and not tormentors of the sheep), and
the big leaders of the flocks, that wore the bells. It was the tinkling of these
hundreds of bells that had aroused me so early. Never shall I forget that
strange, weird sound as it rose and fell on the early morning air.

These numerous flocks of sheep pass through the city twice a year—in the
spring, when they leave the warm lowlands around Perugia for the Northern
mountains, and in autumn, when the frosty air drives them back to the plains.
And as they must pass through the cities on their way, they are obliged to
linger outside the city walls until all business in the streets is suspended, when
the night guards open the ponderous gates and allow them to pass through.

It was an impressive sight to see those hundreds of sheep following their
leaders so happily, and spoke volumes for the friendly relations existing between
them, and contrasted strongly with the remembrance I had of sheep driven by
men and chased by dogs, until the poor frightened creatures did not know which
way they ought to go.

Then came home to me with a new force and beauty the familiar words of
Jesus, descriptive of the good shepherd :

“And he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them; and the sheep

follow him, for they know his voice.”
Belle Spalding.






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ml Vale,



THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

ACK WINTER burst into the cheery New England kitchen with a wild
whoop. It was Friday afternoon; the next day was Saturday, and Jack
was going fishing. oa ;

Gran’ ther Green, with his great iron-bound spectacles, sat in his own particu-
lar corner reading the Cape Cod Jtem. The Widow Winter was frying dough-
nuts, and several little Winters were grouped around her with an air of
expectation. .

“ What's that parcel, Jack?” inquired the widow from her place at the
frying-pan.

“Oh! that?” said Jack. “That's a chart; Captain Seth Mallow lent it to
me. He’s teaching me navigation, you know. It’s a chart of Nantucket and
the ‘Vineyard’ and the ‘Cape.’ It’s got everything down on it, but it ain’t
half right. ‘Old Man’ Shoal is about two miles out, and there ain’t any ‘ slue’ in
Point Rip, and lots of things are wrong; but then, some of those Government fel-
lows made it a Jong time ago, and of course it ain’t natural they should know as
much about these waters as we do. And, mother, ’m going fishing to-morrow
— going before daylight so as to catch the tide; ‘Hunk’ Coffin’s going with
me; the mackerel are running like everything on the ‘ Rip, and I'll bring back
a barrelful, or my name’s not Jack Winter.”

Jack was a Nantucketer, a Nantucketer born and bred. Most of his life had
been spent on the little island, and like all the rest of the male inhabitants he
was as nearly amphibious as it is possible for a human being to be; land or
water, it was all the same to him; he was equally at home on either element.
He knew just the place on Maddequet to lie and wait in the early spring for




“WHAT'S THAT PARCEL, JACK?” INQUIRED THE wIDow.


THE PILOT OF -P He NANTUCKET SHOALS.

the brant as they passed over on their northern journey, and every “ foot pond”
among the hills where the black duck settled in the winter twilight.

Probably few who read this story have ever been on the quaint little island.
You may visit it if you like, for now it is quite a famous summer resort; but
you can never see it as Jack saw it. In the old town electric lights sputter
on the corners, and the tinkling bells of the street-car and the whistle of the
locomotive mingle with the roar of the surf at S’conset. Even the moorlands
where Jack used to hunt plover seem to have changed.

Jack had been to Boston once, and once to Halifax in his uncle’s brig, but
that was the extent of his travels; his world was a small one, but what there was
of it he knew thoroughly, in spite of his youth. He was a little over sixteen
then, and there were few better pilots over the dangerous shoals from Gay Head
to Monomoy. ;

Of course he wanted to go to sea; in the old days no self-respecting Nan-
incket maiden would have thought of marrying a man who had not made at
least one whaling voyage ; but his mother had so far managed to keep him
at home.

“Get your ‘edication’ first,” said Gran’ther. “ Edication first if you ever
want to be a master.”

And so Jack had bided his time.

Sometimes he would steal into the parlor, a funny little yoom in the front of
the house that was kept closed and darkened except on occasions of great cere-
mony, and take down from the hook over the mantel an old navy sword with
which he would lunge fiercely at the prim, straight-backed chairs and the shiny
horse-hair sofa.

Tt was his father’s sword; the sword of a gallant young seaman who had sailed
to the war with Farragut — and never returned.

The widow, too, sometimes slipped into the parlor to look at the sword.
Maybe she did so on this night, after all the rest of the household had gone to
bed, and if the visit brought a momentary sigh I am sure it was changed to a
smile when she peeped into Jack’s room, where he and Hunk were snoring in
unison beneath the bedclothes; for, stretched from the bed and out of the window
into the garden, was a stout piece of cod-line. The inner end was tied to Jack’s toe,
and old Seth Williams, when he went to pull his lobster pots at three o’clock in
the morning, had agreed to give the other end a good “yank” as he passed by.

It was pitch dark when the boys emerged from the house, that hour which
the proverb says is the darkest, the one just before dawn. Jack’s toe ached a
little from the energetic pulling, but his spirits were high.

A short walk brought them to the wharf, and in a few moments they were
embarked in Jack’s old weather-beaten cat-boat.

“ She’s pretty well used up, ain’t she, Jack ?”’ remarked Hunk.
THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

“Yes, she is; but she’s got to last this season,” replied Jack. “Take the
tiller, Hunk, while I ‘sweat wp’ the peak; ” and the boat, under the influence of
the light southerly breeze which fanned her tattered sail, glided silently into
~ the darkness.

Slowly she rounded Brant Point, looking dim and ghostly in the gloom, and
then away to the “noth’ard” and “ west’ard,” just skirting the Koskata flats, and
heading as near as might be for the glimmering light on Great Point.

They were now out upon the sound; the inner harbor lay behind them, and
with a free sheet and a steady breeze the little boat bounded merrily over the
short seas. :

Barely visible to windward stretched the low shore of the island, curving like
a big horseshoe, with Great Point at the extreme northern end, upon which
stood the lighthouse for which the boys were steering. Following the line of
the coast and jutting some three miles into the ocean from the point, was the
dangerous reef known as Point Rip. Its outer extremity was marked by a buoy,
but well in near the shore there was a passageway of deep water —a slue, the
fishermen called it.

Far away over the land, they could once in a while catch a glimpse of the
light on Sankaty Head, on the south shore of the island, flashing its warning to
any mariner who might be so unlucky as to be in the vicinity ; for beyond that lay
the shoals — the dreaded Nantucket Shoals, stretching to the south’ard and east-
’ard twenty miles or more to the lightship on Great South Shoal which marked
the limit of the danger space. Woe to the stranger who ever found himself
within that space of shifting sands, tide rips and cross currents; only a local
pilot, and a good one at that, could ever get him out. He might as well throw
his chart overboard ; it was useless in that neighborhood.

“Are you going to try the slue, packs asked Hunk, as Jack moved aft,
having Rniehed. coiling up the “ gear.’

“Yes,” answered Jack. “TI think it will be daylight when we get there; all
that I want is Just light enough to see the water, and I’m all right. Let her go
straight for the point, Hunk.”

As Jack predicted, when Great Point was abeam the dawn began to break.
To an unpracticed eye the water looked alike everywhere, but not so to Jack.
The slight difference in the color and appearance of the deep water was his
guide, and under his direction the boat shot through the narrow channel. The
next moment she was rolling lazily on the long eave swell of the Atlantic.
The sound was passed, the boys were on the ocean.

“ All plain sailing now,” cheerfully remarked Hunk..

“T don’t know, Hunk. I don’t much like this long swell; and the sky looks
nasty, too.”

Hunk glanced to the east’ard, and sure enough the dawn did look red and
threatening.


THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

“ Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning,” he muttered to himself.

Suddenly Jack straightened himself up and took a long steady look to
wind ard.

“Tt’s a-coming ; just our luck

“ What is?” asked Hunk. ‘

“Fog,” replied Jack laconically. “See it?” and he pointed to the south,
where faintly visible on the horizon appeared what seemed to be a low bank of
yellow clouds. Then he added:

“Well, let it come; I think I can find Fishing Rip even if the fog is thick
enough to cut; if we can’t, we'll see what we can pick up off Sankaty. Let her
go southeast.”

They sailed on this course for an hour or more, while slowly but surely the
fog came drifting in. Little by little the land was shut out from view; first
Sankaty and then Wauwinnet faded away, and at last Great Point was swallowed
up in the yellow mist.

“ Pleasant,” remarked Jack, as the mainsail gave a great flap to windward, for
with the coming of the fog the wind had almost departed. “I suppose we will
have to drift around here till the wind takes it into its head to blow again.
Well, it don’t much matter, for I think it would be pretty risky business running
out to ‘Rip’ the way the weather looks to-day. There is one consolation; we
are not likely to get run down in this part of the world.”

For another hour the boat drifted with the tide. They had lowered the sail.

“Tt’s no use letting her flap herself to pieces,” Hunk had remarked economi-
cally ; and then he had got, out their deep-sea fishing lines—not that they
expected to catch much of anything, but it was something to do. “ We might
hook a flounder or two,’

1»

’

remarked Jack.

They fished in silence for a while, and soon both boys were nodding over
their lines. Jack roused himself and peered over the side.

“Tsay, Hunk, we are drifting pretty fast. The tide here runs like a” —

“Mercy on us! What's that ?” suddenly ejaculated Hunk.

Jack was on his feet in an instant, straining his eyes in a vain endeavor to
pierce the fog. The sound that had so startled Hunk was one with which both |
‘boys were familiar — the hoarse blast of a fog-horn.

« Think she’ll run us down?” asked Hunk under his breath.

“Not with this wind,” observed Jack rather dryly. “A fisherman out of his
reckoning, I guess. Get out the oars, Hunk.”

The fog-horn sounded again, this time much nearer, and a few moments
later, dimly discernible, its size magnified to mountainous proportions by the
“loomage” of the fog, there could be distinguished the towering sails and then
the black hull of a large ship.

“ A square rigger, by Jove!” exclaimed Jack. ‘What in the mischief can
she be doing in here?”
CAE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS:

The little boat and the big ship drifted slowly toward one another. There
was a slight commotion on the forecastle, and then the lookout’s voice was heard
as he reported:

“Something on the port bow, sir. I think it is a small boat.”

“Ship ahoy!” sang out Jack.

“ Halloo!” came the response.

“What ship is that ?”

“United States frigate Constitution. Who are you?”

“Cat-boat Flyaway, fishing.”

“Golly! but she’s full of men; look!” and Hunk gazed open-mouthed at her
tall black sides pierced with a dozen gun ports, from each of which a dozen
heads were craned, eager to catch a glimpse of the strangers. Her to’gallant
forecastle was crowded with men and boys, and on the bridge aft a group of
officers in dripping oil-skins seemed to be holding an anxious consultation.

One of them presently hailed the boat:

““ Where are we?” he asked.

“On Nantucket Shoals,” answered Jack.

“Come aboard for a moment, if you please,” continued the officer.

There was a quick, sharp order; a seaman sprang into the chains; the end of
a heaving line fell into the boat, and the next moment they were alongside,
climbing the slippery accommodation ladder.

- A dapper young gentleman in the uniform of a midshipman met them at
the gangway. Jack found out afterward he was called the “gentleman of the
watch.” He conducted Jack to the bridge, while Hunk, too much astonished to
move, seemed rooted to his position in the gangway.

He was surrounded at once by a group of some half-hundred laughing,
questioning youngsters, all boys about his own age. |

They were midshipmen from the Naval Academy on their yearly practice
cruise, and the Constitution was the practice ship.

It takes a good deal to dampen the enthusiasm of a midshipman; neither the
wet fog nor the presence of the ship in a dangerous locality, a fact that most of
of them had already guessed, seemed to have much effect on their excess of
animal spirits.

Jack, on the bridge, however, encountered a very different atmosphere. On
the faces of the officers was imprinted an unmistakable look of anxiety. The
navigator walked rapidly to and fro, every now and then popping his head under
the oil-skin cover to examine the chart; the officer of the deck toyed nervously
with the speaking-trumpet, and the captain, extending his hand to Jack as he
mounted the bridge, looked like a man who had been up all night, as in fact
he had. .

“T am Captain Somerset,” he said. “Maybe you can give us some informa-
tion. Are you acquainted with this locality?”
THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.



“Well,” said Jack, “I
was born and brought up
over there on Nantucket,
and J don’t think there are
many rocks or shoals to
the west’ard of the ‘ Cape’
that I don’t know.”

- «Maybe you can tell
us where we are; that is,
exactly ; of course I know
approximately,” added the
captain.

“ Yes, sir; lcan. You
are about one mile from
‘Old Man,’ and it bears
broad off the port bow.”
“But that is impossible,” interrupted the
navigator. “We have been steering’ north by
east since midnight. Old Man Shoal must be
five miles to the westward,” and he popped his
head into the chart-box.

Captain Somerset looked at Jack inquiringly.

“Tt is on account of the currents,” he ex-.
plained; “you can’t tell anything about the
currents on these shoals, except from experi-
ence; they run every which way, and change
once or twice ina tide. Just now, off to the
east’ard it’s running strong to the north’ard ;
down by the lightship it is just about turning
to the east’ard, and here it is running to the
north’ard and west’ard like a mill-race.”

Jack, in the novelty of his position, had
forgotten for the moment the fact, of which he
was fully aware, that the vessel drifting with

“on, winter, 1 excace you as ror? the strong tide was driving directly on the
dangerous shoal.

The current question had recalled it to his mind, as it did to the captain’s
also at the same moment.

“ Then,” he said, “we are drifting right on to Old Man Shoal Te

“Yes, sir,” responded Jack.

The captain was prompt to make up his mind. He turned quickly to the
officer of the deck.


THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

“Get the starboard anchor ready for letting go, Mr. Marline. How much
water have we?”

‘Five fathoms, sir, last cast.’

“By the deep four,” sang out the leadsman in the chains.

“Tively, my man; another cast. Down with the helm, quartermaster; hard
down. Mr. Marline, let go the starboard anchor,” he shouted.

“Hold on, Captain; for Heaven’s sake, don’t anchor here,” earnestly inter-
rupted Jack. “Try and tack her. If she won’t tack we can still anchor, as a
last resort —and get ashore while we have a chance,” he muttered to himself.
“Tl tell you as soon as we get around why it won’t do to anchor here.”

Captain Somerset glanced searchingly into Jack’s face; something there
seemed to reassure him, for he turned abruptly to the officer of the deck.

“Go about, Mr. Marline,” he said. é

“Do you think she'll go round in this light breeze?” inquired Jack
anxiously.

“TY don’t know, but we can try; at any rate, your idea isa good one. If she
won't tack we are no worse off than we were before,’ answered the captain.

“There is a heavy tide on the weather bow, you know,” Jack continued
shyly, for he had just begun to realize that he had been giving directions to
these old officers who had sailed ships before he was born.

“Very true, my boy. Remember, Mr. Marline, a late haul of the head
yards ;” and turning to Jack with a twinkle in his eye, “ I say, my lad, you seem
to be about as lively a sailor for your years as one is likely to run across.
Where did you say you came from ?”

“ Nantucket, sir; they breed that kind there,” Jack answered simply.

“Ready about! Stations for stays!” shouted the officer of the deck through
the trumpet.

The crowd of “middies” gathered around Hunk vanished like mist before
the sun. ,

Pandemonium seemed to reign supreme- for the space of ten seconds; men
and boys rushed hither and thither with what would have appeared to a lands-
man’s eye the utmost confusion, and then suddenly, as if by magic, the tumult
died away as quickly as it had begun. Even before the shrill pipe of the boat-
swain had ceased, every man stood silently at his station.

Jack now for the first time had an opportunity to look about him. From his

place on the bridge, just forward of the mizzen mast, he saw stretched before
him the broad flush-deck of the frigate ; the crew, mostly composed of boys, with
here and there a sprinkling of grizzly tars, all aft at the main and “ crojic”
braces, silently waiting the word of command to swing the after yards.

They looked very different from the midshipmen he had pictured in his mind —
the young gentleman in Captain Marryat’s novels, with his roundabout and ever-
lasting spyglass, whose chief function in life seemed to be to worry other people.
THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

This was evidently a different lot; there was an unmistakable air of business
about their tar-stained overalls and sunburnt and not over-clean hands and
faces.

“JT guess those fellows who are always talking about crawling in through
the cabin windows never saw this part of it,” he soliloquized.

With the helm hard down the big ship came slowly up into the wind; down
came the head sails at the order, and relieved of the pressure forward she luffed
rapidly.

“ By Jove, I believe she would tack in a calm” thought Jack.

Flap went the spanker, the premonitory signal that the wind was nearly
ahead, and then the order, “ Haul taut! Mainsail, haul!” There was a rush of
feet, a creaking of blocks, the after yards flew round and the vessel “fell off”
slowly on the other tack.

“ Hoist away the head sails! Haulwell taut; let go and haul!” and the head
yards swung quickly into place. ‘Reeve and haul the bowlines! Haul taat the |
weather lifts and braces!” .

The sails bellied out with the light air, the ship forged slowly ahead and
the evolution of tacking was completed.

“T did not think she would do it,” remarked Jack, turning to the captain.

' “Well, you see she did, and now we are around; what next? One thing is
certain, we can't go in far on this tack.”

“No, sir; about four miles; then one must tack again,” answered Jack.

“Excuse me, Captain, but now that we are well clear of that shoal, whatever
it is,’ interrupted the navigator, “don’t you think we had better anchor and
wait for clear weather? We are actually surrounded by shoals, and I don’t:
believe mortal man can get her through in a fog like this.”

“ Yes; I think you are right. We'll run for a few minutes longer and then
bring to; but hold on,” continued the captain ; “ the pilot said something about
not anchoring. I say, Mr. Pilot, is there any reason why we should not
anchor now ?”

Jack felt rather flattered at being addressed so ceremoniously, but he answered
quietly :

“ Yes, sir, there is; we can’t anchor, we must keep on.”

“ But why?” sharply inquired the navigator. “It is the simplest thing in
the world to drop an anchor under foot and wait for the fog to lift.”

“‘ Well, sir,” said Jack, hesitating a little, “it seems a little bit cheeky for a
boy like me to be giving my opinion here amongst all you officers, but I know
our shoals and I know our weather. Do you feel this long swell that is rolling
in? It’s the longest ground swell I ever felt on the shoals, now the glass
is low, and” —

“ How is that, Mr. Marline?” asked the captain.

“Right, sir; been falling since midnight,” answered the officer.

,
CHE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKED- SHOES,

“ And,” continued Jack, “with a falling barometer and a heavy swell from
the south’ard, look out for nasty weather. With the red dawn this morning,
and with this fog and the generally dirty look of the weather, we are almost sure
to have it strong from the southeast. Iam sure we'll get it before nightfall ; if
we do, you might as well be at anchor on Niagara Falls as here. As for getting
out through the fog, I am willing to guarantee to anchor you under the lee of
Nantucket Island, if the wind holds.”

The officers gathered together in a group to discuss the situation, and Jack
retired to the farther end of the bridge, but he could not help occasionally hear-
ing a few words of the consultation. Captain Somerset evidently was disposed
to take his advice, but the other officers seemed to be opposed, the navigator
especially. Jack heard him remark: “Why, he’s only a boy, not as old as some
of our young gentlemen on board.”

The captain appeared dubious, for upon him rested the entire burden of the
responsibility. .

“Jack,” he said earnestly, “are you sure of what you say ?”

“Yes, sir; dead sure. In a little while this fog will turn to rain, the wind
will haul round to the southeast, and then we are in for it.” |

He had hardly spoken when the warning cry from the officer of the fore-
castle ran along the deck, “All in the wind forward, sir.”

“ You see, itis beginning now, sir,” Jack continued; and the vessel’s head fell
off a point or so as the quartermaster jammed the helm up.

“Yes; I see it is,’ Captain Somerset answered slowly, and then suddenly :
“ Mr. Winter, I engage you as pilot. The vessel is in your charge, sir.
Orderly, tell the cabin steward to bring some breakfast on deck for the pilot.”

In the meantime Hunk had not been idle. As soon as he recovered his
presence of mind, he proceeded to answer as well as he was able the hundred
and one questions poured upon him from all sides, and then under the guidance
of some of the older midshipmen proceeded to explore the ship. On the berth-
deck where the middies “slung” their hammocks, at pretty close quarters it
must be confessed, barefooted negro boys were running to and fro with platters
of beefsteak and steaming cups of coffee, for it was nearly the hour for eight
o'clock breakfast. On the gun-deck he noticed a space shut off from the rest
by a screen of canvas.

“That is the sick bay,” explained his guide. “About a dozen fellows are
down with the typhoid, and what’s worse, the surgeon’s got it, too, and they are

afraid he’s going to slip his cable; that’s the reason ‘the old man’ is so anxious .

to make a port, and got us into this megs.”

Hunk breakfasted with his new friends and learned a good deal about mid-
shipmen in general, and practice cruises in particular; but as this story deals
with Jack the pilot, and not Jack the midshipman, we will return to the bridge
where our hero and Captain Somerset were at their breakfast in solitary grandeur.

6
FHE PILO? VOF: PHEYNANTOCKE LT SHOALS:

Jack allowed the frigate to proceed on her southerly course for an hour or
more and then tacked.

The weather began to show unmistakable signs of change; and, as he had pre-
dicted, mixed with the fog came a chilly drizzling rain, so fine as to hardly be .
distinguished from the mist itself. The wind blew in light, fitful squalls, shifting
slowly to the south’ard, and the ship creaked and groaned as she rose and fell in
the long swell.

Of all on board, Jack alone was aware of the position of the ship and the .
peculiar dangers which menaced her. The shoals of Nantucket are rarely
visited by mariners, and it was nothing remarkable that the officers were
entirely ignorant of the existence of the dangerous currents; even the positions
of the shoals were uncertain, for the charts of this region are untrustworthy.

To understand the situation, let us glance for a moment at the chart. Old
Man Shoal lies off the southeast corner of the island. When Jack boarded the
frigate the wind was light from the northeast and she was headed well clear of
the shoal; but the strong westerly current was drifting her directly upon it,
hence Jack’s anxiety to tack and stand to the east’ard, as on this course he could
stand on for three or four miles before encountering the very shallow water of
the line of broken reefs which extended like a belt to the northward till they
nearly met the Point Rip, jutting from the northern end of the island. The
passage between these shoals was marked by the buoy at the end of the “ Rip,”
and to get the ship out of her present dilemma this buoy must be found. Her
only salvation was through the passage; for to the westward lay the island, to
the eastward the long line of shoals, and behind her, stretching for twenty miles,
was the broken ground.

True, the ship had come in safely from that direction, but to Be out was a
different matter.

Jack knew that, long before they could gain the open sea, the gale would be
upon them, and blowing directly ahead, and they would never be able to beat
against the wind and the heavy sea that would “raise” at once in the shoal
water. For the same reason they could not hope to ride out the gale at anchor ;
no ground tackle was ever made strong enough to hold a ship in the short
angry seas that rolled over the shoals in a southeast gale.

All this Jack explained to Captain Somerset as they talked together on the
bridge.

The experience Jack had gained knocking around in all sorts of weather in
his old cat-boat now stood him in good stead. Ordinarily the ship might have
been safely navigated by the usual methods, the log and the compass assisted by
the lead line; but in the currents lay the unknown and dangerous factor. The
salvation of the ship depended upon Jack’s local knowledge of these currents.

“It’s a fine wind now to the buoy,” he remarked to the captain as he gave
the quartermaster the course. ‘‘ We ought to make it in two hours.”


» EXCLAIMED THE CAPTAIN.

“JACK, MY BOY, YOU HAVE SAVED THE SHIP!
THE PILOT OF THE NANTUCKET SHOALS.

Captain Somerset said nothing, but nervously paced the deck ; his reputation,
possibly his commission, hung upon the slender thread of a boy’s knowledge.

Little by little the ordinary noises of ship life ceased, the old sailors conversed
beneath their breath, and even the careless middies peered anxiously ahead.

They had now run nearly the allotted two hours, the wind and sea continued
steadily to rise, but the fog held on as thick as ever. ;

Jack watched the compass narrowly; great drops of sweat stood upon his
brow and he almost repented that he had undertaken the job.

With the freshening wind the ship ploughed through the mist ; before her lay
what? The buoy and safety, or the ragged rocks of the “Rip?” Jack strained
his eyes to their utmost tension as if to pierce the fog by sheer force of will.
«“ Oh! for one moment of daylight,” he groaned; “ one sight of Great Point Light.”

There was a momentary lull in the breeze, flap went the spanker as, the wind
suddenly falling dead calm, the ship rolled sluggishly to windward; and then
patter, patter came the rain falling in great drops perpendicularly from the sky.

«The calm before the storm,” thought Jack; “if this rain beats down the
fog before we get it, we'll be all right.”

“ Mind your helm, quartermaster,” came the warning cry from the officer of
the deck, and the next instant came the first puff of the approaching gale.

Heeling to her gun ports the ship sprang madly forward, and as if by magic
the remnant of the fog in strange fantastic shapes went dancing away to leeward.

“TJ see it, sir; dead ahead, sir,” shouted the lookout.

Jack sprang to the weather-rail and heaved a heavy sigh of relief as he
recognized the object of his search bobbing on the dark water; but in spiv> of
himself his voice trembled a little as he turned to the officer of the deck,
“ Round the buoy, if you please, sir, and stand in close hauled on the port tack.”

« A splendid landfall, by Jove,” exclaimed the captain, shaking Jack warmly
by the hand. ‘Jack, my boy, you have saved the ship.”

The navigator popped his head for the last time into the chart-box and then
slowly withdrew it. He was a prim, punctilious man, but a just one. Walking
slowly along the bridge to where Jack was leaning on the weather-rail, he ex-
tended his hand. “Mr. Winter, I have done you an, injustice; 1. beg your
pardon,” he said solemnly.

Two days later the storm abated, the frigate in the meantime lying comfort-
ably at anchor under the lee of the horseshoe arms of the island. Although
the wind had gone down, the surf still roared savagely on the south shore, and
Jack pointed out to the captain the place where he had thought of anchoring,
now a seething mass of froth and foam.

“ Not a very comfortable anchorage, eh, Captain Ge

“No, not very,” he answered smiling; “you have saved the old Constitution
that’s a fact, and now if you will make out your bill for pilotage, and” —
THE’ PILOT OF THEVNANTD OCHRE TE SHOAES.

“ Excuse me, sir, [can’t do that ; Icould not do it legally, any way, you know,”
exclaimed Jack, “for I haven’t any license. I don’t want to, either,” he continued.
“It’s the duty of one sailor to help another in distress.”

That afternoon the Widow Winter and Captain Somerset had an interview in
the little front parlor ; and Jack heard his mother say, as the captain opened the
door to depart :

“T believe it is the wish dearest to his heart; we Nantucket mothers expect
our sons to go to sea, you know — and serve their country, too,” she added, as
her eye lingered for a moment on the old sword.

A fortnight passed, and Nantucket settled down to its regular humdrum
existence.

Hunk and Jack had gone fishing again, and this time returned with the
promised barrelful of mackerel.

One morning Gran’ther appeared in a flurry, with a letter. It was a big
one, with “ Official Business, Navy Department,” stamped in the corner.

It was addressed to “Mr. John Winter” and, whatever was in it, the letter
seemed to please the boy immensely.

Three days later, bag and baggage, Jack departed from his island home.

In a little while came another letter for the Winter cottage, this time for
the widow.

It was postmarked Annapolis, Md.

“JT wonder if the boy can pass the examination ?” said Mrs. Winter.

“Tm a little ’feard, Mary,” remarked Gran’ther, as he handed her the letter ;
“they say it’s powerful hard.”

The widow tore it open and read it quickly to the end, and then with a smile
thrust the signature under Gran’ther’s spectacles. |

There, in a bold boy’s hand, was subscribed, semi-officially : Jomn WINTER,
Midshipman, U. S. Navy.

Alexander Ritchie.

























HERE sang twelve sparrows on the wall
At even-fall, at even-fall.

When gloomed apace the village doors
Between the silent sycamores,

They heard a sound from mystic shores,
And sang their song for gladness’ sake —
The birds of God were all awake.





There lowed twelve oxen at the bin : js
Behind the inn, behind the inn. —
Along the dark, across the lea,

They knew a sign no man could see.

There was a wonder soon to be;

O, secret of the sons of Shem!

Who told the beasts of Bethlehem ?

There flew twelve angels, clothed in light,

At middle night, at middle night ;

With countless peers of kindred wing

They called, as distant bugles ring,

“ Behold the cradle of the King! ‘
The Son of Heaven, the Prince of earth

Becomes a babe of human birth!”








A CHRISTMAS GAROL.

There knelt twelve shepherds at thy head,
O, manger-bed, O, manger-bed ;

They watched within thy stony shrine
The miracle of Life divine,

And reverent saw around him shine,
Between the sordid stable-bars,

The luster of the Star of stars.





Chime, all ye bells of Christendom:
“Thy kingdom come! Thy kingdom come!”
For every hour a warning charm,

For every moon a sweet alarm,

For every gate of Heaven a psalm;
Nor ring a note of self or sin—

'O, twelve o’clock when Yule comes in!

And joy shall hail from clime to clime
At Christmas time, at Christmas time,
Till every life that walks or wings,
And Death itself saluting sings

The Lord of lords, the King of kings;
And all the world shall smile again
With peace on earth, good-will to men.

Theron Brown.





colder and colder and colder,
“The steward was quike at
& 1055
To find out the reason and
never’ discovered
The cook. stirring up

Chili Sauce |

ABOUT CONCH PEARLS:

“ANY people have the impression that the pearl is found only in the oysters
gathered beneath the waters of tropical America, Persia and India.

It is true that these bivalves frequently secrete the most valuable specimens
of the opaque gem, but they cannot claim the exclusive production of these
much-sought-for articles of commerce.

Oysters grown in any locality frequently contain a prize, while even the
fresh-water clam, which has its home in the beds of the clear-running streams of.
New England, is eagerly hunted, in the hope of finding an occasional pearl.

Nearly every boy or girl has paused before some well-kept garden to admire
the beautiful conical-shaped shells arranged along the sides of the walks, and
wondered what creatures had used these houses for their habitations.

These are the conch-shells; they are found in great profusion about the
Bahamas and West India Islands.

This species of mollusk are pearl-producing, and although the gems do not
rank in price with those taken from the oyster, they are considered by many to
ABOUT CONCH-PEARLS.

be much handsomer, as they are of a most delicate shade of pink, and as a rule
are quite large, not infrequently being found the size of a pea.

A perfect one of this dimension may be purchased in the West Indies for
forty or fifty dollars, according to the financial condition of the finder; but in
the markets of Boston or New York it would bring a much larger sum.

Some few years since, on Key Francis, a small coral island some twelve
miles off the northern coast of Cuba, I met a party of conch-hunters-;who had
come from.the mainland.

All they had to do was to roll up their trousers, wade out upon the reefs
where the water was shallow and gather the clumsy fellows as they crawled
slowly along the bottom.

The oyster-divers spread their catch in the sun to allow the fleshy substance
to decompose, then the shells are washed and the pearl sought for. But the
conch-hunters pursue a different course, and one which seems very cruel.

They take a common fish-hook, to which is attached a piece of string perhaps
two feet in length, insert the sharp point into the orifice of the heavy shell
and bury the barb in the head of the helpless creature. The conchs are then hung
in rows upon poles, whose ends rest on crotched sticks driven into the ground.

Slowly the mollusk is drawn from its abode by the weight of its own habi-
tation, but so tenacious are they of life that two hours or more will elapse ere
they will let go their hold and give up the ghost.

The shell is not as yet wholly clean, but a thorough rinsing round in a tub
of water will dislodge any pearl which may be lurking within.

One would fine that the shells could be bro oe but many blows with a
heavy hammer would be. needed before any impression could be made on the
flint-like substance, and this is too arduous a task for the languid Cub ban.

The conch-pearl hunters never get very rich ; scarcely more than one out of
a thousand conch shells contains a prize, and half a dozen men would not be
able to gather and cleanse half that number in a day.

The shells find a ready market at one dollar and a half or two dollars per
hundred, according to their beauty, and thus the native is enabled to earn a

living even if not fortunate enough to obtain a pearl,
Marlton Downing.




















‘

IN) THE
66 ANTER drinker water!” 3
“ Patsy Calloran, if you say that another once before recess, I shall
shut you in the wood closet!”

Miss Carberry’s eyes were very bright, and her cheeks were very pink.
Patsy knew that for a bad sign. He turned to the map of Africa and_ began
a terrible buzzing, that was meant to show Miss Carberry how hard he was
studying. ,

Instead of saying over the names, however, he was merely saying
“ Bz-bz-bz!” like an enormous bumble-bee or an angry blue-bottle fly in a corner
of the window-pane. .

Miss Carberry didn’t like bumble-bees or blue-bottle flies. She walked care-
lessly up behind Patsy and stopped him suddenly in the midst of a terrible “bz!”
that sounded like a whole hive of bumble-bees.

The next minute Patsy found himself tumbled all in a heap into what the
boys called the “‘’Pratus-box.” And then the button turned. , .

The given name of this little dark closet was the “ Apparatus-box,” and it
meant a place in which to keep globes and pointers and chalk and old maps. It
was also used sometimes, as you have seen, to put naughty boys in.

Patsy shivered as the button snapped, and he was caged as fast as any bird.

“Tts dark as a pick-pocket,’ he muttered, and began to cry and wipe
his dirty face on his little ragged sleeve. It was hot, too. Miss Carberry’s
headache must have been very bad indeed or she never could have done it.

He was getting rather drowsy, and might have gone off to sleep to the tune
of “ seven-times-five-are-fifty-five,” as Lillie Dorr was droning it, when a sudden
rustling and shuffling away of books and other litter from the desks made him
sit up and listen with both his ears. Somebody was speaking to Miss Carberry,
and Miss Carberry was answering in tones wonderfully soft and sugary.

“t's the committee-mans,’ said Patsy to himself. “I’m going to see
something!” ..

So he fumbled somewhere in his rags and produced a penknife. A very
good one, too. Patsy could “ trade knives” with anybody.

Softly and cautiously, as a little mouse begins to nibble in the closet, Patsy
began to bore a little hole in the “’Pratus-box.” . How much you can see out
of one little round hole! Patsy saw two thirds of the schoolroom out of this
one, and there was the platform with three old men on it in three old rickety
chairs “that they'll have to sit very still in, or theyll go smash-bang on the
floor,” thought Patsy. Two of them had gold-headed canes, and one wore a
wig that had slipped a little “ unstraight.” All this Patsy noted with interest.
IN THE «“’?PRATUS-BOX.”

The hole, or rather the light that came through it, let Patsy see better inside
as well. “Now what do you suppose was the first thing his eye lighted on as he
looked around him ?

A popgun !

O, Miss Carberry! Didn't you know—didn’t you ever learn “in the





THE THREE COMMITTEE-MEN ON THE PLATFORM.

Normal,” or did you not come at it somehow by the light of nature, that a boy
and a popgun were always meant to go together ?

But ob! for a look at Patsy’s eyes, big and black in the darkness.

“Tye got some peas in my pocket, I know,’ he said in an excited voice,
“and if I don’t straighten his crooked wig for him, it’ll be ’cause I can’t.”

The mild old gentleman on the edge of the platform put his hand to his ear
in a troubled way, as Patsy’s popgun opened fire. Then he ran his fingers
through his hair, making his wig crookeder than ever. ~~ é

Finally he turned to Miss Carberry with a kind of gentle amusement that
made Patsy (who had taken many a ride in “his musty old chaise”’) ashamed of
himself in the “ ’Pratus-box.”

“Tm afraid, ma’am — ahem ! — that — ahem! — some of ‘your boys are a
little roguish this morning.” .

“ Why — what are they doing?” said Miss Carberry, astonished. She hadn’t
~ seen anything. :
IN THE “’PRATUS-BOX.”

“Oh! nothing very bad,’ smiled the blessed old man. “I was a boy once.
Haven’t forgotten it. Firing peas, ma’am.”

“Let me catch one of them!” said Miss Carberry, as grimly as if she were
an ogre or adragon, instead of a very pretty young woman with pink cheeks and
the brightest brown eyes in the world. Every boy on the back seat shook in
his shoes.

“Oh! ain’t it jolly fun?” chuckled Patsy in his closet ; and he began boring
more “cannon holes,” as he called them. Six in all he made. And an old
pointer or two made excellent carriages to mount his popgun battery on.

It was so hot in there that by and by Patsy got tired. He wanted a drink
of water more than ever. At last he snuggled down in a heap of dusty maps
and fell fast asleep.

Meantime a thunder-cloud had rolled up big and black out of the west. The
three old men said they must be going. Miss Carberry looked nervously at the
ragged black sky, and thought of her new hat with the daisies on it.

“Let the school out,” said the committee, “and one of us will take you
home.”

In two minutes the schoolroom was empty ; the little girls were scampering
home with their aprons over their heads; Miss Carberry was spinning along in
the musty-smelling chaise, and the school-
house door was locked —with Patsy left ; |

fast asleep in the “ ’Pratus-box.” ul

About nine o’clock that night Miss
Carberry dropped the comb she was draw-
ing through her long brown hair and broke
it into half a dozen pieces.

“You poor dear little thing!” she |
said, gazing at itin horror; butshe didn’t |
mean the comb.

Before you could tell of it, she. had
tucked the brown hair up under a turban,
snatched up a half-eaten box of bon bons,
whisked downstairs into the pantry for
cakes and cold chicken, and was darting
along the rose-hedged lane that led to the
schoolhouse.

Patsy heard the brass key in the door
and began to cry as loud as he could.
Miss Carberry was glad to hear that. Patsy came out quicker than he went in,
and Miss Carberry drew down his frowsy, cobwebbed head into her lap and
cried too.

“Tm so sorry, Patsy !— here, take a cream-cake — do forgive mo, won't you?





“

“ AIN'T IT JOLLY FUN??? CHUCKLED PATSY:
A PROMISE.

— have some candy —I forgot all about you in the thunder-shower — oh! you
want some water, you poor little fellow!”

And away she flew to get him a dipper of water from the coolest corner of
the well.

Patsy was a good deal bewildered. He wasn’t used to being waited on and
feasted. Hewas rather glad
on the whole. He didn’t
have pound cake and chicken
and candy every day.

Miss Carberry took him
home herself and explained
and apologized. His father
and mother had hardly missed
him. They weren’t apt to
know Patsy's down-sittings
and uprisings very precisely.

Two good things came
out of the afternoon’s
imprisonment.

Miss Carberry and Patsy
each made a resolution that
night and kept it. Patsy
told his, sitting on the floor
with his mouth stuffed full
of pound cake.

“ Ain't gon’ t’ ever fire any more peas ’t the c’mittee-man,” he said. “Kind
o sorry I plagued you so!”

Miss Carberry kept hers to herself, but the children found it out after a while.

She isn’t going to ever put anybody else in the “’Pratus-box.”

Anna F. Burnham.









































“0M SO SORRY, PATSY,’? SHE SAID.



A PROMISE.

HOULD life be melancholy
All the winter long,
There comes at last an April day,

And the bluebird’s song.
Mary F. Butts.
















































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THE ELF’S TENNIS MATCH.

AID the Little Brown Elf to his friends, one day —
In the regions of Christmas past :

“There comes a time when it’s wise to play
Lest, withered with age and with wisdom gray,
We fling but a joyous lite away,

And our time has come at last.”

So they played high jinks on the sands at noon

In the palmetto land of the turtle and coon,

In order that none might be able to say,
“They studied too hard and fast.”

But between you and me,
T never could see
Where the difference lay
"Tween their study and play.
Lilian Crawford True.














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A= i ;
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A STUDY IN ANIMAL NATURE,



LEASH, sir, can I take out ‘Sanford and Merton’ ?”

Mr. Peters, the librarian of the new Belfield brary,
looked over the top of his spectacles in his absent-
minded way.

The fact was, the volumes were not yet ready for
circulation, it being necessary to hire some one to cover
them. The girl who had spoken seemed about thirteen

years old, and she blushed with timidity as she made her request. He noticed
her more attentively. , ;

She wore a calico gown, faded, but carefully starched and ironed, long
pantalets, and a green gingham sunbonnet— which she had taken off and was
swinging nervously by the string. Her glossy black hair was combed straight
back from her forehead, and cut squarely off at the nape of her neck. It was
plain that she was not one of the village girls, with whom clipped or “ shingled”
hair, and longer gowns without pantalets, had been for some time in vogue;
she evidently belonged to one of the outlying “ districts,” where change seldom
came and the same mode of dress prevailed indefinitely.

“Whose girl are you?” Mr. Peters asked, with interest.

“Mr. Prior’s. Jam Hetty Prior, sir.”

“J thought likely. Well, now, I don’t like to refuse you the book, you've
come so far. Over two miles, isn’t it? Here. But promise you'll cover it;
they’re all to be covered before going out.”

“Thank you, sir.’ Hetty’s dark eyes expressed more than her timid words.
She clasped the story-book close, and started away.

She had not been gone ten minutes when Mr. Peters exclaimed :

“ Why didn’t I hire that girl to cover the books? She looked just like the
one to be glad of the work. But I’m always behind time, like the man who
remembered he’d got to go to mill when he'd let the horse out to pasture.”

At the old-fashioned farmhouse to which she came, Hetty had scarcely time
to speak of the librarian’s kindness, when her mother called to her:
HETTY’S RED GOWN.

“Come right here, Hetty! There’s something nice to tell you if ’twarn’t
for the lack of a gown. You've be’n ast to Susan Lowe’s party for a week
from to-day.”

“Susan Lowe’s party!” repeated Hetty in wonder.

“TJ s’pose it’s come about through the new minister’s boardin’ with the
Lowes. He’s a lib’ral-minded man; I heard him at the Sunday-school Conven-
tion. They say he’s a master hand for bringin’ folks together.”

“Tf T only could go!” said Hetty, with a longing desire to attend, for once,
a village girl’s party.

“T could make you a white apurn,” said Mrs. Prior. “ Your father’s got a





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‘¢ PLEASE SIR, CAN I TAKE OUT SANFORD AND MERTON?”









fine shirt that’s givin’ out, and you could have it’s well’s not. But what to do
for a gown?”
Hetty put her book on the table. Its fascination had departed.
_ “Tf your Aunt Abigail Sage had only sent some things this year,” went on
Mrs. Prior. “ But she’s like the laylock bush by the gate, for giving. One
year it will be all a-clusterin’ over with-flowers, an’ the next not a bunch on it.”
“QO, dear!” sighed Hetty.
“You might try pickin’ blackberries,” said her mother; “though father
HETTY’S RED GOWN.

says the village folks swarm the pastur’ like crows. Come in kerridges,
sometimes.”

Hetty cast one look at her book, and then went for her tin pail and little
dipper. She found the rocky pasture had been well gleaned, as her mother had 7
said. Yet she staid, gathering what few berries she could.

One of the pickers drew near her. Hetty knew the girl very well. It was
Ann Pellet, and Hetty always tried to avoid her. Her family was not looked upon
as very respectable. She was dressed in the style of the village girls, although
ina shabby and tawdry way. Hetty particularly noticed a string of green glass
beads she wore on her neck — which looked as if it had been seldom washed.
She was dark, like Hetty, but she had a secretive expression, very different from
. Hetty’s frank innocent one. Hetty had never forgotten the time she left her
pail filled with blackberries beside the stone wall, and came back to find it
empty, and Ann hurrying home.

“Halloo!” called Ann. “Berries are skurce, ain’t they? Mother ’greed
to let me have all the money I could earn pickin’ ’em ; but I guess she’s safe
sayin’ it.”

Hetty’s only reply was to look up a moment. She resumed her search for
berries.

“You needn’t feel so big,’ Ann snapped out. ‘“ With your long pantalets
and short hair, youre a perfect gawk. The girls all say so.”

With this speech she darted away.

Hetty remained in the pasture till after sundown, busy with other than
cheerful thoughts.

“JT can’t pick enough,” she said dejectedly to her mother, as she showed the
meager quart of berries she had gathered. ;

“Tt?s no matter, for you've got a chance you'd never dream of. Jes’ after
you'd gone, Mr. Peters come down— there’s the marks of his kerridge wheels
’fore the door—an’ he ast if you could be spared couple o’ days to cover them
lib’ry books. Said you looked keerful an’ tidy.”

‘OQ, mother! if I could buya pretty red gown — could have it long, without
pantalets—I should be so happy. And my hair shingled.”

“ Heavens an’ earth!” cried Mrs. Prior; “as if your father’d hear to sech a
thing. "Bout your hair, mean. He sets astore on’t. He’s said time ’n’ ag’in
them shingled heads looked wuss ’n’ plucked geese. He mentioned the other ‘
day ’twas ’bout time your hair was let to grow long.”

“« Mother,” exclaimed Hetty excitedly, “1 couldn’t have it grow long. I
do so want it shingled like the village girls.”

“’Bout the gown an’ pantalets,”’ Mrs. Prior said reflectively, “mebbe ’t’d
be a good plan, now you're beginnin’ to grow up.”

Taking a little comfort in this partial concession, Hetty busied herself cover-
ing the library book. She took great care in view of her new duties.
HETTY’S RED GOWN.

“That's done nice,” her mother commended.

“Tf I could just have my hair shingled,” sighed poor Hetty.

“ What's that *bout shinglin’ hair?” said Mr. Prior, coming in; “’fore I
see one 0’ my gals sheared that way I'll put her in a ’sylum.”

The way he shut the door showed Hetty it would be well not to approach
the subject again. She turned to her book for consolation.

At the close of her work im the library, Hetty brought home a two-dollar
bill. It seemed a large sum in the farmer’s family, where little ready money
circulated.

The next morning Hetty went to pick blackberries with her friend, Angie
Holmes. As they rested on a big rock, Hetty told how she had earned the
money for a new red gown, and the good time she expected to have at Susan
Lowe’s party. Neither of the girls had noticed that Ann Pellet had slyly drawn
near, until she called out:

«“ Yow ll make a nice slow Ww ty that head o hair! Susan Lowe’ll be awful
-proud on you ’n’ your red gown.”

The two girls jumped up and ran away. The disagreeable Ann laughed
maliciously. She knew her words would rankle in Hetty’s heart.

In the afternoon Mr. Prior harnessed for a trip to the village. He would
exchange some produce, and Hetty could make the purchase of ber new gown.
Mrs. Prior was anxious to accompany her daughter, but her best gown had ceased
to be presentable in the village.

“ You must be sure and get a good quality of stuff,” she urged Hetty, “and
Mr. Lowe must warrant it not to fade. Pick an’ choose with care.”

“ Your mother must have a new gown soon. It must come by hook or by
crook,” Mr. Prior said, after they drove away.

He was a man of few words. This was, in fact, the only remark he made on
the drive.

It helped to make more distinct a thought that had visited Hetty more than
once. Why should she have a new gown when her mother needed one even
more? Ought she to buy it? Could she be happy with it, even at Susan
Lowe’s party ? .

She shut her eyes tight, a way she had when any inward struggle was going
on. That her mother had promised to make it as she wished did not seem to
weigh in the balance in her own favor. She had already had a bright thought
of putting her hair into curl papers the night before the party, so that neither
Ann Pellet nor any other girl could laugh at her. Still, this happy settling of
her difficulties could not blind her to her mother’s need—her mother who
never seemed to think of herself in her care for others.

They reached the store, and Hetty was yet undecided.

“Show my gal some stuff for a gown,” said Mr. Prior to the storekeeper ;
-and then left to attend to his own business.
HETEYS RED GOWN.

“ Red all-wool delaine,” said Hetty, in a low voice.

“ Here’s a very nice piece you can have for forty cents a yard. I have been
selling it for fifty,” said the storekeeper. °

It was a beautiful shade, and Hetty’s eyes grew bright m admiration. As
she tested its fineness and softness she knew she needed not to repeat her
mother’s precautions. She had not supposed her two dollars could buy anything
so lovely. She was about to say, “ Cut me off five yards of it,” when her eyes
fell on a piece of dark-gray cloth close beside her.

What a suitable gown for her mother that would make! How well it would
look on her, and how grateful she would be to Hetty! She stammered:

“ How much — what does that cost a yard?”

“That gray? - It’s a remnant — seven and a half yards. Tl sell it for two
dollars. Its a great bargain.”

Hetty pushed the red cloth aside ; she said, choking back her feelings :

“Tl take — the gray.”

“Not the red? That'll make the -prettiest gown for you. It’s an extra
nice piece.”

SIN'O; 10 |

Mr. Lowe, who saw plainly that she wanted the red, was drawing it toward
her, but she turned away from it. So he folded the gray cloth and wrapped it
up, and Hetty waited at the store door, hardly knowing whether to be glad or
sorry for what.she had done. Once, thinking of the beauty of the red cloth,
she was almost ready to go in and ask for an exchange ; but love for her mother
triumphed, and she began to find more comfort in the thought of the pleasure
in store for her.

“T’ve got to go ’round to Pellet’s and collect last month’s milk bill,’ said
Mr. Prior, as Hetty placed her bundle on the top of his numerous packages in
the back of the wagon.

They had difficulty in rousing any one in the house, and Mr. Prior was
obliged to get out and go to the barn to learn if any of the men folks were
there.

Ann now appeared, and stood laughing at Hetty from the doorstep.

Hetty was determined not to speak to her, and kept her gaze bent steadily
before her. She expected to hear Ann’s cutting gibes, but for once she was
saved them. Ann went around behind the wagon, and Hetty heard her go into
a little shed and shut the door.

Mr. Prior came back to say that no one seemed to be on the place.

“ Ann’s just gone into the shed,” said Hetty.

“What'd she know "bout the money ?” ” said Mr. Prior crossly ; and they
drove away.

When Hetty reached home, and her father brought the purchases into the
house, what was the consternation of both to find the new gown missing.
HETTY’S RED GOWN.

“ How could it ’a’ rolled off them bags ’n’ things?” said Mr. Prior. “I see
you put it on ’em safe.”

Hetty thought of Ann, but it was impossible to believe she would commit so
bold a theft. She could not bring herself to suggest it to her parents.

They inspected the packages again, and Mr. Prior went back over the road
for some distance to look for the lost article.

Hetty had no heart to tell her mother of the different purchase she had
made. Mrs. Prior had seemed on the point of speaking of some agreeable
matter, but withheld it to condole with Hetty.

“ Wal, I do declare!” exclaimed Mr. Prior, at sight of the tears on Hetty’s
cheeks — an unusual thing, for she had much self-control —“if the child ain’t
a-takin’ on bad. S’pose I don’t realize how much her mind was sot on that
gown.”

“Come, git into the wagon,” he added, “an’ I'll drive ye back to town ’y’
git your hair shingled. It’s the next best thing, I s’pose.”

“Yes, she shall, mother,’ he said, with a laugh

at the woman’s exclamation of “I never!” “If it

EE takes my last cent, she shall, an’ if she comes out with

her head lookin’ like the field after Pve fired it over
in the spring.”

. Hetty needed no second bidding, but came out

i jp drying her tears and smiling.

_) “We'll keep an eye for the bundle,” said her
father; but Hetty felt certain that it would not be
found.

“She don’t look so bad now, does she, mother ?”’ observed

Mr. Prior when they had returned, and Hetty took off her

sunbonnet.

“She looks reel prutty,’ replied her mother, in
admiration.

When Hetty saw herself in the glass she was almost con-
soled for the loss of her gown. No one could think her old-
fashioned and singular now; she looked quite as well as the
village girls.

Two or three times Hetty set out to tell her mother
about the gray gown she had purchased instead of the red
one, but she had an ashamed feeling that her mother would think her tears
were partly on account of the sacrifice. She noticed Mrs. Prior hastily putting
away a box that looked suspiciously like one of Aunt Abigail Sage’s gifts.

When Hetty came down the next morning her mother said :

“T sot up late last night cutting you out a white apurn, an’ there’s a blue
ribbon to tie it with behind. I can make a fair-lookin’ gown for you out o’ the




“LAND 0? GOSHEN, HETTY!””
HETTY’S RED GOWN.

back breadths o’ my summer gingham, if you think you'll be willin’ to wear it
to the party, Hetty?”

But the girl’s lips quivered.

Just then Mr. Prior opened the door.

“Land o’ Goshen, Hetty! ef I hain’t found your store bundle right on the
front step this mornin’. Must ’a’ ben settin’ there all night from the dew on it.
Who in the ’varsal world fetched it back, I wonder ?”

Mrs. Prior hastened to open it. ‘“ Why — whatever's this?” é

“T thought — you needed —it most, mother.”

Hetty abruptly left the room.

“Tf that ain’t jes’ like the child! Good as gold, she is. Now, father, you
harness up quick’s a flash, an’ take it back an’ tell Mr. Lowe to exchange it for
the pruttiest red one in the store.” .

Here Hetty, having overheard, called in muffled tones :

“ Please, mother! don’t, father! I ain’t crying —for the red one.”

“You be still, Hetty. You go right along, father. Hain’t your Aunt
Abigail Sage sent me an almost bran’ -new black gown, which I couldn’t a-bear
to speak on’t to you, thinkin’ your red one lost ? Hurry up, father!”

Hetty came from her hiding-place, smiling through her tears.

“T’'ll jes’ make that gown up less ’n no time,” said Mrs. Prior, as she hustled
about to procure her pabtems:

“ But who do you s’pose fetched it back ?”

That question was never answered; and it always remained a surmise that
Ann Pellet took it for Hetty’s red gown, and returned it when she found it only
a plain gray one for the mother.

“Wal, if she did take it, your thoughtfulness for me saved you your gown,
Hetty,” said Mrs. Prior, when at last her daughter confided the secret to her ;
“but I guess I wouldn’t think on her that way ’thout more proof.”

Mrs. Prior was as good as her word in making the gown. It received its
last stitch in ample time for the party. It was tried on and pronounced “jes’ as
nice a fit as a dressmaker’s.”’ ;

“Them styles are improvin’, after all,” observed Mrs. Prior, as Hetty, all
smiling and happy, was about to. start for Susan Lowe’s. “ An’ who ever would
believe she’d look so well in shingled hair an’ without pantalets? Now you
be careful, child, an’ spread your handkerchief in your lap when they pass
round the cake. Mis’ Lowe’s cake is awful rich, an’ you might spot your new
gown. I know, ’cause I tasted some at the Sunday-school Convention.”

. Abby M. Gannett.


BUILDING ON TUE RUINS.

BUILDING ON THE RUINS,


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

(Second Paper.)
AT THE NEW WORLD’S PORTAL.

Swe have seen, Columbus, crowned with success,

departed for Palos, invested with all the rights

and privileges he had been for years so anxious to
obtain.

But two months after the surrender of Boabdil to
Ferdinand and Isabella, the same hands that had received
the emblems of their triumph over the Moors, affixed the
royal sign-manual to a-paper confirming Columbus in his
ele to a yet undiscovered country beyond the unknown sea. iA commemorative
chapel on the bank of the Xenil marks the spot made famous by the surrender
of the Moor; in the royal chapel attached to the cathedral of Granada the
alabaster tombs of the king and queen are sacred shrines, to which pilgrims by
thousands annually wend ahem way; but no monument rises above the spot
where the great navigator engaged to barter a world for prospective emolument
and titular honors.

_ We know with what tenacity he clung to the scheme he had formulated for
the enrichment and ennobling of himeelf and his family, preferring to abatidon
the country rather than to
abate one iota of his project.
And it was with doubtful
pace that he followed the
messenger from Isabella, who
had overtaken him at the
Bridge of Pines, with the
promise of her consent.

But at last he was on his
way back to Palos, trium-
phant at every point. And,
while he is pursuing his
way toward the coast, let us
briefly review his history
hitherto.

He was born in Genoa, the historians tell us, in the year 1446. This may
not be the exact date, and respecting his youth and early manhood there is the



THE MOORISH ARCH, PALOS.



eB EBay ge ae et mo Gees Palas «

THE CHURCH OF ST. GEORGE, PALOS.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

same obscurity; but about the year 1470, we find him residing in Portugal, the
birthplace of his wife, and,somewhat later engaged in correspondence with
Toscanelli. According to his son’s statement, in 1477 he “ navigated one hun-
dred leagues beyond Thule;” but in 1482 he is in the south of Spain, having
vainly endeavored to enlist the king of Portugal in his plans, and is sent to Isa-





THE MIRADOR OF LA RABIDA,
(Looking out upon the stream down which Columbus sailed from Palos to the sea.)

bella by the Duke of Medina Celi, at the court in Cordova. He follows the
court to Salamanca in 1486, and there has audience with the queen. In 1487
he is before the Council in the Dominican Convent, returns to Cordova the same
year in the train of Isabella, whence he is summoned to the military camp at
Malaga.. The year 1489 finds him before the walls of Baza, where he witnessed
the surrender of the Moors under Boabdil the Elder, and doubtless conversed
with the two monks who came there to the queen from Jerusalem. 1490 sees
him in Seville and Cordova, whence he finally departs in disgust for the port
of Huelva, stopping on his way at the Convent of La Rabida, where he attracts
the attention of the prior, and subsequently has the famous conference with the
friar, the village doctor of Palos, and Martin Alonso Pinzon of Moguer. This
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

conference in the convent took place in the latter part of the year 1491; as the
result a messenger was dispatched: to Isabella, then. in camp at Santa Fé, who
returned after fourteen days with royal orders for the prior to come to Granada ;
he departs in haste, and eventually returns with the queen’s command for
Columbus to appear before the court, and with the necessary money for the
trip. Columbus arrives at Santa Fé the first week in January, 1492, in good
time (as we have seen) to witness the surrender of Granada; he has audience
‘with his sovereigns, cannot agree upon terms, prepares to depart from Spain, is
overtaken by the queen’s courier at Puente de Pinos, returns, and is finally
made happy with the royal consent.

The “capitulation” for conquest and exploration is signed April 17, 1492,
and May 12 he sets out for Palos. Ten days later, the twenty-third, the royal
command for the people of Palos to furnish men for the voyage is read in the
church of St. George, and the Pinzon family come to his assistance. Prepara-
tions are hurried forward, and by the first of August the vessels drop down the
Rio Tinto to the Domingo Rubio, where the final departure is taken at the Con-
vent of La Rabida. This much for a chronological statement of events.

We will now retrace our steps and visit in person the scenes of the great,
discoverer’s weary wanderings and his final gladsome trip through Andalusia.
Memorials of Columbus are scattered throughout Spain to-day: in Madrid the
royal armory contains his armor, the naval museum one of his charts; at Valla-
dolid, in 1506, he died, and the house is still pointed out in which he drew
his last breath; the convent, also, in which his remains were first interred.

But, though we may trace the wanderings of our hero over a great portion
of Spain, it isin the South that the most interesting event occurred. Vastly
rich is Seville, the queen city of the Guadalquivir, in Columbian memories ; for
here we find that valuable library, the Colombina, bequeathed the city by his
son, Fernando, containing twenty thousand volumes, among them some that
once pertained to the great man himself; one with marginal notes by his own
hand, and one of his charts. Those very islands of the Bahamas, which I myself
have seen, dim and shadowy, and shining in the sun, are here outlined by the
great discoverer himself, upon paper discolored and stained by sea-salt, as
though it had accompanied him on all his voyages,

That, however, which oftenest drew me and longest held me was the marble
slab in the pavement of the great cathedral, that formerly covered the remains -
of Columbus, and now marks the resting-place of his son Fernando, with its
world-famous inscription: A Castilla y a Leon Mundo Nuevo dio Colon ND
Castile and to Leon a New World gave Columbus.” Thus, although the
remains of Columbus himself are now in the New World, many glorious memo-
rials of him are to be seen in Spain, and mainly in Seville.

At Seville, I dwelt in the house of a cleric, and my friend gave me a letter
of introduction to the Cura of Moguer, the town nearest to Palos. It was on
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

a bright morning in April that I left the city for a trip to Palos, and the valley
of the Guadalquivir was bright in greenest fields of grain and of olive orchards.
Seville is in truth of queenly aspect, sitting in the midst of the fertile plain, her
towering Giralda rising far above the outline of distant hills. For two thirds
the distance the railroad runs through a fertile and highly-cultivated plain, but
the rest was mainly barren, though covered with sheets and beds of purple
flowers in beautiful bloom.

We passed the ruins of a Roman fortification of times most ancient, and
then crossed a river flowing over iron-colored rocks, curiously worn. The
character of the soil was shown in its color, which was yellow and deep red;
and when JI
noted this I
inferred, and
rightly, that we
had seen at last
the historic
Rio Tinto, that
Wine-colored
River, from
which Colum-
bus sailed four
hundred years
ago.

Just sixty

SEVILLE, QUEEN CITY OF THE GUADALQUIVIR. years b efore



















































































(The Giralda, or “‘ tower of gold,” in the foreground.) .
: a me, in the

spring of 1828, a man more famous than I traversed this same route, and with
the same intent—gentle and genial Washington Irving. But there was no
railroad in those days, and he was obliged to make the journey on horseback,
taking as many days, perhaps, as I did hours, but enjoying it, every mile.

Leaving the railway at the station of San Juan del Puerto, I took the diligen-
cia, an old carriage, for the town of Moguer, a league distant on a hill, where I
found, contrary to my expectations, good accommodations: a fonda, or house of
entertainment, with clean beds and an excellent table. I was soon served with
a good breakfast, and “mine host” took quite a fancy to me, insisting on
taking me to the places of interest, and telling me all the local news.

But he was lamentably ignorant respecting things Columbian, though intel-
ligent and inquisitive. When I inquired about the scenes of interest to one
studying Columbus, he excused himself, saying he was from another province,
and not posted regarding the affairs of Palos. “But thisman Columbus, when did
he sail, Sefior? And are you sure he sailed from Palos? No ship of any size has
left there this many a year; the village, even, is half a mile from the river.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

“ Come now, abandon this search for a dead man’s relics and go with me out
to my vineyard, the like of which is not elsewhere in Spain.”

I thanked my friend, but assured him that Columbus had the prior claim, and
that I must go on to Palos.

“Very well, amigo, but you may regret it; Colon must be a dry subject.
My wife will find you a boy as guide ; I’ve no patience with you.”

The boy she secured must have been the surliest specimen in Spain; but the
poor little fellow had lost an arm, early in life, and I suppose that must have
soured him; at any rate, he probably had a hard time of it in his struggle for
bread. :

He led up a donkey, hooked my valise on his arm-stump, seized the rope
attached to the donkey’s nose, and then strode ahead, without a glance at me.
Don Pedro sent an emphatic Spanish word flying after him that halted him
instanter, at least long enough to allow me to scramble upon the burro’s back,
then he marched on again, pursued by the maledictions of my friend.

“ What a beast of a boy, to be sure; and to think that 1, Pedro Val Verde,
a respected householder of Moguer, should have been the means of putting a
distinguished American traveler in his charge — one who has come all the way
from America,
too, just to see
our little port
of Palos. Bien,
Vayacon Dios,
Sefior” (God
be with thee).
“You have a
stick, let the
burro feel the
force of your
arm.”

Palos and
Moguer are at
least three





THE CONVENT OF LA RABIDA. ;
(Where Columbus and his son asked for supper.) miles apart 5

the road _ be-

tween them is broad and smooth, but traversed by carts only in the vintage
season, when the wines are carried to the port of Palos. There was no saddle
on the beast I rode, and I sat astride an enormous pack of old bags, using my
cudgel as a balancing-pole, but frequently obliged to bring it down upon the
donkey’s resounding sides, at which, much pleased apparently, he would wag his
ears and amble gently onward.

The boy was abstracted, and the donkey absorbed in meditation, so I gained
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

little from their companionship; but after an hour I sighted the hamlet. Palos,
the ancient port whence Columbus sailed on his first voyage to America, to-day
consists of a few mean houses scattered along a hillside, and one long straggling
street. It is nearly half a mile from the river now, but it was a port in the time



OUTSIDE THE CONVENT.

(* Figs and orunges had possessed themselves of space for luxuriant growth.’)

of Columbus, and is called so now. There may be some eight hundred inhab-
itants, all told, and not one of them, that I could find, was aware that the ham-
let had a history known to the world beyond its limits. Some of them had
heard of Columbus, some remembered that it was said he had sailed hence, once
upon a time, to a country called America; but no one could tell me anything,
and I must see the cura —the parish priest — to know more.

After an hour of waiting I found that he knew no more than the others, but
the sacristan of the church, fortunately, was also the schoolmaster, and took an
interest in my mission. He took me to the church of St. George, the veritable
one in which Columbus read the royal commands to the terrified sailors of
Palos, and I found it as it doubtless stood then: a simple church of stone,
guarding the entrance of the town. I photographed its eastern front and also
its rear, where there is a Moorish doorway draped in vines.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

The interior of the church is very plain, the chief ornament being an enor-
mous wooden image of St. George, the patron saint of the church, slaying a
terrible dragon. As St. George stood in a corner so dark that I could not
obtain a photograph of his cheerful countenance, the sacristan and his boy
obligingly trundled him out into the sunlight where he was visible.

It was with great reluctance that I left the church and turned my face again
toward Moguer; but the day was nearly ended, there was no accommodation of
any sort for a traveler at Palos, and the boy and the burro were anxious to be
away. Don Pedro of the inn received me cordially, spreading a table with fruit
of his garden and wine of his vineyard, and afterward invited me to come forth
and view the town. He first conducted me to the church, and then to the
house of the Pinzon family, still in possession of a descendant of the great Pin-
zon who sailed with Columbus. Over the doorway is their coat-of-arms. I was
delighted to learn that the present representative of the family is prosperous,
and holds the position of admiral in the Spanish navy.

It was not my good fortune to be entertained, as Irving was, by a descend-
ant of the great Pinzon, though I should have valued that attention more highly
than any other in Spain; for it was to the two brothers Pinzon that Columbus
was indebted for success. When he came here, penniless and without authority,
they were prosperous citizens, men of influence over their neighbors, and we all
know the part they took in that first voyage, furnishing money, men and ves-
sels. Even the royal proclamation read in the church of St. George, was of no
less avail than their brave example. Badly treated as they were by Columbus
and by Ferdinand, yet posterity will not refuse them their meed of honor. In
truth, the deeds of the Genoese pale somewhat before their steady glow of sturdy
independence. The needy adventurer whom they befriended, and who treated
them so basely, has left no direct descendants, but the sturdy Pinzon stock still
flourishes in the birthplace of its progenitors.

Our next visit was to the convent-church of Santa-Clara, where Columbus
and his sailors fulfilled their vows after their return from the first voyage. You
will recall, perhaps, that they promised that, if they were saved from a dreadful
storm that threatened to destroy them, they would spend their first night ashore
in prayer. And it was in this very church that they performed their vows,
Columbus kneeling here all night on its cold marbles, and before the altar.

The day following, returning to Palos, a sturdy donkey boy attended me —
and we made the distance merrily, halting at the town only for a lunch. As the
place came into view, I drew up my donkey on the brow of the hill and looked |
long at the white-walled Palos, so silent before me, so lifeless, so sad. I need
not tell the thoughts that possessed me, nor the pictures that rose before my
mental vision, for I am an American, and have a share in that common heritage
left us by Columbus.

Four hundred years only have passed since the great Genoese came, to
PROM “CORDOVA TO CATHAY,

this very port of Palos, and sailed away with its sailor-citizens to the discovery
of a continent; and though since then the cynosure of all eyes, little Palos has
slumbered on ainda of itsfame. One by one its prosperous men were gath-
ered out of sight; one by one its houses sank to ruins; one by one its fleets were
depleted of its vessels, until naught remains save the memory of its greatness.

About three miles beyond Palos, passing through scenery unattr ractive and

sad, you sight some clumps of trees. Then a hill rises against the sky.

Slowly climbing, you bring the roofs and cupolas of a lone white building into
view ; they are found to pertain to a convent structure of the olden style. It is
a eanbline building but compactly inclosed within a high wall, and is extremely
picturesque. I was very fortunate, later on, in securing a fine photograph of it,
as clouds lay massed beyond and a flock of ie slowly grazed before it.

And it was thus I found it, this Convent of La Rabida, at the gate of which
Columbus halted to request refreshment for his son. How he came to such a
secluded place as La Rabida, no one has explained; but he probably made for
the coast of Spain, thinking perhaps to obtain a vessel at Huelva, then, as now,
a shipping port to foreign parts. Indeed, this very spot is the Tarshish of the
Bible, and the Phoenicians came here more than two thousand years ago; those
men of Tyre, who discovered a passage between the Pillars of Hercules.

But Columbus came here, halted at the gate (the arched entrance at the
right), and the prior of the convent chanced to see him and to enter into con-
versation with him. Struck by his dignified appearance, and also by his evident
learning, the prior invited him to tarry a while, and soon he had his visitor’s
story: it was a tale of long-deferred plans, of wearisome waiting and of crushing
defeat. That very night the prior caused his mule to be saddled and started for
Granada, pursuing the same weary road through Palos and Moguer that I have
traversed (only he was not favored by steam or stage) to the camp, perhaps two
hundred miles away.

The convent to-day is in excellent preservation, having been carefully re-
stored and placed in the care of a faithful old soldier. I found the family in
possession so simple and so kindly disposed, that I craved permission to pass the
day and night there, which they readily granted. So, paying my donkey boy
double wages, and sending him back to Mogeur with a kind message for the
friendly landlord, I was soon placed in control of the convent, isolate from all
the world. Not Fray Perez could have possessed it more completely. I wan-
dered at will through its corridors, its cloisters and vacant refectory ; I rambled
over the hills back and beyond the convent — hills covered with artemisia and
stunted pines — and indulged in solitary reverie to my heart’s content.

Climbing the winding stairway to the mirador, I had before me through the
arched openings, broad vistas of the river and the sea. Directly beneath, the
hill sloped rapidly to the halfsubmerged lands of the river and sound. Half-
way down its slope was a date-palm, said to have been there in the time of Colum-
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

bus; perhaps equally old are a gnarled and twisted fig-tree and two gray-green
olives that keep it company. Extending southward, even to the mouth of the
Guadalquivir, are the Arenas Gordas, or the great sands that make this coast a
solitary waste. Truly, it is a lonesome spot, this upon which the building is
perched, and the soul of Columbus must have been aweary as he drew near the
convent portal. The Domingo Rubio, a sluggish stream tributary to the Tinto,
separates from Rabida a sandy island, where there is an ancient watch-tower
and a camp of carbineers on the watch for contrabandistas. A little to the west
the Domingo Rubio meets with, and is lost in, the Rio Tinto, and the two join
with the Odiel and flow tranquilly on to the ocean, where the foaming breakers



THE $f COLUMBUS ROOM?’ AT LA RABIDA,

(Here the Admiral, the Prior and the Doctor held the conversation that led to the monk’s intercession with Isubella.)

roar with a sound that reaches even to La Rabida. Beyond their united waters
again is another sandy island and another distant watch-tower, till the low coast.
fades away in the distance. Down this channel sailed, or floated, Columbus,
bringing his boats from Palos, on his way to the sea.

The landscape is flat, with distant woods, and, farther off, a hint of purple
hills. Opposite, across the bay, lies Huelva, like a snowdrift white upon a
tongue of land between copper-colored hills and the sea. A dreary landscape,
yet a bright sun in its setting might make it transiently glorious,


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

The old soldier in charge of the convent, Don Cristobal Garcia, the concerge,
was evidently straitened in circumstances, yet he was cheerful, and his hospi-
tality shone forth resplendently. He laughingly informed me that he rejoiced
in the same name as Columbus, Cristobal; but, he added, he had never done
anything to make it illustrious. He and his family lived in a primitive and even
pitiful state —at meal times gathering around a common platter; but my own
meals they served me on snowy linen at a table apart. There were six of them:
the old man, his wife, a little girl named Isabel, some twelve years old, and
three boys. Isabel, poor child, pattered about the stone pavement with bare feet ;
but they were pretty feet, and her little
brown ankles were neatly turned. There |

f Tl Mb
was another member of the family, evi- #RQEES cass
dently an intruder, a little chap clad solely
in a short shirt, who had squint eyes and
a great shock of bristly black hair. Don
Cristobal told me that he was a descendant
of one of the Indians brought to Spain
from America on the first voyage ; and as .
the child’s face was certainly that of an
Indian, I was more than half inclined to
believe the story. The little people were THE COURTYARD OF LA RABIDA,
delighted with the peeps I gave them
through my camera, and capered about with delight at the sight of the court
and its flowers spread out before them in miniature, and nearly jumped out of
their jackets at the image of the grave old concerge standing on his head.
“ Mira! Mira!” they exclaimed, and gazed at me with awe and wonder.

Don.Cristobal gave me a bed in one of the cloister-cells — the very one, he
assured me, that Columbus occupied. I slept well through the night. It
was a disappointment to me that I did not dream and receive a visitation from
some steel-clad hidalgo, or from a girdled monk or two. At six in the morning
I was awakened by the good concerge, who inquired if Don Federico would not
like a little refreshment. Don Federico would; and well he did, for it was three
or four hours before he received a hint of breakfast. The eldest boy had gone
to Palos for twenty cents’ worth of meat and two eggs, making apparent the
poverty of my host. He did not return until ten, and then we had breakfast ;
and there were the two eggs, which the mistress could not have regarded more
proudly had they been golden, for they were very scarce at that time in Palos,
and it was waiting on a hen’s pleasure that caused the boy’s delay. He had been
told to bring back two eggs, and if two hens had not happened along quite
opportunely, I might have been waiting that boy’s return to this day.

The rain had fallen all the forenoon and had made the convent cold and
cheerless, so a fire was built in the fireplace of the ancient monks, and as it


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

crackled and leaped in the huge chimney throat, we were warmed to our very
hearts. After the rain had ceased, and while the sun was struggling fiercely
with the clouds, we ate our dinner in the corridor, which ran around a court or
patio open to the sky. This court was filled with flowers; vines crept up the -
pillars; figs and oranges had possessed themselves of space enough for luxuriant
growth. From it many cloisters opened out, but there was one, still farther in,
where the chamber-cells of the monks were very numerous. Off at one side is
the chapel where it is said Columbus knelt in prayer, and on the opposite side .
a passage leads to the refectory, where the stone benches on which the good
monks sat are empty and chill.

Climbing a narrow stairway, you come to a corner room overlooking the
Rio Tinto — a large square room, with floor of earthen tiles and ceiling of cedar,
with dark beams overhead. This is the “Columbus Room,” where the great
Admiral, the Prior and the learned Doctor held the famous consultation which
resulted in the monk’s intercession with Isabella. Many a painting has repre-
sented this historic scene, perhaps none more faithfully than the one hung in
the room itself. An immense table — old, but sturdy still, and around which the
great men are said to have gathered — occupies the center of the room, and on it
is the tintero, or inkstand, said to have been used by them. Around the wall
are hung several excellent pictures: one representing the discovery of land, one
showing Columbus at the convent gate, another the consultation, the embark-
ation at Palos, the publication of the king’s commands, and the final departure.

I wonder if the old monks of the days gone by enjoyed, as I did, the seclusion

of the place and the sunset view from the mirador? In pleasant weather, when
the hot sun shines, it must be supremely attractive to one sitting in the shade
and looking forth upon the sea. Drowsy insects hum outside, the half-sup-
pressed noises of maritime life float in on the breeze, and lively swallows fly in
and out, twittering to one another as they seek their nests. Ah! pleasant
mirador, aperloOkine the historic Rio Tinto and the sea. The view afforded
here comprises the scenes attendant upon the momentous departure. Right
before us, on the Domingo Rubio, it was, that Columbus careened his vessels
and took aboard his stores, just before setting sail; somewhere near the mole
he took his final farewell of the good prior, the last, best friend he had in
Spain; and beyond the sand-spits glimmer the breakers on the Bar of Saltes.

Down the stream, beyond the Tinto, glide lateen-sails toward the bar the
sailors crossed in 1492. Don Cristobal went down to engage passage for me in
a mystick, or little sloop, that was lading with ballast at the river bank, and
soon I followed him to the mole, where a carabinero rowed me across the inlet. -
It was on, or near, this very spot that Columbus cleared for his voyage; and
what thoughts filled my mind as I tarried here! But not a thought had the
men for aught save their sand, which they would take to Huelva and sell for
ballast. If I would wait I was welcome to a passage ; but they thought that by


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

crossing the sands I could hail a fisherman in the main channel as he came in
from the sea. The carabinero took me to an ancient tower where his com-
panions were, two of whom rowed me in a boat to mid-channel, and I had the
good luck to catch a fisherman bound for Huelva. We sailed away with a spank-
ing breeze, arriving there in half an hour. Two men and a boy comprised the



IN THE CONVENT GARDEN.

crew, and an immense fish the catch. As we drew near the quay a boy drove
a mule-cart into the water, backed it up to the boat, and loaded us all into it,
cargo and crew. Once on shore, alittle urchin led the way to the railway station,
where I spent the time in gazing wistfully at Palos and La Rabida.

The convent lay shining against a bank of clouds; Palos, also, and Moguer
gleaming white against the hills. Two leagues away lay the sea; and I had
just ploughed the channel crossed by the world-seeking caravels four hundred
years ago. And so I left this historic triad of towns which had evoked for me
so many memories of the great century that joined the Old World with the New,
shining against the barren hills, as they have shone in memory ever since.

Frederick A. Ober.


A RACE.

URRAH! hurrah! A race! a race!
Over the frozen stream,
Swift of foot and eager of face.
Where the snow and hoar-frost gleam,
Laughter, and shouts, and warning cries,
Echo the woodland through,
As bounding, scrambling, scurrying flies
The jostling merry rabbit crew,
Driven by elves as wild as they,
Gliding after with reins held fast.
See! one mad Bunny has broken away,
Fearful his team should be in at the last,
And out from the thicket in dazed surprise
His staid old parents are peeping,
Wond’ring, perhaps, a-rubbing their eyes,
If they’re really waking or sleeping.
Ida Warner Van der Voort.
THE SAVING OF KING INGE.





















THE SAVING OF KING INGE.





d as x i A Puc ss ei i a 7 ¥ bos
ag 4 any)
i mn ae ae __ xf Wie hal

THE HAPPY blLlLILe HOME,

H! the happy little home when the sun shone out,
And the busy little mother got the children all about,

And Johnny fetched the water, and Tommy brought the wood,
And Billy Boy tied both his shoes, as every laddie should —

And:Danny rocked the cradle with a clatter and a song,
To make the little sister grow so pretty and so strong.

Oh! the sweet-peas and the morning-glories climbing round the door,
And the tender vine of shadow with its length across the floor !

Oh! the “ pinies,” and the roses, and the quiver of the grass,
And the cheery call of friendship from the neighbors on the pass !

Oh! the scuffle, and the shouting, and the little mother’s laugh
As a rabbit starts up somewhere and her “ great helps” scamper off.

/Oh! the happy little home when the twilight fell,
_ And all along the meadow rang the old cow bell,

With a tinkle that is music through the rushing of the years —

And I see the little mother in the tremble of the tears.





THE HAPPY LITTLE HOME.

And I hear her happy laughter as she cries, “The boys have come!”
And we know she’s getting supper in the happy little home.

Oh! the happy little home when the moon gleamed forth,
And Billy Boy would have it that it “rised in the North.”

Oh! the raptures and the whispers near the little mother’s chair,
And the white-robed figures flitting here and there and everywhere!





‘(WE KNOW SHE’S GETTING SUPPER IN THE HAPPY LITTLE HOME.”

Of years ago speaks Reason, and of far and far away ;
But we hearken not to Reason while sweet Fancy holds her sway.

There’s a silence where the moonlight falls through the open door,
And casts a gleam of glory on the clean-swept wooden floor.

And we’re just as near to Heaven as we mortals ever roam,
As we kneel and say our prayers in the happy little home.
\ Louise R. Baker.
ALEXANDER THE LITTLE’S FOREIGN MISSION.

T was a very old collection in three battered leather volumes, with brown

print and yellowed pages, quaint spelling, obsolete words and s’s that

looked like f’s. On the fly-leaf read: “Ancient Songs and Ballads. Printed
for J. Dodsley, in Pall Mall, London.”

Because Alexander’s mother had loved the old ballads, ever since she had
pored over them in her own childhood, and longed to have her little boy catch
something of the spirit with which they rang, she read from them every
night at his bedside. There was “King Estmere” and “The Rising in the
North,” “ Fair Rosamond,” “Sir Aldingar” and “The Nut Brown Mayd,” and,
best of all, “ Chevy Chace.” Alexander never tired of “Chevy Chace,” till by
and by he and his mother could repeat it in duet, the child’s eyes shining with
excitement, and his heart throbbing with regret that he could not be “brave,
true and loyal” till he grew up. |

His grandmother thought such reading was “ too old” for him, and sent him
books better suited toa child. Alexander could not understand them, but found
them useful in building moats and drawbridges for Ivanhoe and his compeers.

His pretty, gentle mother died, and it was soon after that the accident hap-
pened — a fall over the stairs. It was so slight as to have been forgotten but for
its consequences, months after —a limp that was chidden as a childish freak ; but
by and by Alexander said he “couldn’t help it,” and the doctor was called, who
looked grave and pronounced it hip-disease. For long months, a pale, helpless
cripple lay outstretched on his little bed. Then the doctor said there was a
chance —a very slight one, he would not encourage vain hopes — that an opera-
tion might result favorably ; he would recommend that the child be taken to
the hospital.

Alexander’s father, who was a captain in the navy, had been ordered to
China, and there was scarcely more than time for him to await the result of the
operation, and say good-by to his little son.

After his father’s footsteps had died away, Alexander lay very still, with a
bag of something that looked like marbles clasped with both hands to his breast.
In that attitude, with his shining brown hair, tipped with its baby gold, lying in
short curls in his neck, and with his large, questioning brown eyes, the child
looked, thought Sister Agatha, like the picture of the ill-fated little Dauphin.

“Do you want anything, dear?” she asked.

“QO, no, thank you,” returned Alexander, politely.

He had a deliberate fashion of saying “O, no,” “O, yes,” in reply to the
simplest question, as though he had given the matter all his distinguished con-
sideration, in due regard for the interest displayed. And then, Alexander was
ALEXANDER THE LITTLE’S FOREIGN MISSION.

always dignified; even in the bath-tub, he had never splashed about like other
babies; one would as soon have thought of calling him bya pet name as of allud-
ing to his great namesake as “ Allie.” Even Sister Agatha, who cuddled and
petted all her charges, felt vaguely that ordinary means of consolation were out
of. place here ; so she said, with an involuntary respect in her tone :
“What have you in the bag? Buttons!” as, for answer, the child unloosed
the string and poured out the contents.
Alexander looked as hurt as a tender-hearted little girl at hearing her child
referred to as a doll.
“They are soldiers,’ he explained. “I have played with them since —
since I have been ill;” the words were said hurriedly, as though he
steadfastly refused to recognize, or at least to
dwell upon, his condition.
“Papa’s friends gave me a
good many, and other people
sent me some. These came
from West Point, and are very
brave fighters. This” — dis-
playing a shining button
stamped with an eagle — “is
General Custer. He laughed
as he fired his last shot. I
like to say that over to myself.
This is Chinese Gordon; it
was on his sleeve once; an
English friend of papa’s gave
it to me. All these” —a
quantity of white porcelain buttons
— “in their white uniforms, are
agi” Mamelukes. This is Napoleon ” —
a little round pearl button with a
peaked top — “it looks like him, you see.
This one, in the dull, battered uniform, is
“is Is’? A Boy,” steuep sister acaTHa; “ne’s Stonewall Jackson, when he rode into
ae ea Fredericksburg ; it makes me quite sad
to look at him. Here is Major André. I always play he was shot, as he asked
to be, instead of hanged. This is Alexander the Great, the biggest, and bravest,
and best of them all; he has my name ” —it was characteristic that Alexander
regarded himself as the great Macedonian’s namesake. “And he always
marches at the head of the army because he always beat, and then longed for
new worlds to conquer; his gold uniform is set with garnets, you see. These
were given me by our fat. cook’s daughter; she made trousers, and when she



ALEXANDER THE LITTLE’S FOREIGN MISSION.

had buttons left over, she saved them for me; the cook stepped on this one, so
I play he is lame and cannot fight; all he can do is to give a cup of cold water
to the wounded.”

“ He isn’t a boy,” sighed Sister Agatha to the house-mother; “ he isan angel.”

And so, indeed, it seemed, as the days grew into weeks and even after a night
of sleepless pain, Alexander always uncomplainingly greeted Sister Agatha with
a smile, or was ready with his return salute to the doctor, when his transparent
little hand seemed too feeble to be raised. On his stronger days a light board
was placed on the bed, and, propped up on pillows, he was permitted to range his
army in battle array. The combats that took place on that counterpane should
have made it one of the memorable spots of earth. What did it matter that
Alexander displayed a disregard for historical facts, and jumbled ancient and
modern, sacred and profane personages, with innocent freedom from irreverence,

‘into an heroic medley that refused to recognize any incongruity. Alexander
was pitted against Napoleon at Bunker Hill; Washington and King David
fought side by side at Agincourt; Wellington was ignominiously beaten by
Custer at Marston Moor. Occasionally a “bang” full of melancholy enjoyment,
denoted the execution of Major André, or the funeral notes were heard piping,
in satisfied if subdued pleasure, over Sir John Moore’s midnight grave.

“ Does it hurt, my boy ?” asked the doctor, as Alexander winced while the
splint was being set.

“A little,’ answered the child; “but I play it was a wound I received at
Flodden, and then it doesn’t hurt as much. Last night, when I lay awake and
was thirsty, I could not call Sister Agatha. So I made believe I was Sir Philip
Sidney, who had just given his drink of water to the dying soldier.”

One morning, Sister Agatha noticed Alexander’s lips silently moving.

“ What is it, dear?” she questioned.

“Twas saying ‘Chevy Chace’ to myself,’ he answered. “It is very com-
fortable to be able to say poetry to one’s self when one lies awake.”

Something of the old light and sparkle came into his eyes —it may be, too,
something of the old throb into his heart, yet with a difference — as he repeated
the stirring lines of the ballad, in their quaint rendering :

es

‘« The Persé owt of Northumberlande
And a vowe to God mayd he

That he wolde hunte in the mountayns
Off Chyviat within days thre,

In the mauger of doughte Doglas
And all that ever with him be.’ ”

When he came to the words

‘¢¢ Tl do the best that do I may
While I have powre to stande!’”

then the light died out of his eyes, and Alexander was silent.
ALBA ANDER APHE ELT PLES FOREIGN MISSION;

A long letter came from his father ; he told how, with some of his officers,
he had gone on an expedition into the famine district. A wretched mother had
come to the party, offering. her babe for sale; the few pence were given her.
The next morning, evidently according to contract, the baby was found at
the door of the Captain’s quarters; the mother was dead. The helpless in-
fant was taken to a mission near Canton, where
a few little girls were educated and trained in the
Christian religion by the missionary’s wife; they
were not taught English, unfortunate experience
having proved that a knowledge of our lang guage
worked ill for the converts.

“Poor little girl!” murmured Alexander ;
“noor little Chinese baby! Only think of being
left all alone in a foreign land and not even al-
lowed to speak English ;” and for a long while after
reading the letter he lay silent and thoughtful.

By and by he said:

““T have been thinking, Sister Agatha, that I
should like to help in the little Chinese baby’s
education. I might send her my money.” He
had a pasteboard box that contained a five-dollar

“THE LITTLE CHINESE BABY.” gold piece, three Spanish silver dollars and the

savings of his pocket money. “Papa tells about
the music he heard at the theater ”’— Alexander shuddered and put his hands
to his ears. “If the little Chinese baby is to be a Christian she will want to
sing hymns, and she could not sing hymns on the gong.” Alexander never, in
childish fashion, supplemented his remarks with an interrogative ; he had settled
the question for himself, beyond dispute.

“ Papa says the mission is poor, and I should like her to have an organ.”

He had become too weak to play with his soldiers, but every morning he
poured out the contents of the pasteboard box aracters,
“Foreign Mission” — to see how much interest had accumulated over night.

“JT know some mothers who would not care to sell their children at any
price,” he said. “TI shall never tell the little Chinese baby that her mother sold
her for twenty cents. It would hurt her feelings to know that she went so
cheap. JI shall say it was three hundred cash.”

One day, after long thought, he said :

“‘T have decided that it would be a good plan for me to learn Chinese ; it will
be lonesome for the little Chinese baby to have no one to speak to but laundry-
men. Do you speak Chinese, Sister Agatha ?”

“Not —not fluently,’ answered the gentle Sister, loath to disappoint the
child.




ALEXANDER THE LITTLE’S FOREIGN MISSION.

“T might take lessons of the laundryman at the corner, only I am afraid he
is not a very cultivated gentleman,” pursued Alexander, “and it would be mor-
tifying to make mistakes. I will ask my father about it.”

The eagerly expected letter came at last.

‘He says one could not learn the language without a professor,” sighed
Alexander, “because the tone of voice in which a word is spoken helps to de-
termine its meaning. In Canton there are eight tones; one of them is given
with the rising inflection, as when we express surprise, and as I have never been
known to express
surprise at anything
since J came into the
world, he is afraid
the Chinese lan-
guage presents an
in-sur-mount-able
difficulty. But he
has sent me a hymn
that I can sing with
the little Chinese
baby.”

Patiently com-
mitting it to mem-
ory, he would lie
softly crooning it to
himself :

“*Marn siree ling porn boy
gor hoy

Goa goen tong shun ye key
Soy

Bo hoort gep sull hip ben
lao

Yoy gon sook doll marn
ten tay

Thuy goa doll oll men goa
ying

Sun kee get see do but fut. ”

“T suppose it’s
wicked to think
‘The Rock of Ages’
isn’t as interesting
as ‘ Chevy Chace,’ ”
sighed Alexander.

The operation had been successful in its immediate results, but the child’s
strength seemed exhausted, and he was apparently fading, daily. Fresh air and





“ AROUND THE CORNER RUSHED A HORDE OF SMALL BOYS.’’
ALEXANDER THE LITTLE’S FOREIGN MISSION.

sunshine might prove the best restoratives. He had drawn the bag of buttons
from beneath his pillow.

“J used to think that when I grew up, I would be a soldier,” he said; “ but
a soldier must be straight and tall and strong, and perhaps they would not mind
a lame missionary. I should find my knowledge of Chinese useful. Yes,” con-
tinued Alexander, with his seraphic smile, “I should like to be a missionary —
and get killed, only that would be hard on my family and friends. I shall never
play with these again, and so, as the Chinese are fond of buttons, will you please
send them to the little Chinese baby? Papa says the highest honor the Em-
peror can bestow is a Crystal Button, and she may like to wear some of them
when she goes to a party. Tell her to be good to the poor lame one, for he be-
longs to the army just the same, and can keep step with the music, even if he
has to lag behind the rest, instead of marching at the head, a shining splendid
Alexander!”

“ He isn’t a boy,” sobbed Sister Agatha; “he is an angel.”

It was some time before Sister Agatha was able to leave her hospital duties to
visit Alexander. He was in the garden, the maid said.

There sounded a tremendous clash and din and clatter; a hideous discord of
drums and gongs and bells; acrash of tin pans struck together; a crackling
symphony of shrill horns and pipes, and around the corner rushed a horde of
small boys in hot pursuit of a racing, galloping dog, who was evidently enjoy-
ing the sport as much as any of them.

The leader had cast himself upon Sister Agatha, and flung his arms around
her neck.

«¢ Alexander — can it be Alexander?” exclaimed Sister Agatha, bewildered,
for this sturdy boy’s hair was close cropped, and his face was streaked with red
and yellow and green paint. “ What are you doing, dear?”

“Playing heathen. You see,” explained Alexander, “all the fellows want
to be heathens, and so we have to play that Bruno is the missionary. The
Chinese music is such fun.”

“ But— but the money for the Foreign Mission ?”’

“ve bought a bicycle.”

“But, Alexander,’’ said Sister Agatha, with gentle reproach, “ what will be-
come of the poor little Chinese baby ?”

“Oh! if anything should happen,” returned Alexander, his seraphic smile
losing itself in a vermilion tattoo on either cheek, “there are lots of babies
in China, you know.”

“He isn’t an angel,” sighed Sister Agatha; “he is a boy.”
Edith Robinson.


OPENING THE FISHING SEASON.



THE TAX-GATHERER., |

66 ND pray, who are you?”
Said the violet blue

To the Bee, with surprise

At his wonderful size,

In her eye-glass of dew.

“T, madam,” quoth he,
“ Am a publican Bee,
Collecting the tax _
On honey and wax.
Have you nothing for me?”
Jobn B. Tabb.


FROM BLOSSOM TO SEED.

























M TO SEED.

°
a
D
°
4a
a
a
g
m


THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

Q)* a fair July morning, four very cheerful pilgrims

sallied forth from the Hotel der Commerce, at
Bruges, to explore the wonders of the “ quaint old
Flemish City.”

Pretty, fat Madame Van der Berghe, nicest and

kindest of landladies, smiled at us from the door of
her little office among her vines and canary
Sp» . birds. Monsieur, her husband, bowed to us
( oy from the door of his little salon among his
CSN Delft plates, jars and bowls. Charles, the
A fh fuzzy-haired waiter, watched our start
: roe with a courtly greeting from the dining-
eee room — his white napkin tucked under
hisarm. Marie, the chamber-maid, and
even the stolid “ Boots,” had a pleasant
word for us as we went through the
courtyard, for they were all old friends. And if you had searched Belgium
over you could not have found a cheerier quartet than were we, or four people
more bent on having a good time.

Would you like to make our acquaintance ? First, there was E., commonly
known as “Mrs. Jack” —a dainty person who always contrived to look neat,
and fresh, and cool at the end of the longest and dustiest journey. She was our
only matron, and pretended it was her business to keep us all in great order —
though she was by no means the eldest of the party, nor the tallest either — and
occasionally I must confess poor “ Mrs. Jack” got most unmercifully teased by
her rebellious seniors. Next comes G., who was never
addressed by any other name than “ Her-
cules.” She, as you. may guess, was
the tallest and strongest, and-had
an unpleasant habit of going ont
at five A.M. every day, and walk-
ing for miles all over the country











“HAVE YUU ANY OLD LACE?”




a7 fe







AS
fh,
‘i

and town, appearing at our a, Me EER,
bedsides at half-past seven Bam ns oN arto Venom
to tell us how much we had Seer ge
missed by our laziness, and hurry-

ing us to get into our baths as she

. was so hungry and wanted her breakfast. Hercules was never tired and never

cross. She always seized upon everybody’s traveling bags in addition to her

IN THE FLOWER MARKET,
THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

own, and shamed us lazy ones by her strength and activity. But we had one
advantage over her. Between us, we had done a fair amount of wandering.
Norway and Greece, China and the West Indies, Hungary and California, Spain
and Egypt, Ceylon and the Rocky Mountains, Mexico and Italy had all seen one
or the other of us at various times. Hercules alone had never been abroad
before, and could not (or would not)
speak French. So, whatever she
wanted, she had to come for to one

of us. How we used to crow

over her !

M. —“ the Interpreter ” —
was the third of the pilgrims.
Hercules gave her the name
one evening at Antwerp,
when they went off together
to the Zodlogical gardens.
All the wild beasts were shut
up for the night ; but M. in-
terpreted G.’s petitions to
the keepers with such suc-
cess that doors were un-
barred by good-natured
attendants, and these two \ ep Pa
giddy young people were locked au eee
into the Lion House for twenty “~~~







delightful minutes, which they Secs <—S
spent in peering through the Se
gloom at sleepy lions and tigers, rous- 2

ing boa-constrictors from their diges-
tive snooze after a supper of rabbits, SETUNS Om BOOTS)

and making faces at the leopards till

those ugly beasts snarled at them. The Interpreter was the baby of the party ;
much given to traveling; very enthusiastic about all she saw, heard, did and
thought; always on the lookout to do something for other people, and the
victim who was teased by everybody in town, because she looked so pretty
when she was enraged.

Number four — usually called “La Capable ” —was a hardened old traveler,
whose chief use was to act as courier to the party, order rooms and encounter
officials. She made copious notes in certain brown notebooks which were a
source of great anxiety to the rest of the quartet, as they were sometimes left
behind in shops, and recaptured with infinite difficulty. She also enjoyed her-

self hugely, as her friends had a way of spoiling her outrageously.
THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

Such were the four precious souls, who, like John Gilpin of famous memory,
were

; : “all agog
To dash through thick and thin.”

They had arrived in Bruges the night before; and the first object of their
pilgrimage was not the Cathedral, not the Belfry which Longfellow has im-
mortalized, with its “ beautiful wild chimes,” not the wondrous pictures by old
Hans Memling that glow like jewels in the ancient Hospital of St. John. No;
none of the famous sights of that quaintest of all quaint Flemish cities, but —
The Rag Market, or Market of Rags.

Laugh if you will. It was the truth. In order to arrive in Bruges for the
Saturday Marché aux Chiffons, the pilgrims had sacrificed pictures, churches,
palaces, anything and everything that might have kept them one night longer
on the road. Their whole expedition had been
carefully planned with this one object in view.
And why?

An English friend, who knew Bruges well, had
told Capable that once upon a time she
found an qaune (rather less than a yard) of

priceless Valenciennes lace over a hundred

years old in the Marché aux Chiffons, for
which she paid four francs. And as all
four of the pilgrims loved old lace as
they loved their nearest and dearest
friends, they vowed a vow that they too

















cs g * would try their luck among the Saturday
CS ae rags. Soitwas to the Rag Market that
F a) mae they were hurrying in old Bruges on

that sunny July Saturday.

Their way led them through
crooked streets of fantastic houses,
piled up with red roofs, and saw-
edged gables, and caved fronts,
painted pale-pink or blue or yellow,
as the fancy took their owner; or built of warm old red brick, with many a
graceful molding running up over the windows and doors, and old inscriptions
telling that this house was built in 1702, that one in 1630, that other in 1589.
Then the street opened into the Grande Place—the great Market. Square —
with the huge Belfry towering up on the southern side, and casting a black
shadow across the gay booths that covered the wide paved expanse.

For six days out of the seven Bruges is like a city of the dead. You hardly

5 HK

Tr
v ee

IN THE FRUIT MARKET.
THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

see a human being in its grass-grown silent streets. But on Saturday all is
changed. The pavements are crowded with jostling busy people from the coun-
try: men in blue blouses and little black silk caps, or in black broadeloth and
gorgeous colored waistcoats; women in dark blue or green gowns with little
bright colored shawls crossed on their shoulders over a white lace or muslin ker-
chief, and wonderful caps with long lace
lappet-ears, ‘and coal-scuttle shaped bonnets
of yellow straw with a lace flap behind, and
long gold earrings, and gold crosses round
their necks, sometimes set with tiny diamonds
or sparkling crystals, and over all an enor-
mous black cloak — such a cloak — that falls
into great sumptuous folds, and is big enough
to cover three people at once. Every corner,
every little square, is turned into a market
for something. There is the egg market
and the fowl market, the potato market
and the fish market, the fruit market, in-
numerable meat markets, the “great
market,” where everything from cakes

to umbrellas is sold—and last of all,
the Rag Market.

The pilgrims were sorely tempted to
stop in the great market, and poke about
among the booths on the Grande Place. “A STILL, BROWN CANAL.”

But terror lest some enterprising foreigner

should be before them in the Marché aux Chiffons gave the four friends
strength of mind to tear themselves away from the gay stalls, and on they
hurried — through more queer old streets — under the great Church of Notre
Dame, until they found themselves on a quay beside a still, brown canal.
Along the quay —it is called the Dyver—ran a double row of lime-trees.
Under these was a row of booths filled with new goods. And between the
booths and the water, hung on strings stretched between the trees, heaped on
the ground upon bits of carpet, piled in boxes and baskets, and in carts drawn
by patient dogs, were rags —rags— rags. Yes; real rags, and rubbish of all
sorts and kinds — odds and ends such as the pilgrims had never seen before.

Bright flame-colored wools in big hanks, with shawls and handkerchiefs, and
woollen and cotton goods, piles of boots, white caps dangling and swaying
in the air, pinned up by. their long lace strings, black cloaks, gold and silver
crosses and earrings, purple umbrellas — these were all sold in the booths. Soaps,
and combs, and boxes of ointment were displayed on little stands. Colored
stuffs, brown and pink stockings, yards upon yards of common new lace, hung


THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

upon the strings between the trees, with old coats and dresses. And on the
ground, each upon her square of carpet, stood or sat the rag sellers.

There were old brass candlesticks, and coffee pots, and great. bowls, and
kettles, and dogs for the fireplace ; heaps of wooden sabots, old iron, horse col-
lars, crimson long-sleeved waistcoats, such as the peasants wear; blue cotton
pinafores for children, odds and ends of ribbon and silk and stuff, old caps and
hats, old china, old books — every kind of rubbish, useful and useless, mixed up to-
gether in the wildest confusion. All round there was a clatter of wooden shoes,
and a chatter of harsh Flemish voices. In the center of a dense group, a man
was shouting something with all the force of hislungs. The pilgrims caught
the words “ cen penne” over and over again, and discovered that he was trying



“ CANDLESTICKS AND COFFEE POTS, BOWLS AND KETTLES.”

to persuade the passers-by to invest in his miraculous stove blacking, which was
the finest and cheapest ever invented. The sun flashed through the leaves of
the lime-trees, and danced in flecks of golden light on the queer goods and their
queerly dressed venders. Birds sang overhead, and in the high-walled convent
garden across the canal. And a brood of ducklings followed their plump fussy
mother in her wanderings on the water among great white water-lilies, that
opened their golden eyes under the shadows of houses three hundred years old.

The pilgrims stood watching the picturesque scene; the blue-and-red-coated
soldiers, the black-cloaked peasant women and_ black-veiled nuns, the red-
faced farmers, the milk women with their little carts full of brass milk cans and
drawn each by a wise big dog, the seller of bright-colored knitted goods which
THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

were carried in a pack on her back, a priest hurrying by in floating black robes,
a fresh-faced English girl on her way to the fish market with her father. But
they did not watch there long. Suppose that English maiden, in her shady hat
and freshly washed cotton dress, had a liking for old lace? Suppose that she
should poke into some of those boxes and baskets before the pilgrims could over-
haul them? There was not a
moment to be lost. They
plunged in among the rags.

Pah! how they smelled!
Horrible visions of smallpox
and scarlet fever floated through
the pilgrims’ brains. Hercules
produced a little box of camphor
which she would have glued to
the tip of her nose, had that
been possible. Mrs. Jack snuffed
at her salts bottle. La Capable
picked up her petticoats with
one hand, and with the other
covered nose and mouth with
her handkerchief. The Inter-
preter alone was unmoved by
risk of infection or by evil smells. coe “the, trata
She recklessly threw herself into . —Erwees
the forefront of the battle, un- “ AMONG THE GREAT WHITE WATER LILIES.’
daunted by danger or difficulty.

One of the most serious difficulties the pilgrims had to encounter was
caused by the well-beloved Hercules herself. As Hercules had not much expe-
rience of foreign countries, she had never gone through the miseries and joys of
bargaining. Marchander was a new word in her vocabulary, and she was in-
clined to think her companions monsters of meanness when they positively
refused to give three times as much as an article was worth. On the way to
the Marché aux Chiffons the other pilgrims had been obliged to talk seriously
to Hercules, and entreat her not to ruin their bargains by a smiling assent to
pay four francs where they would give one and a half. She promised to mend
her ways. But promises are often broken.

The Interpreter and Capable, who had been in Bruges before, knew two sen-
tences of Flemish, which were aired on every possible occasion. “How much
does it cost?” and “Too dear.” Armed with this magnificent stock of Flemish
the pilgrims felt themselves equal to any amount of bargaining. It is, however,
but fair to confess that they only understood a tenth part of the answers that
were made them.


THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

At first, the friends saw nothing in the heaps about them but new imitation
lace of the commonest description. But a kind of groan of ecstacy from the
Interpreter caused them to change their minds. She was stooping — almost on
her knees — before a hideous old Flemish woman, who sat knitting among her
rags under a tree. Ina broken bandbox at the old dame’s feet was a mass of
dingy yellowish scraps.

Yes; it was lace — real lace — yellow with age, black with dirt; probably,
as Hercules kindly suggested, reeking with infection. But never mind. Ina
moment the contents of the box were scattered over the carpet before the old
woman, who knitted on with an unmoved face. There were treasures in it.
Bits of Valenciennes edging, cuffs and collars of old Bruges-point, long strips
of coarse point off altar cloths and church hangings, Antwerp lace caps, such
as the women wore fifty years ago, and a deep collar of old Brussels-point.
Then Capable lifted her eyes, and on the string behind the old woman, among a
lot of rubbish, hung two or three veils or fichus of some fine unknown lace,
delicate and filmy. .

The pilgrims were half-crazy with delight. But they had the presence of
mind to conceal their feelings, and asked with contemptuous gestures, “ Oie vele?”
as they picked out one morsel after another. What-
ever price the old woman named, they invariably
answered back with their second Flemish sentence,
“ Te deere;” all except Hercules, who, in spite of
her promise, could not resist remarking with a face
of rapture, ‘Oh! how cheap.” If they had been
left to their own devices, it is impossible to say how
their bargains would have ended, as the old dame
could not speak a word of French, and was supremely
indifferent as to whether she sold
her lace or no. But in less time
than it takes to tell, a dense crowd











\ Cy of good-natured, uncouth peasants

. had gathered about the pilgrims,

H ea roaring with laughter at this fresh

| SS proof of the popular belief that all

Ri English people are crazy, and offer-

pane: . ing advice to both buyers and sellers

“Ny on every deal. One woman at last,
constituted herself interpre- Se ter; and by her means each of the
quartet found themselves at " the end of half an hour in possession
of a little bundle of unsavory scraps, for a very trifling cost. Mrs. Jack was the
proud posséssor of the Brussels-point collar, for which she paid eight francs.
Capable succeeded in buying the two lace veils, and some scraps thrown in, for
THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

eight frances; but as she had some of the same kind at home, she passed them on
to Mrs. Jack and the Interpreter without “extra charge.” When they showed
them to a lace connoisseur in London, they were offered two pounds for each.
But lace rags were not the only treasures
these fortunate pilgrims found in the Marché
aux Chiffons. Hercules busied herself among
_ the old brass and iron, and soon ferreted out
some ornamental brass corners — evidently off
an ancient bureau or cupboard —which she
secured for a few sous. She took them home
to her sister in England, who is an accomplished
carpenter; and they now adorn the door of an
old oak eight-day clock. Besides iron and brass,
there was a bit of china here and there. Most THE GREAT BASKET.
of the best china is bought up by the dealers, so
‘that the greater part of the pots and plates displayed in the Rag Market were
either worthless, or badly broken. But one woman had some charming speci-
: mens of old Delft —fat pots with blue tulips,
t oh and houses, and curly patterns all over them.
esol Mrs. Jack and the Interpreter indulged in some
gorgeous jars. Capable secured a lovely little
vase, which Monsieur Van der Berghe told her
was exceedingly good—not of the earliest
period of Delft, which is the most valuable, but
of the second, which is also highly prized.
When it is filled with red and yellow roses it
makes a perfect picture. Then there were little
blue Nankin cups in one corner ranged
along the pavement, and eight of these
and some old brass snuffers were pur-
chased for three francs.
yt The pilgrims had bought as much as
i. _. y Ses they could carry, and at last made
sige ie up their minds to leave the delights
OOS Wr ye of the Marché aux Chiffons till an- ©
other year, fervently hoping that
they were not carrying off any fear-
ful disease as well as their treasures.
“LACE RAGS WERE NOT THE ONLY TREASURES.” Now that business was over, the
- ; four friends felt themselves at
liberty to go into the great market, past which they had hurried in the early
morning. The crowd under the shadow of the Belfry was even denser than it






THE RAG MARKET AT BRUGES.

had been on the Dyver. The Grande Place was as gay asa fair. The umbrella
merchant shouted out the excellence of his wares from a tent made of one vast
red-cotton umbrella. The stalls of woollen goods were gorgeous with piles of .
deep orange-colored blankets,
among the sober brown cloths and
flame-colored flannels from Ver-
viers. One street of booths was
devoted to tinware ; tin boxes, tin
pails — blue, red, yellow and green
—which the Flemish people use
instead of baskets. Cradles on
high, carved rockers stood beside
mountains of wooden sabots. Bas-
kets and gingerbread, cat skins
and lamb skins, brooms with red

handles, poppy heads “ pour faire
THE MUSSEL SELLERS. endormir les bébés,” white caps, pink
and gray yarn, boots, gay-colored
handkerchiefs, were stacked and hung in the stalls. And pipkins, pots and pans
of every shade of yellow, orange, green and purple, and of every possible shape
and size, from huge jars that looked as if the Forty Thieves might have
hidden in them, down to tiny green and yellow toy jugs, were heaped on the
ground.

Capable sat down in front of a mercer’s stall, and, pulling out her sketch-
book, began to draw an old
country-woman who was en-
chanted at the compliment, and |
instantly threw herself into half |
a dozen becoming attitudes. She
really was a splendid old dame
—very fat, with a dark dress,
blue apron, green body, a black- )
and-red cotton handkerchief
crossed over her shoulders, a fine
lace collar, lace cap with long
lappet-ears bound on her head
with a black ribbon, enormous gold earrings and cross, and a capacious basket
full of chickens-and eggs on each arm. In a minute a crowd began to gather
—such a crowd—men, women and children, who roared with laughter; and
expressed intense delight at what they considered the truly remarkable likeness
Capable had -produced of the “oude mudder.” But even a hardened traveler
like Capable cannot get over a certain dislike to a crowd shouting and laughing






se?

: ei ee
= AZ
ohio



‘ A GERMAN LESSON.

in an unknown tongue, and pressing closely about her on a very hot day. So,
after showing the grinning old lady the frightful scrawl that was supposed to be
so like her, Capable— and Hercules, who had tried to protect her— ran away
laughing and defeated, determined never to try to sketch again on market days.

It was one o'clock. The pilgrims were ravenously hungry. Their joy at
their successful bargains, therefore, hardly exceeded their delight at the sight of



“RUGS AND RAGS AND A PRIEST IN SABOTS.”?

delicious chicken and beefsteak, sweet white bread and golden butter at the
little Hotel St. Amand, which was their daily rendezvous for luncheon.

And you, kind readers, will, I am sure, be glad to know that their pilgrimage
to the Marché aux Chiffons was entirely successful; as they happily caught
neither smallpox nor scarlet fever from their precious rags.

Rose G. Kingsley.



A GERMAN LESSON.

TNHE teacher frowns, and his brow he knits,
Ht As he cries to the mischievous, laughing Fritz,
‘Lass deinen Mund verschlossen sein,
So schliickst du keine Fliegen ein.”
Mrs. J. T. Greenleaf.


eres one thing in the seas

signee the wise men Hee measured, point For point ?

| We may draw the bis sea serpent pretty much as we may please,
And the critics can not say he’s out of joint.





ee
i
ecan draw his mouth a-whistling or his horns of silded tin
Or.with decorative buttons, spot his‘back.

‘We can place electric lights upon his fancy dorsal Fin
With no fear of some wise critic on our track |
L. J. Bridgman.

FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

(Third Paper.)
ON THE SHORES OF CATHAY.

E can but regard the first voyage of Columbus as a combination of

favorable and fortunate events; for, barring the slight accident of the

Pinta, nothing occurred to baffle his plans until the first land was in sight.

‘The final departure may be said to have been taken from Gomera, in the Canary
Islands, and the last sight of land was off the island of Ferro.

It was about the first of October that they approached the region of the
trade-winds, and noticed the peculiarities of that vast weedy expanse known as
the Sargasso Sea. This seaweed found floating on the surface of the ocean bears
globules like small grapes in shape. The Spanish sailors, fancying a resemblance
between them and the grape grown in Portugal, called the sea-plant the sargasso,
and the name was also given to that portion of the ocean where the weed is
found. We know the astronomical knowledge of Columbus was imperfect,
and his nautical instruments crude. He had a compass and a rude instrument
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

called the astrolabe, by which he determined his latitude; but he could only
guess at his longitude, and he measured time by an hour-glass. It has been
said that he probably had no means for accurately calculating the speed of his
vessels, as there is no mention of the log-and-line before 1519; and as to the:
telescope, it was first used in the year 1610. Having such a slight equipment,
the sailors of that day were, of course, very timid about venturing far from land.
The task that Columbus set himself was
simply to go to the Canary Islands, in
about latitude twenty-eight degrees north,
and sail due west until he struck land.
He was diverted from his course by the
advice of the pilots, and by the flight of
birds to the southward, otherwise he might
have landed on the coast of Florida, near
the Indian River.
“When I think,” says a celebrated
writer, “of Columbus in his little bark,
his only instrument an imperfect com-
pass and a rude astrolabe, sailing forth
upon an unknown sea, I must award to
him the credit of being the boldest sea-
man that ever sailed the salt ocean.”
After they had been a month at sea,



















AEG are eae the pilots reckoned they had sailed about
(So named by the Portuguese.) five hundred and eighty leagues west of

the Canaries; but by the true, though
suppressed, figures of Columbus they had really made over seven hundred
leagues. It was about that time, or the tenth of October, that the crew became
mutinous; but later, signs of land, such as a branch with berries and a piece of
carved wood, changed gloom to hope, and strict watch was kept throughout the
night. They were then on the verge of the great discovery. All seemed to
have felt that some great event was pending; and on the night of the eleventh
of October Columbus claimed to have seen a wavering light. The next day,
early in the morning, or that is about two o’clock of the twelfth of October,
land was first sighted by a sailor on the Pinta. A landing was made the same
day, and possession taken in the name of the Spanish sovereigns.

All these events we are, of course, familiar with in the works of many
authors, notably in the history of Washington Irving, who first made the Eng-
lish-speaking world acquainted with the voyages of Columbus. But, although
it is quite four hundred years since these events took place, there is still a
great difference of opinion as to the island which may claim to have been
the first land sighted on that memorable date, October 12, 1492. What and
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

where was the island he first landed upon? Irving, as we know, fixed upon
Cat Island, which for many years bore the name of San Salvador, bestowed by
Columbus upon the first island upon which he landed. With his conclusions,
also, the great Humboldt coincided, ably defending the opinion that Cat Island
was the first landfall. A Spanish writer of authority, Sefior Navarate, claimed
that it was Turk’s Island, near the southern extremity of the Bahamas, and an
exhaustive paper was prepared, some fifty years ago, by Mr. Gibbs, a resident of
Grand Turk, in support of this idea. cm eet

One thing is certain; the first landfall of Columbus was an island in the
Bahamas, although opinions vary as té which one, claimants having arisen for
several others besides those mentioned. But although the islands claimed extend
over a distance of some three hundred miles, we may be justified in going a
little farther and saying that not only was the first island one of the Bahama
group, but situated somewhere about midway in the chain. Since the time of
Irving and Humboldt several writers of distinction have given attention to this
question, and though not all coming to the same conclusions, most of them
agree upon Watling’s Island as the place where the Europeans first set foot
upon the soil of the New World.

Whichever island it may have been, I myself can claim that I have seen it,
as I have traversed the entire chain from Turk’s to Cat, and have studied the
group carefully with a view to giving an opinion on this vexed question. Years
ago it was my good fortune to pisect the group on my way to the south coast of
Cuba, when I saw Watling’s Island rising like a cloud, or rather a blue mound,
above the horizon. But it was not until July, 1892, that I had the opportunity
for visiting it. Being then in the West Indies, as Commissioner for the World’s
Columbian Exposition, I received orders from the executive to investigate this
question of the landfall, and visit the islands in person.

I was then in Hayti, the Black Republic, and the first opportunity did not
occur until a month after receiving my commands. Leaving the port of Cape
Haytien early one morning on a steamer of. the Clyde Line called the Ozama, in
a few hours we sighted the island of Tortuga. The day before, from another
port on the Haytian coast, we had scanned the leeward shore of this famous
haunt of the buccaneers in times gone by, and were now on the bleak, iron-
bound coast of the inward side.

Finally the turtle-back Tortuga faded out of sight, and the next land, or
rather indication of land, was the southwest point of Inagua, merely a shadowy
semblance of terra firma, emphasized a few hours later by the flashing out of its
revolving light from a high white tower.

Next morning at daylight we passed the light of Castle Island, and at ten
o’clock were abreast the flashing surf of Long Cay, and could see the little set-
4lement there that formed the only one on Fortune Island. Signals were set:
« Passengers aboard; send off a boat,” and shortly after we could see a move-
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

ment on the beach about a mile away, where a boat was being launched. Ina
little while it came alongside, our engines having stopped, ae after an inter-
change of salutations my luggage was quickly fronetensd to the boat below, and
I left the comfortable Ovame and launched out into another unknown adven-
ture. The steamer steered off,
my friends waved me a last
farewell, and by the time we
reached the beach objects on
board were indistinguishable.
I found myself a stranger
in a strange land; but, fortu-
nately, had my usual good luck,
i and obtained board and lodg-
enatp de ing at a house near the beach.
WINDMILL FOR PUMPING SALT WATER. Fortune Island, or Long Cay,
ny hg we ee is about eight miles in length
anda mile or so in breadth, some eight hundred acres in area, with a population
of seven hundred people, mostly black and colored. The chief production of
the island is salt, which is raked out of the vast shallow salt ponds formed just
over the sand-banks behind the reefs. The process of salt gathering is a primi-
tive one; the ponds are divided into sections containing salt in various stages
of crystalization, and the water is sometimes pumped from one to the other
by means of curious windmills. The great heaps of salt, containing many
thousand bushels, are pyramidal in shape, white as snow, and glisten in the sun
like silver. Formerly, this island was a great rendezvous for the wreckers, and
in yet earlier times, perhaps, for the buccaneers; but latterly their occupation
has departed, owing to the erection of lighthouses and the substitution of
steamers for sailing vessels in the principal traffic to and through the islands.
Now and then a steamer touches here
going from New York to Jamaica and
“Central America, picks up a crew of
laborers for the voyage, and drops them
again at their homes on its return. It is
a barren island, as compared with the
islands of the West Indies proper; and
yet it is not unattractive, with its white
sand beaches, its glistening salt heaps
and its half-tropical vegetation.
It was thought that I could readily
_ get a vessel here to take me to Watling’s
Island ; but it will show you how infrequently these islands are visited, even by
coasting craft, when I tell you that it was nine days before I could secure a boat





A SALT HEAP ON FORTUNE ISLAND.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

to take me over, a distance of only one hundred miles. Even then, although

that day there happened four or five craft in port, the master of the dirty little
“turtler ” asked six pounds for a run of merely a night.

At last, came the day of deliverance ; the long-watched-tor



MY “TURTLER.”’

sails came in, three in one day, and in one of these unwashed
“turtlers” I engaged passage to the island of my desires.
Captain and crew were black, and they lived on the windward
coast of Crooked Island.

Leaving Long Cay at dark, in a few hours we were off the
flashing light on Bird Rock, whence we took our departure for
Watling’s, and at-daylight next morning I saw a long, low line
of landagainst the sky. It was the island we were seeking. But
the wind failed us for a while, and it was full noon before we could
reach the roadstead of Riding-Rocks and the shelter of the island’s
only settlement of Cockburn Town. Having my consular flag
with me, I had the captain hoist it, and we entered the harbor

with the stars and stripes displayed in all their glory. This
unexpected arrival, at the quiet port, of a “foreign craft” flying a flag that was
rarely seen there, threw all the town into consternation; but no objection was
offered to my landing, as the boat was mine for the time being, having been
chartered by me, and I was, of course, entitled to fly the flag 1 liked best. This
was the view taken also by the Collector, a handsome Englishman, a retired
officer of Her Majesty’s navy, who was serving in this retired spot temporarily,

in order to secure a “ good-
service” pension. He wel-
comed me most cordially,
for strangers and news
were equally scarce, and
placed his services at my
command.

My arrival. was most
opportune, for the whole
island was suffering from a

drought, and many people

were on the point of starva-
tion. Fortunately, I had
learned of their condition
before leaving Fortune, and



THE COAST OF WATLING’S ISLAND.

had brought a supply of provisions sufficient for a month. It proved in such
demand that I had hardly any remaining at the end of the week. There was
absolutely nothing to be had, not even milk or eggs, those last resorts of these

needy people.
PROM CORDOVA FO: CATHAY.

I had been recommended to the Resident Justice of the island, Captain
Maxwell Nairn, as one who would attend to my wants; but recent and danger-
ous illness had rendered him unable to extend to me the hospitality he would
surely otherwise have done, and I could not obtain even a room in which to sleep.
He and his family, however, were urgent in their endeavors to find me quarters,
and finally secured a room in the thatched hut of an old black woman, who
agreed to cook my meals. The stone walls of the apartment were white and
clean, and the thatch overhead was neatly fastened to the rafters, while the
old woman’s cooking was at least endurable. Captain Nairn’s was the only white
family on the island, the other six hundred inhabitants being black and colored.
The town consists of a few score huts and houses, an English church and a

Baptist chapel. One road ran across to a cen-
tral lagoon, a mile away, and a trail around the
island; but their great highway is the ocean,
their conveyances, boats and canoes. Watling’s
Island is egg-shaped; it is about twelve miles
long, and from five to seven miles broad, with
great salt-water lagoons in the center, and is en-
tirely surrounded with dangerous reefs. Once,
it is believed, the coral rock, of which it is
entirely composed, supported a fertile soil; but
at present the rock is entirely denuded, and the
only soil is found in pockets and depressions in
the surface.
A Bahama farm, in fact, whether it be found
in Nassau or Turk’s Island, is always a surprise
to one from the American States, because of its
Ree OA ATEIN G'S TEEAND: poverty. When the scant vegetation that covers
the coral rock is removed, there remains only
the white, glistening rock itself, gleaming out as bare and as devoid of plant life
as a marble monument.

But these naked rocks, so pitifully suggestive of poverty, the natives regard
with affectionate interest, and speak of them as their “farms.” The great
drought of the past two years had deprived the farms of even the scant moisture
of ordinary years, and induced a general failure of crops throughout the island.

Although Watling’s Island lies just on the verge of the tropics, in latitude
twenty-four, yet its vegetation is by no means tropical in character, conveying
rather a hint of nearness to the mid-zone. than actual fertility. I am writing of
the vegetation presumably natural to the island, as seen in the woods and fields,
and not of the cultivated plants; for, indeed, all the fruits and vegetables of the
tropics can be raised here. But we no longer note the luxuriant vegetation
described by Columbus, who speaks of the orchards of trees, and of great forest


FROM CORDOVA. TO CATHAY.

giants aaeln as the present day does not produce. All the vegetable covering is
now of the second growth, though there are evidences of flies forest primeval in
long-submerged old stumps that still exist, showing that Columbus was probably
correct in his descriptions.

It was my desire to examine every evidence that should help to establish the
character of the people resident here at the coming of the Spaniards, and bring
to light all the existing proofs Be
of their residence ; hence I de-
voted all my time to that end.
The very morning after my
arrival, the Collector accom-
panied me on a short exploring -
trip across the lagoon, where
there was said to be a cave that
had never been explored. He
placed the entire police force
at my disposal—said police
force consisting of one man,
who, with his two sons, managed
our boat, and carried us over
the shallow places in the lagoon. There were many shallow places, and also a
small canal, so that their labor as carriers was somewhat arduous; yet the police
force was equal to the demands upon him, and all told, he “backed” the
Collector and myself from the boat to the shore, and vice versa, eight times that
day, and without apparent fatigue. As the Collector was a very large man,
weighing at least two hundred mounds) this performance was very creditable to
the force.

After great difficulty, mainly experienced in cutting our way through the
thorny and matted growth that everywhere covers the surface in all the Ba-
hamas, we reached the cave in which tradition averred the ancient Indians used
to dwell. It was merely a large opening in the limestone, forming a room of
goodly proportions, the roof perforated in many places, and the floor covered
with bat guano. It had not been investigated, the islanders told us, but we
found nothing to reward our search, and so, late in the afternoon, we returned
to the lagoon and the town.

The heat had been so intense that day, that the next I was unable to leave
my hut, but the day after I went on the real exploring trip of the voyage, across.
the lagoon and up its entire length, to the north end of the island, where lies.
the conjectural landing-place of Columbus.

I had with me the two sons of the policeman, who ably managed the boat,
and by noon we were at the head of the lagoon, where we left the craft in the
mud, and trudged over land, or rather rock, to the lighthouse, which rose before



aaa

LOE $s FT pm a rag




TA, , i)
+ oe,
Poe

wt Uae mee Big

LOOKING ACROSS THE LAGOONS ON WATLING’S ISLAND.

(‘* Our road ran across to the central lagoon.’’)
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

us a mile or so away. Arriving there, heated and exhausted, I received a warm
welcome from the head keeper, who placed a comfortable house at my service,
and took me to the top of the tower for the view. Built as it is upon the high-
est elevation in the island, this tower commanded the surrounding country and
the sea adjacent, the whole of Watling’s being visible, shaped like a pear, with
its stem to the south.

There is little doubt in my mind that I was then looking upon the very spot
at which Columbus landed, just four hundred years before. The reefs off shore
threw up their sheets of foam as at the time of the discovery; the bright lagoons
in the center of the island lay directly at my feet; the low hills, scarce rising
above the general level, the green trees, the sparkling beaches, all were spread
before me, and the prospect was pleasing and beautiful in the extreme. Half a

‘mile distant from the tower stretched a long, continuous beach of silver sands,
terminating in promontories some two miles apart, breasting which the water 1s
calm as in a pond, though broken by innumerable jagged reets of coral.

Beyond this calm space of water that encircles the island all around, lies a
chain of barrier-reefs, that prevents the tumultuous waves from reaching to the
shore, where all is quiet and secure.

Bordering this beach, along its entire length, is a. low growth of sea-grapes,
dwarf palmetto and sweet shrubs, just such as one may see on the southern
coast of Florida. Scattered over its silvery surface are shells of every hue, and
innumerable sprays of the Sargasso weed, such as the first sailors saw, coming
here in 1492. Sea-birds hover over it, fleecy clouds fleck it with their shadows ;
but, other than the distant murmur of the breakers, no sound disturbs the eternal
silence here. .

It was at the southeast extremity of this beach, where a jutting promontory
of honey-combed coral rock runs out toward the barrier-reets, that we assume
the first landing took place, in a beautiful bay, with an open entrance from the
ocean. On the beavh, the fierce sun beats relentlessly, but there are deep hol-
lows in the rock where, in the morning, we can find shelter from the heat.

To this first land of the first voyage, Columbus gave the name San Salvador.
By the Indians it was called Guanahani. By the “ Indians,” I say; for thus
were termed these people found in possession, and who were here for the first
time seen by Europeans, In the first day of their stay on shore the Spaniards
had added several new things to their discoveries: to the discovery of the vari-
ations of the compass, the trades, the Sargasso Sea and weed, they now added
the new people termed by their commander “ Indians,” the craft called by the
Indians themselves canoes (canoas), new species of parrots, implements of bone
and stone, and, later on, hammocks.

We would like to know what kind of people these were who welcomed the
first Europeans to America, and if any of their kind exist to-day. They were
brown and bare, shapely, athletic, doing no harm, but gentle and loving. “I


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

swear to Your Majesty,” wrote Columbus, “there are no better people on earth;
they are gentle and without knowing what evil is, neither killing nor stealing.”
And yet, what was their fate? We know, and it is true, that their lovable
qualities availed them not, but rather hastened their extinction. One cannot
but wonder why it was. We may find the keynote of the acts of Columbus in
a quaint expression regarding him by Bernal Diaz, one of the conquerors who
followed him: “He took his life in his hand that he might give light to them
who sit in darkness, and satisfy the thirst for gold which all men feel.” This
thirst for gold was overpowering; it controlled all his actions, and caused him
to inaugurate a system of slavery that eventually caused the extinction of all
the Indians of the West Indies. Yes; it is a melancholy truth that of all the
aborigines discovered by Columbus, in the Bahamas, Cuba and the larger islands,
not a descendant lives to-
day. In fact, hardly one
remained alive fifty years
after the discovery.

Tn the year 1508, Hayti
having been depopulated of
its Indians, the cruel Span-.
iards came to the Bahamas
and deported the Lucayans,
to wear their lives away in
the mines. They enticed
them aboard their vessels
under pretext of taking
them to see their friends
who had died. “For it is
certain,” says the historian
Herrera, “that all the In-
dian nations believed in the
immortality of the soul, and that when the body was dead the spirit went to
certain places of delight.”

By these allurements above forty thousand were transported, never to
return; and a few years later, the islands, found teeming with inhabitants,
were deserted and solitary. In Cuba were found other Indians, but a little
better supplied with articles of adornment and subsistence, who had hammocks
(hamacas), made fire by rubbing together two pieces of wood, raised maize, or
Indian corn, and spun cotton, which grew everywhere in their fields.

The only domesticated quadruped was found in Cuba, the wtia or dumb dog ;
while in the Bahamas the people had domesticated only the parrot.

Having been extinct three hundred years at least, little remains from which
to reconstruct the lives of these primitive people at the period of discovery.





THE LANDING-PLACE OF COLUMBUS.
(Watling’s Island.)
A BUSINESS BOY.

Their houses, having been of perishable materials, such as reeds and palm-
leaves, nothing remains to show us what they were; but some of the implements
they used, have been found, and even some articles of their household furniture.
The most numerous specimens that have been recovered are those small stones
carved and chipped in the shape of chisels, gouges, spear-heads, and even hoes and
knives, known to collectors as “celts,” and these have been found everywhere.

In addition to these celts, we note mortars and pestles, the latter with carved
heads that have been taken for idols, beads of stone and oyster shell, and frag-
ments of pottery. The Indians, it is believed, made fairly good pottery, and
cooked their food by heating stones and throwing them into the water till it
boiled. Not alone the pottery, but all the articles yet discovered, indicate that
these Indians were in a very low state of civilization, and it must have required a
painful stretch of the imagination of Columbus to perceive in these simple people
the rich and civilized inhabitants of Cathay he had dreamed of discovering.

These simple folk, without thought of harm, early felt the evil effects of
Spanish domination. Having no gold to tempt the cupidity of the conquerors,
they for a time escaped their attention, but when slaves were needed for the
mines of Hayti, then the Spaniards snatched them from their homes. Even the
very people whom Columbus praises as the most loving and gentle on earth,
and who welcomed him and his crews as Heaven-descended men, were carried
by these same men into a slavery worse than death.

Ah, well! We know not why it was that the strong should ever have
oppressed the weak, and ever stain their swords with innocent blood, in those
first fierce days of America’s beginnings.

They are gone now, all of them. We know the Spaniards’ fate; but no
one can tell when, where and how perished the last of Guanahani’s gentle tribe.

Frederick A. Ober.



A BUSINESS BOY.

[2 “hallooing” through the telephone ;
I put the thing to my ear,

Of course I know the way it is done,
But never a sound I hear.

Why don’t it talk? Tl louder call ;
The storm is hindering;

Halloo ! You birds that flew last fall,

Fly back, and make it spring.
Lavinia S. Goodwin.
THE RIVALS.

STP \WAS Mary Melinda Baker’s doll,
With head of shining hair,
A waxen nose and ten pink toes,
A fan, and a real high-chair.

Mary Melinda Baker’s doll
Was an airy sort of thing ;

Though I never heard her speak'a word, < '
And I know she could not sing. :

Now Peter Frisby Hamilton Jones
Was a perfectly lovely dear.

He was a cat, as black as my hat,
No tail, and a slit in one ear.

Mary Melinda never will know
How her doll stirred up that cat ;
But she was the one ’t the fuss begun,
We fellows are sure of that.

How do girls know what dolls may do,
When they are away at school?

-A girl in their place would make up a face,
Which aggravates boys, as a rule.

So we think that doll with her waxen nose,
Just turned it up at Pete —
At nine she was there, in her real high-chair ;
At night we found one of her feet.
Cora Stuart Wi heeler.




IN PHEBE’S GARDEN.

( She turned her head in its prim little cap.)



iy

We eng
tty

; i ue, oi

























































aE “y |

THE TANSY CAKE.

(An Easter-tide shetch of life in Old England.)

T was Easter Monday in quaint old Chester, three hundred years and more

go. The morning sunshine lay warm and cosy among the small spring

iiage that tried to shade the garden bench on which Phoebe sat swinging her
toes, “beneath her long, quaint gown, for want of something better to do.

A Phoebe-bird seemed calling, “Phoebe! Phoebe!” from the branches
above, and she turned her head, in its prim little cap, to see where eae smal]
songster had hidden himself.

There was a merry laugh, and a dapper boy emerged from a, stiff-cropped _
box-tree.

Phoebe pouted. “So the Phoebe-bird be only you,” she said.

“Tt be only I,” he replied, with a mockingly deferential bow; “ was not the
imitation a right. good one? Mother has sent me to say you shall come and help
her with the tansy cake ; her fingers are so colored with the egg-dye that she
will give you all the mixing to do.”

“O, goody!” said Phoebe; “I shall like that. You are a good boy, Robin,
and shall have a big slice.”

“J want it all,” he said.

“ No, indeed, Sir Stingy;” and she courtesied with mock ceremony to him.

“Then listen to my song,” and he parodied, slightly, a rhyme of the day:

9

“* At stool-ball, Phoebe, let us play,
For sugar, cakes and wine.

Or for a tansy let us play,
The loss be thine or mine.
THE TANSY CAKE.

‘¢ If thou, my dear, a winner be,
At trundling of the ball,

The wager thou shalt have, and me,
And my misfortunes all.”

« All right,” she laughed ; “I will worst you at the game as soon as ever the
cake be fried; ” and she ran toward the kitchen, almost stumbling over her long
frock, in her haste. ,

One side of the kitchen was in a blaze, with the broad chimney fire. Phoebe’s
aunt stood at a table, rubbing with lard the bright red and yellow colored eggs
she had just dipped from the dye-pot. There were dozens of them; and she
piled them deftly, alternating the colors, till they formed a pyramid.

“Whee!” cried Phoebe, who had never seen so many before, “but they are
as many and gay as the buttercups and portulacas in mother’s posy bed. How
can we eat so many?”

«“ Wait and see,” said her aunt, with a knowing smile. “Roll up your sleeve,
and let me see if your arm looks strong enough for stirring the big tansy cake.”

Phoebe pushed up her sleeve, and displayed a white, plump little arm,
finished off with a firm little hand, that would make a fine “ cake-spad.”

_ “That be very fair,” said her aunt; “now tie on this pinafore, sit you down
here, and take this bowl firm into your lap.”

Phoebe did so, with a bustle of importance.

«“ Next is the creaming of the butter and sugar. Stir well, and all one way.”

Pheebe did so, setting her small teeth upon her under lip till it was crimson
dented, and her arm ached.

“ Now, we have the eggs beat to a yellow froth, the cream and spinach
leaves, with this allowance of flour.” And the aunt put them in one by one as
she spoke, while Phoebe’s plump arm and hand went round faster and faster in
the mixture, as her cheeks grew pinker, and her breath.came in short puffs.

“ Not so bad at the stirring, be she, mother, for a wisp of a girl?” said Robin,
who had stolen into the kitchen so quietly that Phoebe had not noticed him.

“ Here!” she exclaimed, raising her hand, covered with dough, “I see no
great difference ‘twixt a wisp of a girl and a wisp of a boy.”

«Hush! children, you must not quarrel at Easter-tide; all is peace and good-
will, like at Christmas;” and Phoebe’s aunt lifted the bowl to the table.

“Does it be fried next, Aunt Nancy?” asked Pheebe, with much interest ;
“at home the serving-people be so plenty, and older sisters so about, that I can
never get to see how a thing be done. I hope father will not fetch me from
this Easter visit too soon.”

“No; we will not let him ;” and the aunt set the butter to melting and put
the cake to fry, while Phoebe pattered back and forth after her, over the big
kitchen’s stone floor, her little chin in the air and her neck stretched, to lose no
point in this frying process.
THE TANSY CAKE.

“Twill go set the stools for our game,” said Robin, growing tired of the
smoke and heat. Soon he returned.

“ Are you never coming, Phoebe?” he cried; “father is come in with the
bishop, and a big, bearded man, who, he whispered to me, be the dean or
governor of the church. They say they will watch our tansy-cake contest and
see that it be fair.”

Phoebe’s head dropped like a blue-bell’s.

“Tt be hard to be stared at by strangers; one feels so—so shy and like
hiding in a corner, and to speak only “no, sir, and ‘yes, ma’am, in a low
voice.”

~ Robin laughed.

“ Girls should be boys, then they would not feel that way,” he said.

“Run on, Phoebe,” said her aunt. “The good bishop will want to play
hand-ball with you; he doth so like it.”

Phoebe laid the pinafore one side, pushed back the curly locks that would
creep forward from her cap, and taking Robin’s hand, entered the broad hall in
which was to be the stool-ball contest. Her uncle and his guests were there.

“This is my cousin Phoebe,” said Robin gallantly —Phoebe dropped a
courtesy — “ when she be not afeard of strangers, she be a right nice cousin to
have. Now she hath the shyness fallen upon her.”

Phoebe pinched Robin’s fingers, and looked down at her toes.

“So, ho!” said the jolly bishop ; “ Phoebe’s mother and I were great friends.
She would not shy away from me like this;” and he drew Phoebe to him.
“Now play your bout for the tansy, then we will all to hand-ball. I shall never
be too big nor old for hand-ball.. So; to stool-ball!”’

Robin made the opening play. Phoebe, reassured, took her turn, and soon
the ball was hard at work, dodging in and out under the stools.

The bishop watched and applauded. “There, you have it, Mistress Phoebe ;
no, Robin be ahead; trundle it a wee bit more to the right; now, Robin, be
your chance to crow; no, you missed it; now, you're lost. Well done for
Phoebe; she hath won the tansy cake; fair and square!”

“7 don’t care,” said Robin; “I worked hard.”

“So you did,” said the church governor ; “and you have a good arm for jit.”

“The lad never missed it before,” said Robin’s father; “but ladies before
gentlemen ; eh, Phoebe ?” and he patted her cheek.

“Now, let us to hand-ball,” cried the bishop ; and soon his “ mia est pila,”
“T have it,” above the noise of romp and tumble, told he had beaten.

Though the Paschal-taper was a. large affair, weighing a hundred pounds, and
though it burned and spluttered like a. jolly flambeau, Phoebe and Robin were
glad when the Easter Day service was over, and they could hurry home to the
cutting of the tansy cake. But here was delay again. It could not be touched
till after the bishop and the dean and all the guests who had come to ‘dine had
i
diminished the pyramid of colored eggs, eaten of stewed carp, roast fowls, a jowl
of salmon and some neat’s tongues.

« Well, Mistress Phoebe, do I hear you sighing to cut the tansy?” said the
bishop, at last, “or was it Robin ?”

“Tt was not I,” answered Robin. “Though Id be glad to see it cut.”

There was laughter at Robin’s frankness.

“Then, Apple-Blossom, it was you; come here to my side, and plunge this
deep into the cake.” And the bishop held a sharp knife toward Phoebe.

‘Shall I, Uncle?” she asked timidly. He nodded. So Phoebe cut the cake,
and in a few moments there was such a nibbling of tansy cake as lasted for the
whole year. And not a crumb left over.

“This be a happy Easter,” whispered Phoebe to Robin.

“Tt be,” said Robin to Phoebe, his mouth full of cake.

E M. Carrie Hyde.





”

ote —_— !
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.



‘y HE traveler in the South who leaves Richmond on
the Chesapeake and Ohio railway, going east-
ward, passes over the most sacred soil of the Old
Dominion, where English civilization was first
planted and took root in America, almost three
centuries ago. If he alights at ancient Williams-
burg, he is on ground every foot of which is con-

= E _ secrated by memories of the brave days of old.

a ee As the railway train passes out of sight, he slips

THE CHURCH GATE, wiLLIAMsnune, away from the bustle and forward-looking irrever-
ence of the nineteenth century; slips away like

some old phantom from the glare of electric lights and the ring of the telephone,
behind the misty veil that shrouds the past, into the nation-building days of the
eighteenth century, when Williamsburg was the notable political school of
the world. For this old town is unique in all the land in its serene antiquity.

The echoes of the busy world come to it faint and far away. It lives in its past.

Its record is written in the hearts of the descendants of its proud old families ;

is inscribed in their genealogies; is pictured in the family portraits on their

walls. Ghosts of the past walk in the halls they once inhabited in the flesh.

Why should they not? Time has only touched the ancient borough with the

pathos of decay and the tragedy. of war. The time will come when a new

generation will think less of the past. Williamsburg will fade gradually away,
or modern innovations will rob it of its old-time charm, but at present it
stands without a peer among America’s historic towns.

Of a truth, everything is quaint and venerable and touched with history or
tradition. The streets are mostly grass-grown, and in their names is the very
flavor of colonialism — Scotland, Ireland, England, Nassau, King, Queen, Prince
George, Francis Nicholson, and Duke of Gloucester being among them. Wide
level greens form a setting for the old colonial houses, and horses and cattle
roam and graze at will on green and highway.

“Williamsburg is the shire town of James City County, and in Virginia the
county is the political unit instead of the town, so that the municipal life centers
at the court house, which is notable as being one of the architectural produc-
tions of Sir Christopher Wren. The projecting hood of the porch, unsupported
by pillars, is a puzzle to visitors. It seems probable that for some reason the
building was never finished. Apart from this it is a model of its kind. In its
two centuries of life, some of Virginia’s most distinguished lawyers have prac-
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

ticed at the bar of its little court room. Near by is the Palace Green, at the
northern end of which is the site of the palace of the royal governors, of which
enough is known to make it safe to say that it was one of the most magnificent
houses of the colonial period, probably excelling the manor house of the Patroon
Van Rensselaer at Albany. Brilliant pictures come down to us of fétes in the
palace in the days before the Revolution, and at no time did the governors
maintain grander state than when the weapons were being forged to strike down
the royal power in America.

Society was indeed brilliant in Williamsburg in the days of its glory. Besides
the fétes at the palace, there were grand assemblies in the Apollo Room of the
Raleigh Tavern, now, alas! only a memory; a theater, at which Shakspere’s
plays were first produced in America, ministered to the pleasure of a pleasure-
loving people, while there was a round of gayeties at all the great houses of the
gentry. Many of the planters of the country had winter residences in the bril-
liant little city.

Recalling all these memories, it requires little effort of the imagination, as
one stands in the streets of Williamsburg to-day, to people them with the bril-
liant life of old, the stately ladies, the glittering cavaliers, the galloping steeds,
the ponderous coaches, the silks and laces and velvets; all the gayety and light-
ness of a life that yet had a very serious undercurrent, as coming events were
to show. We can see Lord
Botetourt, courtly and ele-
gant, who temporarily “gave
offense” to these gay but
democratic Virginians “ by
the gaudy parade and pomp-
ous pageant exhibited,” for
he went to open the assembly
“drawn by eight milk-white
horses, in a state coach pre-
sented him for that purpose
by the king, and the same
formalities were observed as
when the British sovereign goes in state to open Parliament.” Williamsburg
was indeed a “ vice-regal capital.”

But the old capital has stronger claims upon interest than its picturesque
association with the social froth of the colonial court. “Bacon the rebel,” first
of American revolutionists, had made Middle Plantation his headquarters; and
partly because the obstinate rebel had left little of Jamestown, partly because
the site of the latter place was exceedingly unhealthy, but most because Middle
Plantation had been made the seat of William and Mary College in 1694, it
became the capital, under Governor Francis Nicholson, in 1705, and was then



THE. COURT HOUSE, WILLIAMSBURG.
(Designed by Sir Christopher Wren.)
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

named Williamsburg. The founders of the city placed a high value upon the
association of the higher education and the government; a fact of which they
gave a sign by the location of the Capitol and the college, facing each other and ~
three quarters of a mile apart, at the eastern and western ends of the broad
Duke of Gloucester Street, the “ Pennsylvania Avenue of Williamsburg,” as one
writer has named it. The same idea was more practically,shown in the fact that
William and Mary was the first college in America in which history and _politi-
cal science were systematically taught. As an institution it aimed to train men
for public life, as well as for being clergymen and teachers. How well it suc-
ceeded is shown by the strong, well-balanced statesmen whom it graduated. It
was William and Mary that gave Washington his commission as surveyor, an
equivalent at that time of the present degree of civil engineer; and Washine-
ton’s last public. office was the chancellorship of the college. It was from the
association at- Williamsburg of the colonial government and the college, that
Washington gathered the idea of a national university at the nation’s capital, an
idea which he fruitlessly urged on the highest and most patriotic grounds, in
behalf of which he vainly made a large bequest, and which has been revived
recently by a distinguished Northern statesman.

In William and Mary studied Thomas Jefferson and James Monroe, Presi-
dents of the United States; Benjamin Harrison, the ancestor of two pres-
idents and one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence; Carter
Braxton, Thomas Nelson and George Wythe, also signers of the Declaration;
Peyton and Edmund Randolph; John Tyler, first Governor of thé Common-
wealth of Virginia; Beverley Randolph, Governor of Virginia; John Blair, and
the great chief justice, John Marshall. The list of distinguished names might
be indefinitely extended, but those just given will show what quality of men
the old college gave to the country. When at the close of the Revolution the
capital was removed to Richmond, the greatness of the little city and of its
college departed; but, until ruined by reckless soldiery in 1862, the college
continued to be an educational power, presided over by men of dignity and
learning, and giving well-trained scholars to the State.

The old Capitol, “the heart of the rebellion,” at the eastern end of the
street, was a fine building of the period, in each wing of which was “ a good
staircase ; one leading to the Council Chamber where the Governor and Council
sit in very great state, in imitation of the King and Council, or the Lord Chan-
cellor and House of Lords. Over the portico is a large room where conferences
are held and prayers are read by the chaplain of the General Assembly; which
office I have had the honor for some years to perform.” So wrote, in 1724, the
Rev. Hugh Jones, a learned and much traveled professor in William and Mary
College. .

He was acquainted with the courts of Europe, and knew whereof he spoke,
so that from his account a just idea can be gathered of the real brilliancy
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

of social Williamsburg in its palmy days. He tells of “the Play House and
Bowling Green,” and says of the governor’s house that it was “finished and
beautified with gates, fine gardens, offices, walks, a fine canal, orchards, etc.”
It had a cupola or “ Lanthorn,” which was illuminated on festival nights, as was
most of the town. “These buildings,” remarks the Rev. Hugh Jones, “are
justly reputed the best, in all
the English America, and are Ta ees ==
exceeded by few of their kind SIGE
in England.”

In the old Capitol met
those patriotic Burgesses who
sent their ringing answer to
Adams and Otis and the rest
in Massachusetts,







Zor CS
we.



«‘ When, echoing back her Henry’s cry,
came pulsing on each breath

Of northern winds the thrilling sound,
of ‘ Liberty or Death.’ ”

Only an excavation and a
few bricks now remain where IN OLD WILLIAMSBURG.
once the historic building
stood in which Patrick Henry thundered that warning to England’s king, that
is so familiar to every school boy; but if we close our eyes on this consecrated
ground we can hardly fail to hear echoes of days that are dead come ringing
down to us through the generations. Here, and in the old State House in
Boston, was the birth of American independence; the dawn of a new day for
the nations, the genesis of a higher ideal of government.

For three quarters of a century Williamsburg was the most important polit-
ical and sogial center in the colonies south of Boston. It saw during that period
a long succession of royal governors, good, bad and indifferent. There was the
coarse and domineering Nicholson; Sir Alexander Spotswood, who, for planting
the first iron furnaces in the South, is known as “ the Tubal Cain of Virginia; ”
Hugh Drysdale, Robert Carter and William Gooch, whose administrations had
little to make them memorable except the foundation of Richmond, in 1733, by
Colonel William Byrd of Westover, and the appearance in Williamsburg, in 1736,
of Virginia’s first newspaper, The Virginia Gazette. After Gooch came Din-
widdie, in whose time France and England came to blows in the “ Great Woods,”
and the young surveyor, George Washington, won his spurs as a soldier. Now
the struggle for independence was dimly foreshadowed, and the peaceful, stately
life of the old city was stirred by unwonted currents. In 1763, Henry, the
great orator of his day, asserted, in his fiery way in the old Capitol, the right of
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

Virginians alone to make laws for Virginia; the blunder of the Stamp Act by
the home government followed, and Virginia and Massachusetts clasped hands
in the struggle for freedom. Few yet saw it as a struggle for independence,
and the royal governors still came to Williamsburg and maintained their little
courts. The social round went on above the slumbering volcano of the Anglo-
Saxon passion for liberty and justice.

Never did Williamsburg see a more brilliant period. The festivities at the
Palace and at the Raleigh Tavern were rivaled in interest by the flashes of
intellect at the Capitol, and in the college certain high-minded youths were
being prepared to serve their country in the trying years ‘so close at hand.
Jefferson writes of dances in the Apollo Room at the Raleigh, and of his



WASHINGTON’S HEADQUARTERS, WILLIAMSBURG.

(At the time of the surrender of Yorktown.)

“‘ Belinda,” who was one of the famous Virginia Burwells; showing that great
minds found time and thought for the diversions of the passing hour, and that
woman’s smiles could charm even the embryo statesmen who gathered inspira+
tion from Wythe and men like him. Dinwiddie was succeeded by Governor
Fauquier, a polished freethinker, who found it necessary to dissolve the
Assembly on account of the famous resolutions, in advocating which Henry
declared that “ Ceesar had his Brutus, Charles I. his Cromwell, and George II. —.
may profit by their example.” Jefferson pronounced this debate “most bloody,”
but he was young then, and perhaps a little careless in his choice of words.
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

Henry is described as being at this time twenty-nine years of age, tall and
grim, with small, sparkling blue eyes. He wore a brown wig, unpowdered, a
peach-blossom coat, leather breeches and yarn stockings. He was an impassioned,
magnetic speaker, who seldom failed in any cause he advocated.

The Burgesses, after their dissolution, met at the Raleigh Tavern, and there
concerted many measures for the action of the colonies. Fauquier died in 1768,
and was succeeded by Norborne
Berkeley, Lord Botetourt. AL
though so unfortunate as to make
a bad impression on his arrival,
he became in his brief administra-
tion perhaps the best beloved of
all the royal governors. He was
a true friend of Virginia; and his
graces of manner were so marked
that long afterward the young men
of his time were spoken of as edu-
cated: in the school of Fauquier and Botetourt, in the manners and graces of
gentlemen. Unfortunately for the king whom he served, this finished gentle-
man and large-hearted man died in 1770, after having declared, “I will be
content to be declared infamous, if I do not, to the last hour of my life, at all
times and in all places and upon all occasions, exert every power with which I
am, or ever shall be, legally invested, in order to obtain and maintain for the
continent of America that satisfaction which I have been authorized to promise.”

Lord Botetourt’s body was interred beneath the chapel of the college of
William and Mary, and a marble statue of him stands in the college yard,
erected in 1773, by authority of the Burgesses of Virginia, as the grateful testi-
mony of the colony to his virtues, a fact which is made known to us in the
stately phrase of the inscription.

Lord Dunmore followed Lord Botetourt, and under his uncompromising rule
the irritation rapidly increased. He was continually embroiled with the Bur-
gesses; he quartered in the Palace marines from the ships of war lying off
Yorktown ; he finally carried off in the night from the octagonal powder house,
built by Governor Spotswood in 1714 and still standing, all the ammunition
stored therein. This was on the eve of the outbreak, and soon the governor
and. his family were forced themselves to take refuge on the vessels, and ulti-
mately to leave the colony. But not until the city of Norfolk had been burned.
The Revolution had begun. Washington was in Massachusetts, at the head of
the northern army ; but it was not until near the close of the war that Williams-
burg was to experience much of its excitement. Then Cornwallis, coming up
from the Carolinas, drew into the peninsula, and was caught in the trap at York-
town, but twelve miles from Williamsburg. -Lafayette came down with his little



OLD DEBTORS’ PRISON AND POST-OFFICE, WILLIAMSBURG.
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

army, and awaited in Williamsburg the arrival of Washington and Rochambeau.
They came at last — the great commander-in-chief, strong, cool and confident,
great Virginia’s greatest son. With him came his ragged veteran continentals,
and his courtly ally, Rochambeau, with his brilliant French regiments in their
white uniforms, gay trappings and waving plumes. They, too, sat down in
Williamsburg, and the sessions of the college were for a time interrupted, that
the French allies might be quartered in its halls. It was during this occupation
that William and Mary suffered from its second fire, the president’s house being
burned; but Louis XVI. of. France made full reparation for the loss due to his
soldiers, though they were serving America’s cause and the disaster was acciden-
tal. The college has been less fortunate in dealing with our own Government.
The house in which Washington had his headquarters is one of the historic
houses of Williamsburg, and still stands unchanged, save by the wear of time —
a large, square brick mansion, once the home of Chancellor Wythe, and now
said to possess the ghost of that great jurist. Wythe died in Richmond by
poison administered by a nephew, who expected to inherit his fortune; but the
chancellor had time to change his will, and the murderer was disappointed. It
appears that the unquiet ghost of the chancellor felt most at home in the old
house at Williamsburg, and has preferred that to Richmond. Another room in
the same house boasts the
phantom of a Miss Byrd of
Westover, who married and
came there to reside, and to
die. Just over the garden
wall, in Bruton churchyard,
is the grave of a more recent.
resident of the Wythe house:
the eminent scientist, Dr.
John Millington, who was
born in London in 1779, and
died in Richmond in 1868.
He at one time resided in
this house, being then pro-
fessor of natural science at.
William and Mary. When
THE COLLEGE OF WILLIAM AND MARY, WILLIAMSBURG. dying he expressed a desire to
Scie foun die kes paren be buried in Bruton church-
yard, as near as possible to his old Williamsburg home, to which he was most
attached, of all the places in which he had been during a life of travel.
Williamsburg has always developed a peculiarly strong attachment in those.
who have come upon its charmed ground. In 1862 it was occupied by both
armies, devastated by war, and its people were obliged to desert their homes.


AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

When the war was over they were impoverished; their college had been burned,
and their city’s prosperity was forever checked; but they returned to the old
homes, desolate though they were, and there they live quietly, proud of their
history, in an atmosphere somber with the shadows of unforgotten tragedy,
uncomplaining, maintaining as best .
they may the honored names of
that prouder past.

In old Bruton, or Christ Church,
are many memorials of the long
ago, quaint and curious often, but
coming home to us with the sub-
lime sympathy of the universal
sorrow, whether in the stilted
eulogiums of dead notables
of two hundred years ago,
or the unmarked stone cov-









ering the resting-place of A BIT OF THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER STREKT, WILLIAMSBURG.
the beautiful Lady Christine )
Stewart, daughter of a Scotch earl and lineal descendant of Mary, Queen of
Scots. This noblewoman of Scotland married for love alone a young student
from Williamsburg in Edinburgh University, came with him to his American
“home, and. left descendants, in all of whom is noticeable that personal beauty
which was for so many generations the fatal gift of her race. Among the
ancient memorial tablets in the church is one more recent, in memory of the
Confederate soldiers who fell at the Battle of Williamsburg, closing with this
tribute of simple loyalty: “They died for us.” The church interior itself has
been so much remodeled since the edifice was erected, in 1715, that it has lost
much of its charm; but Bruton parish is one of the oldest Episcopal parishes in
America, having been organized in 1632. It possesses the font at which Poca-
hontas is supposed to have been baptized in the old church at Jamestown, the
old Jamestown communion service, and two other ancient services of silver and
gold. Outside in the churchyard violets bloom, children frolic among the an-
cient stones, and cattle browse on its grass. History is buried there, and has
become a part of the soil. The sun shines over all as it did generations ago
and has through all the years, and above the graves there broods the restful-
ness of Nature’s gracious calm. ~

Thus, in this quaint old rural city, a descendant of Puritans and Aboli-
tionists from New England, finding hospitable welcome, recognized with new
force the wide-reaching kinship of English blood; he recalled the days of
that great historic movement in which Williamsburg played so important a
part, and saw more clearly the close relationship of the people of Massa-
chusetts and those of Virginia. They came from the same good stock, they
AN OLD COLONIAL CAPITAL.

thought along the same great lines, although political differences sometimes
separated them in the old country as well as in the new.

“Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms filled my brain;
They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again.”

Our country has few localities of which this may be as truly said as of Wil-
liamsburg, where nothing reminds of the present, and everything recalls the past.
In this quaint rural city the typical life of old Virginia flourished. Here the
country squires, who loved the soil with all the strength of their English blood,
gathered in the winter for the round of social amusements that they loved
almost equally well. Here great men were trained to play great parts in state
and nation. Here democracy and aristocracy flour-
ished side by side, the one growing out of the Anglo-
Saxon love of freedom and fair play, the other
lineally descended from the proud
old Cavalier spirit, that through
many years of strife shouted and et Zs vy:
fought — | oni sey \a)=


















Tora



OY iG ‘ i he ge
3 ig? yes 4

“For God, for the cause, for the church and es ph






the laws;
For Charles, King of England, and Rupert of TS
the Rhine.” wpa

eat
Se

For they were loyal
king’s' men and church-
men, these old Virginians,
and as proud of their race
as any Spanish hidalgo ;

ta uy



l
ys

i‘
a




















but above all they were aT ity) ith
Anglo-Saxon freemen, On ASH SG ae i)
whose liberty. was their Sl ‘i nN a,
dearest heritage. Like " on ae
their Puritan kinsfolk in OLD BRUTON PARISH CHURCH, WILLIAMSBURG.

New England, whose pride
was fully equal to their own, they proposed to have liberty to do as ; they
pleased, in spite of king or church, and to hold the power to make others do as
they would have them. Our liberty-loving English ancestors were not a tolerant
people, whether they settled in the North or South; but, North or South, in
spite of their bigotry, they were the finest race the world has seen, and they
held the destiny of nations in their hands, whether the hands were those of fox-
hunting Virginia squires or severe Massachusetts Puritans.

We give our allegiance to them both, holding both in the honor they deserve
THERE 1S ALWAYS ROOM.

from the nation they were so largely instrumental in founding. Could pictur-
esque, lovable old Williamsburg be preserved, restored by reverential hands to
something of its old-time grandeur, it would be a most valuable reminder of the
past ; but it would lack much if it lost the suggestions of the old régime, pre-
served in its people who still bear stamp of the proud old race.

Edwin A. Start.

THERE IS ALWAYS ROOM.

GRANDMOTHER came to a little house,
And she was poor and old;
And already the little house was full
As ever it could hold.

With father and mother and children nine,
In spite of toil and care

There was sometimes lack in the little house,
And always scanty fare.







cy

“ And how can you keep a grandmother ? y

I should think she would crowd

you so.” —

“QO, no!” cried sturdy Will, with =
a smile ;

“My grandma crowd? O, no!”



“T should think she would,’ per-
sisted Dick ;

“ For your house was full before. oul i Ee

When anything is full, you know, (i EAN i as LS

How can you put in more?” \ : a

Dicky was young and questionful,
But Will was patient and kind ;

“ The room in our hearts helped us,” he said,
“ Room in the house to find.”

Ah! poor little house, dear little old house,
Where the happy faces swarm !

And Will was right. There is always room
Where the heart beats true and warm.
AN EASTER DUET.

And one might have no room to spare,
Though one had boundless space.
"Tis a crowded heart, a selfish heart,
That makes a crowded place.
Wiliam Zachary Gladwin.





AN EASTER PUET.

(From a painting by Conrud Riesel, )


TO APRIL.
(A Rondel of Salutation.)

LAD in the daintiest robes of Spring,
Darling of all the budding year;
You smiled but now, yet here is a tear —
Fitfully fair is the month I sing.

Birds have flown northward on hurrying wing, |
Eager to welcome their April here —

Clad in the daintiest robes of Spring,
Darling of all the budding year.

Summer is queen, and Autumn is king;
But you, fair month, are the princess dear.
Sweet coquette, so humanly near
That all our hearts to your waywardness cling,
Clad in the daintiest robes of Spring,
Darling of all the budding year.
: Loutse Chandler Moulton.






WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

NE day Willie was walking through the woods when

he came to a great hollow tree. He peeped

through the hole, and thought he would crawl in and
see what a hollow tree was like.

Inside he found a ladder, very narrow and very steep,
but up and up he climbed till he came to a little window.
Through the glass he saw a funny little man, with three
eyes, sitting at a round table eating his lunch. There
was a great brown pie before him, and Willie was very
fond of pie.

Then he noticed a little door at the top of the ladder,

_ so he knocked very gently: rap-tap-tap-tap !
“Come in!” called the funny little man, and Willie
“THROUGH THE GLASS HE SAW opened the door and stepped into a little room.

a EAN “Who are you?” said the little man.

“J’m Willie, and I came up the ladder. Do you live here?”

“ Yes; I am a Treedeedle, and this tree is my house. Won’t you have some
lunch ?” ,

“O, yes!” said Willie, looking at the big brown pie and a cake, full of little
black things, and a big glass pitcher of lemonade.

“‘T always have an extra place for a visitor,’ said the Treedeedle. “Sit
down,” and he motioned toward the vacant chair. “ Will you have some pie?”

“ Yes, please,” said Willie, taking the empty chair.

So the Treedeedle cut a huge piece of
pie and handed it to Willie. Willie took
up his fork and cut into his pie, and found
it was full of empty spools.

“Oh! my mamma doesn’t make pie
out of spools. I don’t like spool pie; I’m
afraid I can’t eat it,” said Willie.

“Not eat spool pie!” said the Treedee-
dle, who was just finishing his third slice.
“Why, it is delicious. But perhaps yowd
like some cake?”

se O, yes; very much,” said Willie, his “Wwon’T YOU HAVE SOME LUNCH 2?”
eyes growing bright with pleasure.

So the Treedeedle passed him a large slice of cake, and Willie broke off a
piece and was just going to eat it, when he saw the little black things were not
raisins but tacks, carpet tacks.




WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

“Oh!” he said, “my mamma doesn’t put tacks into her cake; no; I can’t
eat tacks.” .

“Not eat tacks!” cried the Treedeedle, munching his cake with delight.
“Why, they are so spicy, and sharp, and good; and these are particularly large
ones. Perhaps you'd like some lemonade ?”

“Yes,” said Willie; “I think I should.”

So the Treedeedle poured out a glass of lemonade, and handed it to Willie
with such a polite little bow that Willie thought he must be polite, too, and not
find so much fault with the Treedeedle’s lunch.

But as he lifted the glass to his lips, he smelled kerosene, and set the glass
down very quickly.

“Oh! my mamma doesn’t make lemonade out of kerosene,” said he. “I
can’t drink it.”

_ “Not make lemonade out of kerosene!” cried the Treedeedle. “Why, yes;
one lemon peel to one quart of kerosene is my recipe. I assure you it is very
nice. But perhaps you would like an egg; I'll ring for one.”

The Treedeedle picked up a little silver bell and rang: ding-a-ling, a-ling-
a-ling. In came a little man servant in a green jacket.

“Hard or soft?” said the Treedeedle, looking at Willie.

“ Hard,” said Willie.

“‘ Number-thirty-four, bring us some hard eggs,” said the Treedeedle.

The man servant in the green jacket went out.

“Why do you call him ‘ Number-thirty-four ?’” asked Willie.

“ Because that is his name,” said the Treedeedle.

Pretty soon, Number-thirty-four came back with a dish of eggs, and Willie
took one. The shell seemed to have been taken off, so he
bit right into it, and found that it was lard, a ball of lard.

“Oh! my mamma doesn’t have eggs made of lard.
Your cooking isn’t ike my mamma’s. I don’t think Pm
very hungry, and I think I will go home now; but if you
will come to breakfast with me sometime, I will show you
what kind of things my mamma cooks. Bread and milk,
‘ and strawberries, and buttered toast, and chicken, and

“yumser-tumety-rour.” . things like that, you know.”

“QO, yes! I know,” said the Treedeedle. “I often have
them, too; and door-knob stew, and pincushion pudding, and needle tarts, and
ice-cream made out of broken glass and lemons. I should like to take breakfast
with you, though. Perhaps I will go to-morrow ; and the next time you come to
see me, I will take you to call on my friend the Owl, who lives in the next
tree. Come soon.”

“
“Then let’s go and call on him now,” said the Treedeedle.


WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

“ All right. I’ve got on my clean dress, so I can go,” said Willie.

When they reached the tree where the Owl lived, the Treedeedle gave a
shrill whistle, and down from the tree came a basket on a rope.

Willie and the Treedeedle got into the basket, and were drawn up to a great
limb. There they saw a little door standing open. Inside, they found the Owl

sitting at a little desk writing a letter. “What are you writ-
ing?” asked the Treedeedle looking over the owl’ s shoulder.

“Tm writing a letter to the Man in the
Moon; he sent me an invitation to dinner. Is
this your friend Willie ?”

“Yes; let me introduce you to the Owl,
Willie.”

The Owl shook Willie’s hand with one of his
claws, and said, “ Perhaps you and the Tree-
deedle would like to go with me to the Man in
the Moon’s to dinner. I'll send the letter after I get there.”

“Of course we'll go,” cried the Treedeedle. “Willie is ates Oeste
all dressed, and I can dress in a jiffy, if you will lend me a
wash-basin. I forgot to put my wash-basin in my pocket when I came away.”

_ “All right,” said the Owl; “you can go behind that screen, and I will go
behind this screen, and we will dress.”

So Willie sat down on a little stool and waited while the Treedeedle and the
Owl splashed and scrubbed behind their screens.

They washed so violently that they dashed the water over the screens and
sprinkled the whole room. Then the Owl curled all his feathers with a curling-
iron in the latest style.

“Now for the paper collars!” cried the Owl. “ We can’t be dressed with-
out paper collars. Tl lend you and Willie each one.”

Willie didn’t think he needed a paper collar, but he did not want to hurt the
Owl’s feelings, so he let the Treedeedle and the Owl put on his collar for him,
and it came way up around his ears.

“ How are we going to get to the moon?” asked Willie.

“Oh! I have a comet tied to my back fence,” said the Owl, “ and he will
take us there.”

Willie had never seen a comet; so he followed the Owl and the Treedeedle
out into the Owl’s back yard with a good deal of curiosity.

The comet looked like a big star switching a long fiery tail. They all got
on the comet’s back ; first the Owl, then the Treedeedle and then Willie.

“ Now hold on tight,” said the Owl, untying the comet from the fence; and
away they went like the wind, straight for the moon. Willie held on to the
Treedeedle’s coat-tails, and they went so fast it almost took his breath away.

When they reached the moon, the comet stopped, and they got off his back




WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

and walked up a little yellow path to a yellow house, and knocked on the little
yellow door: rap-tap-tap-tap !

A little yellow man, with a great many brass buttons on his clothes, opened
the door and asked them to walk upstairs.

The Man in the Moon was waiting for them on the roof of the house, which
was flat like a veranda. He was a very round
little man, with a round, shining face like a full
moon. The dinner-table was all ready, set with
gold plates, and gold spoons, and gold cups,
and gold knives and forks.

“Tm delighted to see you;
delighted! Sit down and have
some oysters,’ cried the Man

‘(THEY GOT ON THE COMET’S BACK AND AWAY THEY WENT in the Moon.

see Willie looked at his plate,
but did not see any oysters; nothing but some little pieces of green cheese.

After they had eaten their cheese, the Man in the Moon called to the little
man in buttons to bring the soup. So the plates were all changed, and in came
the soup.

Willie poked into his plate, but all he saw was a little green cheese in the
. bottom of the soup plate.

“ Well, that’s funny,” thought Willie; but he saw the Treedeedle and the
Owl were eating their cheese, so he ate his.

“¢ Now we'll have some chicken,” said the Man in the Moon.

“That is nice; I like chicken,” said the Owl. But when the plates were
brought in, Willie saw that each one had a square piece of green cheese and
nothing else.

“ Any way, this is better than the Treedeedle’s lunch,’ said Willie to him-
self ; “but I wish they would have something different.”

But though the Man in the Moon spoke of the salads, and strawberries and
cream, and ice-cream, and plum cake, and candy, and nuts, and raisins, and all
kinds of good things, Willie saw that they were only pieces of green cheese of
different sizes.

“ Let’s go fishing,” said the Man in the Moon, after dinner was over.

“ How jolly!” said the Owl. “Where shall we go?”

“To the Milky Way,” cried the Man in the Moon.

So off they started, with long fishing-rods over their shoulders till they came
to the Milky Way; it was tumbling along like a river of milk.

The Man in the Moon had a little an and he rowed them all out into the
middle of the stream to fish.

“They caught all kinds of strange things. First, the Owl caught a pair of
rubber boots, then the Treedeedle emmene a pair of boxing-gloves, then the Man




WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

in thé Moon caught an umbrella, and then Willie caught a diamond crown, which
sparkled and glittered like a row of stars.

“Oh! how beautiful,’ cried the Treedeedle; “you must bea king. Let’s
all put on the things we have caught.”

So the Treedeedle put on his boxing-gloves, and the Owl put on his
rubber: boots, and the Man in the Moon put up his umbrella, and Willie put the
diamond crown on his curls, and they started for the house of the Man in
the Moon.

“T must go home quickly, for I am going to a ball at the Mud Turtle’s
to-night,”’ said the Owl.

_ They looked all about for the comet to take them Shee but as the Owl had
forgotten to fasten it to the Man in the Moon’s hitching-post, it had gone off.

“ How shall we get home?” cried the Treedeedle.

“Let's fly;” said the Owl, and he flapped his wings and flew off tomar home.

“Oh! I can’t fly,” cried Willie. -

“ You will have to jump,” said the Man in the Moon.

“All right; good-by! Come, Willie, take my hand,” said the Treedeedle.



‘‘ THEY CAUGHT ALL KINDS OF STRANGE THINGS.”

So Willie took the Treedeedle’s hand, and together they jumped.

Willie looked down and saw. something sailing below them, and when they
got nearer they saw that it was a balloon, and as it was directly beneath them
they tumbled into it.

The balloon was manned by a big black pussy cat with green eyes.
WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

“What do you mean by jumping into my balloon?” asked the Black
Pussy Cat, as Willie and the Treedeedle came tumbling into the basket.

“We did not mean to,” said the Treedeedle ; “but you were in our way, so
we had to fall in. Won't
you take us home in your
balloon ?”

“T haven't time,” said
the Black Pussy Cat. “I’m
on my way to the Mud
Turtle’s ball; you can go
with me if you like, and I
will take you home after
the ball is over.”

“Let's go,” said the
Treedeedle to Willie.

“All right,” said Willie; and away they sailed with the Black Pussy Cat.

The Mud Turtle lived by a pond, under a willow-tree, and as it was getting
rather dark, the bushes, and grass, and trees were all lighted up with fireflies,
that snapped and sparkled like electric lights, and made the place as bright as day.

The guests were sitting about on stones. There was the Owl in his rubber
boots, and he winked one big eye at
Willie when he saw him come in
with the Black Pussy Cat and the
Treedeedle.

Then there was a big grasshopper,
and a robin, and a field-mouse, and a
bull-frog, and a blue butterfly, and
ever so many gthers.

The Mud Turtle was in the. cen-
ter, shaking hands and talking with
everybody.

Then the music struck up.

“Choose your partners for a
hopity-kick waltz!” shouted the Mud
Turtle.

Willie looked up to see where the
musicians were, and saw them sitting
on the branches ; two thousand mos-
quitoes, humming and buzzing a waltz
as loud as they could sing.

Then the Bull-frog came and

asked Willie to dance. Willie saw the Black Pussy Cat dancing with the Mud



“THEY STARTED FOR THE HOUSE OF THE MAN IN THE MOON.”



“THE TREEDEEDLE THREW OFF HIS BOXING-GLOVES AND
UNBUTTONED HIS COAT.’
WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

Turtle, and the Grasshopper waltzing with the Field-mouse, and they seemed to
be having such a gay time that he thought he would dance, too.

The Bull-frog hopped and leaped about so fast that Willie had hard work to
keep up with him.

“The one who dances the longest wins the prize,’ shouted the Mud Turtle.

First the Mud Turtle got tired out and stopped, then the Field-mouse and
the Rabbit, then the Robin and then the Blue Butterfly, and all the others, one
by one, till only the Grasshopper and the Treedeedle were left.

They danced and danced, and hopped and twirled, till the room fairly seemed
to Willie to whirl, too.

Then the Treedeedle threw off his boxing-gloves, and unbuttoned his coat,
and danced faster all the time, till at last the Grasshopper fell down in a faint,
and they had to bring him
to by rubbing him down with HX
a clothes-brush. .

By that. time everybody =
was shouting: “ Hurrah for
the Treedeedle!” “Three
cheers for the Treedeedle !”
“The Treedeedle has won
the prize!”

The Owl and the Black
Pussy Cat hoisted him on to
a board, and carried him
round the room. eee aT 5 ;

Then the Mud Turtle “ THREE CHEERS FUR THE ThbeDbbDLb.””
brought in the prize, which
was a hand-organ, and then they all cheered again, and the Treedeedle played
them a tune on his or gan.

“ Now for the refreshments,” cried the Mud Turtle; and they brought in a
great wash-boiler full of molasses candy, and each one took a big spoon and
dipped it into the boiler and began to eat. *

Presently Willie noticed the Blue Butterfly sitting on the fence, eating his —
lunch all by himself out of a little tin dinner-pail.

“ Why don’t you come and eat with us?” asked Willie.

~ “T don’t. like molasses candy, so I always bring my own lunch,” said the
Blue Butterfly.

Willie looked to see © what the Butterfly had for lunch, and saw that he had
brought five sausages allon a string.

After they had finished the molasses candy, and scraped the boiler nice and
clean, the Treedeedle said it was time to go home; so they all shook hands with

the Mud Turtle and told him what a good time they had had.

f
\


WILLIE AND THE TREEDEEDLE.

“T’m coming to see you, Willie,” said the Mud Turtle.

“ That will be nice,” said Willie. “I will show you my playhouse.”

“ Oh! Tl come, too,” said the Owl.

“And I,” said the Black Pussy Cat.

“ Can’t I come, too?” cried the Blue Butterfly.

“And I?” asked the Grasshopper.

“Tam coming,” said the Robin.

“Tm coming, too,” croaked the Bull-frog.

“ All right,” said Willie; “perhaps my mamma will let me have a birthday
party and invite you all.”

“Hurrah! hurrah! We are all going to Willie’s birthday party!” cried
everybody.

Then the Black Pussy Cat and the Treedeedle climbed into the balloon and
pulled Willie in after them, and very soon they stopped at Willie’s front gate
and let him out.

“Good-by! Ive had a beautiful time,” said Willie, “and now I am going
_in to tell my mamma all about it.”

Agnes Blackwell.





























































































































NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBORS.



\\



“AUN a
valk “|

7!



MET him one day on a long railroad track,
With a staff in his hand and a pack on his back,
And I said to him merrily, “ Whither away ?”
And, “ What part of the world have you come from to- -day,
In such mizzly, drizzly weather ?”’

The old man turned round with a laugh in his eye,
And said to me quickly, “From nowhere come I;
But ’'m walking as fast as I possibly can
To the place ” — (he was smiling, this little old man)
“To the place where the tracks come together. _
A MISTAKE.

“ But don’t you, my dear sir, get tired, at all?”
“QO, no! I keep walking from spring until fall,
And during the winter, through ice and through snow,
The more happy am I, che fe I go
Toward the place where the tracks come together.

“Some days it is weary and dreary to walk,
With no one to listen, nor even to talk ;
But when nobody’s talking I walk at my best,
And although I’m not tired, Pll have a good rest
In the place where the tracks come together.

“Now I must hurry, or Pll never get there ;
My time is so short that I don’t even dare
To stop for a moment. Good-by, sir,” said he ;
And so he trudged onward, as blithe as a bee,
Toward the place where the tracks come together.

I wonder if e’er I shall meet him again —
This little old man with his little cracked brain ?
I have ne’er seen him since, but (I can’t tell you why)
I know I shall meet him some day in the sky,
In the place where all tracks come together.
James Walter Smith.



Pea



oe NW ee



A MISTAKE.

AID the needle, “ I’ve swallowed a thread,”
And forthwith he set up a cry ;
But the pin on the cushion, she laughingly said,

“ Now surely, that’s all in your eye.’
Mrs. J. T. Greenleaf.
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

(Fourth Paper.)
THE FIRST CITY IN THE NEW WORLD.

ROM the Bahamas Columbus
sailed southwardly, discover-




uf)

! ing Cuba; then he coasted its north-
ys , 1
I) ern shores to its eastern cape, and
a , stretched across the channel to a

ss great and mountainous island the
| (F natives called Bohio, but now
(ls known as Hayti.
Se These wanderings consumed so
much time, that Christmas week
5 still found him on the coast of
Hayti. And Christmas Eve brought him disaster. J am sorry to say that a boy
caused the trouble, though it was all through the fault of Columbus himself.
They were sailing over a calm sea, when the Admiral, feeling the need of sleep,
gave the helm to one of his captains. But as soon as Columbus had gone below,
the captain turned it over to a boy, and himself went to sleep. The flag-ship
drifted on a reef, and soon went to pieces; but an Indian chieftain sent men
out from shore and saved all the crew and the wreckage, and took the men to
his town. Columbus, finding the two little vessels left to him too small for all to
return in to Spain, left forty men with the Indians, built them a fort, and con-
tinued the homeward voyage. The wreck occurred on Christmas Eve, and he
called the fort erected La Navidad, or the Nativity. It was the first structure
known to have been erected by Europeans in the New World.

Soon after the Admiral’s arrival at court, royal orders went forth for the
preparation of a fleet of seventeen vessels, to be well manned with most ex-
perienced seamen and pilots, and also to carry miners, carpenters, husbandmen
and mechanics.

Besides the crews and mechanics, great numbers of adventurers desired to
embark. These last included many hidalgos of high rank, lured by the stories
of gold and silver to be had for the seeking in that far-off land. They were
the most worthless of all recruits for colonizing. They were brave, but brutal
and unscrupulous. Many of them had fought in the Moorish wars; and, eager in
their schemes of plunder, they carried fire and the sword amongst a peaceful
people who had never lifted their hands against one another except in
self-defense.


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

At last the fleet of carracks and caravels, seventeen sail in all, left the harbor
of Cadiz, on the twenty-fifth of September, 1493. On the third of November,
land was sighted in the Caribbees, or southern West Indies, but it was not till
the twenty-fifth of that month, after leisurely sailing through the golden chain
of islands, that Columbus arrived at the site of Fort Navidad. He found the
fortress destroyed and the garrison massacred, and whatever may have been his
original intentions as to fixing here the settlement he had been commissioned to
found in the New World, the circumstances attendant upon his return thither
prevented the consummation of such a scheme. The aspect of brightness
worn by the country less than a year ago was now changed to one of gloom.
Confidence in the Indians was impaired; suspicion and distrust had taken its
place. The occupants of the ves-
‘sels were anxious to disembark,
even suffering for a change of
environment; but no settlers could
be induced to fix their abode
here, with the fate of their pre-
decessors ever in mind.

So the fleet weighed anchor and
stood eastward. Fate, in the shape
of an adverse wind, threw in their
way what they had been so anx-
iously seeking—a secure harbor
with an advantageous site for settle-
ment. It was not far.from a cape
seen and named by Columbus on Es
his previous voyage in January. fee
Within a line of frothing coral
reefs is a deep basin, spacious enough for many such ships as were those of
the Admiral’s day, while a great breastwork of coral rock, with a beautiful
beach on one side and a river on the other, gave promise of an excellent site
for the city that was to be. The ships were brought within the line of
reefs, and the weary passengers, together with the live stock and provi-
sions, were landed on a little beach. It was on the eleventh of December,
1492, that they arrived, and they went to work with such diligence that soon
houses were built, and at least four stone buildings erected, the remains of
which have endured till the present time. Two months from the day of landing, a
church was dedicated, and the new city of “Isabella,” which Columbus had named
for his queen, presented a very creditable appearance. But it was not long
occupied. Because of the insalubrity of the climate and the recklessness of the
settlers, many deaths occurred, and in a few years it was abandoned. For
nearly four hundred years it has lain in desolation, no one living in it; and as


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

it lies out of the track of travel, its very site was forgotten, and re-discovered
only recently. It was, in fact, absolutely forgotten until the year 1891, when
the writer of this sketch searched it out.

The nearest port is Puerto Plata, about sixty miles away. At this place I
disembarked, one day in May, 1891. The entrance to the harbor is very nar-
row; but once inside, the steamer finds secure anchorage near the base of the
Silver Mountain.

Two days after arriving at Puerto Plata, I found a small coasting vessel,
called a goleta, the captain of which promised to drop me at Isabella, as he passed
on his way to the logwood district. The American Consul secured for me-
letters of introduction to residents in the country near, and the manager of an:
estate situated near Isabella gave me orders on his mayor-domo for shelter and
assistance.

From Puerto Plata down the coast the scenery 1s extremely picturesque; near
Cape Isabella great gray cliffs of limestone stand boldly out, like battlements
of vast fortifications, with a sea of verdure behind and crescent-shaped beaches
of snow-white sand inter-
vening. The ancient city
itself was situated on a plain
which terminates in a bluff
of coral conglomerate,
twenty to thirty feet high,
facing the west and the
ocean. A line of foaming
breakers seems to forbid
approach, but beyond them
is a shallow harbor, off the
mouth of a river which is
known as the Bajo-Bonico.
The goleta was called the
“ Olivia,” a pretty name

Ree eo Ook - for a very filthy vessel;

(The Haytien River on which Isabella was founded). and she was manned by

four black men, the’ black-

est of whom was the captain. The heavy seas and the nauseous ship-odors
made me very ill, and I had to endure six hours of condensed misery before the
breakers off Isabella were weathered, and the little harbor gained. As we
anchored, half a mile from shore, the rain came down in torrents, and for an
hour we were huddled together in the sweltering hole they called the “ cabin.”
After a while the rain ceased, my effects were loaded into the small boat, and we
made for the river. We could see no entrance, but we finally ran the breakers,
and after bumping on the sands several times, were well inside. Then we found


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

ourselves in the dreariest river I had seen for many a month: a switt-flowing
stream of yellow water between banks of mangroves, and the only sign of life
some blue and white herons, plovers and black-neck stilts. Our boys pulled
hard against a four-mile current, and a half a mile up landed us opposite a col-
lection of small houses on a bluff.. We were met at the landing by a young
man who had once lived in Florida; and though we were in a Spanish-speaking
country, all the men then
in our employ spoke English,
the sailors having come from
Grand Turk, in the Baha-
mas. The young man,
Washington Banks, had been
recommended by our consul,
so he was at once installed
as factotum and _ general
purveyor. He took us to
the house on the bank,
which we found a very com-
fortable dwelling; here he
swung our hammocks, and -
we were well housed against oi
the rain, which fell the THE BLUFF ON WHICH COLUMBUS ERECTED THE PILLAR,
whole night through. go tae

At daybreak, next morning, the mocking-birds awoke us. Crawling out
from under our mosquiteros: we shook the fleas from our blankets, and were
assailed by myriads of mosquitoes and sand-flies. At six o'clock or so, after the
morning coffee, Washington — or “ Wash,” as he was called — guided us along the
steep river bank and through a dense forest-growth in the direction of the lost
city. The morning was cool and fresh ; the bushes were wet with the rain; the
trees were filled with birds: cooing doves, moaning pigeons, chattering parrots,
with now and then a darting humming-bird, crossing our path like a sunbeam.
Beyond the woods we passed through a mangrove swamp, with the river on one
side and steep coral rocks on the other; thence we reached a bluff headland,
covered with densest vegetation of cactus and almost impenetrable thickets of
spiney plants.

This bluff faces the west. It is composed of coral conglomerate, evidently
upheaved, containing branches and sections of coral, beautiful in shape and in-
finite in variety of form.

This is the plain upon which unvarying tradition, as well as ancient ruins
and environment, locate the city founded by Columbus and called by him
Isabella, after the queen of Spain. Itis not large, containing perhaps two acres.
Tt slopes gradually upward toward steep and densely-wooded hills on either




FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

side a half-submerged basin covered with mangroves. The soil, in no place
deep, becomes thinner and thinner toward the hills, where there is none at all
except in holes in the white coral rock; and yet, these rocks are covered with
a dense growth of such hard woods as lignum-vite, and such a mass of thorny
bushes and vines as to be well-nigh impenetrable. The bluff faces. the ocean,
west; the forest-covered hills lie to the east, while north and south are the man-
grove swamps. The northern swamp is sometimes filled with water, and looks
like a lagoon; and when the water comes down from the hills, as it does in the
rainy season, through a picturesque cafiada, and as it did when Columbus landed
here, it must appear like the “lake” that he called it.

It was around this lake that the first settlement was located. Directly in
front of it is a beautiful beach of yellow sand; here, without doubt, Columbus
landed, as a channel admitting small vessels through the reefs comes directly
up to the sands. This beach is two hundred and seventy-five feet in length,
with a coral bluff at either end, and a border of ecaeranc behind and between —
it and the mangroves of the lagoon.

‘Here, four hundred years ago, the caravels and carracks disembarked their
living freight of sea-worn sailors and Spanish cavaliers, the horses, the cattle and
the sheep. Here were accumulated the munitions of war, the provisions, plants,
articles for trade and barter, and the little beach was piled high with the freight-
age of the ships. Even to-day the sands sometimes disclose most interesting
relics of that far-away time when first the products of Europe were landed on
American soil. I-have had in my hands a fragment of chain-armor and a stone
ball, which were found here, and I now possess pieces of the tiles that covered
the houses erected by the Spaniards and of the crucibles in which the first gold
was smelted.

The morning sun lay aslant the beautiful beach, and cool shadows lurked in
the hollows of the rocks, tempting us to strip and plunge into the limpid waves
that lazily lapped the sands. “ Wash” was dubious about this experiment, because
the water inside the reefs is sometimes alive with the big fish known as barra-
coutas, more dreaded by the natives than the sharks; but we paddled about in
great glee, and emerged refreshed and unharmed. After that, and during the
week that we were there, a bath on the beach in the cool of early morning was
our regular refresher. I used to take in a big stick with me, plant it firmly in
the sand beneath the water, and swim about where I could have it always within |
reach. And so gentle was the movement of the water that the stick remained
standing there from day to day. It is said that Columbus used to bathe on this
very beach.

Overlooking the beach, at its southern point, once stood, according to tradi-
tion, and the evidence of the visitors of fifty years ago, a pillar of masonry, or
a monument, which formed a conspicuous landmark, visible some distance at
sea. Local tradition states that this pillar was destroyed fifteen years ago, and
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

the marble tablet it bore carried away. It is supposed that it was erected by
Columbus, to indicate the site of the city to passing vessels; its destruction
is attributed to treasure-seekers, who blew up its foundations, hoping to find
that it covered hidden gold.

Fifty years ago, much of the original city was visible, and in the midst of
the forest the traveler saw all the remains of the structures erected by Colum-
bus: the pillars of the church; the remains of the king’s storehouse; a
part of the residence of Columbus; the small fortress, and a circular battle-
mented tower.

From the northern point of the bluff, where the pillar stood, following along
the shore, there is a semi-lunar-shaped heap of debris about a hundred feet long.
A little farther on, at about the center, is a quadrilateral depression in the soil,
where the church once stood, some traces of what may have been a fortified wall,



THE RUINS OF ISABELLA.

and scattered stones. At the southern bluff, overlooking the river, and perhaps
five hundred feet from the pillar-site, is the most conspicuous monton, or heap of
stones, mixed together with tiles. This is conjectured to have been the “king’s
house,” or the smelting works where the gold was assayed that the explorers
brought from the mountains. I found several hewn stones here, as well as
heaps of tiles, and what we think were the fragments of crucibles. This is the
most commanding point of the bluff, and it appears possible that the river,
though now some distance away, once laved the base of the cliff.
It did not take long to ascertain the little that remained of Isabella—a day
or two did that— but the remainder of a week was consumed in proving what
was not there. This is always the task of the explorer; to investigate, to
search out, not alone the actualities, but the fallacies and distorted statements.
What I refer to is this: there was a tradition current that the original church
FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

built by Columbus, was not at the bluff, but deep in the forest. Furthermore, it
was said that it remained, even now, only partially in ruin, and retaining much
of its ornamentation. This, of course, fired my imagination and stimulated my
desire for research, and I at once made careful inquiry. ‘ Wash” declared that
he himself had seen it; but when I had dispatched him on an exploring expedi-
tion all by himself, he returned with the result that there was no result, though
he declared the ruins existed nine years ago, and that he believed they had been
removed bodily, possibly by the spirits, which, as everybody knew, haunted the
site of the dead city of Isabella. Then he bethought himself of a native who
had seen it within a year, while out in the woods hunting wild hogs. This man
was a mahogany-cutter, who was drifting some mahogany logs down the river,
and would not reach us until the next day. When he arrived, he was not very
prepossessing ; he was stark naked and was the color of the mahogany logs he
had brought along; for he had been two days wading and swimming the river,
pushing the logs ahead of him. He rolled the timbers upon the bank and left
them there, in just the place another lot had been left, and which were carried
out to sea and lost; the last
time the river came down.
This mahogany-cutter had
been working. several days
to earn one dollar and
twenty-five cents which he
did not get after he had
earned it. He received only
an order on a merchant at
Puerto Plata for that amount
and for this he would have
to travel one hundred miles.
Even then, he would find
that one dollar and twenty-
five cents cash was another
UNDER THE SEA-GRAPES. term for “ goods,’ to - the

(With “ La Vieja” sitting in the foreground.) ; value of perhaps sixty cents.

It was hard for the poor fellow; but I had little sympathy for him, because
when asked what he would take to guide us to the ruins, he replied very
promptly “twenty-five dollars.” He claimed to possess an exclusive right on

ethe ruins, and meant to make me pay for it; but as I made a point of “no
ruins, no pay,” we did not conclude a negotiation.

It so-happened that an old woman in the kitchen had overheard the man
describe the place to a friend, as he stepped in to light his pipe, and when he had
gone, she offered to guide us. So one morning we started out, or, at least, we
tried to start; for it always takes these people a long while to be “about to


FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

begin.” Arrived at last at the bluff, I separated my party, placing them within
hail of each other, and covering the entire plateau, as well as the hillside.

We worked carefully, traversing the woods in every direction, but without
result. We crawled through thickets and briers, sweltering in the terrible heat,
pestered with mosquitoes and sand-flies, but meeting with no noxious insects.
The bushes were hung thick with spider-webs, occupied by bad-looking owners,
but we did not encounter,
fortunately, the very poison-
ous ground-spider, whose
sting is death, though it is.
abundant there. After some
hours, we all met as by ap-
pointment at the camada,
at the head of the lagoon,
and after refreshing our-
selves started again, prob-
ing the woods in every
direction, but without any
reward. The old lady had
worked as hard as any of
the party, and seemed as :
little fatigued. They called ee re has

her la Vieja or the old (This pile of stones is probably the remains of “ the king's house,” or gold
2 smelting works.)



woman. When she saw
that we had exhausted our endeavors, she came to the rescue with a proposition
to invoke the powers that hide in darkness, with which she professed to be
familiar. In order to humor her, I assented, and she led us back to the fort at
the bluff, and then to the well in the woods, where she halted at the foot of a
tree. Producing from her ragged garments a candle, made by her own hands from
the brown wax of native bees, she lighted it, and commanded us all to keep
silence. Then, carefully protecting the flame from theewind, she mumbled
something over it, watching anxiously the direction of the smoke, and finally
said, pointing east, “Go there; that way is the capilla.” So I started my men
off east, the Vieja with them, ranging toward the hillside. But they soon came
back, exhatsted, every one, and cast themselves down upon the sands, beneath
the sea-grapes, where I was awaiting them. La Vieja was not at all downcast
at the failure of her incantation; indeed she was exceedingly “ chipper,” and
walked home with us through the terrible heat, without showing the least
fatigue. And so our hunt for the ruins ended.

Having investigated everything around and about the site of Isabella, after a
week’s residence here I concluded it was time to go. But I was loath to leave
this pleasant place, and at night strolled up the hill, and into the woods, to a












A LITTLE. BOY’S LOVE.

point that must have been a favorite outlook with the early settlers — those poor
unfortunates who perished here, so far from home and friends. Little wonder
that Columbus was execrated ; the wonder is, indeed, that he was not killed by
these dupes of his ambition. They died:so rapidly that consternation seized the
settlers, and sickly Isabella was abandoned as'soon as the interior was opened to
adventure.

And they were fine Aidalos these victims of Isabella, whose ghosts yet
retain the traditions of departed greatness and high-bred courtesy; for it is said
they yet haunt these same woods, and linger in the ruins. They can be distin-
guished from ordinary and common ghosts by their invariable politeness to a
stranger, for some of them, it is declared, have been encountered here, and,
though’ wrapped in gloomy meditation, they courteously returned salutes,
hie indicates innate refinement in ghosts that have been running wild in the
woods four hundred years.

I waited late, hoping to get a glimpse of one, and much regretted that there
was no moon, fora gentlemanly ghost is my admiration. But the sun descended,
the shadows darkened into shades, and the woods grew black, long before I left
them; and I cannot truly say that I saw an Isabella ghost. The night be-
fore. our.departure the horses were sent over by Don Ricardo; their fodder

of guinea-grass was piled before them and they themselves were tethered to the

fence, where they remained all night; and we took an early departure in the

morning.
Pee Frederick A. Ober.



A: EVE EE BOYS EON Ee:

ITH shouts of laughter
That followed sitar,
This forfeit made its stern behest:
~ “ Kneel to the prettiest,
Bow to the wittiest,
And kiss the one you love the best.”

“Come, choose her boldly,”
They cry, but coldly
He turns from all the maidens there,
To bow —and lingers
To kiss her fingers,
While kneeling at his mother’s chair.
Ruth Hail.
RS.

FLOW I

LENGTH AMONG THE

AT FULL







FLUWERS,

E

TH

PNGLH AMUNG

FULL Lt

AT
THE APRIL CHILD.

HRO’ growing lilies tall as wheat,
Thro’ Easter lilies white as
cream,
There looks a face demurely sweet,
There walks a child with tender feet,
New-wakened from her cradle-dream.

Was ever head so golden-curled ?

Were ever cheeks so winsome red ?

“T saw her first,” the robin said;

The Infant Year has left her bed

And smiles “ good-morrow” round
the world.

O, joy for waiting eyes to see!

You bring us from your couch of
snow,

The vernal song, the morning glow,

And all the hopes of moons ago

And sunbeams of the weeks to be,

Your sign, dear Spirit of the spring,
For every year in heaven is set ;
Your annual spell shall ever yet
Make Time delay and Age forget,
Till youth is lord of everything.
Theron Brown.





ae a quaint and carven casket may some precious treasure hold,
So.this proverb from the Orient doth a gracious truth enfold :
“We should spread our garments widely when the heavens are raining gold.” |
. Ruth Hall.
EBNO’L AMED.

66 OLD me fast, mamma, when we enter the Khan. I
- am afraid.”

| “6 Afraid of what, Ebno’l Amed?” Umdhabai exclaimed,
turning sharply upon her son.

‘The little fellow was only ten years old, but he did not
look like one who would be much afraid of anything, as he stood, barefooted
on the sand, facing his mother. Those were his words, however, and he was
her only child —her fatherless boy, in a land where men and boys were valued
simply according to their courage.

“ Allah forbid it!” Umdhabai added angrily. “Ebno’l Amed is not a
coward.”

Slowly and thoughtfully the boy asked :

“Ts he always a coward who is afraid ?”

Umdhabai nodded her head, and he added, “Then, mamma, I must be a
coward, for I am afraid.”

Umdhabai almost dropped the basket of fruit she was carrying, and, dumb
with anger and mortification, stood looking down upon the little figure.

Behind them was the little village where they lived upon the edge of the
great desert. They were on their way to a large Khan with a well where cara-
vans encamped for a day when coming or going over that trackless sea.

At daybreak that morning, they had seen the long black line, twisting and
writhing as it crept like a serpent over the glistening sand, indicating that a
trailing train of camels, with drooping heads and lagging feet, came out of the
desert, and all the villagers gathered baskets of fruit and hurried toward the
Khan, sure of a good market day.

Umdhabai forgot her errand, however, as she stood in silence, looking scorn-
fully down, while Ebno’l Amed asked, “ Will papa ever come back to us?”

“Never!” she replied solemnly. “He has taken the long journey. But
he was a brave man. He has gone where the Prophet promised to the brave
eternal happiness. No coward will ever follow him.”

Not heeding the taunt, Ebno’l Amed asked :

“Tf the famine comes again, mamma, what can you do without papa ?”

“{T must sell my jewels,’ she replied, glancing at the necklace which she
wore, in the common custom of her people who carry all of their wealth about
them, as ornaments, for want of some safer place to put it. Umdhabai was still
very angry, however, and added: “They came from a brave man. Shall they
' go to keep a coward from starving ?”

Ebno’] Amed’s lip quivered, and his eyes were bright with tears; but he went


EBNO’L AMED.

on with his thought: “If the famine lasted longer than the jewels, mamma,
couldn’t I help some ?”

“A coward is like the south wind; bringing sand instead of rain,” said
Umdhabai fiercely.

“Tf Iam near youl can help you,” Ebno’l Amed insisted. “ Only for that
I wouldn’t be afraid to go to the Khan alone, to sell the fruit; but I heard men

say that the caravan this morning was led by the terrible Abul Hasham.”

“ Abwl Hasham!” Umdhabai exclaimed, with astartled shudder. “Come,
let us go back.”

“No, no, mamma,” the boy pleaded. “Only keep your hand on me. Then
he cannot steal me, and I shall not be afraid. J am too small to fight him, and
if he carried me far away and sold me for a slave, I could not help you, mamma.
Come!” and he tugged upon her sarai.

After what she had been saying about bravery, Umithabai did not dare to let
Ebno’l Amed see how thoroughly she herself was frightened by that name of
Abw1l Hasham — the terror of every tribe and village ce: North Africa; so. lay-
ing a trembling hand upon his shoulder, she reluctantly started toward the Khan
to sell her fruit-in the caravan of the brigand slave-collector.

It was a miserable desert town they entered; but it boasted a mud wall,
with two gates, bearing their names in great letters on the arch: “ Gate of
the Desert ” and “ Gate of the Sea.”

Ebno’l Amed-was chatting fearlessly enough, now, but his mother’s face
grew very anxious as the bedlam of voices greeted them from the Khan, where
men, women and children, in the inevitable fashion of an Oriental caravan, were
shouting and wrangling in different languages, and camels and dromedaries were
grunting and groaning as they went through the laborious task of lying down.

It was not the confusion which aeamed Umdhabai, however, for ordinarily
she would have hurried to the noisiest quarter, sure that there the people would
be the most wide awake, and in a moment she would have been shouting and
wrangling with the rest, selling her fruit faster than any of her neighbors.
To-day she would have given it all away rather than go near the place.

Upon the very outskirts of the Khan she sat down, with the basket in front
of her, and one arm about her boy.

“Why don’t you shout, mamma?” he asked; but receiving no reply he, too,
lapsed into silence, and sat watching the camels and playing with the silver
bands upon his mother’s ankle.

There had only been a few customers when Ebno’l Amed felt the arm
tighten about him and tremble, and, looking up, he saw a tall Moor, witha white
beard and a scar on one side of his face. The man paused, and asked he price
of all the fruit left in the basket.

“Take it without money. It has no price,’ ’ Umdhabai replied, pushing the
basket toward him with her foot. It was the same form which the Prophet
EBNO’L AMED.

Isaiah used, and which one hears every day in the East, where there are venders
of anything. The usual meaning is that the purchaser is expected to be par-
ticularly liberal; but for once in her life Umdhabai would have been glad to be
taken at her word. |

The Moor placed the basket on his shoulder, simply asking, “ Where shall

“I send the money ?”

“To the house nearest to the Gate of the Desert,’ Umdhabai replied in a
faint voice as she rose to her feet, and taking Ebno’l Amed by the hand whis-
pered, “ Come, we must hurry.” »

-Faster and faster she walked, till the boy was obliged to run. They passed
the house by the gate, then the gate,
and still hurried on over the sand toward
the village.

At first Ebno’] Amed wondered why
his mother had sacrificed the price of
her fruit rather than tell the Moor truly
where she lived, but as they hurried on
he looked up and asked:

“ Mamma, was that Abu’l Hasham?”

Umdhabai did not answer, for,,in.,
truth, no one had told her that it was
he; but Ebno’l Amed knew well enough
that he was right, and shuddered as he
thought that he had looked, for a mo-
ment, into the face of Abul Hasham,
the slave-dealer.

TI



All day long the mother’s eyes were
kept upon her boy. Ebno’l Amed real-
ized it, and was glad of it; for he had Sa RES ae Re
heard many a story of the mysterious
ways by which Abu’l Hasham stole whom he would, carried them off, and sold
them as slaves.

He tried to make himself think that he was not a coward, and was not afraid,
but he knew very well that he was afraid.

Ebno’l Amed slept upon a mat, close to his mother, upon the earth floor of
the one little room in their hut; but above that room, and close under the roof,
his father had constructed a low, dark loft, where they often stored their fruit
when it was ripening too fast, and, though it was not a comfortable place to
sleep, Ebno’l Amed obeyed without a word, when his mother directed him to take

his mat up there for the night.
It seemed as though he could never go to sleep. The moment he shut his

,
EBNO’L AMED.

eyes, he found himself looking straight into Abu’] Hasham’s face again. When
he did sleep, however, he slept very soundly, and it was so dark in the loft that
he slept very late.

Through a crack in the palm-leaf roof he could see that it was broad day-
light when he opened his eyes, and, wondering that his mother had not called
him to say his prayers at sunrise, he crept to the opening into the room below.

Looking down, he started back in terror, and his heart stood still. All was
confusion there. The mat upon which his mother slept was torn, and Umdhabai
was nowhere to be seen. ,

Gathering courage, at last, he dropped to the floor, and hurried to the open
door. No. She was not anywhere. Looking toward the nearest huts, he saw at
once that something very serious had happened.

A few old men and women were sitting on the ground, before the doors,
wailing and moaning as they did at funerals. It could not be that his mother was
dead, or they vould be at his door, instead. Yet she could not be alive, or she
would surely be there, wailing and moaning with the rest.

While he stood, wondering, in the door, he caught one name which the
mourners pronounced louder and more frequently than all the rest. It was
“ Abu’l Hasham.”

Then he knew it all; and dropping upon the ground, with his back against
the mud wall, all alone Ebno’l Amed began to wail and moan like the rest.

In a sort of spontaneous poetry, to which the Arabic is particularly adapted,
he put his thoughts into words and sang them, in a low, sad chant.

“ Abu’l Hasham, the terrible, came to my home, last night,” he moaned.
we My mother feared his coming, and she thought only of me. She hid me away
from him. But heeame. Oh! he came. While I slept in safety, he came in the
night. Yes, he came and he took my mother—the light of my eyes—the
breath of my body — the blood of my heart. He has carried her away He will
sell her for a slave, far, far away from her people. O, Umdhabai, Mamma
Umdhabai! why did I sleep? Why did 1” —

He suddenly stopped the chant, and sat looking at his little hands, as he
slowly clasped and unclasped them.

“Ts Ebno’l Amed a coward?” he asked himself. “Is he like the south
wind, which brings the sand and no rain? IfI can help my mother, it will be
by being where she is.” :

He sprang to his feet, and entered the hut. A moment later he came out,
wrapped up in a long white sarai, a badge of mourning, and leaving the village
walked directly toward the town.

Another caravan was in the Khan. Abu’l Hasham, with his captives, had left
during the night, by the Gate of the Sea. As the sun was setting, the second
caravan roused itself and started in the same direction. Among the motley col-
lection of followers who often form a large, unmounted company behind a great


EBNO’L AMED AND THE WATER-CARRIER,

scup and Ebno’l Amed looked up

i

The man filled h

th Abwl Hasham.”

rf

to find himself face to face w
EBNO’L AMED.

caravan, they noticed a little atom of humanity so completely covered with a
mourning sarai, that it was hard to say if it were a boy or girl. It was no one’s
concern where it came from or whither it went. The grand Mussulman law of
hospitality provided the little stranger with food and shelter, but beyond that.
the national lack of curiosity allowed him to follow his own course, unmolested.

As the caravan entered the gate of the great city on the sea, there was
excitement and consternation everywhere. Some British soldiers were posting
a notice upon the arch, stating that the English government had discovered a
plot to injure her subjects between the desert and the sea, and to rise in insur-
rection. The man who was at the head of it was known to be in that region,
and a large reward was offered for him, dead or alive. He was Abu’l Hasham.

Ebno’l Amed left the caravan, and turned into the first narrow alley which
they passed. He, alone, knew that Abu’l Hasham must have entered that same
gate, only a few hours before; but he had no one to whom he could go for
advice. Instinct told him that as soon as Abu] Hasham saw those notices he
would make his escape, and that if he was to do anything to rescue his mother
he must do it quickly.

He wanted to be alone, to see if he could not think out what should be done.
He turned into one narrow alley after another, pulling the soiled sarai closer
about him, and slowly walking along the damp and slimy pavement — so differ-
ent from his own desert sand — without so much as noticing it, though it was
the first time in his life that he had ever been in a city.

While he was wandering on, a water-carrier passed him. He noticed the
skin water-bag, and, being very thirsty, he turned round and called to the man,
asking him fora drink. He called twice, but the man seemed little inclined to
heed him; but, turning, Ebno’] Amed ran after him, caught him by the arm,
and shouted: ‘“ Water! In Allah’s name, give me water!”

Then the man paused and filled his cup, and Ebno’l Amed, while he waited,

looked up at him, to find himself face to face again with Abu] Hasham.
He was too thoroughly frightened to utter a sound. He even took the water
and drank it, without knowing what he did; but the whole situation was unfold-
ing itself in the boy’s mind. He realized that, disguised as a water-carrier, Abu’l
Hasham was stealing down those deserted alleys intent upon escaping from the
city. He knew that if he let him go he would escape, and all hope of saving
his mother would be lost. As the water-carrier hurried on, Ebno’l Amed tried
to throw off the fright, and as it was all he could do, he fixed two bright,
black eyes upon the retreating figure, determined not to lose sight of him.

On and on they went, twisting about in the narrow lanes, till the water-carrier
suddenly turned to the right. While Ebno’l Amed was wondering why, and hur-
rying to catch up with him again, he almost ran into the very officers whom he
saw at the gate, putting up the notice.
EBNO’L AMED.

Even in the excitement of the moment he wondered why he had not thought
of them before, and, though he could not speak a word except Arabic, he caught
the nearest one by the coat, and pointing down the alley, eagerly repeated that
one name, “ Abul Hasham!”

Fortunately, that was all that was wanted, and Ebno’l Amed ran after them
as they chased the water-carrier and took him prisoner.

There was great excitement at the British headquarters when it was known
that the Government had secured its prize in less than an. hour after publishing
its offer. Ebno’l Amed was a very small boy to possess so much money, but the
reward was fairly won, and they prepared to fulfill the promise.

When they told him of the wealth that would be his, however, he simply
shook his head, and replied :

“JT don’t want it. What could I do with it? I want my mamma. Abul
Hasham stole her away from me, and brought her to sell her as a slave, and I
followed him to get her back. I want my mamma.”

This was still greater news to the officers who were working hard to sup-
_ press slave-stealing. The captives were found, and were all set free, while the
servants of Abu’ Hasham were arrested.

That was a grand day for Ebno’l Amed. Umdhabai clasped him in her arms
—the proudest mother of the bravest boy among all the Arabs; and when the
rest of the captives saw who had set them free, they made a royal palanquin out
of their arms and shoulders, and in a grand, triumphal procession they bore
him, day after day, all the way from the sea to his desert home.

Abd el Ardavan.



“LASKE y-
























































HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE.

WO hours steam south from Singapore out into the famous Straits of Ma-
lacca, or one day’s steam north from the equator, stands Raffles’s Light-
house. Sir Stamford Raffles, the man from whom it took its name, rests in
Westminster Abbey, and a heroic-sized bronze statue of him graces the center
of the beautiful ocean esplanade of Singapore, the city he founded.

It was on the rocky island on which stands this light, that we — the mistress
and I—played Robinson Crusoe or, to be nearer the truth, Swiss Family
Robinson.

It was hard to imagine, I confess, that the beautiful steam launch that
brought us was a wreck; that our half-dozen Chinese servants were members of
the family; that the ton of impedimenta was the flotsam of the sea; that the
Eurasian keeper and his attendants were cannibals; but we closed our eyes to
all disturbing elements, and only remembered that we were alone on a sun-lit
rock in the midst of a sun-lit sea, and that the dreams of our childhood were, to
some extent, realized.

What live American boy has not had the desire, possibly but half-admitted,
to some day be like his hero, dear old Crusoe, on a tropical island, monarch of
all, hampered by no dictates of society or fashion? I admit my desire, and,
further, that it did not leave me as I grew older.

We had just time to inspect our little island home before the sun went
down, far out in the Indian Ocean.


HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE.

Originally the island had been but a barren, uneven rock, the resting-place
for gulls; but now its summit has been made flat by a coating of con
aad Ne : s
There is just enough earth between the concrete and the rocky edges of the

island to support a circle of cocoanut-trees, a great almond-tree, and a qu









t-
looking banyan-tree, whose wide-spreading arms extend over nearly half the
little plaza. Below the light-house, and set back like caves into the side of the
island, are the kitchen and the servants’ quarters, a covered pas




geway

On-























RAFFPLES'’S LIGHT-HOUSE, ON THE ISLA9D IM THE IMTMAB OCEAT.





ng them with the rotunda of the tower, in which we have set our dining-



necti
table.

Ah Ming, our “China boy,” seems to be inveterate in his determination to
spoil our Swiss Family Robinson. illusion. We are hardly settled before he
comes to us.

“ Mem” (mistress), “no have got ice-e-blox. Ice-e all glow away.’

“Very well, Ming. Dig a hole in the ground, and put the ice in it.”

“ How can dig? Gloind all same, hard like ice-e.”

«Well, let the i ice melt,” I reply. “Robinson Crusoe had no ice.”

In a half-hour Jim, the cook, comes up to speak to the “ Mem.” He lowers
his cue, brushes the creases out of his spotless shirt, draws his face e down, and
commences : on



B96


HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE.

“ Mem, no have got chocolate, how can make puddlin’ ?”

I laugh outright. Jim looks hurt.

“ Jim, did you ever hear of one Crusoe?”

“No, Tuan!” (Lord.)

“Well, he was a Zuan who lived for thirty years without once eating
chocolate ‘ puddlin’.’ We'll not eat any for ten Gaye: Sabe?”

Jim retires, mortified and astonished.

Inside of another half-hour, the Tukang Ayer or water carrier arrives on the .
scene. He is simply dressed in a pair of knee-breeches. He complains of a
lack of silver polish, and is told to pound up a stone for the knives, and let the
silver alone.

We are really in the heart of a small archipelago. All about us are verdure-
covered islands. They are now the homes of native fishermen, but a century
ago they were hiding-places for the fierce Malayan pirates whose sanguinary

deeds made the peninsula a byword in the mouths of Europeans.
A rocky beach extends about the island proper, contracting and expanding

as the tide rises and falls. On this beach a hundred and one varieties of shells
glisten in the salt water, exposing their delicate shades of coloring to the rays
of the sun. Coral formations of endless design and shape come to view through
the limpid spectrum, forming a perfect submarine garden of wondrous beauty.
Through the shrubs, branches, ferns and sponges of coral, the brilliantly col-
ored fish of the Southern seas sport like gold-fish in some immense aquarium.

We draw out our chairs within the protection of the almond-tree, and watch
the sun sink slowly to a level with the masts of a bark that is bound for Java
and the Borneoan coasts. The black, dead lava of our island becomes molten
for the time, and the flakes of salt left on the coral reef by the out-going tide
are filled with suggestions of the gold of my Idahoan home. A faint breeze
rustles among the long, fan-like leaves of the palm, and brings out the rich
yellow tints with their background of green. A clear, sweet aroma comes from
out the almond-tree. The red sun and the white sheets of the bark sail away
together for the Spice Islands of the South Pacific.

We sleep in a room in the heart of the light-house. The stairway leading
to it is so steep that we find it necessary to hold on to a knotted rope as we
ascend. Hundreds of little birds, no larger than sparrows, dash by the windows,
flying into the face of the gale that rages during the night, keeping up all the
time a sharp, high note that sounds like wind blowing on telegraph wires.

Every morning, at six o’clock, Ah Ming clambers up the perpendicular stair-
way, with tea and toast. We swallow it hurriedly, wrap a sarong about us, and
take a dip in the sea, the while keeping our eyes open for sharks. Often, after a
bath, while stretched out in a long chair, we see the black fins of a man-eater
cruising just outside the reef. IJ ae not know that I ever hit one, but I used a
good deal of lead firing at them.
HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE.

One morning we started on an exploring expedition, in the keeper's jolly-
boat. It was only a short distance to the first island, a small rocky one, with a
bit of sandy beach, along which were scattered the charred embers of past fires.
From under our feet darted the grotesque little robber crabs, with their stolen
shell houses on their backs. A great white jelly-fish, looking like a big tapioca
pudding, had been washed up with the tide out of the reach of the sea, and a
small colony of ants was feasting on it. We did not try to explore the interior

of the islet. We named it
Fir Island from its crown of
fir-ike casuarina-trees,
which sent out on every
_ breeze a balsamic odor that
was charged with far-away
New England recollections.
The next island was a
large one. The keeper said
it was called Pulo Seneng,
or Island of Leisure, and
held a little campong, or
village of Malays, under an
old Penghulo, or chief,
named Wahpering. We
found, on nearing the verd-
ure-covered island, that it
looked much larger than it really was. The woods grew out into the sea for
a quarter of a mile. We entered the wood by a narrow walled inlet, and
found ourselves for the first’ time in a mangrove swamp. The trees all seemed
to be growing on stilts. A perfect labyrinth of roots stood up out of the water,
like a rough scaffold, on which rested the tree trunks, high and dry above the
flood. From the limbs of the trees hung the seed pods, two feet in length,
sharp-pointed at the lower end, while on the upper end, next to the tree, was
a russet pear-shaped growth. They are so nicely balanced that when in their
maturity they drop from the branches, they fall upright in the mud, literally
planting themselves.

The Penghulo’s house, or bungalow, stood at the head of the inlet. The old
man —he must have been sixty— donned his best clothes, relieved his mouth
of a great red quid of betel, and came out to welcome us. He gracefully touched

his forehead with the back of his open palm, and mumbled the Malay greeting:

“ Tabek, Tuan?” (How are you, my lord ?)

When the keeper gave him our cards, and announced us in florid language,
the genial old fellow touched his forehead again, and in his best Bugis Malay
begged the great Rajah and Ranee to enter his humble home.



WAHPERING’S BUNGALOW.
HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE.

The only way of entering a Malay home is by a rickety ladder six feet high,
and through a four-foot opening. Iam afraid that the great “ Rajah and Ranee”
lost some of their lately acquired dignity in accepting the invitation.

Wahpering’s bungalow, other than being larger and roomier than the ordi-
nary bungalow, was exactly like all others in style and architecture.

It was built close to the water’s edge, on palm posts six feet above the ground.
This was for protection from the tiger, from thieves, from the water, and for
sanitary reasons. Within the house we could just stand upright. The floor
was of split bamboo, and was elastic to the foot, causing a sensation which at
first made us step carefully. The open places left by the crossing of the bam-
boo slats were a great convenience to the Penghulo’s wives, as they could sweep
all the refuse of the house through them; they might also be a great accommo-
dation to the Penghulo’s enemies, if he
had any, for they could easily ascertain
the exact mat on which he slept, and stab
him with their keen Arises from beneath.

In one corner of the room was the
hand loom on which the Penghulo’s old
wife was weaving the universal article of
dress, the sarong.

The weaving of a sarong represents
the labor of twenty days, and when we
gave the dried-up old worker two dollars
and a half for one, her syrah-stained
gums broke forth from between her
bright-red lips in a ghastly grin of
pleasure.

There must have been the represen-
tatives of at least four generations under
the Penghulo’s hospitable roof. Men and
women, alike, were dressed in the skirt-
like sarong which fell from the waist
down ; above that some of the older women wore another garment called a Ka-
baya. The married women were easily distinguishable by their swollen gums
and filed teeth.

The roof and sides of the house were of attap. This is made from the
long, arrow-like leaves of the nipah palm. Unlike its brother palms — the cocoa,
the sago, the gamooty and the areca — the nipah is short, and more like a giant

cactus in growth. Its leaves are stripped off by the natives, then bent over a
‘bamboo rod and sewed together with fibers of the same palm. When dry they
become glazed and- ree

The ‘all, slender areca palm, which stands about every campong, supplies



THE CHIEF’S ‘‘ BEST WIFE.”
HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE.

the natives with their great luxury — an acorn, known as the betel-nut, which
when crushed and mixed with lime leaves, takes the place of our chewing tobacco.
In fact, the bright-red juice seen oozing from the corners of a Malay’s mouth is
as much a part of himself as is his sarong or kris. Betel-nut chewing holds
its own against the opium of the Chinese and the tobacco of the European.

As soon as we shook hands ceremoniously with the Penghulo’s oldest wife,
and tabeked to the rest of his big family, the old man scrambled down the ladder,
and sent a boy up a cocoanut-tree for some fresh nuts. In a moment half a
dozen of the great oval green nuts came
pounding down into the sand. Another
little fellow snatched them up, and with
a sharp parang, or hatchet-like knife,
cut away the soft shuck until the cocoa-
nut took the form of a pyramid, at the
apex of which he bored a hole and a
stream of delicious cool milk gurgled out.
We needed no second invitation to apply
our lips to the hole. The meat inside
was so soft that we could eat it with a
spoon. The cocoanut of commerce con-
tains hardly a suggestion of the tender
fleshy pulp of a freshly-picked nut.

We left the Penghulo’s house with the
old chief in the bow of our boat—he in-
sisted upon seeing that we were properly
announced to his subjects—and_pro-
ceeded along the coast for half a mile, and
then up a swampy lagoon to its head.

The tall tops of the palms wrapped everything in a cool green twilight.
The waters of the lagoon were filled with little bronze forms, swimming and
sporting about in its tepid depths regardless of the cruel eyes that gleamed at
them from great log-like forms among the mangrove roots.

Dozens of naked children fled up the rickety ladders of their homes as we
approached. Ring-doves flew through the trees, and tame monkeys chattered
at us from every corner. The men came out to meet us, and did the hospitali-
ties of their village ; and when we left our boat was loaded down with presents
of fish and fruit.

Almost every day after that did we visit the campong, and were always wel-
comed in the same cordial manner.

_ Wahpering was tireless in his attentions. He kept his Sampan Besar, or big
boat, with. its crew at our disposal day after day.

One day I showed him the American flag. He gazed at it thoughtfully and





A LITTLE MALAY GIRL.
HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE.

said, “ Baik!” (Good.) “How big your country?” I tried to explain. He
listened fora moment. “Big as Negri Blanda?” (Holland.) Ilaughed. “A
thousand times larger!” The old fellow shook his head sadly, and looked at
me reproachfully.

“ Tidak! Tidak!” (No, no.) “Rajah. Orang Blanda (Dutchman) show me
chart of the world. Holland all red. Take almost all the world. Rest of coun-
tries small, small. All in one little corner. How can Rajah say his country
big?”

There was no denying the old man’s knowledge; I, too, had seen one of .
these Dutch maps of the world, which are circulated in Java to make the natives
think that Holland is the greatest nation on earth.

One day glided into another with surprising rapidity. We could swim, ex- |
plore, or lie out in our long chairs, and read and listlessly dream. All about our
little island the silver sheen of the sea was checkered with sails. These strange
native craft held for me a lasting fascination. I gazed out at them as they glided
by, and saw in them some of the rose-colored visions of my youth. Piracy,
Indian Rajahs and spice islands seemed to live in their queer red sails and palm-
matting roofs. At night a soft warm
breeze blew from off shore and lulled us
to sleep ere we were aware.

One morning the old chief made us a
visit before we were up. He announced
his approach by a salute from a muzzle-
loading musket. I returned it by a dis-
charge from my revolver. He had come
over with the morning tide to ask us
to spend the day, as his guests, wild-pig
hunting. Of course we accepted with .
alacrity. J am not going to tell you how
we found all the able-bodied men and
dogs on the island awaiting us, how they
beat the jungle with frantic yells and
shouts while we waited on the opposite
side, or even how many pigs we shot.
It would all take too long.

We went fishing every day. The many-
colored and many-shaped fish we caught were a constant wonderment to us.
One was bottle-green, with sky-blue fins and tail, and striped with lines of gold.
Its skin. was stiff and firm as patent leather. Another was pale-blue, with a
bright-red proboscis two inches long. We caught cuttle-fish with great lustrous
- eyes, long jelly feelers and a plentiful-supply of black fluid ; squibs, prawns,
mullets, crabs and devil-fish. These last are considered great delicacies by



A MALAY Boy.
HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE. -

the natives. We had one fried. Its meat was perfectly white, and tasted like
a tallow candle.

The day on which we were to leave, Wahpering brought us some fruit and
fish and a pair of ring-doves. Motioning me to one side he whispered, the
while looking shyly at the mistress, “‘ Ranee very beautiful! How much you
pay?” I was staggered for the moment, and made him repeat his question.
This time I could not mistake him. “ How much you pay for wife?” He gave
his thumb a jerk in the direction of the mistress. I saw that he was really
serious, sol collected my senses, and, with a practical, business-like air, answered,
“Two hundred dollars.” The old fellow sighed.

“The great Rajah very rich! I pay fifty for best wife.”

I have not tried to tell you all we did on our tropical island playing Robinson
Crusoe. I have only tried to convey some little impression of a happy ten days
that will ever be remembered as one more of those glorious, oriental chapters
in our lives which are filled with the gorgeous colors of crimson and gold, the
delicate perfumes of spice-laden breezes and with imperishable visions of a
strange, old-world life.

They are chapters that we can read over and over again with an ever-increas-

ing interest as the years roll by.
Rounsevelle Wildman.











SPRING IS IN THE AIR.




ere,



EGE? = ERS ES

HEN the sleepy world in his bed of clouds
-Turns over toward the dawning,
There are too many girls, and too many boys
Who sleep through the long, bright morning.
Then the sun peeps in through a chink to say
(But never a word do they hear — not they),
“The world is awake; the bird’s in the blue;
He'll catch the worm; not you, not you.”

But here are the girls, and here are the boys
Who woke with the birds’ first singing ;
They cry to the sun, “ You're a little late,
For the morning news we’re bringing.”
They top the hill, and they take the world,
These clear-eyed “ Firsts,” with their flag unfurled.
And the sun, with his kindly and wise old face,
Remarks to the earth, “'They’re the heirs of the race.”

Mary A. Lathbury.


































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































OF TIME.

A QUESTION
HOW PATSEY FOUND HIS FORTUNE.

# HERE was a great commotion in the Killikelly cabin that
morning. There always was, for that matter, for they made
up the jolliest crowd of Trish children you ever saw, and the
little cabin at Fernsea was much too small to hold either the
crowd or the noise. But the laughing and shouting were so much
louder than usual, that if you had been there you would surely
have asked what it was all about.
No one need to stay in doubt long upon any matter in Fern-
sea, for news traveled quickly in the little village. It was simply
& this: the Killikellys were going to America.
g Poor little Patsey was happier than all the rest put together,
and when you say that you say a good deal, for hardly anybody
except the babies slept a wink that night for joy. But Patsey had reason to be
glad, for as he was a cripple who had never been able to go far from home, even
in a jaunting car, the prospect of being carried more than two thousand miles
in a big steamer was more than delightful.

Patsey had read more than the rest about that wonderful land, and all that
he had heard and studied about it only whetted his curiosity and increased his
joy. Why, “Meriky ” was where they had Indians, and gave away land to poor
people, and had paper for money. (They have only silver, gold and copper
money there, in Ireland, you know.) He knew about this because Jimmie
Mack’s sister, who was out at service in America, wrote long letters to Jimmie,
and told him all about these jolly things.

They were to sail in about a week, and the little Killikellys were busy
enough. They bade all their schoolmates good-by ; helped to carry the lighter
articles of furniture to the neighbors who had bought them; gave away their
toys (they were not so much to look at, but they were very dear to them), so
that their playmates would have something to remember them by. So they
started over the field to the railway station one bright morning, a lark high up
in the sky singing them a cheery farewell song as they tramped away together.

Patsey carried in one hand a little leather satchel which knocked against his
crutch as he hobbled:along. Little Mike offered to carry it for him, asking, with
wonder in his big blue eyes:

«“ Phwat’s in it, any way?”

“ Oh! somethin’ foine — yez’ll be sure to lose it, Mickey, if I lets yez carry it.
Oi can take it all roight.”

All their kindly entreaties were in vain. Patsey would: neither tell: them
what it held, nor allow it out of his sight one instant. Even when the pangs of



HOW PATSEY FOUND HIS FORTUNE.

sea-sickness overtook him, on the third day out from Liverpool, the satchel lay
beneath his pillow.

' All the Killikelleys declared they had never seen Patsey so happy. He hob-
bled around the deck, and talked with the sailors, who all had a cheery word for
the little lad. He amused the children, and had a kindly word for all he met.

It was because of his very kindness and good nature that his misfortune over-
took him. His mother was ill nearly all the time, and so Patsey undertook the
care of the baby, a blue-eyed midget of a boy about two years old. He was sit-
ting with the baby on his lap, and as the child threatened to cry, had given
him the precious satchel to play with. As he turned to answer a question of
one of the younger children, Baby took the opportunity to throw the little black
bag over the rail; and Patsey’s frightened eyes just caught a glimpse of it before










SSS

SO ROT

“HE WAS SITTING ON A COIL OF ROPE WITH THE BABY IN HIS LAP.’

it disappeared. He made no outcry at first. He was too stunned and miserable.
But when he did commence to weep, he cried as if his heart would break.

Then he had to tell them all about it: how he had planned that they should
all be rich in America; how he had cut up all his precious books and picture
cards, and packed them in that bag, so that they should have plenty of paper
money in the strange land they were going to. They consoled him, sailors and
all, as best they might, and then left him, for he refused to-be comforted.
Meanwhile Baby toddled about, and laughed at the crying boy.

By and by the story got all round the ship; and while some smiled a little at
first, that a child should be so “simple,” when they knew that it was little
crippled Patsey who was so disconsolate, their pity took a very helpful form.

They told the cabin passengers about it, too, and everybody tried to give
something. There were crisp paper five-dollar and ten-dollar bills, and even the
silver and coppers given by the steerage passengers were changed into bills, so
that Patsey should still have paper money. It was all packed in another little
black satchel that one of the ladies gave, and then they all followed the captain
when he went to find the poor boy.
SAM’S -DEFINITION.

He was sitting upon a coil of ropes, looking steadily over the water when
they approached. His cheeks were wet with recent tears. The captain didn’t
make a speech or anything of that sort. He only told Patsey how sorry they
were for him; how careless babies were, because they didn’t know any better,



‘HE HAD GIVEN THE BABY THE
SATCHEL.’’

and that perhaps it didn’t matter, after all, about the
satchel falling overboard, because the paper had to be
stamped in a certain way, as postage stamps were in
Treland, before it could make anybody rich. He said
that.they had found some of that right kind of stamped
money among the passengers of the ship, and had
packed it in a satchel like his, which they wanted him
to keep with their best wishes.

When he opened the bag with trembling fingers,
and saw all the curious green and brown money, he

couldn’t say one word; but although they told him not to mind about thanks,
his eyes said “Thank you,” much plainer than words could ever have done.

So he was rich, after all, and when they got to New York there was enough
money to set Patsey up in business; and now, over a little store, in a big
thoroughfare, you may read the sign of “ Patrick Killikelly, Newspapers and

Confectionery.”

Edith Perry Estes. .

SAM’S DEFINITION.

66

OW, scholars,” said the teacher new,
“ Since you can write and spell,

Tm sure in definition too
Tll find that you excel.”

Each smiling scholar, open eyed,
The challenge seemed to wait.

“ Well, here’s a word,” the teacher cried —
“ Define ‘ to hibernate.’ ”

Up went a score of little hands.
“Well, you may give it, Sam —
Stand up!” The blushing Webster stands:

“To dwell in Ireland, ma’m

{?

James Buckbam.


















































AN APPRECIATIVE AUDTENCE.
















A SONG OF FAIR WEATHER.

gm



OME springtime
day
In a nest will lie
an ego,
Blue as the stockings
On a peacock’s leg ;
Some sunny day
It will be a pulpy
ball,
With two frowzy
wings
To break its fall.



Some April time,
When the rain has
passed away,
I shall find a Crow’s-foot
Nodding blossoms gay.

Dandelion and fern Mocking-bird and red-wing,
Will jump up at my feet, The kildee and jay,
As I begin to wonder . All build their roof-trees
What can be so sweet. Where I see them ev’ry day.
An undiscovered country Liverwort and lady’s smock,
In a little woodland plot ; Wild clematis vine,
Something’s always new there, Cluster in a woodland —
Something’s just forgot. God’s, and thine, and mine.

Sallie Margaret O’ Malley.
THE PRINCE’S DILEMMA.
(A True Story.)

E was a prince of ‘some scholarly distinction, and was on a visit to Queen
Victoria at Windsor Castle. He went to the British Museum to see a
unique coin.

“Yes,” said the teat taking the prince into a private room where the
treasure was locked up in a special cabinet; “this is the only known example
of this particular coin ; it is priceless as an imperial relic.”

The prince examined it with suppressed excitement, looked at it through a
magnifying glass, and smiled with delight. The keeper was a shrewd man. He
_ saw that the prince had the true feeling of the connoisseur and collector, and he

was wary; for the passion of the enthusiastic antiquarian has been known to
lead the most. honest men out of the paths of virtue. The keeper turned aside
for. a moment, however, and during that) moment the coin dropped upon the
floor. He heard it ey and saw the prince stoop as if to pick it up.

“JT have dropped it,” said His Highness.

The keeper joined him in Tooking for it; but the treasure had dtsapnean ed.

‘It was nowhere to be seen. They both searched for it diligently. Ten, twenty,
thirty minutes passed away. The prince looked at his watch. “I am very
sorry, but I must go now,” he said; “I have a most important appointment.”

The keeper rose from his stooping posture, went to the door, locked it, put
the key into his pocket, and then, looking his visitor straight in the eye, said:
“You cannot keep your sppOInGHie ey, sir, a you have restored to me the
coin I last saw in your hand.” :

“ But,” said the prince, “ you will find it prevently: and my engagement is at
Windsor.”

~ “Tam very sorry ; but you cannot leave this room until you have given me
back that coin.”

“Why, great heavens!” exclaimed the prince, “one would think by your
manner that’ —

“ Not at all,” said the keeper, interrupting him; “come, let us find it.”

The prince bit his lip, turned pale, and they resumed the search. At the end
of an hour the prince insisted upon leaving the keeper to find it. His anxiety
to get away confirmed the British Museum official in his suspicion that the
prince had yielded to the collector’s fever for possession. Time went on; the
prince now empnniicaly; declared his intention to leave the place.

“Tf you insist,” said the keeper, “it will be my painful duty to call in a
detective officer, and have you searched.”

“Do you mean that?”
THE PRINCE’S DILEMMA.

“T do, most assuredly,” said the keeper.

“Then we must continue our search,” observed ine, prince.

They did continue their search. Every nook and cranny were re-examined.
It was a polished oak floor. There was no furniture in the room beyond one -

or two cabinets and a single chair. It seemed impossible to the keeper that.. -

his coin could not be found, if it had really fallen from the prince’s hand.
After a while the prince sat down, looking the picture of despair, when. sud:
denly the keeper uttered a joyous exclamation. “ By the powers, it is here!”’
It had packed itself away against the skirting of the room as if glued there,
and being somewhat of the color of the yellowish oak it was impossible to see it,
even now, without going close to it.

“Thank God!” exclaimed the prince, with far more fervency than the
occasion seemed to demand.

“ My dear sir,” said the keeper, “I am deeply grieved that I should have -
seemed to doubt you; can you forgive me?”

“ Yes; indeed I can,” the prince replied ; “I was never more scared, never
realized until now how circumstantial evidence could hang aman fora crime
of which he might be perfectly innocent. Stand a little away from me, please,
and I will show you why I was so anxious to be gone, apart from the importance
of my appointment at Windsor. You say that coin which you hold in your’
hand is the only one in existence ?”

“ Assuredly !”

The prince drew from his pocket its very fellow, the counterpart of the
Museum’s unique gem. “I came into possession of it,” he said, “a year ago;
ever since I have had a burning desire to see the British Museum’s coin; only
last week could I leave my country; and what would the Greatest Lady have
thought, if your coin had been lost, of the explanation that the coin your police
had Pond in my possession was a duplicate I had come here to compare with
yours? Would you have elioved me?”

“Tam bound to say I should not,” replied the keeper pr omptly.

“ What should you have done?” asked the prince.

“T should have been guided by the police.”

“Of course you would,” said the prince ; “ good-day! I have missed my
engagement ; but I can once more look you in the face; and, you may depend
upon it, I will never again have a secret about numismatic treasures.

The prince’s explanation at Windsor you may be sure was readily accepted,
if only for its curious and romantic details. .

Joseph Hatton.


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describe
'3059' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNR' 'sip-files00006.pro'
edc4ba7b63287ee24e2cafa0baddf6f3
5f5eca87537caff9e80da7e1d38e5881210440dd
'2011-11-14T15:49:42-05:00'
describe
'5447' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNS' 'sip-files00006.QC.jpg'
d9a6a2fa84d9015d50d082b8db27bce1
a360b5b7c7fbbbff9819471117a92408ebc5927e
'2011-11-14T15:53:54-05:00'
describe
'5932972' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNT' 'sip-files00006.tif'
1f6956437a533e40b139e01179bbde01
8d65b7af1021bc4a881138bcea7fd1e79e4cc9a0
'2011-11-14T15:53:53-05:00'
describe
'243' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNU' 'sip-files00006.txt'
bdae97e4513ec1361dbe0009b081bcc9
d3bf9f47c3f97dab741b0aac85dbfc8c479afc07
'2011-11-14T15:49:33-05:00'
describe
'1493' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNV' 'sip-files00006thm.jpg'
0a37401803c5bf93bab6f01a03b611ae
e00d2f598fe90bcd5e3fc2273b090a6836006731
'2011-11-14T15:50:33-05:00'
describe
'739582' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNW' 'sip-files00007.jp2'
7123961d1392c5ef95cbac4b399ac9af
b2b9ae682652651363b58afefb99be5b197f1468
'2011-11-14T15:51:21-05:00'
describe
'153749' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNX' 'sip-files00007.jpg'
abb7a4eea9fe3c8c39297d2fa7ca19d2
4d4f61b75d15f7b00b5ed47aee27be7d4c26c1b9
'2011-11-14T15:51:24-05:00'
describe
'42232' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNY' 'sip-files00007.pro'
06071bdebe45825d44ea512983b2259c
a9f87b8bffe5c4420e6405389fb232d75dd7568e
'2011-11-14T15:49:40-05:00'
describe
'40018' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWNZ' 'sip-files00007.QC.jpg'
f0a09253322f4fc982c9b475344484da
401324d5e33e054a71453f2c0aea7fe87c6b2f2d
describe
'5939352' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOA' 'sip-files00007.tif'
27840f0fdc23813815682cd2cb5174f7
bcc1c7ec8d70a250c4c022baf48cbcc87ac178b9
'2011-11-14T15:51:18-05:00'
describe
'1751' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOB' 'sip-files00007.txt'
e7be0e037f0193e82fcca207ed6b227b
3bde58e588b8043ab7f3b7b158cfda0e3f0c91eb
'2011-11-14T15:52:35-05:00'
describe
'9241' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOC' 'sip-files00007thm.jpg'
eb13d79ba023fe9f71d3821ea06d2f3c
a22bdeb6dddec4efe23343d91ff0110f0b73410c
'2011-11-14T15:52:16-05:00'
describe
'739933' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOD' 'sip-files00008.jp2'
c979d1a84c5535cb8dc1b2cc4357d505
e29c8f8bb8eb163602c041829d021948102127eb
describe
'176135' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOE' 'sip-files00008.jpg'
2573a4e7364fef4922ced58a134325b4
2d9186f3d96ef646de26e916b5976457fc5602c3
'2011-11-14T15:51:07-05:00'
describe
'81188' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOF' 'sip-files00008.pro'
a95191f37555dcbf3dbd4e4de59bf0d6
6a1c5f2690377bcfb6f13ea41f13e4a2671b7c8d
'2011-11-14T15:54:38-05:00'
describe
'46838' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOG' 'sip-files00008.QC.jpg'
d281ee26d867aa6c4ac263f485278bf6
a89650f7418ae3ac06bf6909078da078a301967e
'2011-11-14T15:53:20-05:00'
describe
'5935844' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOH' 'sip-files00008.tif'
650377a9adb90895cd6510fe525116bd
95b09075a161a99520e8ac2503e2f7b89091368c
describe
'3192' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOI' 'sip-files00008.txt'
8fcc0e40bfb2e16364317d6e169c0dff
b73415d5f9c49e134eda0adcf0476f8eaa2e92fe
'2011-11-14T15:51:35-05:00'
describe
'10020' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOJ' 'sip-files00008thm.jpg'
bbaab6ff4ce1d4ee099eeec97e240a77
4c481b4b5a89bbc4137354819d3ab8908599129d
describe
'739592' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOK' 'sip-files00009.jp2'
c9816b0a6c24f8bac220eb1e384f7487
f06b11b835e220f9a7704206f651c48c9ed2671a
'2011-11-14T15:54:33-05:00'
describe
'135577' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOL' 'sip-files00009.jpg'
b207d4111fa29f7a26528af306f15a25
34470b351481479fa42ec62b327f4141d173b6e3
'2011-11-14T15:53:00-05:00'
describe
'74857' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOM' 'sip-files00009.pro'
ec957770e1d169241f8085ac70384d39
d237026291dad29110d8fd25eadfed70d6d29ea6
'2011-11-14T15:51:41-05:00'
describe
'36595' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWON' 'sip-files00009.QC.jpg'
78611da0d72039837a4951ec31b7822e
c8e29709ff8c19ebf867db9fac4fd01fad1fb526
'2011-11-14T15:54:05-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOO' 'sip-files00009.tif'
722eee8fe9f23935d52dc02a2e1dc340
bdc357be359fb4846c07846ebace67165e74d33e
'2011-11-14T15:50:50-05:00'
describe
'3159' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOP' 'sip-files00009.txt'
f57274cf7639dabe85f0ec2fd24fad47
beeeb3b84873b0d351574d7e10f1c8784647df07
'2011-11-14T15:53:57-05:00'
describe
'8668' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOQ' 'sip-files00009thm.jpg'
501079aac5fe6bf09ac86cf2e0eb76d7
2915fadd68bdf5732041759e302e7cfa0fb5ea8a
'2011-11-14T15:51:10-05:00'
describe
'739954' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOR' 'sip-files00010.jp2'
49d9017fa3e3adf175d108e8678db450
a54b1c099290a731f68d0c2bdfc8f0fda0297bfb
'2011-11-14T15:52:38-05:00'
describe
'148517' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOS' 'sip-files00010.jpg'
7a45cf686a455678cde0b56ac317815b
44053abc968f79f142565633312b6849c3b44b3d
'2011-11-14T15:50:51-05:00'
describe
'62493' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOT' 'sip-files00010.pro'
5224adfebad8ca2156b51bbbdd5bd3b5
54bbb7a318b8175ded9923d771fe2deaf7ce9bdb
'2011-11-14T15:49:13-05:00'
describe
'39700' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOU' 'sip-files00010.QC.jpg'
af182cac20872da354f958e8b7c2a99e
8cd9bb637cd4d045c173da0614e3c197ee69b6cd
'2011-11-14T15:51:31-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOV' 'sip-files00010.tif'
5e6461b36e94ec2ff1cb8ea88b21601a
073a3182e052963311730d92da726a49f446a03c
'2011-11-14T15:53:44-05:00'
describe
'2650' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOW' 'sip-files00010.txt'
9f2f7118ea0604e6d06670cc7a4b653a
f3856a0bc570556b5eb4282e832718af9f4c7a3c
'2011-11-14T15:52:49-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'9012' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOX' 'sip-files00010thm.jpg'
aa976a7f89e6a4d690fa14245dde3ea5
e5b1d441d8c7714c36e16b88ce7a89d4a6059091
'2011-11-14T15:51:57-05:00'
describe
'739594' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOY' 'sip-files00011.jp2'
022872d3535fa4c5950993e3033487a4
d600325519a283a3332ea8661ea0f2c5f1ff7bc1
'2011-11-14T15:50:20-05:00'
describe
'163715' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWOZ' 'sip-files00011.jpg'
220327f4a32ebd2a9a9b339ec39b6534
ddc523e8b80a3b697ac062f70f79fb870b0caadb
'2011-11-14T15:51:52-05:00'
describe
'34425' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPA' 'sip-files00011.pro'
1e8cdfa844b304e4f1f6dc67d5510ac2
177d7d23d0d9dae56be1054d6b535cc740605eac
describe
'40749' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPB' 'sip-files00011.QC.jpg'
042a9241d4ae1d8121c680eb24293b57
f09c0dcc1c3be2f668fb380f04f3aacbdcb56beb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPC' 'sip-files00011.tif'
a03275282692f53e6ffe729a9743ced4
91c91bed8e0d4bb701dfedddc828b5a8aacb59c7
'2011-11-14T15:54:51-05:00'
describe
'1339' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPD' 'sip-files00011.txt'
acb2b2fa9d3623680a0ce532608df94a
00b437c827a76ec54e56c6c7df304276ca09caf1
describe
'9498' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPE' 'sip-files00011thm.jpg'
9901a0dacf08ced554b475f4c3f1a9bc
9a0f2bcb203640cf6797e97930e381273cd52fe7
'2011-11-14T15:49:10-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPF' 'sip-files00012.jp2'
901c99209b04bd5824273966971c17a3
335cd5b11c2ea1f890bad3c971b2783344ae9113
'2011-11-14T15:50:08-05:00'
describe
'153335' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPG' 'sip-files00012.jpg'
17d148ac9d6aff86705852fa005891d9
52de84bbdcfc6a05517e5fda18b0096f0289b890
'2011-11-14T15:52:58-05:00'
describe
'72938' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPH' 'sip-files00012.pro'
df33224243e0f09ce48199caae11f44d
c2fdb8c61190d1d3d30dc52b9a878a614b54bb16
'2011-11-14T15:50:38-05:00'
describe
'41630' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPI' 'sip-files00012.QC.jpg'
922cbf67b9e8a5b1ca35d678e403c7d7
30ea6983044817c2c20197b87e24be71f788866d
'2011-11-14T15:49:09-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPJ' 'sip-files00012.tif'
abb42b27a4743201d5088758c7c86160
8487fdb80ea9bbab6a20c19f1269c7355def4d69
'2011-11-14T15:53:23-05:00'
describe
'2873' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPK' 'sip-files00012.txt'
ec1df7c80fd2dd5bda38969adb014e5e
3ccce4074a95d03eac6da142e8ee92bd4c614fee
'2011-11-14T15:49:44-05:00'
describe
'9632' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPL' 'sip-files00012thm.jpg'
6663e0e15b9dfedae0f5565459b6e7d0
80f66a87af9b520781b92310ac1573abbdf5863c
'2011-11-14T15:52:19-05:00'
describe
'739554' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPM' 'sip-files00013.jp2'
1e53b24db957a9274a2f9fc542957bcd
abf03590cf008a2549bc4fad7b276931ce5f7437
'2011-11-14T15:49:28-05:00'
describe
'154412' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPN' 'sip-files00013.jpg'
23d6bebdac0c8c7001521f770934413d
ba91130dc130ba27808ce0f890065f923eb0ee4d
describe
'74135' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPO' 'sip-files00013.pro'
4ede8345e1daa61f3223908f461e73d8
3bd4b6ea2fddc852d0d5c3321a9f4e8c8b5e645c
describe
'43571' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPP' 'sip-files00013.QC.jpg'
a7b9a1590cb58a6913936f8365b0f441
9443f380bf952f0451a54c332ed49873b8ba3620
describe
'5932968' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPQ' 'sip-files00013.tif'
bdd677ad29e0705085c31f14f927bc52
653e35d45b4b5bd454ed1002b6e12bf711ec0c0b
'2011-11-14T15:52:17-05:00'
describe
'2929' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPR' 'sip-files00013.txt'
6cd166f2b9667a182fe2fb03d477e1da
80fdcd17d55623b9538a7e73780bc086932523d0
'2011-11-14T15:52:04-05:00'
describe
'9593' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPS' 'sip-files00013thm.jpg'
6df9a730349d3e672a703fdb59722304
c3da83c92dd073035870b6cbbee252f7c3197832
'2011-11-14T15:52:22-05:00'
describe
'739583' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPT' 'sip-files00014.jp2'
ddad11035ff0bede3a39f054988f82b8
53d5081fe2d6dc87d2ca7e9fc5caa3ff4c447c24
'2011-11-14T15:50:32-05:00'
describe
'152151' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPU' 'sip-files00014.jpg'
33d5f233473176b12938b1277051d89f
19f8c3a137db0c49210a6cf4d7760a00a3bf116b
describe
'73495' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPV' 'sip-files00014.pro'
749347a9b8d4b919fb5cb02a1f220b74
d7825ab212419c71f331af735f09b1f51dbcba9e
'2011-11-14T15:53:05-05:00'
describe
'41204' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPW' 'sip-files00014.QC.jpg'
53e24d98b2183894e922672b594e861e
66214cf7aaf7f5325d5170975d328bb834ae0b93
'2011-11-14T15:50:52-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPX' 'sip-files00014.tif'
eb793378770dbf2691065f3b0ba77cb1
ef9eca28b1b0282cb523c98c72442c1a34c30c7c
'2011-11-14T15:50:16-05:00'
describe
'2955' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPY' 'sip-files00014.txt'
1f0add94dc2aa82c2ed804548729fffb
41765c47b895235663ceb8d785ffd27acf0418c5
'2011-11-14T15:54:34-05:00'
describe
'9010' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWPZ' 'sip-files00014thm.jpg'
392f899d49c1ee22d248eb9f3a478d3f
4cc4949b9304fc00f5c7be0f6cefedf2c7a0cf66
'2011-11-14T15:50:14-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQA' 'sip-files00015.jp2'
1eb9fe219477046766d33c1a12615206
08cc5b73b09e53cf0c5eec8a1c6b5459643e0946
'2011-11-14T15:51:27-05:00'
describe
'186450' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQB' 'sip-files00015.jpg'
98d5f1bbc9f007b4330c4730dc4d14ff
6e6a12d506ba74a9d3f701512ecefdc76349ac61
'2011-11-14T15:50:30-05:00'
describe
'3602' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQC' 'sip-files00015.pro'
11064cca896b19498d0733ede8142e72
0cf357b3bff2fbe2c939fb35ab0c407290bea2db
'2011-11-14T15:51:26-05:00'
describe
'41042' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQD' 'sip-files00015.QC.jpg'
207ceb412adab7ed837b12bc6b19c707
3ba97d1f63d24a8e991eab8932d9e44b9470304c
'2011-11-14T15:51:01-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQE' 'sip-files00015.tif'
ffb4da07fe061bcb158ae6514b3064bc
9a52d9ef9c53b0bd2b561a0484fe0962fc5718e8
'2011-11-14T15:53:38-05:00'
describe
'274' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQF' 'sip-files00015.txt'
545540d1d382c89ac8e0423c1490db06
897345f20f27db4da371f4a6dcd13d687a3426b6
'2011-11-14T15:49:59-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'8581' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQG' 'sip-files00015thm.jpg'
1b1ea3161453c14655f1f7171b3bffed
c85cabb2f84af973b928eaea7ef3c6a23dc90776
'2011-11-14T15:52:09-05:00'
describe
'739934' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQH' 'sip-files00016.jp2'
0b1225f3efa820953ab565b29916ca86
af4db3d3244ebf54b6c81b7e93cc266af317a804
describe
'170029' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQI' 'sip-files00016.jpg'
4e815c348a343ba792aab6ed32e53ccc
a0cf6f4a117f721ab6be42a9d06d84219f75b35d
'2011-11-14T15:52:46-05:00'
describe
'23883' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQJ' 'sip-files00016.pro'
eafac9e6cec7ea78874a522114f29350
e86bfb975f28207e24420576566dfb0fe2ec4a07
'2011-11-14T15:54:35-05:00'
describe
'40671' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQK' 'sip-files00016.QC.jpg'
d49065241cb04f866fa4bd4bc390165f
b94eccebe2118bdfd7ca5e5d5de46e3e1cd910fc
'2011-11-14T15:52:33-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQL' 'sip-files00016.tif'
a7bf79b9c6749ba6fa9c29ef123338cc
1bc96d29e43b1f4ca38eff9dc80b0394d1024cbf
'2011-11-14T15:50:23-05:00'
describe
'1181' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQM' 'sip-files00016.txt'
f29b69135fd3a3503478b3c97362fd70
ce8556c9872860138b5b61798fe745d43142db7e
describe
Invalid character
'9272' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQN' 'sip-files00016thm.jpg'
dd3658d1ba60a96dd94faee349e8e2ff
f915a871bd3de20d8c7f9cc62a6e681e45d858a9
'2011-11-14T15:51:48-05:00'
describe
'739564' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQO' 'sip-files00017.jp2'
6a2db90e8c4d4ea4cecd5ffb549180b1
7b0a5dd8a30907bfc7f73342dd031714d86f9e2f
'2011-11-14T15:50:09-05:00'
describe
'176840' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQP' 'sip-files00017.jpg'
34ecc49113b4c0776cf4d15520d0cd08
c0a89e27bc6d9478c28aa248e2d87636503371c6
'2011-11-14T15:52:20-05:00'
describe
'67875' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQQ' 'sip-files00017.pro'
2bba30309c9d5b39cd5001379b9974e8
e36cd881a2511c6ccdbcd45f1940f9a289257e18
'2011-11-14T15:53:29-05:00'
describe
'46215' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQR' 'sip-files00017.QC.jpg'
bb5d5b7d59fb1e5cef3e1ae3b4a1b97e
d388328e50c0dca2acfd5fba6919f9db2c2ec8db
'2011-11-14T15:51:15-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQS' 'sip-files00017.tif'
cc870dbe0bb49320e58a805a6bcb8419
bda9daa19c65b98891107502fc2f20440b75422b
describe
'3347' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQT' 'sip-files00017.txt'
eea7df299ec1234be8d5e44134aa7040
6094ba6e94e0545b76110f097270e66b52c077ca
'2011-11-14T15:50:22-05:00'
describe
'10213' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQU' 'sip-files00017thm.jpg'
72a5c761b0c6a888e22dafcfa9064bd1
17e87382254cea494b038a4d83a219677b00ca0e
'2011-11-14T15:49:18-05:00'
describe
'739735' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQV' 'sip-files00018.jp2'
17933739ef75ff827077cf3a03019316
0847c56d5d973057ebf030034f50bafa36601d96
'2011-11-14T15:50:43-05:00'
describe
'174257' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQW' 'sip-files00018.jpg'
1fab1c643b35a921b15e0384f8c9145a
9edb596be8471d53d021a3cf40c866afa09091ee
'2011-11-14T15:54:21-05:00'
describe
'61844' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQX' 'sip-files00018.pro'
90c719fde0c650e32b88fefbcd217b10
9c9c472080e009b5264b1dee5e666da1a6f46488
'2011-11-14T15:49:43-05:00'
describe
'44838' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQY' 'sip-files00018.QC.jpg'
f80c9682ec8c9000cfffc342fbe26bfe
68262ec4d1859b343c72af4bbeb36e915156198f
'2011-11-14T15:50:10-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWQZ' 'sip-files00018.tif'
ec49851768fb7fab67b38a4b7583fcc3
0e42a7cba4b07c1f4d25ae90ef10c1dafbcc8a92
'2011-11-14T15:49:58-05:00'
describe
'2640' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRA' 'sip-files00018.txt'
fb146da1ad9c8ed678bdf44cddffb4b6
c3927feacb51e1ec0d1aa7696c8519a445f691f1
'2011-11-14T15:52:48-05:00'
describe
'10161' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRB' 'sip-files00018thm.jpg'
6fdec578527352d661c866f0e27cc351
2287f59a197ece90682d93516bbe44de95990177
'2011-11-14T15:54:12-05:00'
describe
'739576' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRC' 'sip-files00019.jp2'
19cbed405fd2d7800a08a181286ef4cf
18404bfdf07686cf43b160549b104f51f51cffe0
'2011-11-14T15:50:47-05:00'
describe
'176138' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRD' 'sip-files00019.jpg'
7bfb1c67b16d7124f1f1728817831c2e
2a8c28ca9bcaa27384a633bdd75fb5fa864b6557
'2011-11-14T15:52:59-05:00'
describe
'39991' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRE' 'sip-files00019.pro'
2fb94502346b0c525a7fc906d6cf2d25
47c3a273b5a80f56c37e5b7bcc6968b7e63938a5
describe
'44019' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRF' 'sip-files00019.QC.jpg'
730b85639d062f3bc343bd565540954a
6dec38599bc631a8f4b9a06a96b67818ffa25713
'2011-11-14T15:52:15-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRG' 'sip-files00019.tif'
40ac71f91ecd07b55e71adf8e4d0f875
2468a8650b36ecd1e6cee0d8178113cbfceac62d
describe
'1562' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRH' 'sip-files00019.txt'
9c46603e39f21c7c84125ca18b04b2b5
2f28d7d50c07cbe0ddc7357bbff9aff1b37a55f9
'2011-11-14T15:52:37-05:00'
describe
'10028' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRI' 'sip-files00019thm.jpg'
1f52e29422eef90248df78f6a749f8c9
6e8271c6eb305acf773260d5b9dfed16cbf55fdd
'2011-11-14T15:54:29-05:00'
describe
'739585' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRJ' 'sip-files00020.jp2'
4942197ff6c1f85863864397451f4df0
c3ae127d34ed507ab393bc255a388e3864337335
'2011-11-14T15:54:20-05:00'
describe
'172149' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRK' 'sip-files00020.jpg'
e46bc76e3740f7191ff7efac505924b4
9b6146f47a50317ef44f9e4a8df427d563ee2c20
'2011-11-14T15:50:19-05:00'
describe
'48240' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRL' 'sip-files00020.pro'
e95358ecd40ecb0e12d8bd2160136ddf
a19adb872cf28ee2a705ae6b68aaa1b45f682c93
'2011-11-14T15:50:13-05:00'
describe
'43695' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRM' 'sip-files00020.QC.jpg'
deac1b963f376885bfbf15fa2ca758bc
3080aab3eabf7c3a143107cd34a7ba511fb07263
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRN' 'sip-files00020.tif'
5d313ade5f3a143f2cce02cd818e3269
fea42b40067a9e7134c0328e0c5f92e8682cd6a2
'2011-11-14T15:50:17-05:00'
describe
'2101' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRO' 'sip-files00020.txt'
fc8331f694bb40212e0ad84dd9a6e0df
80d30076324e507af34bfaaaf738c19a3b3b3068
'2011-11-14T15:54:47-05:00'
describe
'9902' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRP' 'sip-files00020thm.jpg'
dd116daa28ce677cc88368d2bb25b706
0a7b583f6f085eac7ef78d23705351fd7d1b5e54
'2011-11-14T15:52:50-05:00'
describe
'739541' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRQ' 'sip-files00021.jp2'
548f62bdc0ddd75bf326cc32ef2cf2bb
7d92aa75b0b8d48c91e4c6d7076548b7553e35cf
'2011-11-14T15:51:09-05:00'
describe
'201906' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRR' 'sip-files00021.jpg'
05e261ad78c3f4f7bca4ea689ad3b62f
754df6ede04872a316827fe31d0afb5167550d30
describe
'1055' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRS' 'sip-files00021.pro'
8d99d315b5f96fffe4d8717610b3e381
fa35bbdd61f963887e1b07c8b993bf931952ca39
'2011-11-14T15:50:01-05:00'
describe
'47519' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRT' 'sip-files00021.QC.jpg'
64064739698037e2cbd04de5a27023da
5457784da948c5e7379d7cff7ae30d2b6e4e0e5f
'2011-11-14T15:49:23-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRU' 'sip-files00021.tif'
b2ba363742d796a186086038a9b57d8a
25ac3ccad02481f26bc4f9c3ecfad8b85d07e434
'2011-11-14T15:49:21-05:00'
describe
'264' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRV' 'sip-files00021.txt'
048b31ce9c3c79104b8841cd4d4cc83e
397a356502e9e8620a7553fb27e61c6a332ead5c
'2011-11-14T15:51:53-05:00'
describe
'10749' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRW' 'sip-files00021thm.jpg'
6d118737e01b61df491824431b5f5308
f75fb9e417c5e3fad8da769d82e3eb05486e1ff6
'2011-11-14T15:51:16-05:00'
describe
'739527' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRX' 'sip-files00022.jp2'
a9328a3edb102e64ee129e77cd0302b9
fff4073301130dd1d51870ae05acdafdb100ec86
'2011-11-14T15:49:47-05:00'
describe
'163444' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRY' 'sip-files00022.jpg'
f7d9710435c6ee16ea5b9b6ed47d65ad
f655ed99709cf3ac2a9ffbfcc18540f83e4b7a26
describe
'64456' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWRZ' 'sip-files00022.pro'
40decec957fb7c9033e6a46a34f77f5e
824081525ad725be8274ee1b7927ac699627cadd
'2011-11-14T15:52:43-05:00'
describe
'42517' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSA' 'sip-files00022.QC.jpg'
81c91c613cccd8f8143a0c35146ff31a
47a65f3c50335a465919d1f08161760044f0204f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSB' 'sip-files00022.tif'
2f7c02068f7c4a6edae65fd8ff9318d2
8bcfcc1992f63602cfe2f18024c6b80e6d2aa920
'2011-11-14T15:50:56-05:00'
describe
'2864' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSC' 'sip-files00022.txt'
24216d5a2465cba462c6272c35cc9b38
1bc1ee170862506dc9d383648dde8687b7278c14
'2011-11-14T15:50:07-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'9581' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSD' 'sip-files00022thm.jpg'
11a48ee6926b8814ec18e7dae7be06fb
73902afaa63225b87133eb2a7de05b3525e1313b
describe
'739513' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSE' 'sip-files00023.jp2'
10afab3540f51aaeccd84a5f9d3fe90f
e27071593ef99cd59bc915dbea0bf16890e39bda
describe
'173976' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSF' 'sip-files00023.jpg'
5c5c49a8b4752c760fbcd079ffd8d781
2b635ab54933af6e06f22c197ea4df444f5c844a
describe
'56987' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSG' 'sip-files00023.pro'
d869e0f4f78ded47b9020e6837291aa5
bcff57686aac03f6df76a8aff0709de8b0c3a8ff
'2011-11-14T15:54:50-05:00'
describe
'44409' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSH' 'sip-files00023.QC.jpg'
3c9fb5441a8d97489083a54b4f428885
f1ad6e1e9c2c51f8a403c96c6d85b085211c794e
'2011-11-14T15:53:36-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSI' 'sip-files00023.tif'
ffb2fc5e1d246d1f5b0d021e07cdab5e
824a56712336409b940401a7654058668aff988c
'2011-11-14T15:49:46-05:00'
describe
'2374' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSJ' 'sip-files00023.txt'
30e1cce5e8d14e4c62497e51cd3c1d27
3dc2d1365a7defb62d5388278a6041a537497526
'2011-11-14T15:50:24-05:00'
describe
'9932' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSK' 'sip-files00023thm.jpg'
00ac18c3f964376b1b553532f5e5314b
c9ca4d1bc4252352a5d43c49523d46ce2aa6dc27
'2011-11-14T15:51:33-05:00'
describe
'739580' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSL' 'sip-files00024.jp2'
55a867ec7c2f04c69cea90d6b73cf956
1d2a376451f726be06508d89ac5e02622e0550ba
describe
'166803' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSM' 'sip-files00024.jpg'
5739a05b1ee8ef83c85b0576ed29cc24
7aeea883ad6dddd5f1cd519aac7c558011a3bd51
'2011-11-14T15:53:58-05:00'
describe
'37748' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSN' 'sip-files00024.pro'
9f6de32d96ad455d6c36a1e1d5147eb2
aedfc2abacb6e0c9a3fb47eeb668e9947e361187
'2011-11-14T15:54:11-05:00'
describe
'42525' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSO' 'sip-files00024.QC.jpg'
c0d9c161124d6011bb47ed8302d4f26e
7348db1159e9f4b9efce2e7655a72f5ecd0af592
'2011-11-14T15:49:39-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSP' 'sip-files00024.tif'
068f7895586f904f4d3d1d8a5fb5dc74
332d8574f5b7155c09e3ab8996b30ba96ff0b182
'2011-11-14T15:49:56-05:00'
describe
'1491' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSQ' 'sip-files00024.txt'
09378be8bd0a392c4b23fa1f3201e6df
93d95764b68d1fa397244f09b1e767b17ec3a601
'2011-11-14T15:51:14-05:00'
describe
'9603' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSR' 'sip-files00024thm.jpg'
94ffb175bdd3782a953315648123032f
cbb7e48b099bff1531bb16b3c200c5b640682b5d
describe
'739542' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSS' 'sip-files00025.jp2'
6a429538d45c1418522bdd99169d9a4e
d8168e9a6d19587acd55a810aa76696d78e1e456
describe
'102235' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWST' 'sip-files00025.jpg'
d6720b6da0f296a844c8b1b96590b069
0e7cce7ff586b72d900544b8605faa4691a3f531
'2011-11-14T15:50:02-05:00'
describe
'43168' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSU' 'sip-files00025.pro'
e284f5372f5d0b109de26f2ae98a10a5
b9f1b272e77c07bfaa29a8026aab20a83c748e0f
'2011-11-14T15:54:44-05:00'
describe
'26855' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSV' 'sip-files00025.QC.jpg'
17b64e181f76eaeb943ed9b012eaaf48
6eab998ddc6ce28a3e539e920266bde484964bfa
'2011-11-14T15:51:45-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSW' 'sip-files00025.tif'
baf6dc767a53b65afebae6c252529d59
2646226bb88248db22f3e7b63924930faf65674c
describe
'2093' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSX' 'sip-files00025.txt'
86259630e4063db9291c03f7810390aa
32aa454a670fad7f49dd5f2dd8a5f710b4ddda37
describe
'6522' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSY' 'sip-files00025thm.jpg'
c5ea4d4e12338b68197d5935842a5b87
1fbb5a0f7a0c2a143000548bbc574f14175b3af0
'2011-11-14T15:52:42-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWSZ' 'sip-files00026.jp2'
43b88315564f7b0fa7005bafa5ccb218
d3c6b144c1a8c73ef77d27eed772fbcc0f2c2c36
'2011-11-14T15:49:08-05:00'
describe
'88201' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTA' 'sip-files00026.jpg'
1d4adf097982b49e9b99d133cb9185e7
d485fde34f54883f6c5686aa17fbb80962beec17
'2011-11-14T15:54:41-05:00'
describe
'22384' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTB' 'sip-files00026.pro'
c7ca0d97b097ca87215d67449826d3f9
3b9a62ee355a00e8b7746ddfefc14af77061cc68
'2011-11-14T15:50:44-05:00'
describe
'22001' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTC' 'sip-files00026.QC.jpg'
28ecce73f8cee86fee8890298756f2ea
f95375e1da6196ac3a14f4d6917f7614c404b43c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTD' 'sip-files00026.tif'
a237de53149dd779b71c291e876791f1
a7035f29699ba044ec5d5db0531e46503ff17cae
'2011-11-14T15:49:45-05:00'
describe
'1195' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTE' 'sip-files00026.txt'
0c43cc6dbc8c3efdba63f15a55c9fd55
a814019ee4d74b363e33fc6c453ac436a4b2e644
describe
Invalid character
'5606' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTF' 'sip-files00026thm.jpg'
51a173aef0b21538c0c4b98c8606307f
e69742790a28e4723bbf21e480a9aedbea096497
'2011-11-14T15:49:32-05:00'
describe
'739586' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTG' 'sip-files00027.jp2'
153d4e8bd4e98b015183038676bb28a2
6037bdeb192f929cd5286ffc408e01c485fd1fd4
'2011-11-14T15:52:18-05:00'
describe
'115496' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTH' 'sip-files00027.jpg'
fdcbe3dbb47de9302eae34fc2d862813
51adad5f6b847c89c52f5928cb62c821661e85ac
'2011-11-14T15:49:36-05:00'
describe
'1276' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTI' 'sip-files00027.pro'
955b047d8650767ee9f34248b7e2e65f
f95ae9eee9832f58f5e4acf2117ea1f2cc23626a
describe
'28391' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTJ' 'sip-files00027.QC.jpg'
5f49e414817ff3570390d0dac540a6d3
5cb14116f8dfa0a6e96274cb5e78c589f2afd45a
'2011-11-14T15:49:27-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTK' 'sip-files00027.tif'
081a1eddcfbb7df220a41e82ab37fa0b
5e9338456ac7a37a59be35d4ce2a047e8d101c5e
describe
'311' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTL' 'sip-files00027.txt'
24a737e27e1e6018d65ec5fed8748ac6
49329d5e1002818e7d740375e01aa306b4219553
describe
'6985' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTM' 'sip-files00027thm.jpg'
7814e1ad7155f4c5f88212e9bdf058db
7d2ca92296d7f2bd5d7436ebf36b6189d42bbb5a
'2011-11-14T15:51:34-05:00'
describe
'739551' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTN' 'sip-files00028.jp2'
539e60d84f980e9f08065032a55f1f42
1374009bac7998947556e1234d76e79521db3731
'2011-11-14T15:51:49-05:00'
describe
'146715' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTO' 'sip-files00028.jpg'
c56c54eacd63710d59d65902413e497b
323b644b507d5a53b28e4e4fb8bfbe113bc42a7c
describe
'71078' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTP' 'sip-files00028.pro'
92c079cf08ca51662b777b7e737f0694
2bce71118c460dfedf683d3b4f1ccac9e0ba55eb
'2011-11-14T15:53:02-05:00'
describe
'39923' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTQ' 'sip-files00028.QC.jpg'
6eaf10fb4c7d9b7855798ed6edc820ce
992f55fe7cbf89d1e9684088af60a53966b889af
'2011-11-14T15:50:05-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTR' 'sip-files00028.tif'
7de26b97e7121a6b0d4550273fd1a149
eca521da3969e597493bbde887fa754a23d35a4d
'2011-11-14T15:54:42-05:00'
describe
'2916' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTS' 'sip-files00028.txt'
4dd44fc9ca58394f6c7a5add11f1b824
84ab63f70292747ff4c18dc7a3ece70086fcba73
describe
'9004' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTT' 'sip-files00028thm.jpg'
d54ed46c7cf70eca353195954d939156
5f11727e6b51bfa45851e7c8b9d59f19074ca19d
'2011-11-14T15:50:41-05:00'
describe
'728324' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTU' 'sip-files00029.jp2'
9d5d7df68bb895272266681c2f633360
83bff33324440f48b0ce5502dfe4cc9a9a5f2073
describe
'156681' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTV' 'sip-files00029.jpg'
0c95ec3d3fb6e1ca0b9351cf0c37407f
7face6b7b335df4503944bf827aacff7b87f35ab
describe
'73240' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTW' 'sip-files00029.pro'
654807d8d1618b0ae689f40e6c8fdcf7
5f5ba3741816daa9ef511cbcacfdecfe7edbc93a
describe
'42540' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTX' 'sip-files00029.QC.jpg'
58365052ee2cd9486e92d33a2113124d
d56a4f8f41e690688865e1a35b53e3cb48e049d3
describe
'5843196' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTY' 'sip-files00029.tif'
83f59f95b6aaaeaf1a24dca2adebdfcd
d6d76e007ab987a4531bbdeeffa2d752dca8dfcf
'2011-11-14T15:54:25-05:00'
describe
'2986' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWTZ' 'sip-files00029.txt'
6f44a785aa54c5ade8aa395769fc0f44
6edd901dcc1c2c09487be4b5f228b24ad87260d3
'2011-11-14T15:53:45-05:00'
describe
'9788' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUA' 'sip-files00029thm.jpg'
6f953d02f8c794cd2a60b721025b325f
6985b549d34865f953a49f44c6e1e5a43ff18814
'2011-11-14T15:54:56-05:00'
describe
'739552' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUB' 'sip-files00030.jp2'
96a49b6c69ed7ed562b08d75c05e41b0
a9fafa3cf4fe94d26de953e93045f5e1184ea3f2
'2011-11-14T15:53:52-05:00'
describe
'172033' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUC' 'sip-files00030.jpg'
3d1c432207dbfa495daba6ef1124807a
9df2883b22f4357ffbb675e8d3f1742e98fcc81d
describe
'43085' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUD' 'sip-files00030.pro'
9b29775ae47463cd28a02b25bfa43d92
23defd376a6d7328ac52984e1da1983b1e9f1d21
'2011-11-14T15:49:38-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUE' 'sip-files00030.QC.jpg'
1fb61233c6ded4c544b65a6eec3504ff
1ac4d38e1a81a6a7f65d53751f0a02d04015354b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUF' 'sip-files00030.tif'
c21b720437051520388415af7f593a70
987a3d915e8eef8a1c923d5b08302f430fb2f43c
describe
'2989' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUG' 'sip-files00030.txt'
5a3b9bd3e70c3e8aa569ad4e8927b4c4
ae379256bf822760be43fdf75c29b452df566ef8
describe
'9918' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUH' 'sip-files00030thm.jpg'
e3b23836b1f30ccff219e9bf1c5b58b3
3dca1d443335af12f10f0dcbf94341bba1f39e46
describe
'740210' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUI' 'sip-files00031.jp2'
0c5027792c620bdc2fcc7f551882d4c5
26b5cd349afd0002f5341bfedc1122504aa1db8b
'2011-11-14T15:51:46-05:00'
describe
'154505' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUJ' 'sip-files00031.jpg'
f56ee375a81d9c48c542c202d3b20700
916efe0327882ceaf36cf11638649e6569c5372e
describe
'73958' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUK' 'sip-files00031.pro'
def2fbfdd0a869e94d42fb4044cd3652
2815fb803435516bb86cc66fab944b8e8d4111c8
'2011-11-14T15:53:35-05:00'
describe
'41257' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUL' 'sip-files00031.QC.jpg'
49d7d410284743f79e896eb23a92c6fd
fe2b7e46a51b231899a5aede83e0b32702821a74
'2011-11-14T15:49:52-05:00'
describe
'5937904' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUM' 'sip-files00031.tif'
e499ad700d3ed4c6441df47e4a985c63
d1e86235947461ef69642ab0c08772979c5927b0
describe
'3004' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUN' 'sip-files00031.txt'
04f73cde8243c2b8c1967d32953f282d
04904b8f747dba7f3cf1b0bd132e1d865d2dbc51
'2011-11-14T15:54:46-05:00'
describe
'9264' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUO' 'sip-files00031thm.jpg'
0c8a3a8e748afad95e883c236e4ff0a5
b83893546259bb216fad6162ee7f491e91991789
'2011-11-14T15:52:00-05:00'
describe
'739404' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUP' 'sip-files00032.jp2'
c4a0a10bc900c6d03d7072507e36be58
d39295626020069656e8832e033285a9e0c95c35
describe
'160122' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUQ' 'sip-files00032.jpg'
cd7fdd120f9fc40a5e513191ac99012a
42b5da38ddd4afbe889035b9c602c95b94230744
'2011-11-14T15:50:28-05:00'
describe
'25589' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUR' 'sip-files00032.pro'
fef1cabb09b8cea699d2ee00388417e4
6765390c7f1e32d2b89c23cf72961de425381ee0
'2011-11-14T15:49:48-05:00'
describe
'38753' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUS' 'sip-files00032.QC.jpg'
1bd672929b260ec78370b708ffe7da61
fa3a22f9e003f277e26766d0bfceaf7fdd74f002
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUT' 'sip-files00032.tif'
be0658a361ee2c60dc5b40947ab3076b
229158dce3a771ec482be6edc770e66fa2ab11d7
'2011-11-14T15:49:50-05:00'
describe
'1073' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUU' 'sip-files00032.txt'
827fd7b6d49597eccf377db33d60895b
8577f3f934ce2d9b23cce2a336177cb7ecf5feb4
describe
'8836' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUV' 'sip-files00032thm.jpg'
3835e0ad88d05431a195b4fc52bfcf3e
24eaa904ea81eaf390cc69a032df31a8951a7ac3
describe
'739574' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUW' 'sip-files00033.jp2'
f8dd7c5eb0c1540eedfbae8c01b589b3
37f7f725a0c8c8cdcc033eb8ca49e6e3f8a6017e
describe
'146461' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUX' 'sip-files00033.jpg'
762bd6f5b3c15934843717826cbbdaa4
6c39b78ebdddaf03df133e3ee4d00a46233fa678
describe
'1010' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUY' 'sip-files00033.pro'
c0b10d53123b776e48d7ed2b5e3c6705
8d5ec7d176eac7fad79251f2ca96f2fef06a1e25
'2011-11-14T15:51:44-05:00'
describe
'32930' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWUZ' 'sip-files00033.QC.jpg'
0bb214cc9c2320a97fc87c76c106daa4
c1ba5d6ce35c903274f997f9b76331eea824dd57
'2011-11-14T15:54:02-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVA' 'sip-files00033.tif'
2fdc8ca506851212dd92e66039ef13dd
b1139e7ce152326bbd40f42ad16279951693ba95
describe
'216' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVB' 'sip-files00033.txt'
c5dd3ed6e121e19d2f3260812f96a7b8
aa3dea17a0fa44310d7a7cb85f9b2e1a913732d4
'2011-11-14T15:52:54-05:00'
describe
'7775' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVC' 'sip-files00033thm.jpg'
e5343e63a7ce4e4ed383262e1ec96597
a446f6b9a182c2a92422f57c702d1a1ce4878a6c
'2011-11-14T15:51:54-05:00'
describe
'739461' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVD' 'sip-files00034.jp2'
c8e9965fd9cdd4299badc16d1fda47ea
1ff7636cec6da9695fe17f71a4f946c3dedd472a
'2011-11-14T15:50:40-05:00'
describe
'93687' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVE' 'sip-files00034.jpg'
bf5d9460ba351b5dcfb824bac45f5ae7
87ff85156fdec137630cdcca283ed99dd83e60e9
'2011-11-14T15:51:43-05:00'
describe
'37542' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVF' 'sip-files00034.pro'
88041ed54e7d10b96f786f3871c87951
92d2bc3ce7568d90fb5688968029098c5463a05b
'2011-11-14T15:51:37-05:00'
describe
'23950' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVG' 'sip-files00034.QC.jpg'
6ad42347ae95eff4e58f4214e6ed9a23
541a0446928f8b052e8c36454df4682a1e6a5ba0
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVH' 'sip-files00034.tif'
367dbca098c24c3b5a0106f69401aa2c
eae7ebaad53de1e11ecc6e6f90d8fb17167d4671
'2011-11-14T15:52:03-05:00'
describe
'1743' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVI' 'sip-files00034.txt'
3ddc1c6d0759286bcdfc5c11ee9badc9
de59ebaab3a7c95651c49d3e14e41a1f2b22ff5b
'2011-11-14T15:50:53-05:00'
describe
'5808' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVJ' 'sip-files00034thm.jpg'
b7876752ca078ac56755356aad8bf19a
d5943f3af2b703231f49e96e4c6921415578184c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVK' 'sip-files00035.jp2'
a251e402da81420311f940e8b2b35b98
5054e985abc29e6ff606793603476a866d31c0e3
'2011-11-14T15:54:03-05:00'
describe
'79247' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVL' 'sip-files00035.jpg'
9e183cccc95c34b536bf17d9180d3617
ec9059a3ceeb942b991fbc4b7ee07d3551186378
describe
'14987' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVM' 'sip-files00035.pro'
1bd12ca01425825a1bc2b79119b2b5da
012d150f3e6f90605fc0ed86f153691d7dcbad55
'2011-11-14T15:53:27-05:00'
describe
'19502' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVN' 'sip-files00035.QC.jpg'
a7864cf624a383b9d93a5c757a7a29c4
74509486105763ef7f1229dc066d33495e2c870e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVO' 'sip-files00035.tif'
f113ee5867f18e14720ee983d505c184
16fcd3dd71960350645a4b1459dc8436c548a3fe
describe
'689' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVP' 'sip-files00035.txt'
efe1b7d1e5e5739933c436266b9aa14b
f21f0fc8a98db24c69b039cf4d0ecbb2397bab79
'2011-11-14T15:53:13-05:00'
describe
'4858' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVQ' 'sip-files00035thm.jpg'
43c942275e57c7b286b9dc5317ca5ac5
c07f2f59a85d69fbea70315634de17f2b1ddb542
describe
'740212' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVR' 'sip-files00036.jp2'
16c45f615f1fa787a01bdfb21db4b93e
447b85c90d03582518ef890b1a7dd10164cee620
'2011-11-14T15:50:29-05:00'
describe
'146652' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVS' 'sip-files00036.jpg'
70885c724cf57abba2489d87d84b4316
87abdd3a0631262973ba1887b5cc08f3387ba874
describe
'64142' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVT' 'sip-files00036.pro'
13161d307be328a8d43a53a18ed9f1fe
0275d6bca35c609b6cacd1017c69dd22da599f37
describe
'38136' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVU' 'sip-files00036.QC.jpg'
eea62da041694470f71d282c8fdf7a80
a76bda062fd858c5b64ed66750ffe30977c32067
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVV' 'sip-files00036.tif'
9997a00cfef4be65f6bc2c96ae7fee04
6246c77dbbe9be4e4093402ae93f8277ad8b4dae
describe
'2737' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVW' 'sip-files00036.txt'
117162c555e7b8cdd0f585217fb25fa1
b5275bfabf919fd3b6a6fdadc251847f2206f245
describe
'8791' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVX' 'sip-files00036thm.jpg'
680c036bf6210928eaf382803f55f6ec
a86d54e7d8df71a71921e3c6cf35d2c38ac8b3e1
describe
'718297' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVY' 'sip-files00037.jp2'
4df2c39d7c42dcb1ed4960635639f48e
5db2a2b22863aa123579987f501fe6f49c4f597a
describe
'179682' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWVZ' 'sip-files00037.jpg'
3fa5c08f64386e39ded68b45bc64eed6
b58b8c3d93fd53f54986ea6619d2dbc2f5d088f7
describe
'69805' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWA' 'sip-files00037.pro'
15714ceb5d2cb8e1cb933f8ba446cecf
2c6e224e5f4bbbbb732f93f19db17054b082c4c6
'2011-11-14T15:54:19-05:00'
describe
'47463' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWB' 'sip-files00037.QC.jpg'
c38b0668f51990af3b041b138f51380f
d62167a2a71a83f182146b4c9702172c971786b4
describe
'5762836' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWC' 'sip-files00037.tif'
f7632d23b40a228635e4cde4884994f7
434a40cbc51b125e2777aed895c297bda167d10e
describe
'3462' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWD' 'sip-files00037.txt'
a24a9b5eaf058bed910365419c681ebb
2b805762af4bbb3495482876953feea1f2c31aac
'2011-11-14T15:53:16-05:00'
describe
'10597' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWE' 'sip-files00037thm.jpg'
9114b46527a932c8a9949ffc938895b1
ccc067ac7f0bcb78dec6b7da14f2d970246b77d4
describe
'739846' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWF' 'sip-files00038.jp2'
40edde5b95c66f665375bc2d17dc9ade
ea83c85cde308f605d1a20288efd9f16a8333f44
describe
'160991' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWG' 'sip-files00038.jpg'
a148245a4347d63082fbd2ea978c51ec
589a8252f0b0e6ef42ad07279a8b5282497ee6eb
'2011-11-14T15:54:16-05:00'
describe
'68407' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWH' 'sip-files00038.pro'
e071a3c5bc557b03e9993ac6716b52f9
d2462f14ed6fdcd202a0403eca00f358952006f2
'2011-11-14T15:51:25-05:00'
describe
'41439' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWI' 'sip-files00038.QC.jpg'
f073b01d7738d1dc50a79a646e2f26ef
4131bc30d5afcb93ebc050d9ffa03fc2bb09ef33
describe
'5935036' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWJ' 'sip-files00038.tif'
9064c26f0c41395403d0cfe3c5dc565b
c8f494e8c5e20729eae40ce109777678fc73549d
'2011-11-14T15:53:43-05:00'
describe
'3029' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWK' 'sip-files00038.txt'
b8345a6d9ca438e5c9b5c12d64498485
d9c69472c1302ad047128c67376f4acce8818869
'2011-11-14T15:52:51-05:00'
describe
'9381' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWL' 'sip-files00038thm.jpg'
5316f0389a6e599f72bd46c4f29f6149
dbca8b7e439988d245f76a883a94a4cc39468305
describe
'714008' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWM' 'sip-files00039.jp2'
ca11f8ea52373f6046ff61917ecb8733
9ee76f86eeb9b3ad3d465218bb5e0a3999cc00a9
describe
'170144' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWN' 'sip-files00039.jpg'
9335d4b6380d52f26ad3d0a0af7b8b11
153fcc550493dd2d170510e463f1c4fd53ca09d9
'2011-11-14T15:52:47-05:00'
describe
'70494' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWO' 'sip-files00039.pro'
bdf0da4ebf894c4d1bf838461ee40be0
deb88a7463312b1ee27ecdb22d48a1b7eb1ac817
describe
'45016' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWP' 'sip-files00039.QC.jpg'
f72885fce193cbbc0023837629906cf2
0aef707af20d23aebebf82cc53d07c8d2f0d4c8f
describe
'5728396' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWQ' 'sip-files00039.tif'
9590338e28815ad9f37c8742b868d8d8
93e220a1e12625bdc02e53f48503c8e51a2c813e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWR' 'sip-files00039.txt'
bbabe881cdbb7f67c4adc7770275e49e
94add3f9269316d256d273c6c4d019c315f62ba9
'2011-11-14T15:51:05-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'10551' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWS' 'sip-files00039thm.jpg'
e9256aab7110043d69aa62093df539ed
f0aab8bb8a56a42fc90da8304f0b71eb64ae3a99
describe
'739362' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWT' 'sip-files00040.jp2'
77134866b6e462ef8bb4b25efabe47d8
6fac7225cd6e83c01afeb621db4a3ddb20311535
'2011-11-14T15:53:03-05:00'
describe
'167807' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWU' 'sip-files00040.jpg'
11464b01e7d4195ade93c43e5dd53b4f
2e9c98c8afe4c8c941f17a95296abf87c97b6977
'2011-11-14T15:53:49-05:00'
describe
'61379' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWV' 'sip-files00040.pro'
edc5db96eec5c394c69845621308b515
72bbf17fc070120552e51e197b9b3eaadf8afb99
describe
'43680' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWW' 'sip-files00040.QC.jpg'
86694db56128202ffd2c82ab3be1f0d6
43d4d251eaa91049d1b8de59ee81a03fe0101ec7
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWX' 'sip-files00040.tif'
14d0f9e8de46201b2218198a2d4d7525
b044d33a27ef50575d8f187e86d858d07eb0eb36
'2011-11-14T15:51:59-05:00'
describe
'2402' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWY' 'sip-files00040.txt'
45d2f39d91c5ca1fe5a4e69b440ac99d
4e26bc1421e59f36db19e1567c25e171adc1776b
describe
'9880' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWWZ' 'sip-files00040thm.jpg'
12b33f636233bea19e4b96cf91f16236
92d1feafd64b3f164aaa79f314327146d094c5c2
describe
'739568' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXA' 'sip-files00041.jp2'
9b21dece76df8a0472ac1f6106338265
8ce2823218ba2bc2a06390e2c645dad4362041c5
'2011-11-14T15:49:07-05:00'
describe
'163744' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXB' 'sip-files00041.jpg'
4dd8bbca4626a243952996aa3bda1b50
835f436fe5cab28c441af15790652a875daf03a3
'2011-11-14T15:51:13-05:00'
describe
'80677' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXC' 'sip-files00041.pro'
3b67d0021a37786ed7dd0ac3c597eaa3
bf62d011500b118daf08b7b716c89a79f8b43101
'2011-11-14T15:49:49-05:00'
describe
'44060' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXD' 'sip-files00041.QC.jpg'
c6ce3a9879054335c83dad8e2ebac297
0b25e1ee5b61dd0b750c443a074242b00b4240ff
'2011-11-14T15:54:40-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXE' 'sip-files00041.tif'
e5c6283dff27ea7692b52e8950a054d5
1235d371455879886dcba34ff2b08e2573d01c41
'2011-11-14T15:53:11-05:00'
describe
'3185' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXF' 'sip-files00041.txt'
431e9ef4d0c578cd8a27a0616bd5d019
aae576a5117033485be89e9d865402eb3a657746
describe
'9841' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXG' 'sip-files00041thm.jpg'
be2fae8bf354fb7095dbc64f326d1fdc
f9f7ac8627b2db9e45b1803ce0d1d280fe61984c
describe
'739457' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXH' 'sip-files00042.jp2'
3d6f38a21eb8279868a76a18b3e13aa1
7c1288a17c9504784481f8a94a203644847c8ffc
describe
'175829' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXI' 'sip-files00042.jpg'
f67a0af233465c80624b9ddf66802fe8
032065956066a1ca5b6ed147fb085610493e5851
'2011-11-14T15:53:18-05:00'
describe
'38799' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXJ' 'sip-files00042.pro'
3e7eb99acbeefe23774f4da03fb9a64e
a3f8ac0501a6dd2ce91b3fc2e15c581801f664e8
describe
'42757' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXK' 'sip-files00042.QC.jpg'
b3cc5cb1059a348a6797efa8ba75da42
afc1ea8200766a410dee19012d37e03a8835b817
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXL' 'sip-files00042.tif'
a6da12bc1523d7ff75faf4aded7273dd
de2dd7eb5c58c3ddcb0297b6883e2a56ec32b192
'2011-11-14T15:53:37-05:00'
describe
'1584' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXM' 'sip-files00042.txt'
c828fef292bd41c015201fcf0b2faa39
318ebb842e8d51535dc5570c174bb8fc3480bc71
'2011-11-14T15:52:29-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'9641' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXN' 'sip-files00042thm.jpg'
8711607ddb3e9c351bef8ee9cd72ea93
6df0e8d7802462b9206a377724e12c571111b3bc
describe
'739567' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXO' 'sip-files00043.jp2'
ad28ce57d9690c7ad7a385ee11162a91
15fd8183a8e33e567e6ce000f04e8567c2f62a7a
describe
'156411' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXP' 'sip-files00043.jpg'
f2822a0a880d0c6841e188641f1bda38
7423e1a5f8ef01bb3ceb37a4859d05e14b8aae5f
'2011-11-14T15:50:36-05:00'
describe
'66869' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXQ' 'sip-files00043.pro'
052f233160256dcace8178c43f03caad
98dd2ee680d49bdf79d9e02d593981d7337ed4c3
describe
'41060' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXR' 'sip-files00043.QC.jpg'
5ca6704f03afa5ed69fe9a886758c58f
fa502ce4f8b64ea588cd2f8c704844c8a60c806b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXS' 'sip-files00043.tif'
1ca0c7cdf5dcb5a16c47329671e5e557
0157f2e3f321f0f9f23ecf9a3b553f1d8f6043c4
'2011-11-14T15:49:12-05:00'
describe
'3081' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXT' 'sip-files00043.txt'
969ca0c2672b46209c20b6f5d4d29d27
9108f63551372005282600c4341bf658f543b7a4
'2011-11-14T15:54:23-05:00'
describe
'9484' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXU' 'sip-files00043thm.jpg'
4e9350bdb6b4261ab6e5168f428c7461
839b3f39dda83723a946e4639ff245f7204dd947
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXV' 'sip-files00044.jp2'
94547983533630afad8da5c4b344e592
8c102296b315a507f9db584d93b1303c9d9a5dbc
describe
'183355' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXW' 'sip-files00044.jpg'
08ecb89da13337650b8fb8d286e0916b
acc5cc43820ea531c02925127995cc5783ed595f
describe
'35098' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXX' 'sip-files00044.pro'
a61267359c91fe8d09a37ee9585077b9
b5fe18df5d03d1661ce63e1bcfee4adfb2f7bb02
'2011-11-14T15:53:30-05:00'
describe
'45642' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXY' 'sip-files00044.QC.jpg'
e764fd0e72c18d435ba850044fd89fdd
d4e0b62e27013ae9522d29dd1bd3dc9c72cb2fdf
'2011-11-14T15:52:44-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWXZ' 'sip-files00044.tif'
6e64ce408f35e0e663b213b4a8f68b8a
0c6a5c50293c9039f2bfc104efcb713ff6bb0c3e
describe
'1414' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYA' 'sip-files00044.txt'
e96006a133f9e184bdc2e4c30d5c0891
035a9e5fe050e75137af6e0a73f12ed1a441bb2f
describe
'10234' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYB' 'sip-files00044thm.jpg'
bbe4f3377eafff66630fcb39f4ff4780
0ddf186d8d15c80d1a6f4e854dc780e59a6237ec
'2011-11-14T15:54:10-05:00'
describe
'739572' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYC' 'sip-files00045.jp2'
c1fe551c733839aae5f47589a0673c15
924b24517410e28d0414c277f9ab2c52ffa89451
'2011-11-14T15:54:53-05:00'
describe
'150353' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYD' 'sip-files00045.jpg'
1f12e825ee97e53ca1d3b26c895a64ba
80013cffdd2b4a9660fa5950377f4309c0e1076d
'2011-11-14T15:51:11-05:00'
describe
'66614' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYE' 'sip-files00045.pro'
2dd7feee9602255c8791c7971f5fa709
d5945f7c8505ec702c44ab10fd094f19140ad344
'2011-11-14T15:51:23-05:00'
describe
'39125' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYF' 'sip-files00045.QC.jpg'
06e0c6407a49982c303bb1a94426f49e
58c587ac50eaba27e414d806acd97cca2e2a2687
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYG' 'sip-files00045.tif'
9aeeb11a1f8c4da6f9e5e447525ad4b6
002fcb1d0c799272b9af737f2bdccb6031127ffa
describe
'2947' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYH' 'sip-files00045.txt'
285e3536d42f13699bd86e105ce01426
6672f4b19e2845f2452e16f0dbabd988740d5010
describe
'8919' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYI' 'sip-files00045thm.jpg'
b524a452078c956d68a61da0b6b2e4bf
012c5339dd0b1b80a8f2ba3455154029820b7f76
'2011-11-14T15:50:11-05:00'
describe
'739916' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYJ' 'sip-files00046.jp2'
a60c9add27f5c6830a6ecd35a96f4291
536271ba7d4f11060d698c1e5187d543f47ba9ee
describe
'76850' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYK' 'sip-files00046.jpg'
b26f8c89f4955d3bf523c95c7b04f996
9b75d0c2fc12168206dabd3d1c4102c80934814e
describe
'31794' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYL' 'sip-files00046.pro'
16f521e49df274cf5955e1192579783f
29d2fbd8c94326a22d4636e9c1a97e9ac42084da
describe
'19947' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYM' 'sip-files00046.QC.jpg'
8fe335d6a533c922c4e8b04d437767eb
d8461927519ebed9d9146dfb3d779bc8ebe9c9d5
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYN' 'sip-files00046.tif'
12b017895dffc54689b8facb2e74bacc
8080d6b32ebdf69b3f36129ad2272c7bcedf3d74
describe
'1374' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYO' 'sip-files00046.txt'
69444baf731d7d307765d2fcbd9e1def
cfe5ec3d823e6fcaf19e32112d744d9553c32b95
describe
'5094' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYP' 'sip-files00046thm.jpg'
c7510641bcf6176d86716315fe21b49e
4c30f0158348af27d5d915386663181e976067dc
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYQ' 'sip-files00047.jp2'
338e949926d41aa74f8ee2ac438330a0
e22a0c9483c37b659892c2b38aebfd2b10e49695
describe
'96688' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYR' 'sip-files00047.jpg'
e28c00aaf115753a6b7e2873236b5d42
15a194da104f0e560e9321f6b909dd6ffb33c3cd
describe
'11401' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYS' 'sip-files00047.pro'
52f828a19be93665dc064461c0177800
473068abfbc2228a1146d8f9f8ddaa9c65bd6840
describe
'22984' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYT' 'sip-files00047.QC.jpg'
b27535f29987ab671aeb7ea8e2961596
31ac045d30a1fa9f8096901145c78416b8f5cb9a
'2011-11-14T15:54:52-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYU' 'sip-files00047.tif'
61c6fbc117030caafde8ce8b816758ed
08a89e189b8cf4bf02bbc132c9fdb6f668e3720e
'2011-11-14T15:55:01-05:00'
describe
'620' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYV' 'sip-files00047.txt'
506cf63d04a054a9f1300e3db86a7682
330328592b3bc2de0ccff6e77d4ebdd05f73c4a6
describe
Invalid character
'5766' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYW' 'sip-files00047thm.jpg'
825e5099f99d981ac2e0a589ac8d626e
d7ab4a8352961f12b622b592f54dda28f0f6098c
'2011-11-14T15:52:07-05:00'
describe
'739588' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYX' 'sip-files00048.jp2'
8b484862d99368e985c48adfc3645468
31cb3ff94d0e1a5783427547dd420c6a2bed7787
describe
'85713' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYY' 'sip-files00048.jpg'
3bd15f36ec99a20d98eea42ea6682f70
6c3d9f29096cdfdd1636dcad49839f35f0710370
'2011-11-14T15:54:14-05:00'
describe
'16235' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWYZ' 'sip-files00048.pro'
0e61fdb8ba55fc28cccca379974507a3
a5d0687516adb9ef9d4b0489ba4c7db10b10d658
'2011-11-14T15:51:58-05:00'
describe
'21389' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZA' 'sip-files00048.QC.jpg'
30a9f8faaefab958a228461f93ad29ee
4c4f62bd41ebde92219528eddb638cc1af1cffc3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZB' 'sip-files00048.tif'
0824a1eb3e9158e0a554bcacf1bd5de7
a3d3885f47efb8b0a421182e2830fc0a4f79092a
'2011-11-14T15:50:45-05:00'
describe
'687' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZC' 'sip-files00048.txt'
5b9a7bbc4273317f2301f8d814816757
1dc68f61bb2b5447f512dc9358e6e91bbc9fe7bd
'2011-11-14T15:49:24-05:00'
describe
'5224' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZD' 'sip-files00048thm.jpg'
962fb0858af5d37177f11d40292abd4b
aefff568af58f1d1863846f4f94e663da076e302
describe
'739584' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZE' 'sip-files00049.jp2'
2ad9cfb7b5f5d40ee5bf1ca97bb99926
3b4b58a9bbd51a2771a8d8e730869caef5e18383
describe
'145442' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZF' 'sip-files00049.jpg'
1dd6fcc9ac3f131914e2fadf3d9ccb19
8a8c8ed0a9d6922ca46f97d8a4df387960b0d6ad
describe
'751' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZG' 'sip-files00049.pro'
1e3049f32d9839d93a7baae214d53201
3862fde28e3b28df0bb51bdad010d2d3a4d8321e
'2011-11-14T15:53:07-05:00'
describe
'32855' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZH' 'sip-files00049.QC.jpg'
4436f14d01a1234ca78463f52f2e00bf
584802e3a98c25c8b88c7b907607080b7a0fbab5
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZI' 'sip-files00049.tif'
02fe3dc452a582aba68a17266dea5378
610309370e949bc4426a45204585710f8a8e17d3
'2011-11-14T15:52:28-05:00'
describe
'204' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZJ' 'sip-files00049.txt'
2c752a930e572ec8ecce33d39aa30fac
1e54a7f273b038c99bb3852f5f7868cda01711ca
'2011-11-14T15:53:33-05:00'
describe
'7809' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZK' 'sip-files00049thm.jpg'
26052d4d99a8a233cf24d5708ec79f42
c05dde004b768b755c2658039dae40cc69c5d3f8
describe
'739515' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZL' 'sip-files00050.jp2'
944d9298d5ce5e9e003510307348d33a
833469013c1f05633eb39b864d392da7971b24cf
'2011-11-14T15:50:15-05:00'
describe
'107933' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZM' 'sip-files00050.jpg'
8a48739196f73df112a1c55fe4b2c60e
f8f7a6b611c254d7d67a63960e96da346eb40b74
'2011-11-14T15:49:14-05:00'
describe
'24759' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZN' 'sip-files00050.pro'
98ded3ca2d2d095da5775541fb9d5336
29f616a8ef3cdd52d403a47054ac2528223d4cbf
describe
'26909' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZO' 'sip-files00050.QC.jpg'
11ef6e225daa1b099416c644f02a6ee3
319ed0bdebeca2e76745a72e25baa3983c2efc0b
'2011-11-14T15:52:56-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZP' 'sip-files00050.tif'
d4a5c0e3a5a01b8546ab66e8fd5597ed
57004bcd35ee9e07e848174cbec563cf6bb97536
describe
'1068' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZQ' 'sip-files00050.txt'
03d2f2347b3256357ebab55d0fed07ce
f0a9f808c08b9acb5c13ce45e2954a7771ffd097
describe
'6298' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZR' 'sip-files00050thm.jpg'
54b4ae8895b645b3406a4544014ab9b2
165685fddd9cec0927dae71e05156061ca8714c0
'2011-11-14T15:49:51-05:00'
describe
'739507' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZS' 'sip-files00051.jp2'
9e78f178a07eb6ccb95368cf40f8ef27
2b6896fbe61cee5c4bd64d486709fd22892134de
describe
'121558' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZT' 'sip-files00051.jpg'
5571cff9e5c9c8c5ec1f09a279684914
f27bedaa97e8569115bc7e82707a39545b3b4d42
describe
'50082' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZU' 'sip-files00051.pro'
fdb3a32cd6e74a410d3c9cf0b77d658c
ed0a87c43db1ddf3a651fe6d499ce93e6b21e54a
describe
'32032' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZV' 'sip-files00051.QC.jpg'
a37f0a3bc5cfa5c012ebac59551ab1f6
45e2913fe3761ff237d8f331ee7d7da957ab7e03
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZW' 'sip-files00051.tif'
5b57adce688cd9f69e618bb86c934cbe
4c5cfadb4ff4bfbb9df0ae05d7f555dc25e2003c
'2011-11-14T15:52:24-05:00'
describe
'2442' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZX' 'sip-files00051.txt'
7da641aab129ea0662347fa4b1777468
d754d2810fa4e42fea6ef444160288bd60f9dcaa
describe
'7421' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZY' 'sip-files00051thm.jpg'
016a98940fe6b0f7fbf21209e73ad86c
3ac1589e8fe1e02052b1f4d2636ed3eb80e532d3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAWZZ' 'sip-files00052.jp2'
98b8f13a7f83cfd8404efa6971e8efd3
0d03f374d73ec17b0cad9e78e5dd8a1645d4fe06
'2011-11-14T15:54:48-05:00'
describe
'134467' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAA' 'sip-files00052.jpg'
bc3479f64462dce643bdf2a0f3f30f8d
71cead015f67ba10143c74bc89197f3bb372b9a0
'2011-11-14T15:53:01-05:00'
describe
'64133' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAB' 'sip-files00052.pro'
b816d7a82d08814c0e7f5be1ce5e04a8
2826c74c8c70ebf90354f61c188f36f6ca25e51f
'2011-11-14T15:54:45-05:00'
describe
'35095' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAC' 'sip-files00052.QC.jpg'
4a665364082d36dbe7d94f60dc39e6c1
38519ba13b6888fbd650d671f0c77a4b2cc2641f
'2011-11-14T15:53:31-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAD' 'sip-files00052.tif'
b3ccaccb096a9d9050b595b4edcf11d2
9191b4b9d3980a716b0ee5ab5eb2bdcea3180e97
'2011-11-14T15:53:08-05:00'
describe
'2669' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAE' 'sip-files00052.txt'
a88b396e45d95a0d3534cbcd02e9803e
9a46133c24d45ba6749b5cf1ca9f8a2156fcdf39
describe
'8554' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAF' 'sip-files00052thm.jpg'
91d4232fe89e7c76883f48a44f4a626d
0a7ea6dfe869fde58a376ac8a44f322d28b786b6
'2011-11-14T15:52:40-05:00'
describe
'716270' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAG' 'sip-files00053.jp2'
7776251d9a7a2363a690ef6805f638c8
0dc1f83347f7a3c08f387d26a82292d97078268e
describe
'148593' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAH' 'sip-files00053.jpg'
3f3f95ff1950964af8e874e2b4f7a5f7
43175f6578803d1807eef31d36a7e9c9c44b3792
'2011-11-14T15:51:28-05:00'
describe
'66097' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAI' 'sip-files00053.pro'
1bb27273c77589213686e5378affac66
f2f16303cbc308dd78b72b077cc075d044265dc5
describe
'41062' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAJ' 'sip-files00053.QC.jpg'
2e65e6db8456c0bc6e37cca613621b57
9176edb6ecf28e5520f47a9cfcdeb91e7cf66b36
'2011-11-14T15:52:34-05:00'
describe
'5746488' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAK' 'sip-files00053.tif'
cf5b2205eb3cf01b1a2c9cbab5aeb5f9
85c96247618434ee156c31f66ee7f3c2aa2d0d89
'2011-11-14T15:54:43-05:00'
describe
'2667' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAL' 'sip-files00053.txt'
8de5c0df8fc741dd5b2936357a8f2d03
56e7ba7cc064332b5a27175f58489d3fb2b2edb8
'2011-11-14T15:53:28-05:00'
describe
'9640' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAM' 'sip-files00053thm.jpg'
1444fd8b52804ffdcb0c0e5088cebb79
888e7257596b3cbf5a1e61e3e3fca9d9d762f2b4
describe
'739852' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAN' 'sip-files00054.jp2'
9790138a908ce5c21b3a8511b0d104bb
3ba0b00a6027ef6ab7ae694306202acd1cb98e37
describe
'143147' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAO' 'sip-files00054.jpg'
48069226486c31c4e073fe1f6a6ddfb2
7eb90573515bb8f522969c7bf040e30c97fdfaa8
describe
'65896' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAP' 'sip-files00054.pro'
f6ac383f2f14459dc5d991f72d82f8b9
60a66a4ee8c6df5d894b7ed2f157e6d408c80c60
'2011-11-14T15:54:54-05:00'
describe
'37384' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAQ' 'sip-files00054.QC.jpg'
1073670513ed3b5e0bc9a411ef1fd2c8
5a8e03f970b04b5fad23ea9e480075121ab0e2c9
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAR' 'sip-files00054.tif'
d3739b5586a3b29e8f010f1fde1dadd6
efbad101280605050eeee7304f61ed1c420673a2
'2011-11-14T15:54:06-05:00'
describe
'2656' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAS' 'sip-files00054.txt'
72fa9e6043ce77d7217b92c6e7efb0b6
85873325b2b1665072710fa014b9b852e4766a3b
'2011-11-14T15:51:38-05:00'
describe
'8379' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAT' 'sip-files00054thm.jpg'
40c24a3208597012a3bc39ce361542df
3ea460489b9d78e6b18e4b5517bab9056ccf2695
describe
'729190' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAU' 'sip-files00055.jp2'
f3adf3058b3fdc4b9885e69fd82af9f1
88ff3d726a6e28fe353c503d4f3826ad68745b24
'2011-11-14T15:51:56-05:00'
describe
'115689' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAV' 'sip-files00055.jpg'
bd18c011c87dace02c6d39e05b68b3a3
a6456877bf30df995c6142ec776a72f32e286f6b
describe
'14379' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAW' 'sip-files00055.pro'
3bc3184c67e8e0567b914e0cd27081df
34ff719bf144f5c66b4f2c363e370e61a6fe6d56
describe
'27981' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAX' 'sip-files00055.QC.jpg'
b927a872a5159ec999addad471449605
e2e3edf3b747b61168c7327b13f9c651132e55ad
'2011-11-14T15:54:17-05:00'
describe
'5849772' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAY' 'sip-files00055.tif'
132100a1b29b8defa5d84375d1be1bbc
f0eaf8ac4d89048a86eba5114cb4564241e086f8
describe
'664' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXAZ' 'sip-files00055.txt'
014f932543836a498833a884e4cffa64
78577de03df98359431db30352e78767a81508ed
describe
'6804' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBA' 'sip-files00055thm.jpg'
72efdfaf901954c1820d620e400d2c90
8b7ab58ce73790df4c3302c3b2db404d9234b4a3
describe
'739853' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBB' 'sip-files00056.jp2'
75477551a0586bbaf261c4fffea69aba
848764eb4c265525d4dc9af59fe33116317da156
describe
'134418' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBC' 'sip-files00056.jpg'
097a76f107b7879c33b48b5ded12c008
4f27679d32169c709cc00f4fb82389a2678fd87d
describe
'18174' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBD' 'sip-files00056.pro'
c1f0a911e5a0eb4f469b187263a5ca5d
f320a005486511ded96bbcb0fc1ef28fd29f66fa
'2011-11-14T15:51:29-05:00'
describe
'34139' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBE' 'sip-files00056.QC.jpg'
33a9c1b3f919e594129c551972c7ac25
67e711bf5a99b783df5b25393e58956c591c6237
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBF' 'sip-files00056.tif'
1fd74872c757d012ba8f2e69d32218eb
e646f8006554c7e6c57f917f72acdb4fc980fe6a
describe
'744' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBG' 'sip-files00056.txt'
2efe189a877f73132a65f74241007c90
ce491f7002dc8fcabcf2799ddb50ab74a144ed50
describe
Invalid character
'8166' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBH' 'sip-files00056thm.jpg'
bcfffbc6889d0ec1a0ef7e9b0201acac
cb081909c1d0e1d1bcce62d92d02ab5f15b98c4c
describe
'722736' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBI' 'sip-files00057.jp2'
b5f8deb38063aa27e91daa00139099e0
c94e0b5234721b821aae4e9571dfe3fe6e6976f7
describe
'153339' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBJ' 'sip-files00057.jpg'
e4a547d1e5ef37c4b667f9721babe110
e501534c67ce65efed8187124c4de5ea133c18ab
describe
'61431' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBK' 'sip-files00057.pro'
f0f091d9a9bf99313e59b3b7aa279575
89a7b5f4f4c64acf8461ce1f8bce71fb83683094
describe
'41199' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBL' 'sip-files00057.QC.jpg'
831bbc455952d7fde60fcf9ced5c9ca2
9f972aef170e6c05edbcb8fac437a719fd74b3ca
'2011-11-14T15:52:41-05:00'
describe
'5798132' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBM' 'sip-files00057.tif'
cac2470f874a1c29b88f73d7bf1d5ed7
d0c8521e95caefcada327f0169fff70675d7bb4a
'2011-11-14T15:53:09-05:00'
describe
'2495' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBN' 'sip-files00057.txt'
a9324334efee2bf298be5d82d3d10f02
167a84533e65ee8b1b1fa5324b6a008942bf3fe1
describe
'9683' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBO' 'sip-files00057thm.jpg'
e9047433e8cf790a8f6c9071746e12c2
6e5d3fdae777ecd016045403c145d8775f7c43bc
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBP' 'sip-files00058.jp2'
626acbe8d563640b7e8704d190b48c01
8a009af82bd779e6fed437e3a551a7678767fe93
'2011-11-14T15:49:29-05:00'
describe
'127482' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBQ' 'sip-files00058.jpg'
0410af548e9374d8e3b649de75dc6b42
1bb8e6f4015a87ef9f525036fb22e98d9ca6b5af
describe
'43785' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBR' 'sip-files00058.pro'
93d0ef2c7c973964d54b545b8d0b4123
5653ac160c0c81063a794d49a7f931efd50a6ced
describe
'34224' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBS' 'sip-files00058.QC.jpg'
f17052e15d06e23ad6cc629a0f3be7eb
9102fa1199e435f56881926c6377c086a96bc183
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBT' 'sip-files00058.tif'
4637a36173b2413c82afb1d805228282
78277e7fde4d7f7013dd369095bf71253191b568
describe
'1756' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBU' 'sip-files00058.txt'
86611c5ea32512ac13ad00f7d04a5053
428ececd5ea2169b81e2ea44ff7a24fb5308ef51
describe
'8434' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBV' 'sip-files00058thm.jpg'
fd65a43e3247eeda6d328389d368845a
03216510dde11d086e3ee49319aeb9d392342892
describe
'726894' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBW' 'sip-files00059.jp2'
a203fbb406a5ce115a57fb0353357d2f
d81afbadd328f660d260726cb551a6429642a379
describe
'164072' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBX' 'sip-files00059.jpg'
a54491b78472d196e26a459b6c7faf4d
8fe7f9f332390b6ba75e922cc2f7e0985eb78ea6
'2011-11-14T15:49:30-05:00'
describe
'1468' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBY' 'sip-files00059.pro'
9cdad9a3d9cf9e23bce5cf6ed6564657
dc8448ffb81d87faad839f9d0f59f42d1f294c02
'2011-11-14T15:50:25-05:00'
describe
'37900' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXBZ' 'sip-files00059.QC.jpg'
f42bb6df4f785ad60c4f3780054ea461
a9c6b292b87d3024846035f6246300da0a170184
'2011-11-14T15:51:47-05:00'
describe
'5832560' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCA' 'sip-files00059.tif'
b06150efda39651cf6d42e8ec02837cb
5487f755b802169f57cae32524b254de3ac48d6a
'2011-11-14T15:51:50-05:00'
describe
'174' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCB' 'sip-files00059.txt'
d247c93dee91cb4bcfaaf070fa4ca838
a3f6704e095f0cfad12b136b6719dbf71a9a47b3
'2011-11-14T15:49:31-05:00'
describe
'8727' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCC' 'sip-files00059thm.jpg'
da103a778c803f5dccf1e62be8a4e1eb
135a20aa828cff89a9009620966ca9ffd8c215ab
describe
'739587' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCD' 'sip-files00060.jp2'
44a72cf8fde2318844aa6bfd57683bef
05c1724d22d9445fca65ec6e1108923d710303a9
describe
'155675' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCE' 'sip-files00060.jpg'
bc86ddaadceeb6c76babedf3048f53b0
c42cb419b04daa82bb9e5986d35a7f71e0aaa435
describe
'73685' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCF' 'sip-files00060.pro'
5fc199b28a724d1cb7e4c6b4d0d6a6da
7efec5a2b4034ae41423db213d6e5e166d489a44
describe
'42260' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCG' 'sip-files00060.QC.jpg'
f44f20d37c1c5a5525624bd2c8230af0
f9188fbf4aea18548a606236b45f5b6298d9fa11
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCH' 'sip-files00060.tif'
4e8d906a387d83de608209fc725d7ea6
d9974ac73f24e5fef43ef28d6a4f60f6b260e52a
'2011-11-14T15:53:50-05:00'
describe
'2930' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCI' 'sip-files00060.txt'
0b092f4b9cea3f6f279ef70d30249f52
6f200b3e9cc24128eced469b3533a2fd8e5afbb4
'2011-11-14T15:54:24-05:00'
describe
'9587' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCJ' 'sip-files00060thm.jpg'
bdd68d8baf2b7f4775521e2de76798d8
6a7f62e19adc78b80b44741389478df4e78b23a9
'2011-11-14T15:54:04-05:00'
describe
'725210' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCK' 'sip-files00061.jp2'
99f6507a008d76f11329d5711be69513
dff5ba822e61c12c822e859c5135d496d787a573
describe
'157155' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCL' 'sip-files00061.jpg'
28e5db1e90df48aa75f65923d2df09cc
637d40b3cf4bdbb4766a79a25c16dc8580910c8e
describe
'73357' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCM' 'sip-files00061.pro'
730d0c222412c0e485e4a6d62e4b1f52
57b572ab73ec96b274ef354647aa0f0a4b3d4d74
'2011-11-14T15:50:06-05:00'
describe
'42887' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCN' 'sip-files00061.QC.jpg'
1d14f472b69215f5f0659637bedcab3c
b2756999169a42910b7cad473384a0ffe0048488
'2011-11-14T15:51:40-05:00'
describe
'5818052' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCO' 'sip-files00061.tif'
ef73f94b190932a75a24d7cb0735188f
f5ae9e8d7027b4cb623c3b975e7ebf05129c6531
'2011-11-14T15:52:10-05:00'
describe
'2896' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCP' 'sip-files00061.txt'
7cac7e206b11d865875bbefa86025e58
827f061c17922f54191f96a40b8ef7bccfe7cded
describe
'9800' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCQ' 'sip-files00061thm.jpg'
2b1be6d87964d5c484b2c82f32761612
3766d8088f306100a73d2b6a3f47a26d6d64c7f0
describe
'739591' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCR' 'sip-files00062.jp2'
cd6d02aa8cd84944376223f7f6a69ddd
231aeba9e932558fc62bea2b02f6a988eecc913b
describe
'147687' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCS' 'sip-files00062.jpg'
1215a873fbf9226d25470e9cac902f79
4ab16b4aea5f97ef83392b0971a1b18632f39314
describe
'69703' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCT' 'sip-files00062.pro'
077644962fec771cff519edeeb52c62a
2731ff427431662be4e03d8a1674592e05353225
'2011-11-14T15:49:11-05:00'
describe
'40683' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCU' 'sip-files00062.QC.jpg'
541cd8981f2a0803fe0620623a12e60d
a99b1e6751984ee50c62632768d6ee532df10967
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCV' 'sip-files00062.tif'
01e240477d63afb095a255145c7a11a5
b3579a4412608466a7dbfa341af3525a353ec3a4
describe
'2783' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCW' 'sip-files00062.txt'
ec82a5f4692c1b8b39578df27c62025c
4b0fee96cdb5431f1307845d38043ed2256b535f
describe
'9313' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCX' 'sip-files00062thm.jpg'
54133748d03ac22228a30ec0ac26ebc7
142e4e6562c5776f3bd36422fd4fe3d008981cfb
describe
'726985' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCY' 'sip-files00063.jp2'
cbc9bad9e8cddf567247de61b5176ff8
8227cdf71628098f7b0f458df2d31a67d7565a14
describe
'145993' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXCZ' 'sip-files00063.jpg'
40c5d7c43f904143ad945a5426a02afe
2986fc90a1b50c7dd7081ead02cc0fa305f8c02b
'2011-11-14T15:52:13-05:00'
describe
'66526' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDA' 'sip-files00063.pro'
765326761aaf69c11e649e0e6bfcf8f7
b7e7e6990c7615caa31fd962c8adddae75d89e0a
'2011-11-14T15:50:21-05:00'
describe
'40224' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDB' 'sip-files00063.QC.jpg'
69467a9533b38673df89858628cdcf76
de4a7c5ac387a22139877a3c11b3e109965e89ba
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDC' 'sip-files00063.tif'
93d366f26e1e5ac304e5cff36bc271f8
f0345fb7048cdb737e87047ec741f440964bea1f
'2011-11-14T15:50:35-05:00'
describe
'2664' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDD' 'sip-files00063.txt'
18cf23efd2029df580c3629f56c43c29
fce44cc4b20f7df95f9727778821c6e0942a5d55
describe
'9224' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDE' 'sip-files00063thm.jpg'
efefa69b90880e78692a0e7c94d77506
84e75a6815c5cb68247c58e1a0fbb4c0f09bed21
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDF' 'sip-files00064.jp2'
a77eafad0c99275abfa740870b3395cd
8b08b5f601f6cc97b800cc52c2f32cbf3b51800a
describe
'169208' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDG' 'sip-files00064.jpg'
3deae1e369ce47699942ae0679f638eb
af93b5da321ccd65f425345dc4c15f0be7cf061c
'2011-11-14T15:52:05-05:00'
describe
'48373' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDH' 'sip-files00064.pro'
522b2d9893ea67073b5b9ad45f442a33
ea2a8a5549f22b68ce20400d5780dddb2bb3d4b5
describe
'43667' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDI' 'sip-files00064.QC.jpg'
431536a507d96f6579a6116f9a5daffa
ca8abc024c42c6769bee50f3553d717134cd4378
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDJ' 'sip-files00064.tif'
89322bc106cc9e54a8874549d7b965d8
a525b8318d7c4dfcf00b0e443dd86b8ac668c23a
describe
'2304' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDK' 'sip-files00064.txt'
8aa86c2d0af2b837a9fdf995c0723f91
341c99e51112783490fe33ba0bc2f3c54371561e
describe
Invalid character
'10172' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDL' 'sip-files00064thm.jpg'
2061d07b9a44235a2fc4ca7189e61a7a
041cd1c4022b364e87528a2713e5c9c42f6e0063
describe
'718800' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDM' 'sip-files00065.jp2'
659d40f1f98cdd5068528eed912b57e3
3fdd7eed57ca5a2ba79269b232674d48c10a9c81
describe
'158069' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDN' 'sip-files00065.jpg'
4d2ad2b8935a2b141bfb4e7119084705
174483e11813b7b4d441ab717f2898d4971a3372
describe
'72472' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDO' 'sip-files00065.pro'
7d9fd6862837e05c7965b11a71f5d66c
7989b4f9d440baf5afcde7b1f9b7621d05807c01
describe
'42926' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDP' 'sip-files00065.QC.jpg'
93a47f626f09117e00c1d4330e36d43c
4c88d0631e4ad3a05b3e4c071528e75502af1f43
describe
'5766840' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDQ' 'sip-files00065.tif'
6cca82192f13a52647501e600bb163e4
f81eeaa30a9aca0cd9bf75ebe5cb9830dd4390eb
describe
'2863' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDR' 'sip-files00065.txt'
c1cc7e2a673983c67119af48ba4f1a03
805798a278bc58b3351466ee5c404f0f187c83e0
'2011-11-14T15:54:27-05:00'
describe
'9767' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDS' 'sip-files00065thm.jpg'
34644faeed19d1663eb4554a5d12e17f
09516028d54b4124fce722fedcd3dcb395f51262
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDT' 'sip-files00066.jp2'
a14cef3a47c2006c71554db78ba39a24
1c65957561153d5cb285fc17d1fa104a2348b00f
describe
'144223' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDU' 'sip-files00066.jpg'
3bc04a92a89bac7cd4f847ea65b9f0f9
ed0703d2655bdd96feea7e8d696ec5ce48a5f50e
describe
'69359' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDV' 'sip-files00066.pro'
40833732be04fb9fd780397dded9eaf6
f38d41eecc83e820e08e56672c277c01c443ad2f
'2011-11-14T15:54:39-05:00'
describe
'40124' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDW' 'sip-files00066.QC.jpg'
99ea4efab91a5cc1c5b70b8e0ed1d2fd
3d59ea1a5235d4305b073babd3c9989558fb0a0b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDX' 'sip-files00066.tif'
d712a6d65be6b0aeb6a25dd1c25c4622
e5c72c5c8dfba921e3e3f22ad4132f308fcf0830
describe
'2746' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDY' 'sip-files00066.txt'
1cefe2d36f0ec9b110786616ac19ba4d
be95c9686ea2119467608d98d06c6be70a5411fe
describe
'9386' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXDZ' 'sip-files00066thm.jpg'
fb502ee3bf549c89ac67aa01565e5d2f
e9bcc7822467f20b68ec49227b3394a54a1cb179
'2011-11-14T15:54:58-05:00'
describe
'723698' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEA' 'sip-files00067.jp2'
8eed26b1286dfd55423ef13e2193cff8
a9e1a164190ec8c5b19dbda8719d82a919cf01e8
'2011-11-14T15:50:27-05:00'
describe
'164172' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEB' 'sip-files00067.jpg'
e90c7d1e6d59e82499b3b6d9e19026f8
a64cd1c14a941ec26e71f57996e474aa86d313e0
'2011-11-14T15:53:10-05:00'
describe
'78458' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEC' 'sip-files00067.pro'
23ea8a001114e3c516058d425ef80c26
7245d639079425a063fd51ceb53381521dc7aea1
describe
'44109' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXED' 'sip-files00067.QC.jpg'
a0e907aee0d2ddf6ec643dda0851638c
4b40e49eb477c448df356021b0d977fa49d3476a
'2011-11-14T15:49:57-05:00'
describe
'5805816' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEE' 'sip-files00067.tif'
189240aaf54233d6f31d8f6d79f78ba9
7c3bcbe18e78a9df7f32ab248b6c30fc188fde9b
describe
'3112' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEF' 'sip-files00067.txt'
03da810eb04eccdcc57575d16d377668
716f75eb8041cce6e26f3909f55ee8222c0355b8
'2011-11-14T15:54:59-05:00'
describe
'9693' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEG' 'sip-files00067thm.jpg'
74114f054662fbeaf7f9a9572884e5b5
9e0336c2082faf55abba9bc6055e979d99e02fb9
describe
'739951' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEH' 'sip-files00068.jp2'
de93d7abed2e256b5bc0113eff818886
bb2402cbddc82ccb75a53f8898e899eccee50cff
describe
'166685' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEI' 'sip-files00068.jpg'
8a7db4136db98f734f23c33670170091
3937ba2c044d014ac70a5de3a5b82b12080dd67a
describe
'77719' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEJ' 'sip-files00068.pro'
63ed4dbc22dae44b71af28deafb48bf0
b5235ee42f6766fdde214d93b5fdb0f44e19950f
describe
'43478' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEK' 'sip-files00068.QC.jpg'
6b2def258a10eb491466dc98242a4900
663e555b90e70739783a0af01d9f58817d71a094
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEL' 'sip-files00068.tif'
7959457f69ba8da1bce366384dd31e79
2a675a807502ae7f241c3c6abb635ffac4da6e59
describe
'3062' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEM' 'sip-files00068.txt'
deb3a1dd1a721569664c8dcf6f018caf
421a4433fe4926c15df65ab474e2e64d2f97d047
describe
'9692' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEN' 'sip-files00068thm.jpg'
4c33938240e06def9d9787251f79109f
4572e313f11ec7557ed3481f2297678e76d2beb3
describe
'716510' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEO' 'sip-files00069.jp2'
1501004dfc70d3f6c86eb275f0eb7705
96a65de04a94c0dbc36c3c095e1b524e99570e79
describe
'184730' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEP' 'sip-files00069.jpg'
acd80a773a0a3d48ec6d0d2f3120bd46
23f40a9b5ac1751fbe3fa7161c50321b1d984bb5
'2011-11-14T15:51:51-05:00'
describe
'9783' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEQ' 'sip-files00069.pro'
c8857d32a701db45122d4fb24a68e87f
0d2d919794ef6b2a7cb447110f5f2404b3256ee3
describe
'42473' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXER' 'sip-files00069.QC.jpg'
473268e3b18be397099a6e1a42eadd3a
a0d7f21a9b393a2d1e0c57f6649c23e9ad75b1c1
'2011-11-14T15:53:15-05:00'
describe
'5748484' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXES' 'sip-files00069.tif'
0f8bb3f5fe921db89639f28aee061eb1
16d91c318a4bb7af8140b4d246b88fd8ea264bef
describe
'510' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXET' 'sip-files00069.txt'
b0d4d5c5c08aaf5855fccb026eda064a
3dc8d2f828332beb01f56abee5b7c9a08955d191
describe
Invalid character
'9435' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEU' 'sip-files00069thm.jpg'
62de114fa2bd0108baa820a933823aaa
7db9300ff7ec83522628af3da2338d8a83007a6f
describe
'739529' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEV' 'sip-files00070.jp2'
8dd522b6cdd0f3c3584004fee9bb5d38
d3b0ccd672ce63c36cd45863a941649231240321
describe
'162699' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEW' 'sip-files00070.jpg'
6ee0e6f213aa482372ea8abe4fbe5184
a5fd59a29dfc9f4d8d00570ec556b2d42a2286cb
'2011-11-14T15:52:39-05:00'
describe
'77902' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEX' 'sip-files00070.pro'
3dd07834675af565b085d1369ae85adc
1fcd743d12607e4c0398ac3b9840ce5d44500497
describe
'42908' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEY' 'sip-files00070.QC.jpg'
45f293e59517f250a922caf345352405
c3afb20064e61421a4e412b2071c5f5e99f67ede
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXEZ' 'sip-files00070.tif'
7d75d2e9edcd9bcb888d888bc02e37ce
494db20285d15abbb447a3ad6d0f1c75649c6adc
describe
'3104' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFA' 'sip-files00070.txt'
71eceb120e4a131a9978d657d973e41b
c2ee2de25820c71a14b41bd9daf1a94abeb287b5
describe
'9569' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFB' 'sip-files00070thm.jpg'
bb5fb9460ca8511909b23d1ee1a4826c
402ff4edabe0f35f3b132de984121ab3b14afb00
'2011-11-14T15:54:00-05:00'
describe
'710662' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFC' 'sip-files00071.jp2'
7990d748acfb7218ac0753cbfea92d82
3f910202b3fdc60b069233bc805a188747ee6524
'2011-11-14T15:53:56-05:00'
describe
'124112' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFD' 'sip-files00071.jpg'
cabfa82322365cd0578467372b220c51
c3e38cac2e40ee1b54c4a4856ee242066e0f950f
describe
'45773' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFE' 'sip-files00071.pro'
830a87a5d47d815471692ed59ed2902e
a47e8bcaad44e06d2079ade71957059a36f615cb
describe
'34801' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFF' 'sip-files00071.QC.jpg'
fcc2a8f1d0bf20a7cc8a2046306eeaaf
7d0f5425beb911d0606fb3e221f936ae4373dd48
describe
'5701704' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFG' 'sip-files00071.tif'
f7aa40ed964ccf643c1ee1c78aad0f0d
bfd63af6aefb06038d58b8927cff64544f10397f
describe
'1982' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFH' 'sip-files00071.txt'
d8283c2789a15bc9e679161da03cb33c
e8260f7fd225e8aef4e6a91b0b4ff8ade9e7f6d1
describe
'8463' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFI' 'sip-files00071thm.jpg'
99e751d1435a5a77c7ef032fb01f9f01
bc15d28e35f1367d68e49512b427604c9725098f
describe
'740170' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFJ' 'sip-files00072.jp2'
a381a67457b77941216ad78d4658bced
a4e3cadb4b95f8ae35fbc37187e360db2cfe0f62
describe
'111034' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFK' 'sip-files00072.jpg'
b3d4bf0fa6c3133d00535ebd5c177ab6
9df2a885d09ed1a5fec8b70a14c76c2dfac08759
describe
'26006' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFL' 'sip-files00072.pro'
499fcd3ce33db0b9dd7f540e98a8fd5e
5a184f355aeeffa383ae3aa10f8b152a3acdc153
describe
'27409' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFM' 'sip-files00072.QC.jpg'
04d8112c8a87ebe09b294d026855740e
7a5934ec3a02006d3276579b4c43f3de448a02e8
'2011-11-14T15:52:57-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFN' 'sip-files00072.tif'
f25a2863dabc7a02e16e90d15b6029a2
ea6bc4b2d76045d333676df1e6c8a0c00279a2d7
describe
'1160' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFO' 'sip-files00072.txt'
b8d98ee368013e408f3ca508988c57d9
272d19243b8a85ecfa6b4b74d21b8129b72ef136
'2011-11-14T15:54:32-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'6852' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFP' 'sip-files00072thm.jpg'
9c3c7d8a378e765bf349897cd03511b7
a646132605ae8158ad6314c07f6219a78b4f3c05
describe
'713917' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFQ' 'sip-files00073.jp2'
417b22f16c3c192c2e70a65fbf2f8e0d
68149d6f0798a415edfeff136de6da092cedc895
describe
'103838' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFR' 'sip-files00073.jpg'
66552ef08bfdc43c4c4e243f8cb0f0be
a710e7b1709acb905a54851beae49f22ccd8fc75
describe
'15118' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFS' 'sip-files00073.pro'
5309d6a686c9db90bf0bce3a158c9b37
92cd62d6c813733b35411ba14058ab5b013fad41
describe
'25875' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFT' 'sip-files00073.QC.jpg'
a0dee470e54e93d684164eeda80063c5
9eb021afa44ecd1f7ccb7acf9ca0821969a67289
'2011-11-14T15:50:31-05:00'
describe
'5727604' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFU' 'sip-files00073.tif'
2c6b838b6dec0755d91f6941cf1bf4b7
4e1a8bcfa2692d2464b63229dcb1a0e7628003f5
describe
'730' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFV' 'sip-files00073.txt'
8e2d261a22a80af5a0afa59dc131fd8c
fe879746f750d5b997d91612ab7dfbc3224fb6d8
describe
Invalid character
'6485' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFW' 'sip-files00073thm.jpg'
05306d4d284d08c3c52253b84123e565
d52ee86afa40f2b848e4187e46b1304896fe59d3
'2011-11-14T15:49:15-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFX' 'sip-files00074.jp2'
4b943b31756c4bc8bc650bc235f1ba80
103f5a9f20d0381eb7e9385410182b2ef6b6d1c5
describe
'106497' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFY' 'sip-files00074.jpg'
f6275b21f93adaa781c990a928b748a1
e8b9f6f720db4b2a6184fef3131f8d0fd164e7e0
describe
'34213' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXFZ' 'sip-files00074.pro'
f7f7b6e58b593c44dbedcfe50f9d404b
672cec202a6d873d1961120f364ca3af9c571190
'2011-11-14T15:49:20-05:00'
describe
'29431' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGA' 'sip-files00074.QC.jpg'
6be7023fb321f9aff51b61d28c1716a5
53fdcaf10e5379b408f02d53c6f69d2651e49237
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGB' 'sip-files00074.tif'
e4219997d6be12ebc5491de91de59e49
ae8d3be61a2a64d9451730a5dddb57dc1f8a4451
describe
'1461' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGC' 'sip-files00074.txt'
67990dd2fae6ac9db35b2aeab4a67bff
b0471cc930a13d64b1e76215fb7f172ff72865cb
describe
'7359' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGD' 'sip-files00074thm.jpg'
ddea2a6b48bab287c334a10e60be0e4d
0b2982d2683f5a25e40ae1afc136b323c5fc242f
describe
'713575' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGE' 'sip-files00075.jp2'
c20764e1efba8417117fc3f390fe3b65
462751bcdc64ea4c2e5a7f43a8c23ef19ec7949b
describe
'142647' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGF' 'sip-files00075.jpg'
f887aedf20c417f5b08dede792098dcf
e835932aecbb61e8ea7bdccd201a83be3d314739
describe
'64743' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGG' 'sip-files00075.pro'
cbca8dbc4f98fddc3c75836acf13c8d0
941b4d6996f0009848dce704a641a4705993d540
describe
'38259' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGH' 'sip-files00075.QC.jpg'
700cfb0aa41f8adfe78d4c3f9ec169fc
2711abe2db8341806e0e26331793df751a7bdee9
describe
'5725128' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGI' 'sip-files00075.tif'
68cff9d65b9dc32ccc96ec0c7b68e7d5
334aa8d45760caae974f546d5a66a77e13cea292
describe
'2767' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGJ' 'sip-files00075.txt'
5cdf17ab06777cd6f7fd69d79fa64e51
183ebdc373101ae04864b8b2c9f0448546d4ddac
describe
Invalid character
'8589' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGK' 'sip-files00075thm.jpg'
926ca4fe3f96c32e408218ca4de91268
8c2d223340b97db11e5ab51720f6408c9b8e0d38
'2011-11-14T15:54:01-05:00'
describe
'739547' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGL' 'sip-files00076.jp2'
13f241060f057e59812fff1ae40c7026
06819e921274fde3657f51b4184131bd14e51ddf
'2011-11-14T15:52:36-05:00'
describe
'140638' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGM' 'sip-files00076.jpg'
24c62280166185c77c776e72ca800dbf
640b92c5bdb83b198f2f45e324b943b5906e6e7c
describe
'67514' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGN' 'sip-files00076.pro'
e696809f3da8024f7d8994cc446d0757
0717c9f884e3c7889cbf9be648a2a62292eaf3c9
describe
'36923' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGO' 'sip-files00076.QC.jpg'
12f9799c1e8f15578cc80396e4ad0384
d373e893388745473a621cbbe70b8403f3b60628
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGP' 'sip-files00076.tif'
eac9c5c0767a4c082dad589494239b4b
5f1493586a3ce434424bc8e8f307714b34d99b20
describe
'2659' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGQ' 'sip-files00076.txt'
7860833a3b907f902bd1a25892c2e11c
34cc7b607a35cac9592eb9eed5f450a0d256021e
describe
'8587' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGR' 'sip-files00076thm.jpg'
2b1a37df06eaa2baeb952bba72926533
60d72eaedfa5c7c2e7ac119bcf3c8ed3d42b2f8f
describe
'739932' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGS' 'sip-files00077.jp2'
050d24a86d939a25d47faf8ec7c23e83
e184f8c0f8099bc4990495cb5a302e954d163782
describe
'125919' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGT' 'sip-files00077.jpg'
feda023e1a0126389fa6052ac1bc56da
31736a97d7f2a4c9140c8a8f02406cbad2eaa974
describe
'34401' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGU' 'sip-files00077.pro'
55e413ac4984b6ed225159f35f633f51
fee5675d46451abd22056849b37e373b3c583e11
describe
'32145' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGV' 'sip-files00077.QC.jpg'
52c3c0a2b68c7ee07a0b473f94765607
7b11b5f92a6ea44d5f7730d8f3f3d8316c3ff6c7
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGW' 'sip-files00077.tif'
0f9c9fb5e2a0edc54f54cfc96e76e771
860356149494e0563246c1f197ec7d4b1e776cff
describe
'1480' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGX' 'sip-files00077.txt'
5a2a4d83ee4a84d70da3294c5d92d237
f04c8008b39ba3f22d5b5d03be5ee13100e0c7bd
describe
Invalid character
'7852' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGY' 'sip-files00077thm.jpg'
d978d7d12cbfd1dc163429f465355842
58d1443188ea127084acea91b7f6b96214bc9090
describe
'739849' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXGZ' 'sip-files00078.jp2'
c410272b138f11a86bf5f1e13bca5261
142d914bb40b731cbd136bc46f0ab70d002ab2a8
describe
'151312' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHA' 'sip-files00078.jpg'
47893b4b9f5cb4a1fea2a381d4fea102
fae37af02a06cce30fecedb2094c0a5557ca2482
describe
'57690' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHB' 'sip-files00078.pro'
6756c07f09c80c802992d79552e78156
6d67d33c4825ed95a33778f185e1a301d4861671
describe
'39975' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHC' 'sip-files00078.QC.jpg'
1be7b1e725e7f9ee1ff852d987a07755
6ee7fff161bac1771435746f2268de5f8547ba4f
'2011-11-14T15:53:59-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHD' 'sip-files00078.tif'
b049a865eb00d1d29612ec55e925c019
cdfb2376da0011c4da4a4767aa63199d626daff2
describe
'2287' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHE' 'sip-files00078.txt'
3203a52d9c2771cf5d8cd3b61fce993b
0b9d6a443a8549624e60af991e336f2cccabed00
describe
'9370' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHF' 'sip-files00078thm.jpg'
deb051dc0ef307aff6d062a4890a7a3e
786f045be7bc6e57e20da5fb734837d3d30105e1
describe
'740205' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHG' 'sip-files00079.jp2'
081d909508e3b0671728efbca503a4e9
f89f8b147e00c83f91db6f64cc9f756de902eb78
describe
'118113' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHH' 'sip-files00079.jpg'
5564eade4f06b353f1ccb5789ef5256b
a45c2b093f22c643bcba323ebb4e798020b4e455
'2011-11-14T15:50:48-05:00'
describe
'37399' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHI' 'sip-files00079.pro'
1933ff1176d4275eaec144c416030fa7
e9b02d7df80c64acf315a64769b19192c6b911ab
'2011-11-14T15:51:22-05:00'
describe
'31627' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHJ' 'sip-files00079.QC.jpg'
2163a0fbd32765138a44f11fc62d4247
897a127ca9249d4fd76ebebdd79ab3c85fcf7d49
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHK' 'sip-files00079.tif'
136ff568932b325f521414a7780c5c8b
0379736cad54d905508ec805b9120dcc13121e5c
describe
'2420' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHL' 'sip-files00079.txt'
50fe2e12fd076ed2831a64cc21d3d784
7cc8c5759e55d9a3e259e1579b55c5b035b66a12
'2011-11-14T15:50:46-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'7810' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHM' 'sip-files00079thm.jpg'
f3d50d072a216ed3d3e64cb55649edc0
67d78e39f8b59264c1f932e60ca0f7facd4fa2d1
describe
'739560' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHN' 'sip-files00080.jp2'
b205b2813a89e2c40e8d16b91c5b79a1
325a8e8ea1f50f3dd7bccff1a418da029c476cd6
describe
'87092' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHO' 'sip-files00080.jpg'
adfaa6496245c63d74e969af2fb9a330
0fe4e5067eb69ae52b40542ea07cbdabea25bcd6
describe
'14896' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHP' 'sip-files00080.pro'
a6067e9ec35147ecf5b27e7f80802676
f50ee856eb9cc9cdd4974cfd61cd04489cbcd207
'2011-11-14T15:50:26-05:00'
describe
'21953' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHQ' 'sip-files00080.QC.jpg'
da576248c83fd3c5322b3782e48a6f4b
cf8edd987fb2828d453cf21b19306864862fbc34
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHR' 'sip-files00080.tif'
94a01b49f1827a87776a1120e6848158
5703df98a22aaa01b5bd1bcf7a92a032ef542245
describe
'720' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHS' 'sip-files00080.txt'
7f4dfc36c6d94d6722e39d8b07dee90d
80dc042313d94a7ca74a5cd5ee26490bded97b8f
describe
'5580' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHT' 'sip-files00080thm.jpg'
42bd345822ec6714c79610fc74729480
4132f1a4d30ffd70b86f333b0378ff1db90d05df
'2011-11-14T15:54:26-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHU' 'sip-files00081.jp2'
fbbc1842114f965622c7952cd6939c60
a1984f43a7d432be41baa9d343a2670e797cc294
'2011-11-14T15:53:40-05:00'
describe
'133116' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHV' 'sip-files00081.jpg'
eb1753d482911e2dd587923ef952c638
547f1d90d5f7cc819511f261f838937fadc3ddc8
'2011-11-14T15:51:17-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHW' 'sip-files00081.pro'
d06c292447da26c33ac3eb145b4078c6
71a59c8870fa1dee902f00f5d38eaf82cf02516e
describe
'32925' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHX' 'sip-files00081.QC.jpg'
cd97bb100f4dee6eea78b18d7fe8d452
206561d81d627925bd54fd8c3c81cceb869b5ded
'2011-11-14T15:49:25-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHY' 'sip-files00081.tif'
b9d68aad550cbe522583c4a61886a3c7
645d38fb7d2cef1ac32ae7283667d7bb3ad4b346
describe
'102' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXHZ' 'sip-files00081.txt'
c7dfa63acade2281d73db72849c7db72
8c4a19886364a0d3bec8f1e1a65434a0f84b9abe
describe
'7863' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIA' 'sip-files00081thm.jpg'
78d685069d4410df20a350ddf79c03d5
cc18db582b3008d5fd62fc81f32162e613d10b69
describe
'740132' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIB' 'sip-files00082.jp2'
cee806d6caff0592017c253cb076ef0d
8edbb04f7e26aac2d9846efe5f9a6ad71ddf3efd
describe
'140041' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIC' 'sip-files00082.jpg'
0df7f7777bd90e20e1c28ab237029431
8bdb4712a5464aaf103c1ae6da4dd0b957e37e66
describe
'50233' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXID' 'sip-files00082.pro'
fd7a04ea64c48c0bdfca7230ea9eaf88
49510b7fe03ebde137d8af504b08c5667650b5dc
'2011-11-14T15:54:13-05:00'
describe
'37137' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIE' 'sip-files00082.QC.jpg'
da4a17394d8bf839cf4bfb17f1e2ceac
4516a1b2a567fdb910995da4dd7a905d76201d57
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIF' 'sip-files00082.tif'
99743c8df1dc4dc5bb5236181edf76de
9ed487900cb17c498f5b10f9c0d333b87fee0123
describe
'2147' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIG' 'sip-files00082.txt'
6a42e41ed72fb325a522fe20f6623f4a
1d0873496c93d523847fe8627ad0e5ed62069390
describe
'8776' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIH' 'sip-files00082thm.jpg'
0ead0483848a9c492b827d4199c65c42
9d52a0bdfd4f5a591d9202de62ce6a8c01d996f5
describe
'739892' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXII' 'sip-files00083.jp2'
21a08fec5c295dad2c996f9d6e26a3b8
04c67c2f9638f7b4cbc29233b739a7accae170b6
describe
'151537' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIJ' 'sip-files00083.jpg'
d6317634092bdc6e247e391216a2fab3
dd3a4a4cf5058157d0deba4c261781646b534638
'2011-11-14T15:53:19-05:00'
describe
'30723' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIK' 'sip-files00083.pro'
cef0d024d08514d7bdbd50bda03350ef
08f41bda99822a782c1c2c883992e1a0ae115c8e
describe
'37069' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIL' 'sip-files00083.QC.jpg'
4e8d240c706e95d632dd6c790b05bf78
7b78b09dfc81d9df0f498882dc65738166605fc9
'2011-11-14T15:51:06-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIM' 'sip-files00083.tif'
5e3309c8d2d9a0735ced61244ef75bd1
e1b8f41e7020a9f4cbabf637194547092d7d0450
'2011-11-14T15:52:27-05:00'
describe
'1242' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIN' 'sip-files00083.txt'
7b88ac8af72d699a4a5cb89f88a616fc
ee04cfaa1a503c9eb4b961b2116b646f55c6c9d3
'2011-11-14T15:51:19-05:00'
describe
'8705' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIO' 'sip-files00083thm.jpg'
ef56f1b67b3c48073debcccbfd5e86b3
78f2b62e196f6b39a9e14bc0d71082de1a5a01bd
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIP' 'sip-files00084.jp2'
08441a8f2c9e8237da5b5cf8f9ba6d6d
ec809ab2c2f15401af83e2578a15f4b26be3d927
'2011-11-14T15:49:54-05:00'
describe
'144844' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIQ' 'sip-files00084.jpg'
b6cf41e18d809283c93f3120f603f117
f39dd17b9623b96e8335672e5b2d2bc516b0cf64
describe
'70155' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIR' 'sip-files00084.pro'
8d690e24e1bf421b2803562243ccc7f0
a78fcc135f7e210e22b5ebc259127eacac2f96b4
'2011-11-14T15:51:04-05:00'
describe
'40152' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIS' 'sip-files00084.QC.jpg'
6d82fe5c028be512348e0e8c983da9a5
b79c8a1a469b8776f7be757bfcd40be3215a141a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIT' 'sip-files00084.tif'
2ca2f7553a81415be872149dd672e641
fb0bd91a715deae373ada3f3c79e87350a632014
'2011-11-14T15:54:57-05:00'
describe
'2786' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIU' 'sip-files00084.txt'
63c1fed26053c3ad6c4ab664bf2b7467
93e86fda607f02bac655c293a8d20dc73f9456b6
describe
'9159' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIV' 'sip-files00084thm.jpg'
dbddc7d84db18705548c11fd9ad9d1bb
73a9e9f7434dcaa16119d9df795fc1da3f6dd526
describe
'739851' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIW' 'sip-files00085.jp2'
3c07bcdb83dd2326833eacf4530b5953
8548f8dd43eddb1d56b13c6fa01fe1913f6692c2
describe
'147487' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIX' 'sip-files00085.jpg'
2a2b88625327fe8901afa010d985ad15
453333ad12bb2e4b82c95bdbd4f976a035084260
'2011-11-14T15:51:42-05:00'
describe
'69145' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIY' 'sip-files00085.pro'
28899507b37837af6d6033b264a31b75
f3a41efa83851752ebe611121cb0651f5ecad4ff
describe
'39643' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXIZ' 'sip-files00085.QC.jpg'
c3cc1369d06cae380f51d030879cf102
412d5be458ef61d9e8c027e1495608adff442d51
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJA' 'sip-files00085.tif'
1e364ebe817c77abccdd0300cd7dedaf
cd83f960e630bd766ff4d559030a02f2b587ce4a
'2011-11-14T15:54:31-05:00'
describe
'2731' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJB' 'sip-files00085.txt'
d24fb3570226b02002197de72e004026
1bdcea7c15c95f670293429ddd798a612bd92e7d
describe
'8943' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJC' 'sip-files00085thm.jpg'
55626571888b34ec785c8f186928478c
85a55ef95f1de9b845813b93a7bc3fce2fbfb59e
'2011-11-14T15:54:49-05:00'
describe
'739590' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJD' 'sip-files00086.jp2'
e9044193eeeca16870347e09a5ae2132
e0e7e64c76179b1d7aa1c01feb67c3517076e53a
describe
'139021' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJE' 'sip-files00086.jpg'
61586dc92164d262187187e7ee2254cd
746fb2ccd1cbf7adac67e792efe274ac2e278025
describe
'65683' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJF' 'sip-files00086.pro'
942130358a39101cbad8409c33c48435
0cad11f22d10c4131e2796841a3cd925eabbdb51
describe
'37969' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJG' 'sip-files00086.QC.jpg'
b944537665822c54ef5c1536c3a4d3d5
6bb21fe251175bbf94840c67c2b37a862329a5f8
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJH' 'sip-files00086.tif'
4202fa19b36a79ceea65b01bd011279d
46370cb5686473fcae42476c5025c173bc00ffc5
describe
'2622' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJI' 'sip-files00086.txt'
2ae5d951cdd39a4c40366ab9c8f7f748
2271358454d48da59d1e07077072fa0a2679ebff
describe
'8792' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJJ' 'sip-files00086thm.jpg'
9841e1ef6e62311a8982f46a3f25b16f
38734390d4b87a62b30fa35ee37c38939cde20de
'2011-11-14T15:49:22-05:00'
describe
'740208' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJK' 'sip-files00087.jp2'
ef8f4d8a7bd09027b20151d4773a965f
2ba8f4559f52b88445eb86292ced711e4eabbdc3
describe
'141256' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJL' 'sip-files00087.jpg'
be84e6fcbcdc1fbe0ad3dece94c72a99
ad9eb63176e2e590876014fb3e4f8005e38bfdce
describe
'61453' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJM' 'sip-files00087.pro'
e9515a10362cf0f4795d654f5c42880d
356ff8536712eff78e8b3940438daca45e97b180
describe
'39088' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJN' 'sip-files00087.QC.jpg'
b53dba86130495099f4c34a4e479133f
0b40ae0a3ad8e36a04cdfc6b0c094879e50f4945
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJO' 'sip-files00087.tif'
d3337c33663dbd5ff5582060a51caf42
01046544486aeb0a28645a7d3f205f70efe178a5
describe
'2842' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJP' 'sip-files00087.txt'
b24904035853894c3d9031edcb05e47f
cff5a7f1044b329f2d07a5c61dea4e07292decd6
describe
'9066' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJQ' 'sip-files00087thm.jpg'
12bbbbe46c811bf0b22b23c0109aa446
d3ba62d6a31a726f49d51ea37127c2f297eececd
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJR' 'sip-files00088.jp2'
3a9a584a99e1d14d1486d6680537dd52
90c627ae24055116ad0b8ef82c90bd8d00dfc6d6
describe
'134023' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJS' 'sip-files00088.jpg'
42ce5133f4a9fc5c313e80fe1f0ae184
2a253b6cb3ef1816a531351fbaf488e5c6c7de4b
describe
'61448' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJT' 'sip-files00088.pro'
ca677785c5d31e6848625532b7adf6d4
509deeb83e30687fd5ba50f8bca7dbdbe7047726
'2011-11-14T15:49:17-05:00'
describe
'36423' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJU' 'sip-files00088.QC.jpg'
7e1d81e76356a3f3d8e1d2a0b02f7ee0
0725185b17ff07880b5a544d1d7a0ebb762759ec
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJV' 'sip-files00088.tif'
b8f890403bc1e7d3ebe2634d67da122e
12f06faf0f5d0dda7f354e921f69244580e9342a
describe
'2502' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJW' 'sip-files00088.txt'
ebae1b67069f1a60928d1fbfb4ee25a4
52bea73f28ba2bc7cc197b13257172eb8a76915f
describe
'8644' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJX' 'sip-files00088thm.jpg'
4f1bd2cac2a82475781ff46b026e9ad4
c05fc1e102b4cff088f74e48da10710e5b153279
describe
'740099' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJY' 'sip-files00089.jp2'
48c4fcb24197370876d1d65a52378d96
b205d3bf8b3e84776fec559f4fc0df991270b06c
describe
'185196' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXJZ' 'sip-files00089.jpg'
cf76eb7725ef9a14a3cf2366e672c213
b75ee2567e9070b5c5313a35c46c6b0173a22a82
describe
'3152' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKA' 'sip-files00089.pro'
46f131e6f800984b6fd9b5d50965bd42
c939262122d685ec7a569210b797d4a1ef67fc2d
'2011-11-14T15:51:55-05:00'
describe
'41339' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKB' 'sip-files00089.QC.jpg'
7ebe9b05783e5a19503742d8b1846269
c2a4116aaf390bb75b39fc251d3ca3f3a5d00d8c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKC' 'sip-files00089.tif'
87f7f79d1f3960a19698d243bf796757
6c93d72a6cc54a99d2ffec47349c7db1c83e68ff
'2011-11-14T15:54:36-05:00'
describe
'143' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKD' 'sip-files00089.txt'
74915d6b8f87debbf7f6e9013f0a814c
46982a19f0b6f840315e40b9210130e99529f14e
describe
Invalid character
'9520' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKE' 'sip-files00089thm.jpg'
0492493e60ee32ad4351c2817cca5807
28e71f995b1f89de62d87d25234c6fbafee4cd07
describe
'739595' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKF' 'sip-files00090.jp2'
4b80ca2171c22bd781980996954dccd7
db1d09ddb24c8eb30c7e3c4f050cdcad6e04951e
describe
'125913' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKG' 'sip-files00090.jpg'
84bcd3255f850421028a7c72e53333d2
de8c97643e6fd115fe0818b7b0b0c506a8d3b2f4
describe
'48074' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKH' 'sip-files00090.pro'
2174ff6e311cf6547a032f224aa85b4c
a0f885a0e533e41c348895b17b6f6ae9e98825a9
describe
'32873' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKI' 'sip-files00090.QC.jpg'
3cf14a6c7c849f2d5a7194641fc9c5dd
482904fc6efa825ea49d81e376ceb94d7d51556b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKJ' 'sip-files00090.tif'
9c45122fdeed840d20bda270c2ede855
9f661d31220abdfbd320978552dc0f23bd23a588
describe
'2210' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKK' 'sip-files00090.txt'
d37ffdaa63711a5572a9f02d70fa577a
a64e6babc81cd08fd9f2782832233f1ea7dafa27
describe
'7864' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKL' 'sip-files00090thm.jpg'
5339220a308a2edaedc7d34082b7822f
e1d79deef2013c0e32d49fc792a22315f45383d8
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKM' 'sip-files00091.jp2'
5ecdcb5919a12d7195abae7c6673854c
2bfdfd904ca1236ffe56d90447e1ae94b6888200
describe
'162046' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKN' 'sip-files00091.jpg'
a95e5f8a4303aa8e695c4eed84cccd6b
f508b2eabfc987673b5e932f7b3469fb9fbbd26f
describe
'37863' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKO' 'sip-files00091.pro'
7dc268ef9448178b4ed0583c12d7f662
a2ace2adf36e7f81873b2fc778b63cedfcc6f5af
describe
'39360' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKP' 'sip-files00091.QC.jpg'
8805a3af1c303c788ffae40dc2420932
835be51f7d39de1f6d3fdd71d9a1e25ba2f930f0
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKQ' 'sip-files00091.tif'
baf46df2975b165c98085cff69232bd2
1cfbf1f5024a85824b2647095f7896e21568d585
'2011-11-14T15:52:21-05:00'
describe
'1590' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKR' 'sip-files00091.txt'
777cff8a8b70e16119a4de34117ecbae
3385e0f260f47a505d9d2453f99391387f64cc3f
describe
'9280' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKS' 'sip-files00091thm.jpg'
8dcec04c3ca70778a47f9c44ef244d88
cb8537c9a9457a1c45d25e27276ae664f4d6388a
describe
'739579' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKT' 'sip-files00092.jp2'
16dbd9f18b763b72cd54e7ada00ae85e
ade427a6b23703f02ad57c6dde5b97bfc3f5ace2
describe
'175806' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKU' 'sip-files00092.jpg'
d1f90f903d7b2f1564b880d3c8c73372
553d300040468d71b49d7b50987af17bd5157f71
describe
'82666' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKV' 'sip-files00092.pro'
5919f826a47947fbdf1bf432fa100a49
03715e6cdd321ce7b557f7734e11b515113172bc
describe
'45468' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKW' 'sip-files00092.QC.jpg'
5398967c0f3987858a40692763c45be0
52152528163bfabf9b8aa330458e08952b552c9c
'2011-11-14T15:50:03-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKX' 'sip-files00092.tif'
3a27a5f47ca3e23c45ba7c891bf7d92d
0106d03dc92d78d880c51d511208c2e19e49ea9b
describe
'3276' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKY' 'sip-files00092.txt'
7c01add4c4f1386b6aeb72f2cec89359
963b31f43a2ba04ca093b0b1272740766aac429f
describe
'9856' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXKZ' 'sip-files00092thm.jpg'
8dd07df7a35b3f7da3fd875a6e73494c
a6bcc0e4bf7c7efeacc1bf1aece43ff24f3415af
describe
'740201' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLA' 'sip-files00093.jp2'
2643f11307620c9863c7992274053c8f
2aedc5eec03702822343686c195959f2b2ff6442
describe
'156190' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLB' 'sip-files00093.jpg'
26da73c12c22b9d5f2ce910e511fa875
0608186320f9b3fa2b681a30e1fbfcffffc27501
describe
'66417' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLC' 'sip-files00093.pro'
d8f7f7862f51bcd55c3d43e654b02ef5
2b53b760f3183a8a853243caf0824840715c3b28
describe
'41452' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLD' 'sip-files00093.QC.jpg'
ef4af81d2e05688b64062446a57273c3
03a4d5b75f9c4833901af62992aae16181141ef2
describe
'5937900' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLE' 'sip-files00093.tif'
9fa33ed9426116aab32bd340df29145a
783b26a0be0a6a8ea5a83b295f7aa4fde4d45b74
'2011-11-14T15:53:06-05:00'
describe
'3180' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLF' 'sip-files00093.txt'
7429c8675ac703ee18283b4160016474
b72313e1b7e8ac7008408bcd21351558d72046e8
describe
'9376' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLG' 'sip-files00093thm.jpg'
79a1326d514a731a12ba8df6cdad9a6d
641db46fc06c732c6d234aa2f63dd8cf4950510e
describe
'739354' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLH' 'sip-files00094.jp2'
b411c9e6a09e4d38f3ae9c443fbca109
cb927abec4c2ac50f635509a6cc0fa05c8632589
describe
'164100' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLI' 'sip-files00094.jpg'
edacd0771c617da6ee3aa05da9334b3e
f334a42d5d613846f65b8920f7609bc850de6c1f
describe
'56211' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLJ' 'sip-files00094.pro'
6c3aad61b6fa97e7f8cdc0e6651946a6
81fbe5660f4fcacdf492ac2f342ad66025347600
describe
'41106' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLK' 'sip-files00094.QC.jpg'
5ae5bc270a99321778661c9f49eee546
711147781b9ff744465df664a6ada29106f50871
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLL' 'sip-files00094.tif'
0cf0619ce16f963b907bf3ebcbc4ec21
d744eef92e8f7d7d5a412a0d8379a4dea246354d
describe
'2973' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLM' 'sip-files00094.txt'
5f4018e2afa3a4402a2507f00680031b
dcb054ecadc0c0b8901717aa8d34a1acfe93d5ef
describe
'9418' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLN' 'sip-files00094thm.jpg'
ff8ead04f8528344d1faefa385cbca89
720b97e9e1515b1bd678cd216da3eff7e6b10732
describe
'730956' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLO' 'sip-files00095.jp2'
94cd354de95f0fbb724d7d7fd7111ec6
9b073f10afb86b01420002470850749ae87f5dab
'2011-11-14T15:52:23-05:00'
describe
'184636' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLP' 'sip-files00095.jpg'
b4719e7420bdb21b9535ceec0e0d6e6a
1e7665a13d2e434ad17f88c3fc803d3c9a2102d7
describe
'37565' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLQ' 'sip-files00095.pro'
4c6642b3676b1bcb5553c43c7beda4c9
0012ebd20aad580c642a09ae8508c176d8431abf
'2011-11-14T15:50:34-05:00'
describe
'46184' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLR' 'sip-files00095.QC.jpg'
56334ec73426b9585db62b14bf52a17e
a7a8ae05e41dbb274667aaacc0c4d43c8e6d22dd
describe
'5864116' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLS' 'sip-files00095.tif'
7216348dcefbf8db0e72cd202ce3aa05
d76ee69669802e2860250d95f1a6235155bf0a60
describe
'1471' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLT' 'sip-files00095.txt'
1111e98ef6fee218c0715f4ae2146f2c
3c671e682b1774efd8cd1c41736fba2c986a1c59
describe
'10554' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLU' 'sip-files00095thm.jpg'
9a89be6efa081c2bf137018a5689858e
63e161fe6a175b75aae4414fce22455bdc6de360
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLV' 'sip-files00096.jp2'
ee5252ae40582462be3857051a4423a6
5130eae2b5b246fdcb60962c0177d1ba1e5cd831
describe
'170323' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLW' 'sip-files00096.jpg'
afb305b89dc058e9b1e0d7e300f6294e
36f19934ce2ad7ba50ce4c9a056d6240cc051673
describe
'82798' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLX' 'sip-files00096.pro'
a24115994b6cffa39930f27a34261f1d
2dcf3d7bbb1d0d3b82580f010dfdbe99688c9132
describe
'44943' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLY' 'sip-files00096.QC.jpg'
308eb80dc0fada461ba4566d03d0ef07
f21b8fae10d17d74b62545c6aaf7978bddb789b9
'2011-11-14T15:52:02-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXLZ' 'sip-files00096.tif'
3fbaf2e882196578ce80c327daba4211
e5ee717fc85f60a9e38d03b423f36b0bff55a160
'2011-11-14T15:54:18-05:00'
describe
'3235' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMA' 'sip-files00096.txt'
189a486643351df704d993490a9ae557
03968c9b1095c9b4969c2008858aa04662fb4de1
describe
'9700' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMB' 'sip-files00096thm.jpg'
b6a9d3f8bddbeb7e84e1a49364e79f0d
f7846bc2074f6aa5640d7d476a2b6293dae236e2
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMC' 'sip-files00097.jp2'
25c360751052a717d2635b824d914012
215e62c2f9f91368a88cacfffc5aee969a0c8f9c
describe
'170520' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMD' 'sip-files00097.jpg'
e35fdf94142b07ee1b85683c4bda1f97
8058f7d090743797258adf2a9e2219cce122cc83
'2011-11-14T15:51:00-05:00'
describe
'84874' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXME' 'sip-files00097.pro'
7fd64ab068f0b0f3361463f4dfc404f3
acb027766fcdbe9e02e0886bf0961d7ff5d2c020
describe
'45281' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMF' 'sip-files00097.QC.jpg'
89f73f39858592e0cd8b073a23781493
c124d49e25873ed4f64776c7e05f83b9b8cc0ea7
'2011-11-14T15:53:24-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMG' 'sip-files00097.tif'
f1dc4df1db449c6edc8c8e6622c1c2a7
323643e54025d03f5f8f26bde2ba5c213d4fe04a
describe
'3330' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMH' 'sip-files00097.txt'
7862f4c2c5e361bff5566534457311e9
0c0b36f49114e23b23172d3db2aae7b57e3741ad
describe
'9571' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMI' 'sip-files00097thm.jpg'
95c9feea5b22cee3b23d768ed6d5de15
449f4c93b482f9967c93560109ea81e0d17c9dbb
describe
'739519' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMJ' 'sip-files00098.jp2'
fc9d19e82748c0bd33ed43f1f8c59084
cb432a0c5296594bd83b9a72329cda3be6145308
describe
'178210' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMK' 'sip-files00098.jpg'
fef2af5e947d155bc6b7eb21eca2a126
8afeb051bb8fd1a12aa9221a11b4be1ea366c7ec
describe
'43534' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXML' 'sip-files00098.pro'
3b31a2a3997d4fadfbcbf6442ce02fc0
a24910ea592f669f5b957ac68fe351d7cb85b8fd
describe
'42534' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMM' 'sip-files00098.QC.jpg'
683c4188e844ae0bb275b0bd70b365cd
a2ec01b32c8d533eb9fc8e26eef1d105fdde0980
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMN' 'sip-files00098.tif'
85ab0346d37b3f13c9e2a918ee9a1378
0c22d2406070312abb99f7a8f9b87cc7934b2ba1
'2011-11-14T15:50:00-05:00'
describe
'1723' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMO' 'sip-files00098.txt'
eb68ebfa4da4abb399c930be8fec2071
290b4fdb070d90c9ac811aec150f274754aa1a4d
describe
'9734' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMP' 'sip-files00098thm.jpg'
0afcb88c5ba2bc75a10243f88a8ffff5
53c40732d5494a37189e2d12ad348949643dd70d
describe
'739589' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMQ' 'sip-files00099.jp2'
7bb48e2c253158ee53aaa3340faac986
2091502a7c3d523221f94a26a47334f440fd8e8e
'2011-11-14T15:49:34-05:00'
describe
'172878' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMR' 'sip-files00099.jpg'
22073c112b1bc370cad9f81375f912a6
4fb4ee5a48ddb9040660efc43fe20647607498a5
describe
'76394' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMS' 'sip-files00099.pro'
39fdcd20e10571d65d720e7fe0be6bc8
f32536abee965637beaffc18dff4f0d1c702ef1e
describe
'45322' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMT' 'sip-files00099.QC.jpg'
c9d50881170b60253994877eb7628b7b
9e8d7f21a0ed1b6388f45fc522b6b65896f064ea
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMU' 'sip-files00099.tif'
944126c0d9b957dcfba781076500536f
1f5b0d3c5c7b8afcd03f1caf1142ee1fc0267e60
describe
'3074' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMV' 'sip-files00099.txt'
3813ff4cf814b2815e6318e5bd4b6e23
68a9b2034f71a1050d6e00f96563ffc8d87ab90b
'2011-11-14T15:50:37-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'9936' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMW' 'sip-files00099thm.jpg'
e81865eeb57621a77bc3938d3930eb13
402f05eb5d494b8164c733b35495af023aaadafb
'2011-11-14T15:52:55-05:00'
describe
'739571' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMX' 'sip-files00100.jp2'
c34d8e3d101d2a58f1de56d2e908adcd
65a5828cdc7689ca21127318252f2a84c566d03c
'2011-11-14T15:50:59-05:00'
describe
'179513' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMY' 'sip-files00100.jpg'
7ff39f6ab8097ca88ed0add7ddb73e6c
dec9e4467d3ab88ad7a75c5c62f454783cb9224c
describe
'85053' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXMZ' 'sip-files00100.pro'
f19481272bba5159a0f1dfd856290ab8
169ddd29161a12c3c103a67a5edb77e9389342a7
describe
'46502' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNA' 'sip-files00100.QC.jpg'
3858026642a1b2bf98b496ba469a0f0e
4750a7ff01a29d80315c92b131c685a02c4470b1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNB' 'sip-files00100.tif'
b2d757fb4d882a5423f1d3b07cf8f7d3
22534e91f406f50c11b3ad4a61335114cd685adf
'2011-11-14T15:52:14-05:00'
describe
'3318' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNC' 'sip-files00100.txt'
2f40cb5d610ff1124793fad6cab15287
6c6304aa23c382872a25c1ebbee532ea6cbea494
describe
'10175' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXND' 'sip-files00100thm.jpg'
e0970458981a98bfc84a2709ffe40177
5f2b5b84cdd87bf332eac3d879bd7af18b7a9672
describe
'739870' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNE' 'sip-files00101.jp2'
a218a6244885d01e4cf2803b641f76b3
c352db49f4d4cbee1718d14336e7d947dbf91af5
describe
'184426' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNF' 'sip-files00101.jpg'
a4c4c5bebdf8ba3f9696feadd6d9edb1
4745cc49cfe1e67c85000bd627d438a202ea248b
describe
'32152' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNG' 'sip-files00101.pro'
6acb13e0207f73e07380f096a006e319
581276dc6ed7df4601019ae707213a391c424ca7
describe
'45274' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNH' 'sip-files00101.QC.jpg'
d63126e1ad1a40726e042d4f58a556ca
0767983ecfbbbd491f94843326829b0b353284a6
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNI' 'sip-files00101.tif'
d19344452fa650ab4148be3c0d14ebe0
c7bdcc5a4b6cc733993db46dc30ef61a5d702f44
describe
'1316' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNJ' 'sip-files00101.txt'
a5d9007938f846682190404e26056d73
cf2f8a0992dbfd97e44dfecc891524df931a37f8
describe
'10089' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNK' 'sip-files00101thm.jpg'
3464012f0cbb3f5f6005293b747657c6
54c0b6befdc49bbcf5fdde149e5e605834745a10
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNL' 'sip-files00102.jp2'
0726d7b6ad510465f6798533909fed58
37667c4a851c29262d07481581ba188315c74f90
describe
'126321' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNM' 'sip-files00102.jpg'
f6a1e934b9b2f5adf46f62bc0df5317c
4f5ed91b2eb2afc9ee4860bb722c2e2b19d35922
'2011-11-14T15:50:55-05:00'
describe
'16576' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNN' 'sip-files00102.pro'
c8ee3f2437fcb532a42b13c631c0a660
c4c7cec76e21063c5916f7784ae9e8829dff9d18
describe
'30448' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNO' 'sip-files00102.QC.jpg'
eca4b840eec235139920bc968c287c7c
54ac5fc26b4550d0faa7a2c4eb2b36abb55c15f8
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNP' 'sip-files00102.tif'
e4615d99e563a18570c90ddec4719753
e99bbdfd1f5998cdafb9b53a0aefe319032d0d88
describe
'746' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNQ' 'sip-files00102.txt'
3000a43c43f341edf94912af23988ebd
8d090b10fcdf2ca447eb4aa6e0731ff5f8869542
describe
'7320' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNR' 'sip-files00102thm.jpg'
2d6d290d327fcfb30d96b9b787489c9b
4d4b79e8f6c99856966ccfb506c73daa6b2645a0
'2011-11-14T15:52:32-05:00'
describe
'738633' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNS' 'sip-files00103.jp2'
906b60307b68164809797b1f8d14773f
a40e8230e9889ef0043c7f71fc389a19ec37aab8
'2011-11-14T15:53:22-05:00'
describe
'171086' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNT' 'sip-files00103.jpg'
7f23f430b5d50bce862d9f703b4d0254
0b03eba052689162f693653b36acdbcbf040d6f9
describe
'3402' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNU' 'sip-files00103.pro'
5940e77c94947bd3185a8b2092303c65
ac25ed7dae65951e0aa756b873e3b9b4b84564e3
describe
'38462' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNV' 'sip-files00103.QC.jpg'
16797eeb12c0c6705e22285bd2df882a
3cbdd7f2e0ab2b2a50d343b825ff6ca3b7553a4b
describe
'5925528' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNW' 'sip-files00103.tif'
9581fc49d44dc21fd2db9d8122e73c4f
dfdfe4a69a15650e60d66246fce9754acd84ab5b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNX' 'sip-files00103.txt'
ae68c2cf98bab2345f3cc93df567e164
73fb88804c74291d9ba690dbad91b3444084396a
describe
'8547' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNY' 'sip-files00103thm.jpg'
ed12eafbf25b212443d68900d17fea72
f037d8d8b52a790a1a0dacf09c1eb978c05582cf
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXNZ' 'sip-files00104.jp2'
61eb8bc8f2dcac8f0b0ca2daa784be77
e7d5321528e79127446fd59a2a6b87412f298cc9
describe
'99938' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOA' 'sip-files00104.jpg'
8cd978db54d4c8c3e1c13298fe327c58
67d98a02f9ece2f1b02cce7fe930f40c02eadee3
describe
'26235' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOB' 'sip-files00104.pro'
2791b8010285ad3f4e7f6ab6d3676aa6
ea2d74d534da38d13ad7b6c418a1847568bc2099
describe
'26477' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOC' 'sip-files00104.QC.jpg'
12641af2742ae485050f6fd26a850824
0d751f56301d086107e285c6ee2a3802adbce7af
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOD' 'sip-files00104.tif'
8dbc7957f493db3266148f63e239070b
ab5d178f6de4818f10d8c0a84861ec6f940485be
describe
'1097' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOE' 'sip-files00104.txt'
f6bae9fb6168b50f5e24bde49c791768
c70dbce753ae06639a37485c6cb85b66db46c6ab
describe
'6610' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOF' 'sip-files00104thm.jpg'
0f00b1acbdc7fe736a7819ca5f32b4ee
2cedc8492eba990a916aff28a543748a030fe178
describe
'739872' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOG' 'sip-files00105.jp2'
24391dbe6b708380d3230a39cce9bdb2
c44ee982016c446d8b02beafcfd06bd987acba58
describe
'138809' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOH' 'sip-files00105.jpg'
c5fd1f07f4f804504deaf3d0731955fa
e8b1d5283baefd9fb17dcb3f6df81edee3b79ce2
describe
'23088' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOI' 'sip-files00105.pro'
e0349b4de98a84614a324a8878c9e84a
aef6f8862b7e2def1178ae060140a9ae8b458c40
describe
'34755' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOJ' 'sip-files00105.QC.jpg'
5cfde22abdeae71d8f40b2075d74d13e
9ef9c5e2bdd643d6ef0636bf962150910d0addd0
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOK' 'sip-files00105.tif'
9b4574cca15a3d9a7cef535bdf38a9db
2801a5be5a4ce17e9fd380f9ec430581ecf9b66d
'2011-11-14T15:49:55-05:00'
describe
'965' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOL' 'sip-files00105.txt'
54633b6212e49d013210395ff0f6f05b
d69853f5385c8ce23046ec19555948b4fb49e2bd
describe
'8570' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOM' 'sip-files00105thm.jpg'
7d1a43a08baafc4ab8bac5bf0f7cc357
33a604bd3460a6989ee97cf40708f0bdbec477b1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXON' 'sip-files00106.jp2'
147a010b5ac373027b83ad199fae4553
de9d616e67a64158d180ee86e2b98edcaf995138
describe
'159322' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOO' 'sip-files00106.jpg'
6b7a8615711ca572900800a6eb619cdc
3ad6cf5495e74ab30fbce84df399706ba15e8178
describe
'72668' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOP' 'sip-files00106.pro'
fcbafd88e3904dfb7f03c3cc03b82e04
ff56030fe3f9684bdf751ece6082f246c3fad795
describe
'42723' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOQ' 'sip-files00106.QC.jpg'
2a45e6a9ebebdd95c750c6c4fb8517c1
74ba1af5829559b1cd68d3b146d00ec1b410889a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOR' 'sip-files00106.tif'
76ae68a36894d2fd09a83fa7d853f05e
7601312bc4b4c7d2933f35c63279f208d6667eb7
describe
'2853' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOS' 'sip-files00106.txt'
7ee8bb723b3f9a294f3d5c36495f26c0
b41c260a839bd66a8d1ea8cb9c3717790fb42d41
describe
'9886' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOT' 'sip-files00106thm.jpg'
d214b9b5332f53eaba1b6e00a8df672c
8b947dac7d8f30f06410a9bc4f750539bdabb37f
'2011-11-14T15:50:18-05:00'
describe
'739477' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOU' 'sip-files00107.jp2'
bca9c5b8adfc059da8084ee64e468983
773d36daeefab0bb1f2e6c5cd71be94c561f45ee
describe
'167010' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOV' 'sip-files00107.jpg'
7126044d6b1d03c8d5300a46fd7335dd
39e7fb9aed34f054eb739693c49793113ed66ebe
describe
'61869' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOW' 'sip-files00107.pro'
19cb3db06e435f9553704b09f23582d2
3d7e2741d3f752f6b1c4225ca0951e428a22fe41
describe
'44586' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOX' 'sip-files00107.QC.jpg'
77482d1acea46554703dba4adbc2a2dd
cb34f922ac1ccbb1aa36720292207a2b877f2413
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOY' 'sip-files00107.tif'
4d000e1b415a3db91a2fa6e3c23a888c
29a32340d3f6546b6dfaecd89a8c2c611b7819b1
describe
'3259' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXOZ' 'sip-files00107.txt'
5a99709a3c4c9223c162f0fa3454182f
887d52e12e859f95bfe735ad14a196c02f2eb068
describe
'10378' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPA' 'sip-files00107thm.jpg'
013668e3f431889df27729be8da7a230
b17b59b2656056841b5a2b3d7e0ba5fbc350f3bb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPB' 'sip-files00108.jp2'
151590581e2ea40fe655fee41c5c4309
7b06085ebe2a5a5903cec4760f73b55c75d3ae15
describe
'149916' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPC' 'sip-files00108.jpg'
00dd5395e6a5a004a5fbc451b02a9ce1
506a108ad96210614c77550b7b5a771f3f9cd900
describe
'69883' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPD' 'sip-files00108.pro'
68f3c237ad84c981e100c951b43558b2
a8d19605fbbeaee864f9fea50b81d48ae1933759
'2011-11-14T15:49:41-05:00'
describe
'39956' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPE' 'sip-files00108.QC.jpg'
d087c17acee47cebcbd65759efc74945
c7484e214e3ceb93d95390d3442d058e99ebec00
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPF' 'sip-files00108.tif'
060973b10881f01e40df8b62877fb4c8
9d9a511575cf866feec2a32667aeb71ae944d938
describe
'2946' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPG' 'sip-files00108.txt'
34f062447bb546262cdfd0a2f060d176
9199ee69646f331f16afda04fffa1b80773c9b95
'2011-11-14T15:51:02-05:00'
describe
'9273' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPH' 'sip-files00108thm.jpg'
1dc251d5f4dfcd5f04ab8f185f91d6fc
c2241199db344d1d657c403da4bc9bbf334444bb
describe
'740151' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPI' 'sip-files00109.jp2'
9573ca73f931ca45abf3cd7488a5d317
7948b0f6b286299dbbd932266556f62188721dc0
describe
'157495' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPJ' 'sip-files00109.jpg'
5a2004fb9b857c60865da71739bfa28a
70cb1025e5349752821ef77b8036b35edcba5433
describe
'66644' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPK' 'sip-files00109.pro'
c64afa8f7900516eed1f4035a26ada5e
6ff8a17d62df7146f43ef0823299351d2ebca888
describe
'42397' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPL' 'sip-files00109.QC.jpg'
096b1124c2a67d5e1866ce73c1053038
48d311d275e8f96f80273c16696f3e0e1be358c4
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPM' 'sip-files00109.tif'
79c0ef7d5be0b4169af50f7c2a9d9b5f
97015d30fcf0780807343c8701ca5a6822f08239
describe
'3098' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPN' 'sip-files00109.txt'
f48c652efadb0a6c725e97fe9d3bda7c
e8d219b0e3af793e795c5a1ec3d7e7de5fc2a843
describe
'9748' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPO' 'sip-files00109thm.jpg'
cc5921f4ecd712d15f4c5bd91af245cb
f59695ceb9744233de8596b773656a3c1b96f7d4
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPP' 'sip-files00110.jp2'
9817c7ab20e4a72e015c5b4665938794
4a5612179daf3f190165b79576154c2782b95c18
describe
'176512' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPQ' 'sip-files00110.jpg'
b0538efd8d33bba040b6bfaae7821f58
f2e3ab71467e470357d381560a56b46c0e7755b7
describe
'45489' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPR' 'sip-files00110.pro'
8e426a457e15829019eba20fe9d2dc35
19061ecc7ef9e42b7cb5677c581f4a31789fd2e5
'2011-11-14T15:51:12-05:00'
describe
'45668' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPS' 'sip-files00110.QC.jpg'
011cadd89d713d44b1b0e592b8e855ab
e6d1d5284b2e2717e8da98b48ba7ca9343fa630b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPT' 'sip-files00110.tif'
351acce3924f0f690bd2f82bd120602c
c09830b1eb2afc73befd785b2d1e1b3621726f92
'2011-11-14T15:52:11-05:00'
describe
'2042' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPU' 'sip-files00110.txt'
93032aeea3f5c5133109d8bcbdf46a91
95a92d0e77c0a9909b5f343d07184fb44d36a118
describe
'10538' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPV' 'sip-files00110thm.jpg'
d194839b3663bca5d05e7ea33e16dcb7
862775a75b191803ba4d2b9097d03aeade25d24d
describe
'739847' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPW' 'sip-files00111.jp2'
5013b8aac49cdf289a000c9e7d42e2c5
14ab82fe3a7950d098273b90aef861b87ee941f9
describe
'143523' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPX' 'sip-files00111.jpg'
1cf1eedeac3099b50b96b8571935e17c
e3914ad661752e8000dd8fc42ba5af55274bca77
'2011-11-14T15:54:30-05:00'
describe
'64480' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPY' 'sip-files00111.pro'
e49ffbde0be916299034202a9579b719
790f335e44ddd23e5d34c530e783df738eff2a37
describe
'39896' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXPZ' 'sip-files00111.QC.jpg'
75b4e1fafc591834c24c12bd169d60a1
9dfaef7ef4f80f89b75d0e7af565d89a77713083
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQA' 'sip-files00111.tif'
bea29310a6686479da5f04a2cd45bbf1
92f082bf8c522a843f2e3393d1656b53574dd593
describe
'2623' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQB' 'sip-files00111.txt'
10562bac79f724d5c22da2243ac1a8b0
fe75dd6b08e4b756644980e9597f6d8890110a85
'2011-11-14T15:53:46-05:00'
describe
'9190' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQC' 'sip-files00111thm.jpg'
ff9dd75f8e923ceaee80bb8421f3520a
b28c46cae4dd42efa8913f2b5de21f1dc21b4d4b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQD' 'sip-files00112.jp2'
0a9966779b90077688cbbc523a342484
045cdcf0b524271d46252a530fe365baca074618
'2011-11-14T15:53:26-05:00'
describe
'66763' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQE' 'sip-files00112.jpg'
e9ba8328f759bcce3047ad0bc016945f
8cd213fd1cad0f74ce71571d4a6905a9ebca7758
describe
'8993' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQF' 'sip-files00112.pro'
eb42f885643400ce59dae187e11eca17
c9bcf3fde12ff1976d12974b12ce80fa8daccfcb
describe
'16166' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQG' 'sip-files00112.QC.jpg'
c3b327784b05877cbaf7c49566bebb83
71af6dc25f4c8da7dfa734cc04adb22aedca9a77
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQH' 'sip-files00112.tif'
e7f08b28d4e5f35ea0b4899668cde1d1
827e80be9481fc7c7f1a278048b687adc566a2f1
describe
'424' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQI' 'sip-files00112.txt'
009105c427590c7e26427012c391c294
13a1390b9d168608f875821863a95853295f50c6
describe
Invalid character
'3984' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQJ' 'sip-files00112thm.jpg'
81c06011c9d0d4d26e03fefdfa70dbbf
7a1c21260f33f8a6e15cae27dea3ad72d49ab02d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQK' 'sip-files00113.jp2'
849300a5555f6349c5fd34c3d0e4dae9
4d189c41bb85409d4b57d21e34711593e5b29436
describe
'126477' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQL' 'sip-files00113.jpg'
057278e4a048bad4fb66e75e9adb5ae5
0d2d8163140dfa46ffc2ca857c70d31eb46a5abd
describe
'6006' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQM' 'sip-files00113.pro'
0a27ef2a95d50ec7b37eeb2bdcc05e1c
7cf370a19a2617688930d855f31ef2aec952986f
describe
'30551' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQN' 'sip-files00113.QC.jpg'
b6aba20d93d0a1e1568eb4317e8c160b
c5a8be579cecad7be30f77a0bb00376d4e0781bd
'2011-11-14T15:53:48-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQO' 'sip-files00113.tif'
44ab6e7cdc46eac12e509f142c6ccd29
67a04f560090662cc385284cfb46ddbc58653bfb
describe
'443' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQP' 'sip-files00113.txt'
d4ebe5a2a312f89504ebb5623945fde2
18da1df465bfc492c20321f5cd7a6a59447e3bbb
describe
Invalid character
'7609' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQQ' 'sip-files00113thm.jpg'
f14d02a31aa259de8d61d66065988586
58a04f7cb6dfc6d1a5c0402dbda99c6a083a01cb
describe
'739565' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQR' 'sip-files00114.jp2'
6c288eb625af679b8c68dfeb7dae599e
245f0716c79bc8cf016f02f8568f6db6c737e12a
describe
'148411' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQS' 'sip-files00114.jpg'
63219abdb4e2306385e6a2cd69421707
8c38a68bf61554cd2e8cb8970ed7824f241ad20a
describe
'60346' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQT' 'sip-files00114.pro'
08d2e46f863e3e899bdc3c8c41fc8edc
3a8ef251af054e1f25a54ed11c5d1a95223b4731
describe
'39170' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQU' 'sip-files00114.QC.jpg'
645edad7a1bca9bf55e076c9c5cb89b5
937147ee1591701e4770aef3ff3924561b00bb26
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQV' 'sip-files00114.tif'
1cedfa3f903f32f4f84dafcf0ecef088
3d9fb209bda00acf0c4288a6d68cb6130359f08b
'2011-11-14T15:52:45-05:00'
describe
'2785' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQW' 'sip-files00114.txt'
5e8dfe9d6ea89facc4e30d4a40e062ff
b4f8b0a9b035d6c73498ecd8210798ed6a67875e
describe
'9318' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQX' 'sip-files00114thm.jpg'
0737ea42fbac2b1fed78adcfbddf702d
7addbb1fa7d6af6b094549c7014ad401f56513a8
describe
'731859' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQY' 'sip-files00115.jp2'
d5fad38fbc1d6fcd3c13f5d73e79e763
481d94ad166d0341dfb1c0d037bbaee8a988b41e
describe
'154192' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXQZ' 'sip-files00115.jpg'
8c7692eafdcf441d7584d186b4b1c75a
9494ac1142f0063547ed2ddf79573aa50d17bace
describe
'56209' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRA' 'sip-files00115.pro'
dab70df2c49501cc35f1b2a56e41696f
b5fcc83acb7d85c09981f4793ef5e398fed05d57
describe
'41600' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRB' 'sip-files00115.QC.jpg'
dee56fec3f9f270126d0276f7c0aa2ab
51148b6188f6d28685e550784aeff91b68302293
describe
'5871112' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRC' 'sip-files00115.tif'
3061a1a1a93e20d55a86cdf02b069d9c
3d956c26b38b3cbd0e6fcb3c433a2e866fb0e15b
describe
'2302' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRD' 'sip-files00115.txt'
aa2429816b43c15b4323e67cfcdeac92
065f2ee2375330a6e83d483f7dbae0f4a98461fe
describe
Invalid character
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRE' 'sip-files00115thm.jpg'
f2afe5d5dd9c78343707fbb2a3c0202e
37e03daa8e8fca0f464baf064a04b155a43722a9
describe
'739593' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRF' 'sip-files00116.jp2'
d1eef3251880af4d39a42a616199ce2d
41ee43701d88be0e32ed33b9333b9176129d3051
'2011-11-14T15:52:26-05:00'
describe
'142947' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRG' 'sip-files00116.jpg'
3225f0229b3eca4f2b46f93b872052cf
4b9687ceb508115e2b3394cc5b23310a0bf85667
describe
'62317' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRH' 'sip-files00116.pro'
f005c42445a3a7f4bc85be9105de3b6a
4a8a9f7d2448a9460d5dd3b12eba2eb887bd7d43
describe
'38502' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRI' 'sip-files00116.QC.jpg'
9d8dbf8dc195657ec38b6aeb98c41f5d
b083d8b0f73623d60ba72133e190d6970bcd0b5c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRJ' 'sip-files00116.tif'
18501c4072c682d7b890be083aa1c6c3
50dd9dafbb0fe7bb7f04e71afbfd9d368bb1ef8f
describe
'2972' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRK' 'sip-files00116.txt'
b308531221320cd73abbc5623e40faa7
663e18681b3f9a5fef41d735c1cb355af42ac7f4
describe
'9089' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRL' 'sip-files00116thm.jpg'
f011463b965a8c91251b75330695dc8d
9c57d6e634e9b35259e2815e96281c10a60cfa86
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRM' 'sip-files00117.jp2'
18762839a2c1cff4164e3bb268b35eb8
ef544098758ad0d7081029dd93784b534e8633c6
describe
'163318' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRN' 'sip-files00117.jpg'
83a4ec6b88a611fe1c33d96794f8cb06
8dcbe3895100382699f3aa012e585d99de230ae3
describe
'67963' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRO' 'sip-files00117.pro'
3e726e61fda41a2b20b4c26ba6801dcb
8fe22e941e98a56558ab8cd969346e95a6e97d97
describe
'43810' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRP' 'sip-files00117.QC.jpg'
e4fa28d3656208d36bb3384df554d62b
bdcc3d51b4fbc8783a49e24b21d4921d385e75b5
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRQ' 'sip-files00117.tif'
18803205ea69f448409786d25b739f65
f510a2a987cdb540aa77909ce1ebe40ccdd7f04b
describe
'2743' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRR' 'sip-files00117.txt'
3125b764140cc2195f22aa569916847f
36ffaa139e16dbf1338bf0a93f1c8eed6320be70
describe
'9865' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRS' 'sip-files00117thm.jpg'
56434859f38912d8f14294cc322d3e7b
a92e53b73345cfd886804c8bc8f2ebb3cebf8682
describe
'739947' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRT' 'sip-files00118.jp2'
ff5e0f2c26a312f79456d8054dab2fd4
0391cf4719e61a365c92fd5a69d3a88369706bbe
'2011-11-14T15:50:12-05:00'
describe
'147311' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRU' 'sip-files00118.jpg'
7a9f58aeb867bb607559cae5527f7112
d30246acfa45f2ebc4b1ab959f12998ab83e9603
describe
'47706' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRV' 'sip-files00118.pro'
5f10f8aa27c2decc332e969c6c711110
68839631416f4d5bf795e207c33bbe47c872d029
describe
'39180' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRW' 'sip-files00118.QC.jpg'
8eaa9e59fc34dd0cb1db2d6705ae9069
1f8fff6adf142c929685b3c7c97a87e963434ea3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRX' 'sip-files00118.tif'
aff76cab64b28e86247f4e72a553b8b8
6d382c0c9f01203ce52957949e16dc8d998fb652
describe
'1950' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRY' 'sip-files00118.txt'
ae1eeb692bcb7db4b195643f523d58f0
d14ef7c1c5684590f32e43795d8a043705d9b5f4
describe
'9178' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXRZ' 'sip-files00118thm.jpg'
d50f3273d4b72748a8d8123cb95c59d2
7988c8ed05026c694a4a7023c3677b94fb349f5c
describe
'740159' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSA' 'sip-files00119.jp2'
a6b821eba1d3d5cf543e1177054786b9
5d7267a2fe7958079d79be072d938ddee69a258a
describe
'152371' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSB' 'sip-files00119.jpg'
3b7f0808e69a47054427c6a814d04300
38868c7f898887bc561c6a65274dce70b06e412a
describe
'64466' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSC' 'sip-files00119.pro'
b046c9dc95703de358d0e70c682fd20b
ab8f2accc50e806db46cf04bc1d19b38096f7eb0
describe
'41155' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSD' 'sip-files00119.QC.jpg'
341c464a55d90047e83f8792a29d5287
351fcc9f93ad3b355685a8dcb1e43561644d273b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSE' 'sip-files00119.tif'
e7723c54566cf16b1e30e9541fcea724
d686b5643c6e383f28e8aac0e6ca954f2feaf8d4
describe
'2658' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSF' 'sip-files00119.txt'
83b6afb5eba7a014d6713e743915b4ef
7fb0b2e1a069e81490c7553a46ee227deec4d425
describe
'9279' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSG' 'sip-files00119thm.jpg'
b78a36eaa967febe7fa32390a48b3d85
271fa62dc8331e1b3ffda8cdb41f1bb0c8ef1eef
describe
'739549' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSH' 'sip-files00120.jp2'
1e25f349367782056c87dcffbd395524
a95ba8af7f8cca36e80ec2f5f5d40d513d2855e9
describe
'157657' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSI' 'sip-files00120.jpg'
208b18a342da9cc358740bbd946f4098
056396b21bdcabaef207c81e40b33433ef8886d4
describe
'70721' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSJ' 'sip-files00120.pro'
cf35e27e90a887d1247745707c49dda8
4081a3fb0d27d1640526e3100a712b637d0963ae
describe
'42505' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSK' 'sip-files00120.QC.jpg'
0d2f5ddb351fa18d47d6685b2f05752e
9c5f1c65845ad3ec0ac68bad836f3a5ef41b8463
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSL' 'sip-files00120.tif'
67b55ea79c8b282cef7f9e81a17ffc66
9047fc14dc4829225934cc91252b2f978900a849
describe
'3206' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSM' 'sip-files00120.txt'
f2e75864b8fb82f359987362ebdfdc8e
cf955030be1002aef243baeb1d14f2ecbe020119
describe
'9736' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSN' 'sip-files00120thm.jpg'
8c9d26c961a1b66f23e076cd23a560c3
21b525cd6033fdc53768ffba75af67dfe1dd382b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSO' 'sip-files00121.jp2'
9b82f06b2b8f972ed556fe3f3efdec9c
d6a58fc89cff4915f7367219c43bcd7190656128
describe
'149016' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSP' 'sip-files00121.jpg'
80d019dc7b6c4c1ee05a6d235125f5fd
582a944c698218d52777f093c429104a39ffdd25
describe
'64284' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSQ' 'sip-files00121.pro'
42495969edc150d2a4820a17d5553ca1
9920aa94f90e5577474454e8efb72003ee36e09a
describe
'40695' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSR' 'sip-files00121.QC.jpg'
eed06692c2cb03d5cb45c7d05e48cc0f
000fb1477f6cce8c2c3801ea17e1c9b6ac3d7817
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSS' 'sip-files00121.tif'
56033590b75e7ca0a790c0f4dd67e4da
9a2d97a4b9f77e5dadf59221d92681a77177002a
describe
'3053' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXST' 'sip-files00121.txt'
9c5c398aa2220c7e76f4ef4499f67bb9
0780bcd908b9ed83ad788a85ac92435cae1cc574
describe
'9352' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSU' 'sip-files00121thm.jpg'
8cf8ec224839c2d30dc0b9f184eeb3ee
715ca6ab2940117081ce6ec05ab74b08b5e82e09
describe
'739543' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSV' 'sip-files00122.jp2'
152a7d0485bd2ef36f2998903528f6c5
50d470217e2912e7630172fc241e4eefca95252d
describe
'149985' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSW' 'sip-files00122.jpg'
cbbb8df51571ef51699f147c0af212f1
33a5732464399ab3b60a8dc3c62244ceaa53167b
describe
'61851' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSX' 'sip-files00122.pro'
316eca25078727b6a2cc2b0fab1f2907
54e52ae58c05cb4201c6faa47b4f9b9ada9ca3b3
describe
'40990' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSY' 'sip-files00122.QC.jpg'
436abbcd89da7f37d48791ac677d62d8
3aa0631781597595e3206c4b8db72d704c5e4f77
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXSZ' 'sip-files00122.tif'
009a7ab9a9656dce68a20f746d181fb2
7c074bdddaa610b1d88d04b6d83a0c5d7e8a0187
describe
'2854' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTA' 'sip-files00122.txt'
5db3269c37b6fa14b510383d08e27480
9332382a244cb9986d29aebef5fc2cfdd9fcb3d8
describe
'9586' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTB' 'sip-files00122thm.jpg'
76fd8e7765e4c4c4f7a8fa47ccf4a0fb
94e96b705e3cbcf34353fc314b2aa66883daff2d
describe
'739533' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTC' 'sip-files00123.jp2'
15ad435a83431668afa48f0cc7274a9a
ebcc2f785082905bfb8f79ed3a4c24fd092ece3e
describe
'113103' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTD' 'sip-files00123.jpg'
efec67658ca224af922ae2e6e1df8e94
78f95ff3654f671f3cc2da21934781a4f3da640e
describe
'29692' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTE' 'sip-files00123.pro'
9f58c192e04077d57849cc92a00a041b
3bab6f911bf842dc42e8b1a86826b0f4cce94aae
describe
'30023' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTF' 'sip-files00123.QC.jpg'
e74f708bdc0e4a171b8fc5329259460f
00b9eb05d719c91ee21d960c89369c751f7de86f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTG' 'sip-files00123.tif'
8e4de343fcda2da65f282801706e80da
57241c8f8946969b80e31216def3d3f05f3ea976
describe
'1277' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTH' 'sip-files00123.txt'
3b9d88d3e9ff6c89a74d2c4576daf98a
21602951057aa0ff294125eb2d6ad661961d8979
describe
'7358' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTI' 'sip-files00123thm.jpg'
e68598137bc703423a0131b55aefb5d0
f3dbb2997ba501edb380221266a1f44bbeb74fd1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTJ' 'sip-files00124.jp2'
8e8b85040c6839b70fbfdad3554110a9
11de2d109d4747ac10b3f8839994a00769d2bdf8
describe
'131244' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTK' 'sip-files00124.jpg'
4ecdfd5ccd551050aa8ac9ffd9c6804c
30d89b603e37ca5a985d4d6235f216680becf924
describe
'40543' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTL' 'sip-files00124.pro'
2edf987c49d012dc085d1505af21b727
6c90d552b549c5bf84632df9a7fbf2a03828ad8f
describe
'35161' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTM' 'sip-files00124.QC.jpg'
42f42bd79b3d98afd62ff7d3e7dd73e4
47da9a5ffd7c2407d4f9009e55b38e582903707b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTN' 'sip-files00124.tif'
f257295a73fee55b854dd34e34110cac
106fdc7efef3131ee2ea60182d1c31de77a3c24b
describe
'1853' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTO' 'sip-files00124.txt'
1d6fe43fb356a7919a2045c2ea54ca82
dfc95328198744ff7783b48bd21d69815b05dd92
describe
'8426' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTP' 'sip-files00124thm.jpg'
d6846cbaf0c9f2a1ce1d8179aeeda8fc
b03c96656d0064cb45c94e2bf07b78e942244ab6
describe
'740181' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTQ' 'sip-files00125.jp2'
bb4c31c928866d5bcf964574818a4cd9
703cd455c617f35ee0c20204dbf6c8cf29df39e5
describe
'169655' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTR' 'sip-files00125.jpg'
4a053bebb22e498918ee9ec236d45fb2
bbee0afb2b9b3715d2b237e4fb467b8f505a779f
describe
'67474' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTS' 'sip-files00125.pro'
c7c735e582dd6eb6c3666c598f8a773b
cdd496ba37ab3771c2d43f68b857d2748e1ab97e
describe
'44441' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTT' 'sip-files00125.QC.jpg'
15c6de1ef0cba0021a25874d9914a341
99362ed9facc0cbf1f9eadf1b022193f7e1d9272
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTU' 'sip-files00125.tif'
1b096e16ae217f413a65534ea761b158
69f1a9256b70a1a42d74ab97ee44735b4e972987
describe
'3261' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTV' 'sip-files00125.txt'
3419b6923a639d2e513befb6b3ee608b
ea26b7df14d7e5e4a32f1420dd74e67747f6e798
describe
'9747' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTW' 'sip-files00125thm.jpg'
9e772fa87f91e9b6a2b65bf14e14ebe8
3826b49f22e97b17417de67930d43383bf25ef9d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTX' 'sip-files00126.jp2'
c0f6f0cb22f8af912acd4117b26d47f9
15dfb98cc55398ca91a256207fb38797871a9743
describe
'174026' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTY' 'sip-files00126.jpg'
d42ef69d222713bf1899cd48efca5727
d8fac8544b121b78961d9db8578e3cf33abf8f4e
describe
'81125' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXTZ' 'sip-files00126.pro'
5cf51d2349e6740acf5c1f529d5f14f0
a99ff6465ab027813892c4856d7ab6f832d045e7
describe
'46208' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUA' 'sip-files00126.QC.jpg'
da17ed9c7759e930133fc44fc690e962
01677e86987a669c80f335e1817e303ab2471c8a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUB' 'sip-files00126.tif'
e28824f1c98c59da41673f643dc2ea80
c4f3d9b9d9c10198a2ea765a906d5bf225f5c9a9
describe
'3183' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUC' 'sip-files00126.txt'
531ab0d20b918181f7ac78872a571a26
f289f8d2b3e07208815fa1946c4c80b28b989285
describe
'10430' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUD' 'sip-files00126thm.jpg'
c030f701a70479c2ebf2dc40a003fc48
2511f69bf55ef94a437bff7412a4b6e0cdac080e
describe
'739556' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUE' 'sip-files00127.jp2'
e4dbc363b302a5ef0c7878bb837cc245
79273a7a904965315ade01ad6b57e5733752e817
describe
'160870' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUF' 'sip-files00127.jpg'
9ca3c91b25542f8099fae07b42d25288
09d49d72d16f6086eadc4fb3767624d7c870563e
describe
'65120' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUG' 'sip-files00127.pro'
f6dda8c6fcb38c2dbcb07475b04de3bc
a28bfe6205ccba7e3d5ddd38131e703c87164019
describe
'42897' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUH' 'sip-files00127.QC.jpg'
c33b696b73fe7b0dec73c84fc404748b
852f92ae776ed856676cb0b6228d5fa05a485b69
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUI' 'sip-files00127.tif'
2d2f31cfc0e2fc274f9f929d12128d56
ff4b4f7eb1793d748d87b4335eda62f86c8f32fa
describe
'2993' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUJ' 'sip-files00127.txt'
a8e12dfbda1442e3f3320ffae3d65b9a
27607ec1c759fc1e76862db3595ac69999db9b43
describe
'9784' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUK' 'sip-files00127thm.jpg'
bfb0f8c471584c8283a6ca8fe0635722
bc73e29c378f70afc706699c569b39ca1210f990
describe
'739439' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUL' 'sip-files00128.jp2'
63aefd55a11f5e98de0689c6da376785
54a78404a66deb5c3bfb5531381336381afb8342
describe
'166000' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUM' 'sip-files00128.jpg'
28dce937016964de4158202d2b579ff9
61f9d032c2dbd5a809e9d137aba2f7fef42cb3f8
describe
'61223' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUN' 'sip-files00128.pro'
7b513f7b9625734ba16d0d9e72d3e692
14f1c7f49ebdf36aa7d9434966b2e97348d557ce
describe
'43797' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUO' 'sip-files00128.QC.jpg'
421d56349feb0aceef0d9895359f922f
6558cb7470ceb97f2ca1c92565f2c77fd887a8b1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUP' 'sip-files00128.tif'
5d1d709bdd86385f267ccc883f30db5f
f5ad5fa1d5af464052a9dc504538d30a6b057228
describe
'2510' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUQ' 'sip-files00128.txt'
adbc4ba749b9b709148a6889429d9537
2ceb46c0ba1217ed9372a1b3f732c44493b03c09
describe
Invalid character
'9558' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUR' 'sip-files00128thm.jpg'
cac9ee8b89b461ea4bec0cad25f37374
b18828ce2d4af85b32a5396de1b15a4d74c4a15b
describe
'740183' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUS' 'sip-files00129.jp2'
41adcf995a5b6f3d3b8fd5a79f1faa92
9d1d6ba79f4bbd2d8f0c79d803c58e24c8fbce9d
describe
'163300' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUT' 'sip-files00129.jpg'
9cf0514fb3b27b9267787261bacbe1e6
045a44340b663234d255c38bea3625eb99c4af59
describe
'71178' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUU' 'sip-files00129.pro'
5c93adddcfdfbd30236e01bf986c5597
47324d0f79b70421c888cf2941c8088eead7a317
describe
'43482' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUV' 'sip-files00129.QC.jpg'
27765ed681a7693c661b9be1e7dd88dd
f4714c1c4b138a564d41e9898942258b514a3385
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUW' 'sip-files00129.tif'
d0ff78c0f1caf20d0f40acb9c596653a
c73212d8041fd681a9584c15b60596c58c88de62
describe
'3287' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUX' 'sip-files00129.txt'
7341e80c12a7df6f82259be72c6038a3
315bfc09e0a7bf7153c593e0e0f250ce267bb36a
describe
'9667' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUY' 'sip-files00129thm.jpg'
5bb5caef53567a75bfce5ec24b0945ae
cd4674caadf948df9aa6efa372a60056433247e2
'2011-11-14T15:50:58-05:00'
describe
'740204' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXUZ' 'sip-files00130.jp2'
3385f2aef9ca83aee86854df4111a09f
4b194d8e9aa0d4dd6034d9a68938c6591ad66462
describe
'163623' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVA' 'sip-files00130.jpg'
04fb736d46d541ae8e4146fc337312fc
53b544c08c583e8994418f3391dce03b21c4c5c9
describe
'69058' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVB' 'sip-files00130.pro'
57f78e33c6b24969fb943fdc725bff73
91ee1954733275903211536b869b4eaef21fc73a
describe
'43857' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVC' 'sip-files00130.QC.jpg'
bf499a6a1540bb2d791757d77b6ab145
f34d436a60c96d3d051c9f87c265fb33d31d919e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVD' 'sip-files00130.tif'
8b37b8a419712b2c5d527d507e9e953e
7154c518a5b30762071b1228d282018f0580df54
'2011-11-14T15:54:37-05:00'
describe
'2755' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVE' 'sip-files00130.txt'
1fe9650e07c0b3db2fd5eafccd968db9
a0d567f5d487f568e43ce3f19375d4bf5574a25a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVF' 'sip-files00130thm.jpg'
270a271959ae046bfa4da2129837f810
87ea68d1541c83e4ff8cccea1e1ce9a9cce6cd87
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVG' 'sip-files00131.jp2'
11c3c166c7a177e93103a825afa33e00
33d541083ab16f7ffcf018ab0df92312a65ac221
'2011-11-14T15:55:00-05:00'
describe
'168831' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVH' 'sip-files00131.jpg'
091ad3ce3d08c2578fdfc0920bfde121
3ba240492917516ae376d06a17509d64f9be281a
describe
'81710' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVI' 'sip-files00131.pro'
c4ba69d0f275a948be7ebd7fd520fab7
0797c39bddced0fe57309ae828e9e2b4223b54b7
describe
'44540' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVJ' 'sip-files00131.QC.jpg'
bf752e3451d8563773ecbc00ff3cd4a1
ced01638bbf38d88f38ad99816e1ff37df7d52ca
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVK' 'sip-files00131.tif'
83a762156304b1f1983857874c7d7bf4
ded3cdcfaf0caba99df28fdc009c77bb3741e514
describe
'3208' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVL' 'sip-files00131.txt'
6c66b992a367e62ab0ca26d0e2149eab
580d30b1f4690e36c3de436b2f616189a604da1d
describe
'9858' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVM' 'sip-files00131thm.jpg'
13be5e520e2fe442847d1cd6db17d633
e8f6ad6bcfb1f61ecffb4389581c0913c8e46fe5
describe
'739379' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVN' 'sip-files00132.jp2'
bf7e58d8faf17e8f8d0ae9ca4efa78c0
90596486b3a67fe1790fac38b3c31bc574621b21
describe
'178169' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVO' 'sip-files00132.jpg'
a5c24f9af8d539bd7c92ab8b0087a7b6
2199ffc80d175fcaf36a50cde174e0224b4d6c5b
describe
'63781' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVP' 'sip-files00132.pro'
1611d2c76bbdfbe04a7a944d3d076477
7630eb55ecae6d71c02788d990f57cc56b4c0f67
describe
'46031' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVQ' 'sip-files00132.QC.jpg'
403ad77f5b3b0d0ceaa4063898624274
da47481102562c427f1e3c226afac9e1a6b5fe4d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVR' 'sip-files00132.tif'
d4068818f4eb276d749fcd166fb54f28
6b369fefc29e77b61cc979331b14073ebf99ddc6
describe
'2551' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVS' 'sip-files00132.txt'
8dd00e9bb89fdea76690cbc8fe839981
749c1efcc88bbcbc6358faef0c63ce175a4bd4e9
describe
'10492' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVT' 'sip-files00132thm.jpg'
58eae10c4a0bdbe271aa741018446c72
8649150ada100eb2c3e4d44f925d24e7d63b1bca
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVU' 'sip-files00133.jp2'
c4ea9e9a4081f0c1e0344936f93a7332
36eb0ca433a2397e480e0e63554416ef5d879964
describe
'130998' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVV' 'sip-files00133.jpg'
9f95384181f29dcb6bcda3c2d6136f0d
5b3f32cfaa34f79e79fccd59e11a181853f089a7
describe
'59806' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVW' 'sip-files00133.pro'
ded4d80d031096605253b348a52d33f9
d95f94b0ef275dfb5a9ead54030678a6147e6c4f
describe
'34872' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVX' 'sip-files00133.QC.jpg'
0cf4e1ed326cc12357b92d05241bea05
09f9e5e1d30b03bb363cdf37789b9c69537ff9cd
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVY' 'sip-files00133.tif'
c206f3d9572538e830743b67d754363d
f33d251be3038abdb34cbd98bf34ff023e90b911
describe
'2674' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXVZ' 'sip-files00133.txt'
9a80c094d4b0ed46faea0842de1a8317
8f86f31c8ae301d1808bede0f72dfced741d2c3c
describe
'7866' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWA' 'sip-files00133thm.jpg'
aac9b789fd41a5464a9669e394e61cc1
d829dc19324a0cbc70f0b153d95bc5d162b2c1ae
describe
'739538' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWB' 'sip-files00134.jp2'
e6153b1d9db3216dffc18804ec3d4053
e082c892508e8f3b4af456fabfe123bcd0259616
'2011-11-14T15:54:55-05:00'
describe
'77950' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWC' 'sip-files00134.jpg'
58554400cc37459ad89fa76838625f9c
5c6c56eb348d1b26e59c9eb00edfe7e707ff3735
describe
'22329' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWD' 'sip-files00134.pro'
6cb18de877c4b6858ea31fb472f09a24
1499a5e743436e5e7fd0743912eb073b0d641522
describe
'19249' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWE' 'sip-files00134.QC.jpg'
5633727cd8e76f12dcae4ee43f8d80c8
4a0f8a286689371e8b1741ecbf6fb2336923e7f0
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWF' 'sip-files00134.tif'
f83c1ee8f3066bb1168acfdf3795ef72
1181cec6102ca2a0b09d8876e7d84888079cb4d3
describe
'968' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWG' 'sip-files00134.txt'
1a5f93d14759ed7be1b508cd86b7f476
dc6bf6921da4f534be2fa8e4a83cacf666c185a6
describe
'4634' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWH' 'sip-files00134thm.jpg'
a7b0344bc415b11a4857a9e043dffe76
0f2ebef65c27f1eed469010493f76208cdc9f5c6
describe
'739523' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWI' 'sip-files00135.jp2'
0f9eb64e916ef3eaf88a3c99393e35d2
05df4fd4d675945739904bc1ded248ac4333d051
describe
'186043' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWJ' 'sip-files00135.jpg'
86a102d797ed9c9edf9712edbd348b45
c6a21fe9077e7e2369566723073b4a4399f1dd72
describe
'9722' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWK' 'sip-files00135.pro'
89cd15e46c50a20b8acc48e57a2aca54
4ab6dc19d91abf0ab9dab314a3703f945fdcc133
describe
'43248' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWL' 'sip-files00135.QC.jpg'
3dd8452d2d5bdea2a6f6c8ecf336b9fa
a568b253280d1f2d0807fad57756e465f4a4e1dc
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWM' 'sip-files00135.tif'
811c4cb8632eeb3e066facab890dbcc8
ac7b21816814f5a7e99d5d9abf5acb94db0b8f98
describe
'615' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWN' 'sip-files00135.txt'
6e8acccf9178f575388a82ab5c81b7ee
0752d6a11bb0d25c37726f957ee3258782c22ee5
describe
Invalid character
'9982' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWO' 'sip-files00135thm.jpg'
8d3471cc7e4a6b248bd03cf80602eef7
6949a3ca38778d34b60be40c6c5931e4263c71aa
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWP' 'sip-files00136.jp2'
74e0730fb88685af16d8369649c7d63f
b3f4daf7f6621a59d498276b4621f5420d44b096
describe
'119670' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWQ' 'sip-files00136.jpg'
4992f141778710d9c018aa33fc9e2b34
a60373feafc288935bd611fa929790d96b0e8d95
describe
'35744' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWR' 'sip-files00136.pro'
cd264a89ea227229921ad37446d28b81
cc81e26eba94eba115bbd81d3ebb8c599a2a4245
describe
'31136' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWS' 'sip-files00136.QC.jpg'
ebdf34c67480e18d6d6c7f92916bba37
d2e9d4e7e578fd3651870f0079d20dae64c8493c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWT' 'sip-files00136.tif'
8cbaabad8f0e9529c6326566e3e75c9c
e597427d1d6273051e3ea53e08cc12930dc855bd
'2011-11-14T15:50:49-05:00'
describe
'1617' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWU' 'sip-files00136.txt'
3e816fbdcfa247a88e76316966b3a4b7
c93a34e3d9335eb1da25acba31a06a3b87e9207e
describe
'7504' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWV' 'sip-files00136thm.jpg'
fc334ed2bbd428f1f2e05f54529e766f
c23ccdc9009ab286c386b1bf34f5ae34c8a6e798
describe
'739545' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWW' 'sip-files00137.jp2'
80383edbb602cd93a2e5e2a1a3ce1c78
ce04b6a9b9340b28048795913f3274a6ae805553
describe
'149513' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWX' 'sip-files00137.jpg'
611dfd99a4e50645a96670c7be659262
4a05a401b8c15efd6d83a1e4040aed45238a7bc6
describe
'71502' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWY' 'sip-files00137.pro'
c8bbb802daaf56d6acdaba5168406caa
18a76b6825690fda9690a240707b6d304921dba9
describe
'39227' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXWZ' 'sip-files00137.QC.jpg'
dffb9f7b73d3ac60ab4d9a08512ef0bc
a9ff5728d1476dceba71c721c4576d0e176ab758
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXA' 'sip-files00137.tif'
17f034b72238e38375aee592a7e7eb5a
337787226b34c4fd31e1de361dae35c111a68512
describe
'2951' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXB' 'sip-files00137.txt'
fdbc7db03aca545bc162a0bba926199b
3bf45f2c27f8d8fd9ac81cbe7ce5fa6d97a473eb
describe
'9104' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXC' 'sip-files00137thm.jpg'
39e8dfcfa107b05622ed916363805b90
d105cf769dc7378986f4b8dbdf0a7e3cd4455fdc
describe
'739499' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXD' 'sip-files00138.jp2'
dbc471421a4445c3d11d6c46fd6d3957
6cc4f9d374a7b3e87e013b9a52fff663172d6d2f
describe
'153509' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXE' 'sip-files00138.jpg'
6d86f02b98aff8455ae49c16f06b3194
f9ec75497d9a6a190b06dbf32b4e7760a604c75b
describe
'71795' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXF' 'sip-files00138.pro'
900ee8d02c2b0a57b414fb745eba3cf5
3bf96a76212b3a8db249c7dd7adfcf0a2f68787d
describe
'40900' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXG' 'sip-files00138.QC.jpg'
74f99df3effbec7a179bc0ef18337396
650835e6edbb6e51452df117fb90e4d574774c13
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXH' 'sip-files00138.tif'
0ce300fead34e03d5de2f49784e7319a
0192d6c97531c7e2e2a99912f299057fdfaa0c64
describe
'2834' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXI' 'sip-files00138.txt'
8a89d5973fb0fcfb755554ffb9ef553e
eb64fa917cf70cdd82ff1b6a596e4194c1d83d28
describe
'9572' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXJ' 'sip-files00138thm.jpg'
e005a55d9e31a8fc7105d03235000966
439dba7702551a523d09a90f1cc211c4af8ecc1e
'2011-11-14T15:53:55-05:00'
describe
'739558' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXK' 'sip-files00139.jp2'
3cb045db6d62f4558fd611999c02030f
8955b1759a6106356e7a5c3e37d044724fb17f6a
describe
'127711' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXL' 'sip-files00139.jpg'
89c9e5c65f96879c015a95f3457f6892
480564112946b114ce23117b65814d18ece9d7fc
describe
'23721' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXM' 'sip-files00139.pro'
b54189b945b571b47bf84289cdaf5dce
b232b3123917eecbb7e21d3ae0e13c8cc29d5ac2
describe
'30966' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXN' 'sip-files00139.QC.jpg'
553e7f73be8470eb8f92f4dd8a20b472
aaca73cee69c3a4a83d7cd1492f9dce2fefd626c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXO' 'sip-files00139.tif'
2e2c34d96bab3edd984ceeb48f30ba30
f4b57e22cf203405fa1a33c64d07f5d82ae745be
describe
'1247' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXP' 'sip-files00139.txt'
3de75a50e8f399e6ac2a94b27b49dcba
b115779c3cf73478c3f34c86bfed421b95988c60
describe
Invalid character
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXQ' 'sip-files00139thm.jpg'
f31ce61032a054b168ba12d3e08b9372
641e7adc1ed71ace5fa4591e39a2db221b8dc1e1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXR' 'sip-files00140.jp2'
3dd16faeb34357a5508c54a740b1a9f3
dd2c14f8da5e4a9aa08e43aed8f724dd2c7c8175
describe
'161655' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXS' 'sip-files00140.jpg'
aa438ab4688e0fe4a6f6475068e782ad
18c4980be35398987ae5f81a03de53a0050f3503
describe
'69244' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXT' 'sip-files00140.pro'
9c504427e35bf6f8811d630ecb3fa79e
04a98b20c1c2b1349d86cfaca3ba69d0ae396dcb
describe
'42142' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXU' 'sip-files00140.QC.jpg'
16b98c777f7dcfaf88d1912216a866c5
bb6cb844bae53f4f69309cd027bf3e8c4c48223d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXV' 'sip-files00140.tif'
90b12ddedd9b0bb807169de45780de68
9ff26b8c10bd79886ad0d20e2d7e3fbbaabc782c
describe
'2926' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXW' 'sip-files00140.txt'
0c38a691f6dba90e8b2b744e84d29be0
626de184102334d626ef1fdf289c4e4d945ad105
describe
Invalid character
'9588' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXX' 'sip-files00140thm.jpg'
663ec4669aaecca67ab62e40955d9de3
23bb3ddf2557b09b37552b2c6a6ac839520c5692
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXY' 'sip-files00141.jp2'
7be1016520cd6d554a932a82fdca71d1
e71d4ac5e07c57d04b176bca5d74deca27f640ce
describe
'164901' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXXZ' 'sip-files00141.jpg'
8e658a4ea8ec128a9ab79f24b5ee4e0d
364eedb8d41f6ad7c6db8acec2cee8e0e18c845e
describe
'71443' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYA' 'sip-files00141.pro'
40863c574bee3756bb2fb9cd73ce5425
f74265389506920ba888730eb526258236f3b810
describe
'43351' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYB' 'sip-files00141.QC.jpg'
9686a09e3d38d9233a1336b3c0aec02f
95878880c9c74a5f3b7e3ccd37a4e565bca37082
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYC' 'sip-files00141.tif'
d391fa70bd05dca99c09edb931fcf587
38d546d24b57973b151ec6822da8363ddf10bf6b
describe
'2855' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYD' 'sip-files00141.txt'
0c2bff55719dc04c3ad0c7b261ea5196
720d569441c09b374ed389c153e859e2969190ee
describe
'9716' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYE' 'sip-files00141thm.jpg'
34cc666dae4ea082f8a0a15670587b06
e9d8782b835e58864ce85d4e4cf2a33a174053fb
describe
'739949' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYF' 'sip-files00142.jp2'
1dcac2603b6562e94bc31c445710fc19
66832e20ae97cd17ab89dde7cf8dbe4fe60a1bbb
describe
'174139' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYG' 'sip-files00142.jpg'
431e32fcf7c16777cd1c2621820c541c
8b070c8a229affd413d77fbba7d1434a34444b98
'2011-11-14T15:49:19-05:00'
describe
'82481' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYH' 'sip-files00142.pro'
908f1773dda8990573461ec0519fef88
4f82ee3c78a1bb039cd354cb87b2df9e8fc09ec6
describe
'46183' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYI' 'sip-files00142.QC.jpg'
80e971d409515ea10c045fe760b5903b
7f08c747524ed6daebffaa6a585db0fa0af7b330
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYJ' 'sip-files00142.tif'
a500716b4f964a4f3a7e145d1d9fa9a8
cdab78b261aee862ab23a899dcae7983b00c4fdb
describe
'3196' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYK' 'sip-files00142.txt'
e7b47df8453bb77f321d72591d18103a
75960d94a2ff3434f87335dc8f4cd0f7c87cbc5a
describe
'10017' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYL' 'sip-files00142thm.jpg'
ebbeae345fa7fbec49828eee6f38c54d
c1319d731877dfc22fd481fd67b075ce66664509
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYM' 'sip-files00143.jp2'
67bed27ecf59f1776bac13c17c29953f
705b8aa8ef527ca9055349a1d3cd312fba20d220
describe
'167987' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYN' 'sip-files00143.jpg'
446da76a640e73fa4a19760c9ab59a58
76f0635c909e26f6118eb541c787a5c5b9c8e594
describe
'63682' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYO' 'sip-files00143.pro'
d2e1f2593705c1d49c4dff61f5a6b014
7b04fdfa266a7aecbdfcc9cd12bf65d60f227ccb
'2011-11-14T15:53:17-05:00'
describe
'43848' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYP' 'sip-files00143.QC.jpg'
368746be26aa39c265e913ca4334e3ef
334db5fd8f63d6d9deea20732e699ef11d74be26
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYQ' 'sip-files00143.tif'
c3d084f628e3de368d47df71cc3424c1
3bfc1c314809013eff6041ad33f01040f24dd057
describe
'2516' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYR' 'sip-files00143.txt'
020b34a64b2ce57b64162b6306be78cb
fe39829bbdfd338ca264bd596f4b457d2211c7a3
describe
'9976' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYS' 'sip-files00143thm.jpg'
d6545e28de0fe675b00f15fa73a3c499
6bcab897f6e0928c2be44b92655aabb92f7f485b
describe
'739816' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYT' 'sip-files00144.jp2'
b6fdf9aeac85782173bd7729ceaacd5b
99e44ddff425170cf6ad9e2f92d870a4816098c9
describe
'176355' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYU' 'sip-files00144.jpg'
cc5f35f4b29cf19373f49a51baf7fd02
ddd3dfaa2809632daf35e72e54a1e9798aea177d
describe
'42448' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYV' 'sip-files00144.pro'
680b72bcb4ed6ff86cff6ca3e9b3e6eb
0abfb96400e9e377f36da0e03364c541c0cc7a52
describe
'43441' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYW' 'sip-files00144.QC.jpg'
ca689602cdb1150f76b8ffa2340fadd9
02e3142c79e6324ee805bf26213644f3c06b9bda
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYX' 'sip-files00144.tif'
5e35510367b681d35727de003faf64c3
b56925db36a9aa0497459a08450251a4033cadb9
describe
'1684' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYY' 'sip-files00144.txt'
9ac18d64333a030311d6e879ffc7e6d0
9a796fb2126d2e51a0a71097c473f15b8e9ece07
describe
'9729' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXYZ' 'sip-files00144thm.jpg'
632a2f5ebd7a526be08a30216107827d
4fdbc6ba9e6fec9d05f972861a9acc45769dc225
describe
'732472' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZA' 'sip-files00145.jp2'
fb17dfcdd51f867fc1684a146a992ff0
aa4207fc6437c928087d74a2655a8c8df3db88b8
describe
'172025' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZB' 'sip-files00145.jpg'
b72964dcf88847425f2b192402aa9438
4d6f96064ce724f08461fa8678f1a7e762b931ea
describe
'74219' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZC' 'sip-files00145.pro'
70276e19f614d6639225146464d7074b
eaf216373ed6e83b62669610a27645c64ec974a8
describe
'45759' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZD' 'sip-files00145.QC.jpg'
42819c38c1dcd0486dcc76fe4dc49b0e
b5443c5016898c5d13193c0fe3d092a395d18ac0
describe
'5876016' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZE' 'sip-files00145.tif'
3723011cfbed2941d1de3fe2fc4fec35
1745b2265499f114a9e62b6048d59624329e7d61
describe
'2970' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZF' 'sip-files00145.txt'
d3fe597252334c0bdc9f7a3d021a7116
efa8e15f79b43b24a1b728748f116bacdcc5a38c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZG' 'sip-files00145thm.jpg'
35aaa4c889088afc603e82832d9105bf
9da08d8d7e72c1fb1edfbd7bd1ae5a5f3fc2ecda
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZH' 'sip-files00146.jp2'
081d3e8efbbe2585f077307629233a46
350033a4b77af9d1ac65c1c059a0c238d56df5d7
describe
'185189' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZI' 'sip-files00146.jpg'
edced448b546e01dbdc80d78af4fb8e1
16c8401f15092d9e3f296958f2b84022bf08812d
describe
'66754' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZJ' 'sip-files00146.pro'
c314149cda91d17cd33860ed6d9d759f
35fe7a00e0bea9c3b1540e28ac73d9dae99a4504
describe
'46708' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZK' 'sip-files00146.QC.jpg'
ed246097b3ef08e53eb5f924c2f67ec6
04f474ca83b0cf782ec44c6b7a54704bd6ce43a6
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZL' 'sip-files00146.tif'
f59a450e788a009d5747d57984c46e8d
38b34d004a3fcfa39c582711e0230cfdda3d8ce8
describe
'3291' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZM' 'sip-files00146.txt'
363703ce77d6f6a8a9d3a8df78de619d
5fef12370350a65e1888fc524cdbe99f1d00a580
describe
'10174' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZN' 'sip-files00146thm.jpg'
3ea7bbebcdf961bda1ba3055005ec223
d025118c570173130a9ca4dbbae229141628e8f7
describe
'740202' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZO' 'sip-files00147.jp2'
180324295e74eda79a94a10b540440e0
17d8ea124c076d4b2e12e8bf5981b3bcf7f4499a
describe
'167941' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZP' 'sip-files00147.jpg'
2470945a833050550a2d9371e6c17936
c2eac999a5d3ca444818788dc1fa459c1c055318
describe
'71025' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZQ' 'sip-files00147.pro'
116de82a1d0d9f9a744c54473331f2a3
abf1a92e1b02a86cd49370a18be0c588442a9d67
describe
'44005' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZR' 'sip-files00147.QC.jpg'
0294eadbd002c3aecda908f63eb10a4b
48aedd311ea642af30cde68f2ffbf8ef54036211
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZS' 'sip-files00147.tif'
60a52205978a2772eefbb35c2330922f
3c6b0ee25466658982f1dcfc93e3a1bd87128994
describe
'2870' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZT' 'sip-files00147.txt'
ece58ca0df2063edfca45c6c26236747
453a6954e5caac73c1b6244b4108d870919c2a82
describe
'9785' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZU' 'sip-files00147thm.jpg'
95bb89db7ed0d3b2a19131d691bf73a1
b9e75bed9439a25325de71659a8e46b6a0fc181a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZV' 'sip-files00148.jp2'
f074c34b0bfcf5bbd1435b4a64c8fea3
790207fc9727ebbb5287c2e85a5250a2d82fdf67
describe
'159104' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZW' 'sip-files00148.jpg'
19261d80e544647173dba919086641d0
10249a062e58d7f369a97f3550d45ead9bdf82a5
describe
'56674' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZX' 'sip-files00148.pro'
2609d3d2491fb86edba1c33ad00503e6
592f7e810e02e06ffd54022abc3c7c802e9ed5f6
describe
'41709' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZY' 'sip-files00148.QC.jpg'
67a8601fc1d78ee8fe53d3afe6220dea
1fe69c45265c636cbe9b1dc58b056396f2d96f6a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAXZZ' 'sip-files00148.tif'
3cff0d4220d618c90564b491477fd244
8a9f4ca219605908319b37adc22d3885f2baeaef
describe
'2336' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAA' 'sip-files00148.txt'
7ee0a12492208bdf438b2c31547181f0
f8725a75e20cd229aae5a96455ecdc73a1477dbe
describe
'9356' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAB' 'sip-files00148thm.jpg'
00ee53a6730706f5f563910c46e34f67
3b0494d8c07e49188c0ed2bf69b130fea6988d7b
describe
'740178' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAC' 'sip-files00149.jp2'
44abbd86e87889202d510039465939e4
f0f1efadb54fea79e59bf1eb204b536da1bafe4c
'2011-11-14T15:53:47-05:00'
describe
'116857' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAD' 'sip-files00149.jpg'
597d714a1318c6b03cee10faae9ce5dc
65f45297f4e543a72e13d657756b25b6ffac519c
describe
'34405' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAE' 'sip-files00149.pro'
5c14c71abc342ed1671ea629f874c43a
009d57e4d84751f91ce2f3a435f2f9d5238b4ada
describe
'30679' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAF' 'sip-files00149.QC.jpg'
cc5439b77370e46b9b0e701c44cdb33c
9b6d576379944c418b349f0094514dfbd468ec62
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAG' 'sip-files00149.tif'
136313324235447d703d03e9396795e9
8280f8b24ea0263ef42c1678af5d20990eaeae59
describe
'1627' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAH' 'sip-files00149.txt'
3aedb312ec66b1bea06b0314c7f401a0
d1ff6906a0e6698fdf550a2af972e8888249c2da
describe
'7857' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAI' 'sip-files00149thm.jpg'
81586a366027526f16102d52b8009319
7f876b4ffed3db0443876d2dabcafd2149e3cd3f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAJ' 'sip-files00150.jp2'
5023fdf8d86b2ab09286252988d9b592
063977d3259be36563f238e7775191a144db87e5
describe
'168031' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAK' 'sip-files00150.jpg'
413db54b33169c52767a33d306bc2c7f
d81dcb4e62e6fa476d2995360ffa0bc48eab395a
describe
'6445' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAL' 'sip-files00150.pro'
184a8f8d1d1b7c4222337a0064e344db
f51867b711b97f0859914e00ac0a81eef64d305d
describe
'37463' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAM' 'sip-files00150.QC.jpg'
554b365dfc818f042f20a550ea0c373a
c7d0967b1530ff2f760cd3eb3b6c2199ad2cbd3b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAN' 'sip-files00150.tif'
dce2955ffc670b78a2dea95404abda12
a1adb8f2dc437b03c6fb3420780feadd9908fb7d
describe
'287' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAO' 'sip-files00150.txt'
be7f558e3f8b15305c86a5f45179a067
161e2172fd862276aca417b532aabbd79d1bfcf3
describe
'8493' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAP' 'sip-files00150thm.jpg'
ee09f23504dd3ae3498c5ea6ef900431
66a4dd4d357318f32682e3aaa30f1e76b9e1b35f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAQ' 'sip-files00151.jp2'
e36186188bf233e277ac9db39912a16d
3d29ba23ed6e1b81e2af10abd7706ff270bb2be2
describe
'117210' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAR' 'sip-files00151.jpg'
fdad72d00274d059916c640ebae6e037
870fbf21a045078164970e265c110ef310c92e3b
describe
'17091' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAS' 'sip-files00151.pro'
dbde7f237a271c05cb843f5360c342b0
2e166e6431111edd0d193080696284fc2d29cc0c
describe
'28429' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAT' 'sip-files00151.QC.jpg'
e2231ad78d3938fce64ea3d5e7e94f28
0782da933c48f203d3d02089ed3ecf422a1b59d2
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAU' 'sip-files00151.tif'
bdd24faabcc1051058aa6e3da14c39b7
a08a048b83ef8ef52e422d87f6e1884df897b3ba
describe
'822' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAV' 'sip-files00151.txt'
3515c6aac0c604740eb29474abf12ea1
34356433063ea82f2c23d99cd998859b21bcd1a8
describe
'7025' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAW' 'sip-files00151thm.jpg'
7e8cc56911e47e325ec77a109f75cbbf
abe95201852e099cef8dc7478bee8632878fc9db
describe
'740190' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAX' 'sip-files00152.jp2'
75ebad3bcc5d07b406c652d9a365d1f5
b2c2333a4bcc07c2a78d7a35f5747461c9336392
describe
'144978' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAY' 'sip-files00152.jpg'
56c8366f64b0b15f861a73d14182ddf3
74ed9297de84721c026dad228ce0ac500e830978
describe
'54665' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYAZ' 'sip-files00152.pro'
2a530d814d2c24eae45d1f03029e32e3
76469e5543305211a9fb7adde040ec0c0ad809e6
describe
'38374' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBA' 'sip-files00152.QC.jpg'
02483130536c986d2e5dd760c7df4174
bc826ac609b8bad1579376fb47e7805fda4e814f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBB' 'sip-files00152.tif'
559aa704c79f6dd22e43632b512758b4
9493a44e2b7f4b243fd8f6c9c42696c3d85238aa
describe
'2526' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBC' 'sip-files00152.txt'
bcb4d1fa8df5f3a55205289b4ad2d674
8caaadd6e7a1c5b9ef353e78f7f2884771d9024c
describe
'9149' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBD' 'sip-files00152thm.jpg'
6a5930f2565aad14ac2e8696b8950bdc
de5993a010acd877bb99c3c850f8d2aaf9a6da86
describe
'739905' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBE' 'sip-files00153.jp2'
47a980cb21efb604eea5d13b4fe2c035
b1c60ec183b50b92a87782cb3c808e4f7f781ecc
describe
'147946' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBF' 'sip-files00153.jpg'
040133f87f320287c933e0bc110ab431
d406a3ff13d1da3f3d0b92831fc0a00a4ac685be
describe
'65560' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBG' 'sip-files00153.pro'
db58b1fb5b88393b6a32495a8833cef5
96f3e39191fbc5c32d1a1b86b0bc7ce9eb6221c8
describe
'40729' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBH' 'sip-files00153.QC.jpg'
66f3ffd0cc55b04cffdc7bdd422898e0
cf29226a8de354918e753120624132cb88d01cc1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBI' 'sip-files00153.tif'
fb0f619c72e5d0ac87bfe4662feb343a
5e42440ee4114fe72b7562331745dd0cdec6ba47
describe
'2769' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBJ' 'sip-files00153.txt'
f093d9aca3d410c2f8c8bbee4a1718a2
bd6514dd5f23eef08567795327ee03fa84960e7c
describe
'9363' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBK' 'sip-files00153thm.jpg'
89c166d802b273c7a311c60a7d084a89
ac00482a13ac43e03c36ccd11f1fa8ef492d467c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBL' 'sip-files00154.jp2'
e995bf859a145ccb3567ea975e198653
63fd2c3a298f347bcb49275eddc7839152f1a076
describe
'156630' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBM' 'sip-files00154.jpg'
20f02a25e675454ba4bf59a881f67184
84a06593077557923746ddf4c8711d462bc533c5
describe
'67403' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBN' 'sip-files00154.pro'
bcc72e3ec5f77c4bc65d3ce65030ac2d
ac6a945c455179a81ffd8b76aa9a6ec33028ee95
describe
'42000' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBO' 'sip-files00154.QC.jpg'
b9a1759d6cc756009150849190f1eb50
14f89907d7c521fff546cd5dd75e1e80b7fed7bd
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBP' 'sip-files00154.tif'
b5cbc8fdf33b9b9dc375d511e1296167
be23353045e7d72e02c15749bfec3131e7667a01
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBQ' 'sip-files00154.txt'
3b8a6f3d4e925965cb358a8befc43f92
90a4c06b4a42e14c18fd370af8695824a9e713e1
describe
'9774' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBR' 'sip-files00154thm.jpg'
5e2fbcb277479cb1fa027d41d392fdcb
dc7a2804aafb8d8277813a9de9a002056817f4c7
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBS' 'sip-files00155.jp2'
fb5b2c55dde2d6e3c9e364431e911522
dffa8e5275b269ee558ecd1f8536d84908cedd96
describe
'143651' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBT' 'sip-files00155.jpg'
538a0a38730aaa0dc7ec73adb528f7ed
83920ccdd5498504bcd51632c0f47e50a2584e44
describe
'63912' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBU' 'sip-files00155.pro'
eebb4d3723fa2b319997345aca65e5d7
11fd7d47310c2718ee449a999e22d9d65f7f1b28
describe
'39429' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBV' 'sip-files00155.QC.jpg'
847cf98bff84fd3e1d1a2528c6b425e8
67b3aa5fc002b7355b124c839f2368ff699c0bb3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBW' 'sip-files00155.tif'
7a509e981533245390c9571befd3a323
97f96abddef4b81847204773709a0fd56c19fd0d
describe
'2925' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBX' 'sip-files00155.txt'
f1b92106f3f005372a6e6e27a859936f
8b1eebfbdbf42aa204e918b970848f484a5a2950
describe
'9570' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBY' 'sip-files00155thm.jpg'
4ed72eba3c396f0a300aa14660b24793
d69aa7a7268957ca0e161e4ec68d927f9a02701c
describe
'740187' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYBZ' 'sip-files00156.jp2'
d4f3b42f05541650f909cbe39edeb192
699e770b8e1ff3efa9a0a8a387d602f36989c44f
describe
'126544' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCA' 'sip-files00156.jpg'
b4b2f8b58ce8eba06aa5ae05a894dece
2cc2f048a2a6bfeb7c203cbccd282bca86d96842
describe
'36506' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCB' 'sip-files00156.pro'
c82c61a37f4912142d5dd362366c934a
d5a1d582de4a2c061931cc587efc1d5abf62c4b2
describe
'35043' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCC' 'sip-files00156.QC.jpg'
da7686fe2e28959929e21437928de3a0
dd77a94e74b5a3253530fcb804eaef1a2a82c3b0
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCD' 'sip-files00156.tif'
8a5a606310e0e997b9a4322549eae9fc
8462075e8eabe5957d47a18cc845edbfc460afd7
describe
'1508' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCE' 'sip-files00156.txt'
c38102d908f4bf2da46805fe535ec94f
b6088e04a907dcef9a22041e14307d98aa546805
describe
'8692' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCF' 'sip-files00156thm.jpg'
2d71a7eb49797d47b09cc52fb4016cda
99afcbc8afeda79a661a6b9f8d83333487dedf98
describe
'739578' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCG' 'sip-files00157.jp2'
4c0cac596ac44a2e85a60af7042b9682
9a8db411becdc9c6e6abc1280e0ca3dd1a1a79ae
describe
'127688' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCH' 'sip-files00157.jpg'
ce23a685af289bb9d4d5cf547ff66e9e
2a04e09cd29dcbf47ae22b65381dabba9a88e1d7
describe
'46465' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCI' 'sip-files00157.pro'
72793152b26f68dc94c5aa4ba3c9eec4
df6cfd5aa00c7c7572857abeeb49dd90967877ee
describe
'35076' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCJ' 'sip-files00157.QC.jpg'
a15875054fcb24825a7127557baff4e7
5e6a54349d0b6e19bc83e8c000abc80a1741cd88
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCK' 'sip-files00157.tif'
581604af65aaca6dbf8e8bebba3d3f6b
fd389ab8c7f607cbe758487b051ad21be3c70eb6
describe
'2683' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCL' 'sip-files00157.txt'
3d46615d2d49764b9938c67314b6ab3d
65d8c09604afbac949568854b40ce075037494a0
describe
'8816' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCM' 'sip-files00157thm.jpg'
5ddd69852647ddd2477bf6726f07b25e
b0e31255ef0986064cce1bac028e6a47f24d3105
describe
'740209' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCN' 'sip-files00158.jp2'
aee6a46cbc03011d131b37727cc344e4
c22c39ce90d1a72af4456c27721b7b7e85a8da1a
describe
'147412' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCO' 'sip-files00158.jpg'
c6ca02787a2a75ab5a1af2443099ad9c
4b5ad7c100fa23c0e5b5c8c22a1081da7707dc89
describe
'56524' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCP' 'sip-files00158.pro'
bca9adb45a21af9035096a5c1dc06315
6dd081c999f14096fa231c8d369080def8e1fb84
describe
'39191' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCQ' 'sip-files00158.QC.jpg'
1991c0e694eaec195ed1654de15d47a4
6d529f8edce9d826e945bc540fd2727e2fa0543c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCR' 'sip-files00158.tif'
1274a4a5a07fb69d483b26bdcac1a6c6
fe73debcc658580553e42c1a9e48fc1e2f1c8c91
describe
'2245' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCS' 'sip-files00158.txt'
383d3c02cc2aeb8fd0dbb27bc0339150
15d061fd3f0f46d3c1deffacb2226754a3a5ccdf
describe
'9074' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCT' 'sip-files00158thm.jpg'
42a87b13ec1b4d6cef46710ac7f5cb00
1096778a428de8487811f65813912d3e523ac943
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCU' 'sip-files00159.jp2'
a04813f4fe82186ba48d5fe867c22c5e
d7923cd56adf5a47ac43f0f042bdf90994bd7a8b
describe
'152389' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCV' 'sip-files00159.jpg'
c42118426c6471a392ce7ea685b03be1
6892e6b9756186ad7a9f6599c7b58a4cd4ed0212
describe
'23955' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCW' 'sip-files00159.pro'
8f991507e8544eed6b62ddd1b5681033
2c758c9d193baf8bde34052bb198ece42ef1ead3
describe
'37578' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCX' 'sip-files00159.QC.jpg'
2fa137293346f60c591ed87a73b0d088
8f4c554a1e55ffec401c26ad8295d0963ad938e9
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCY' 'sip-files00159.tif'
337a5655ce0151936a5c438506a00cab
11b57ffea4580fe8d78f8e5181bec7a3b291cb69
describe
'1044' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYCZ' 'sip-files00159.txt'
caaae695525e9b4be050406125659270
5473cb4bcec046bc43110f356482ed319be55a46
describe
'8869' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDA' 'sip-files00159thm.jpg'
75b5d42431d6af3ef41f6f09b02874d4
d665e5474b5fae20d92d9316e64b606fc156889b
describe
'739831' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDB' 'sip-files00160.jp2'
b8de0a6b227cd80d170ca532e79710b1
53f6dac0e6f3e079d894a79edffdc0d9942d4e5e
describe
'113989' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDC' 'sip-files00160.jpg'
c8b7640b58e3a870d737ceacce355e16
9b5a366f8695d8c0f6ce5fbdc4cbb33a9a06d410
describe
'24923' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDD' 'sip-files00160.pro'
a0bc526c4151c48a3e849e3175e9e80e
e52609c5199cc21b42231e53bf39af85ca6bd90d
describe
'28463' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDE' 'sip-files00160.QC.jpg'
f4eaf9a6999790e8eb22cb662d11d25a
1bc802b9722e91d0172f468db6c6b529d15ce379
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDF' 'sip-files00160.tif'
d9db4fd968087c34780bd07cc31c0ec6
a7bf22a67677bf546e87124c48516b12996ac1a5
describe
'1056' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDG' 'sip-files00160.txt'
fd3abf6f6aae981b8650c2e660f5e1c6
6e8cbbaacf6374ee99a5bfd60bcf66b7c6662506
describe
'6931' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDH' 'sip-files00160thm.jpg'
28211df650fe9acd5fb81158d0ee248a
1e646b2d5a637242b52ff2e42969d5fb0331f15b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDI' 'sip-files00161.jp2'
d72eac33df2b49fa67824b5391b0a63e
e54e0d8bfc20f5b3eb58ff200f34c79f15373d67
describe
'90885' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDJ' 'sip-files00161.jpg'
2ed57676b0632d396b053b61ca7ddd48
118f9d46f41592eb2106dce83aa10737986c1b6a
describe
'30903' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDK' 'sip-files00161.pro'
75e011988bdc0e8b110dceb209fe150a
d32c008c506184ae83e15a546ae6cd50e3861d5e
describe
'24045' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDL' 'sip-files00161.QC.jpg'
75989c3281e5f6d72280d5e91c2b5115
77ddce24c2a13797c2231b4ede6bbdc9046adf52
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDM' 'sip-files00161.tif'
5070b4ec67eff087d8cbd54696d2e42a
9932f800930a072ac26e7c538f46496dae6342e8
'2011-11-14T15:51:32-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDN' 'sip-files00161.txt'
7cafea58a688537c2fa61f8f6330fa49
d446521f53f47c4afc2b44f3cef397dadfe72592
describe
'6094' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDO' 'sip-files00161thm.jpg'
d0379356b033ca5100ce75a6209ff197
8397ff22e53a0eebcf97c4b6bb21a1b10a715657
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDP' 'sip-files00162.jp2'
3d57f28c5d82f9023663349a6f6d6bbb
9a78505e00529633e08b4a73ff37e3d21800e6e8
describe
'144038' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDQ' 'sip-files00162.jpg'
2386dabb02237e7cc5238086e6f246b9
f86cbb68f5130e908a388653b0043cbb874c968e
describe
'59546' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDR' 'sip-files00162.pro'
16a5d3b74365407b6402439eb258c234
54461dd8a29d8a2f5a011a1b91ab3d07d47192a3
describe
'38004' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDS' 'sip-files00162.QC.jpg'
83742cf0b679ca9b2bc5124060996ba5
5facb0d943abe54fa2d64edf582b1edfe0c0ab81
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDT' 'sip-files00162.tif'
439ace76ae37643a733135b1a4f85346
a4994476139ef77f6634d418aedf6e10b40982b6
describe
'2681' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDU' 'sip-files00162.txt'
93db6ac8cd010fc41c834c3b27fa5112
8814c7a046c85da96f532cd6f407bcf536b98233
describe
'8850' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDV' 'sip-files00162thm.jpg'
7053d02157a923be9bacc906df6b7edf
b5d1e2d4603595d6b6a14072a436d6c90c8a30b2
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDW' 'sip-files00163.jp2'
e129073009a9132f6041d401423ba76f
dea44334851500c1636ccc26f2a32dbc01894ad7
describe
'177341' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDX' 'sip-files00163.jpg'
470b3a30c2746ce237d78d038bdddfa6
2a2de5d6a6e2d5f975325cb430ce01008edd64e0
describe
'68571' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDY' 'sip-files00163.pro'
45da3c3a94af40e3751b4a0a3db24f47
f7387873c5a6cac4e1b70561f1cc2ba58a72d56f
describe
'46195' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYDZ' 'sip-files00163.QC.jpg'
7c4c1bb26eecde64215730069fc3037d
bc0f093851bcac6acacd9504189a95e35f3ef455
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEA' 'sip-files00163.tif'
59d9fb58bd484cda0bb3350607bdd31c
876ddb0d9394b98348cb4f91ee44c54a9d2d24ee
describe
'2728' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEB' 'sip-files00163.txt'
95e4a2521c09678052ad1364386179a0
836de8a0718dee4ba65eccd64df56b49f7ebcb09
describe
'10137' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEC' 'sip-files00163thm.jpg'
0c264e4512718c0b23517e7bd6e8b83e
238df37f9389e6039e50848e1d887455ede4b8d0
describe
'740185' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYED' 'sip-files00164.jp2'
c979f4f9f2641558aeaee7696624ba6a
fb5865751810acda21949bee1e8ce3c0a276d353
describe
'174558' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEE' 'sip-files00164.jpg'
6a388f9d091fa67cc7bb5914d9f030cd
a15f7d7f69727a68276bf20f8786dd0c37403faa
describe
'60976' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEF' 'sip-files00164.pro'
73df55cc3404ab4f695a519ed22f99d5
91bdd68c0e3a91e83c08d081e0a3ffde6006751c
describe
'45067' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEG' 'sip-files00164.QC.jpg'
aee6277c2bf79279d9cf09341b8c683b
5c023dc3656c9c23f394bb5a77d0295ea07a8f39
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEH' 'sip-files00164.tif'
2f6085c4e52fd82ab66708c5b3e8baf9
30655a7423ceccd26b43a94de616e806f1738b05
describe
'3120' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEI' 'sip-files00164.txt'
e7a3b8f311e2805c8663c7c21ac1d0f7
9b5b2447c313000e648490f84ed7b4d535a4573d
describe
'9969' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEJ' 'sip-files00164thm.jpg'
f1e7624660d9dbae071faab4f4147396
f078cba4e099f4dad511490b1159435b2df1b598
describe
'739544' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEK' 'sip-files00165.jp2'
f0b7d2e475dcac0c12b696baf5d54316
20ffc9157880cf0036dd8ea9b3c57db738bb9e9b
describe
'167534' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEL' 'sip-files00165.jpg'
1845553e982c5b571d7c1cf338d62a4c
f97c6e9351567a4edcd47c9e3cf0f7a46301aa08
describe
'61646' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEM' 'sip-files00165.pro'
3f5c2712eb1531ad8ecd8b79e51d15d4
77df577e493d79e0aee080a6b112969fbc9119a2
describe
'43433' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEN' 'sip-files00165.QC.jpg'
acfc8df189f6990a7cb2113eb75cd14f
08990057e74544e0c4a321952389666ca008b5de
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEO' 'sip-files00165.tif'
81a19c1c7f1b4c6364d1015a0c9bdbf0
84a3a42b5180644c2d47f79a094db15bc9776df8
describe
'2418' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEP' 'sip-files00165.txt'
46d114b83f8a0c1dabc3c7654d1efbe8
c5a7284c748b8d84ff8c57d62c3a6b49bd9e43f5
describe
'9691' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEQ' 'sip-files00165thm.jpg'
297873691d78625b56cc7e461da40f96
197e4aebe13bea001c4e86f7cb923e1421edd204
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYER' 'sip-files00166.jp2'
6fbba0336de3d26c9cdd82780f1261ba
8f20a62a12579e5ace803bec832d5122f23d9610
describe
'172910' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYES' 'sip-files00166.jpg'
2c01aa804b57573fe3a663f41ab71e16
16a92ac30fed0baa1d5fc9c9aa46ae45a7d3fbd8
describe
'82525' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYET' 'sip-files00166.pro'
b8a2746c7d8acd273b4553b111a16564
b3f0466aea58e9cd23a1634fdbac494b2cf73232
describe
'47532' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEU' 'sip-files00166.QC.jpg'
be4bddc6ccf4317c6d35bbf654e864fd
76ec000b679a8ea9edd4ae8a5555f64c4832d918
'2011-11-14T15:54:07-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEV' 'sip-files00166.tif'
e8213038a45cedb8ae5e241076baa333
d270cedbec4cb358458d0a658bd9cfa6d304a8fb
describe
'3193' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEW' 'sip-files00166.txt'
f8000e76d7e4ed9e6540ab82f7804265
4edd41cd0a1d35b4a0c293f7bb75e8333f72583e
describe
'10256' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEX' 'sip-files00166thm.jpg'
2e214fdb40ae2c5ac121061e311dbfb6
b62494e0ceab5a6566ade2e71010096c435d646a
describe
'739569' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEY' 'sip-files00167.jp2'
9fde007de575b98b05a9d62a5b1a57d0
7bfe7b8a9fb8446822f5d0a89af3a9960f04ebb9
describe
'153241' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYEZ' 'sip-files00167.jpg'
e6a411462b5115cc8c08d9156ff5941e
0710be6c2fb5bedbbf392051de5c8e4002f86e2a
describe
'55179' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFA' 'sip-files00167.pro'
efcf28ec10b132e90ce6c7a162e011f7
52c5f244da84d24204b8e64879ef4d4b6131a316
describe
'40041' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFB' 'sip-files00167.QC.jpg'
43c0353c607ebf342499e96f57e394fa
df7fd3d546c9ebcf45fc417dc17d6c01de774abb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFC' 'sip-files00167.tif'
8a22d63e871e6bdf173d76c756a436e5
d6023eadcc9b678033e736fdf2f87c89aca29a97
describe
'2220' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFD' 'sip-files00167.txt'
6c74388cedb5745169f4e93750c9ff0e
7d27de03387c727e9bb7f926abdf1faf26b5903c
describe
'9414' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFE' 'sip-files00167thm.jpg'
c1997761484fd6ce18cc9a9911035b58
27dfffbc848d3ab3c668f63676745beadbc9b643
describe
'739736' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFF' 'sip-files00168.jp2'
92461a234e5d98627329a639294701ad
1f12d33f2da3c31b7dc4697c65c6dbdbe783b60a
describe
'181539' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFG' 'sip-files00168.jpg'
05c860645b2ac318d9e7667132d0b7c8
577899778da6a7531c0ca4a4c6297cb41ee12023
describe
'65761' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFH' 'sip-files00168.pro'
11d09fe0928441c5bf964204cec522d7
a16c48f4eed3097d75d66394320c9a6b10fd9dff
describe
'46724' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFI' 'sip-files00168.QC.jpg'
3bdf9437ca306ff83654e636fe2c7338
76aa41a58ec37beb007dc87eb20557e94f228ad8
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFJ' 'sip-files00168.tif'
3e5985f86e901c712f252f64a45d3101
321bb9e7fba0a308eddc1b297125ab21fe6f9fe0
describe
'3308' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFK' 'sip-files00168.txt'
2d1539dd95262b80e23d2b6b75882dc0
20e72f48eab8df5c0f1c4d3b09bb0c2aeebf2382
describe
'10313' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFL' 'sip-files00168thm.jpg'
413f3052dc4db9b5fb765e7fea6b5c05
f12caa23eae38fe843e7aaad9cc6ccbae4291f15
describe
'739269' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFM' 'sip-files00169.jp2'
7aa3d4401424a6d9f632b7587d3f8cea
76c6a733146d4471743eb8a17810614c11df5370
describe
'174275' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFN' 'sip-files00169.jpg'
8f628c61d0609f5595c864a51d73429e
c98dd42e921d5527c6caa607e863d46b0461f3ef
'2011-11-14T15:52:06-05:00'
describe
'67491' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFO' 'sip-files00169.pro'
ba367a47a3024fdf2839e03440bbdd99
d1257ce9aa9f6fbe526f88fb9f6d5a6df83a7876
describe
'45311' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFP' 'sip-files00169.QC.jpg'
229a9e926cb35ddebcbbb2db74fb4f92
4bf5e6924c65989f8f76a36b1d204aef175905cb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFQ' 'sip-files00169.tif'
4fe080feea96d3dd1b29fcd820ff9935
a685c2d0f286385f879a07724b9c2f93883107f5
'2011-11-14T15:54:22-05:00'
describe
'2752' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFR' 'sip-files00169.txt'
aca5b6bcc8b0db977af840ae1c1b3cb9
6f015aab78c17ef2876afa455e0d0aea6b0aba4e
describe
'10113' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFS' 'sip-files00169thm.jpg'
8b7f97e0e90fc1cec95193e028d12847
e3d8faf718ae01b937b7f4e0eb7618c639d939b3
describe
'740203' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFT' 'sip-files00170.jp2'
ff5ee4ccecb36f940548807455d1247f
0cdefdc99245919e1547c1025b3c63a45d6c4413
describe
'122134' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFU' 'sip-files00170.jpg'
4ff660f1b0645d67c7362640110736c0
7ce35abd6ffb63717700585c5a3944538f49353f
describe
'51608' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFV' 'sip-files00170.pro'
803a9aefc8fd9ebbbd77957caa12a55a
ea8ff07e13729efea0c2d7d9c31c62843c4dc451
describe
'32531' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFW' 'sip-files00170.QC.jpg'
364666cb9affadf15c84a86c81df3f12
1907d1b50daec6d1941b6b167ab5f0f6b6cb7645
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFX' 'sip-files00170.tif'
ef3782eb3e8d1f0fbdb946b16338917b
4f22dbb23a446ed077976dfcfecaab521fbbc5ac
describe
'2417' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFY' 'sip-files00170.txt'
f588644146ee0398a9962f0553d31c9e
d73af4d05f962f4bc8650d3358121a78c57a2557
describe
'7528' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYFZ' 'sip-files00170thm.jpg'
19f15f071658bd3467d5b5389c3cb669
42d69966731fb2a2cb632bfe4b2eeb8b5326af20
describe
'739343' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGA' 'sip-files00171.jp2'
06d28d9ce50bb01eae1f88f1da9387b7
085a67c77f062eeebbedb5e32bd9e591a7183ada
describe
'192414' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGB' 'sip-files00171.jpg'
b2fd5c00ba5699c9d473270af8bff748
39329259a2bafe8646311e8191dfa8d81b0c535b
describe
'2452' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGC' 'sip-files00171.pro'
8fee397c4812d8f4b6afcd5a1b754660
d1af4d39e88858e407c8e1813174fa13d3fab2c8
describe
'43270' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGD' 'sip-files00171.QC.jpg'
c0aef1e3bba4af87f559f34e0625ecf7
5d233c4e715b3addffa1f1aeb84021c12b090f9a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGE' 'sip-files00171.tif'
938d5e41cc16037cbb987563eb0b478a
4baef9532dead572f089121b58fdd8695ef68460
describe
'108' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGF' 'sip-files00171.txt'
a2f0f5e1558b7f1b94c36b8394a18c8e
29d78a9bbd16797a9d99ead89594ad2be211885b
describe
Invalid character
'9862' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGG' 'sip-files00171thm.jpg'
dd5919962c7e1d43589af5ede3b879c4
b8612e67dc81337658c154939894e0168fa1a3cc
describe
'740150' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGH' 'sip-files00172.jp2'
d9ffa3d6cbb0d5021827c2d744ae2ddb
e049a9b880ffefea461f5e58cc9786255656a883
describe
'128340' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGI' 'sip-files00172.jpg'
2d5043a634afe91f9f6349387024560e
348efc2c80309b78d91ead91b9db0025b8c7fd08
describe
'26812' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGJ' 'sip-files00172.pro'
27c3e656a4f7441d3aef103f08e5ce94
295f56535293056090a232e06424679474e36bf4
describe
'32356' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGK' 'sip-files00172.QC.jpg'
9e32fd2cc06114f1ddfb6154f68dcbc2
0ccab62628671e570dd7adc3837fd12c8ba5066c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGL' 'sip-files00172.tif'
4106009fb7568e42ee8d4bb524781996
9e11151048dfa136d841783b3983297231c733c8
describe
'1254' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGM' 'sip-files00172.txt'
eb341b2cc667e0f3101e4d107d0ce40c
6d8e47b4c7ffdf547e9c78ab3573f6a88da25a57
describe
'8169' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGN' 'sip-files00172thm.jpg'
ff5158a5c275574b17314082e62dd554
afe4d2e769bffcd2cbbeee354fbace7da2cc0673
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGO' 'sip-files00173.jp2'
901546885b0d7b4bfc6ee6508ca9a79e
4c21f5d89c3e47fab64b323708bf053fd55c448c
describe
'136771' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGP' 'sip-files00173.jpg'
35c9275ba867d2276844f30a66d0077f
475858f7a5ec7aed96cda08d26fbba0055d31b5d
describe
'61445' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGQ' 'sip-files00173.pro'
7eaf74f7d93a1e95155dd5b3ae056176
8abab570791c26024a7d091dfec738c82d3fcbeb
describe
'36485' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGR' 'sip-files00173.QC.jpg'
08b0c176fa8340bdf55b3e4a098b04e2
f9f60c05821e1f4b578f501b8da7e5b48ec0d92f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGS' 'sip-files00173.tif'
e2437100b982ac42c73a051c906ee271
34b53c2b807e6a4a3c0a6b35e0b3cf450a842cdb
describe
'2507' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGT' 'sip-files00173.txt'
5db25731ee6494e5705a6f701e09b949
8d6572499d6a10b9b29ed9434e4eab6bf514b25f
describe
'8510' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGU' 'sip-files00173thm.jpg'
0069afa227beac22f08fcfdded1bbe11
8c12003a7191f5ed5a9b34c98ff750b9af9d1568
describe
'740188' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGV' 'sip-files00174.jp2'
068827725c7a5ab774ed2e7171df6530
fd0677bd5210b1adb0756353bc8b229922a328d0
describe
'159982' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGW' 'sip-files00174.jpg'
58bd50d347922f106d6ac9776184f53f
bdb1118ea4baea83eb83e83d60dad41d4bd3c910
describe
'73636' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGX' 'sip-files00174.pro'
31b17b5c19812b58a3cf22b229b75889
5a52dd85ca818afa49c157e762055669834875ea
describe
'42119' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGY' 'sip-files00174.QC.jpg'
b2799bae7f6fec7cbcbb78a1f1802e82
c122a2f2a74c5a8f5f59123fd1403f4020e45035
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYGZ' 'sip-files00174.tif'
900d3d31256eab4e52b2d67e075d514c
2402139ca6132ade6b6773056491c6b2c8d2e6cf
'2011-11-14T15:52:01-05:00'
describe
'2914' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHA' 'sip-files00174.txt'
62e85f8df3d6d07dc1ff77fbbc21d5ee
19e4ad1cbc7905bad41e650932ab8752c4b7aa14
describe
'9813' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHB' 'sip-files00174thm.jpg'
b51a88bea6d886bf55fade444300f978
08306c3779564359ce4250b5e7a8b2942d9e2fe3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHC' 'sip-files00175.jp2'
ca96532e9ceb43e973bd7576b5cb961d
379d8dcbf273de43cfed78770ee2619067833918
describe
'157775' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHD' 'sip-files00175.jpg'
362aa7351c34958bfde73096b4c64c4b
12b7fc41e41dbc7fe7e9d0b5ee1290c537b1344e
describe
'54616' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHE' 'sip-files00175.pro'
bf3c93ddd2ceccdd73bb3d67cb9fa16b
1fdeddf7448c735aaf535eb5d3c347a5f7d70e18
describe
'40898' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHF' 'sip-files00175.QC.jpg'
f5ac712fe8dd1ee7ea16ac30350ce1ae
d8c06682cbe080bf8c4456a0a0bc64f7f88c5bbd
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHG' 'sip-files00175.tif'
79783c272782ca9b233c1ed8284e7ae5
016fd48170bcb98aa4e922cc59eef08b7cb3645a
describe
'2185' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHH' 'sip-files00175.txt'
f63edf7ad02742e9510e991a62dc5a09
71963a3f0799fdb75d8b27e1d26cacf16316f037
describe
'9560' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHI' 'sip-files00175thm.jpg'
d934507333e140b4b5faac9e63c98ac7
70c8e8a41b21932028c861f011181a4a82c5ec0c
describe
'740196' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHJ' 'sip-files00176.jp2'
93a1027ca8427c2fbf2b3b8336e21a91
192915e343081ac63aec69c384b5a78ea7073e66
describe
'157957' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHK' 'sip-files00176.jpg'
be8c5cce112cc25a0091e265f66fa035
85d6d81253cea7ac41b4776c6e084c10682bde30
describe
'73472' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHL' 'sip-files00176.pro'
df52b3b1302b64ae28b227fc2fb36cae
ea6afe6bc119d1a0a65c81c180c9ea41c0bd86a8
describe
'43184' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHM' 'sip-files00176.QC.jpg'
1b668c3d0c303d3e39a2b12cc33bd316
7dedc0923e23b7a13dadcbac670cdbb8b2fd9f15
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHN' 'sip-files00176.tif'
89004b83f07997ad558a05145ada59d0
10aa8a6a09d638c6f4c108aff2ada0f7e96c2225
describe
'2894' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHO' 'sip-files00176.txt'
445d5343df0946af9599515e552abfb0
c4799f626c3b158e4dc50dfde2a22918eb64f32e
describe
'9884' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHP' 'sip-files00176thm.jpg'
8a17729dd84f740fc06b99a7d05a93b3
bb22bd457e519ebb4a51b16c9db42e15cb139190
describe
'739793' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHQ' 'sip-files00177.jp2'
2ff8ebfced7ec48cfd5e7f79bbf19b7d
9baed0bf9a88aea9ebc5285d7474253c800c3873
describe
'168228' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHR' 'sip-files00177.jpg'
ea04769898125bc0ab083ec25b912f7a
93592da4461403c8588fc47cb01988b3ffdf9489
describe
'4582' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHS' 'sip-files00177.pro'
7e77061cdff5f200d6f90770e2de03ec
370aeaa508f2cef106afeaba1e31c70187353024
describe
'39464' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHT' 'sip-files00177.QC.jpg'
eb3c692b0e67f0c760c69fcddd4b2959
0127a35f6d8b47c5c16b6d7f8b81ef47bdd2f7eb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHU' 'sip-files00177.tif'
fe686154ccefa17f041c820891f71dd2
7de95e058864076aaeec2c536d13dd3a1757da5f
describe
'380' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHV' 'sip-files00177.txt'
b7ff77f5ae44cf1f9287d2a3e4470ba4
ba65970f2398a3b2b89896d2ebd4870c99a4060c
describe
'9298' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHW' 'sip-files00177thm.jpg'
5960092e8269d8e71eb7bd3baad258c5
53a82bb18f78b3ffa29d058af52541427ef6ee84
describe
'739746' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHX' 'sip-files00178.jp2'
59f4294deb3d6ffc47f0e085ae1e6160
4d5f08b4642c00fc2335c0ed52016b653804ee95
describe
'169874' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHY' 'sip-files00178.jpg'
452aeb49d355f28316f9a49b5de410a6
16cce9023de493a78400cd49b91235654117d26c
describe
'79988' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYHZ' 'sip-files00178.pro'
3d2206f8060323890a9c154aa377a888
22e78e27f399d8086379c2557b5ae86a83ac7584
describe
'46217' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIA' 'sip-files00178.QC.jpg'
530f5f7685ff2f934c744b62e6b110cc
e4190bf2084d2aa9de43d3b6758412918129c69b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIB' 'sip-files00178.tif'
df06bc216029295a8638ef6dac2994d1
aa08cda73dabd53cb97bd10b53bfb4928a0aa6bb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIC' 'sip-files00178.txt'
c7b249707e035fd152cb1fd713023361
317bdbe0a53d1ec1e503da4db2ca98e2590ac2ee
describe
'10140' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYID' 'sip-files00178thm.jpg'
9965385d8e7612f8ee286c9400048957
402edae527ac563ee72c7940d901968660770187
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIE' 'sip-files00179.jp2'
0d771dac814d94a79db352ffb94d5040
26d60e31768742c537a54985aadc98aadb4cda66
describe
'118651' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIF' 'sip-files00179.jpg'
156f1f24b5555313e07e891fc65c8c52
d43061e1089059bc2e83b8bec1d58468a1403d8a
describe
'41727' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIG' 'sip-files00179.pro'
faec80619365314d31efff54d7e79a32
2d76fb1416f469e8f9bd075d85ad037cd5fbade8
describe
'32342' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIH' 'sip-files00179.QC.jpg'
105564970f5dc2370d0dc857c8d05a5b
563c03ed177607a5e0f1fcba60d29fad7b5f1876
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYII' 'sip-files00179.tif'
3b24c8daa15a3382ceb2e9c98171afa5
205d16bd49647c1d93cf0efb60ee8e16051fcec4
describe
'1706' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIJ' 'sip-files00179.txt'
ccd2256c9b1c3839af352d0b62eec02e
d92ad5acbd705b05e3429f22d0690ad363a9d67c
describe
'7991' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIK' 'sip-files00179thm.jpg'
c51861706f61f706c08e1a332b77c2d1
1a0e782c156721c320326fc4a5ca8d523f8a90b4
describe
'740191' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIL' 'sip-files00180.jp2'
39103a703a0f941178fc5e30fa3d5d95
80355bec00b17be59fb0ba0459b4f4110cec8520
describe
'117727' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIM' 'sip-files00180.jpg'
6b8c50b5dd9429aefc8aaf36bae1f022
6b876e126a1184ad9aa573a285056bcdf92056be
describe
'38373' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIN' 'sip-files00180.pro'
c927b9d8d56476d65577e90d2afc395a
dd7d02fecd6d226617fea7fb6dad1a525d6ce31f
describe
'31044' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIO' 'sip-files00180.QC.jpg'
95f6dd62c2a6a6c42fd38c0081b13032
214f5f17798d4cc775301f6f639a9d214db30cda
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIP' 'sip-files00180.tif'
dce22e2e70691644af736a417372ebc4
3ba47e5cd72437b178ab0230a923584f5994ba79
describe
'1561' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIQ' 'sip-files00180.txt'
5ce4d21130f7309d41191d41303770e8
61ec343cb76b38a49863c5f2a1300b5a47797636
describe
'7734' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIR' 'sip-files00180thm.jpg'
9e6a046312cab0c597613f79ed39a643
6bd687f659ef0ddec25cc8a620bf17d836d83257
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIS' 'sip-files00181.jp2'
35a2ad9960df97f95f4faa7bd956623b
7917eb8948e43598da34b82182d30a4421ca2585
describe
'156421' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIT' 'sip-files00181.jpg'
a2fd1dc788391e60ed08e5ff7672a775
5e8227db1c9a5b3f9ce5897c7cb65757afa6e2d7
describe
'34105' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIU' 'sip-files00181.pro'
bbc6e464619cd45fb6ab808c73f7c07d
503ee36089d715b125e950cbacd235485cc5b7ae
describe
'39359' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIV' 'sip-files00181.QC.jpg'
8cd3cf4a990085023d228298a440c8c1
7ec731795680e55e14f645626803fd9e0a034f26
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIW' 'sip-files00181.tif'
e4a0016b88f4bbd4554f80cfe0745069
c9354b92a1c105d4594fef1031c4c9c1676b67dc
describe
'1541' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIX' 'sip-files00181.txt'
7bee69bd27c1b67ef6fb9bf6019e74e3
cc521d346e24440ed19fcfcdcd42282445e0b499
describe
'9240' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIY' 'sip-files00181thm.jpg'
18b35c91c22f19e5371bf0390407eb68
8e257a917294955cc09f95f70fe1163583772622
describe
'740123' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYIZ' 'sip-files00182.jp2'
5fc920af21ca1d74b12a7433a0b66b52
7c716ae7cbb27de815cf2db546aa9fef8a8c10a5
describe
'164380' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJA' 'sip-files00182.jpg'
a99941f87516cd3e41195806348ce698
48f854099b12d8e41d84c70fc2b61f1c4c4ee17b
describe
'76813' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJB' 'sip-files00182.pro'
f49b32393b145ceeebc60686532445b6
c5772e720fad10da0392186c506a6107f6be1d49
describe
'42931' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJC' 'sip-files00182.QC.jpg'
7f1ef082698219d7c8628aa7cdf69e55
1ad870e8ea33966c103687a6141a4e23b97446ec
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJD' 'sip-files00182.tif'
24a1987803c93eac026877f367362f04
0e42d077dbafc3f76e648bb48d01c3b0c44e6893
describe
'3022' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJE' 'sip-files00182.txt'
4afdbe55176d54096505f20f0d376088
0b85838e68e4f5cf550f3efaca2dbb44fc169d38
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJF' 'sip-files00182thm.jpg'
b161c4a932f9b1b0f0fb80bb27d03a7d
2087978b19b92a481dfc3d7970cf9bdc64a9eb3c
describe
'739412' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJG' 'sip-files00183.jp2'
2e7e7e11acd9d3226f1f19cb58c2e8f7
3197a4bf07239efccddae3542838d9bc34e0cdad
describe
'170429' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJH' 'sip-files00183.jpg'
41262bb41721cab157b3970965ff7708
87292b825ebc5f51b546d225c3e7ed9e5dd894e9
describe
'63006' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJI' 'sip-files00183.pro'
43fbc82ec33336c7969979deeadb3783
0acb4f8f04de3f09e3c20dd667598844fa0950d2
describe
'45458' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJJ' 'sip-files00183.QC.jpg'
60694ec93112a8666ac8c65ec5d45403
2c0bf743640398f492f2507c8174d362741e5edf
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJK' 'sip-files00183.tif'
9e48334a28d54b8ebaaab2506c96fae8
ecb3b9574297ec2bdc89e144e6cbccb795d0e4c5
describe
'3155' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJL' 'sip-files00183.txt'
e701a0423042bdb5ed61398f6bb4077b
6ce6918bfdddf5f496cad408fcad149a70dd960d
describe
'10076' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJM' 'sip-files00183thm.jpg'
6719e0277d6104d5331e62e5bf68e8df
9dce05c1c2a6de6454c3e8216f26702930656458
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJN' 'sip-files00184.jp2'
db4ae6551f981387b1a645ac1e22f4dc
dc0eb7d943c9f0d2854682b38b754406d6d3cb8b
describe
'172209' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJO' 'sip-files00184.jpg'
c11b90c67f293ca01a073ac873f00f3b
bb48a3570ba2a84fd12c8c87b9d34cd6ef7d0e34
describe
'62298' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJP' 'sip-files00184.pro'
99e78696f0a704814c6e0c6d168b7b76
b6ea2699685dc34ef7d13335829fa93de2fa4134
describe
'45227' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJQ' 'sip-files00184.QC.jpg'
3895139bf067d32a58b776eba6333de4
cd9aa75e9bf61c5b864e3d26c8ec51d5686f5243
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJR' 'sip-files00184.tif'
3561771d6019926c4c24b88c47a9a04f
7108738768f8917c525421320120b2aee0f11d05
describe
'2458' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJS' 'sip-files00184.txt'
1f751f3f740443d7064efd22e5050374
7d86e8e6790e15e7a8424e7d0eacc4d08c3fec94
describe
'10381' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJT' 'sip-files00184thm.jpg'
b7122df417d2c2583e3439f4874bd463
1b418f92ee70d214538a63e363bd7210ec5e69af
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJU' 'sip-files00185.jp2'
ab5da300f6dbb8a87ed1c110207289b1
014d4cd4ab4a09c4a9d9a3301146612ec04a00b6
describe
'169456' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJV' 'sip-files00185.jpg'
ec7b7e6535176f4bf8398eb682338071
0de5f19ed3ece84952d5a85ea54531802e77088d
describe
'63072' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJW' 'sip-files00185.pro'
77f58e0636a9fb2997010b608790ca3c
6f1d1f0d1f500e70d2cfcab78507ded3ffc9e27d
describe
'44287' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJX' 'sip-files00185.QC.jpg'
1ddee74df04618a9dd042555f815a43e
0114ceee0ebc288067cad6eef06fb8108c35a42c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJY' 'sip-files00185.tif'
fe350d83341ea407c3d1c15b03f4adcc
1761f5640e8702bab2fb30e5c84bb27937d45059
describe
'3178' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYJZ' 'sip-files00185.txt'
3a940220e7903de174edeb8e499aad68
949b328096b3b86e01aca74989b9e666671d6b26
describe
'10081' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKA' 'sip-files00185thm.jpg'
09afe2e143f12344618335cc53d09054
fa0e0a239ac17c652885358bbde0bfd9833b2a75
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKB' 'sip-files00186.jp2'
4b3652553d029537ce0b000f0f31f794
6588fc0e176bb74f1e11195e44fcbc6aa65e6ce9
describe
'169444' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKC' 'sip-files00186.jpg'
5865da22d54c4d28fa0ec6c651cba31a
30c5fa0228297468063e4eea76c829a2ca0e7070
describe
'63171' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKD' 'sip-files00186.pro'
3a6f54ccbc27d4abcb86ed8a7807f54f
797359173b9e2a9c50b9fba405ac40bf2807d94b
describe
'44208' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKE' 'sip-files00186.QC.jpg'
fd3754ead22efd364c38325186a37ca5
dcd5c75300a6d654a48d7e430e0105ccd8545c75
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKF' 'sip-files00186.tif'
1ab449ba46d0906162528e3e48aad6ba
0faf3a519770798cfe530d43972eb4205d4d70f6
describe
'2475' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKG' 'sip-files00186.txt'
818e341cd007aa605fa4ae076105dd42
13b732bd463170a38a8282f4c158bf69750e064b
describe
'10289' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKH' 'sip-files00186thm.jpg'
f90b5b86c1b446918caf8d909a47b65f
1c73460ae5d2c12b9a64a00850967f7dd46fc162
describe
'739530' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKI' 'sip-files00187.jp2'
16bffc34a5fdf4e7a8ec60555518345e
889ace63f537f938874d17509187e88d5bffe28d
describe
'149008' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKJ' 'sip-files00187.jpg'
aebe3dfb1325d9be0341dc449020eeaf
bffd286b54a39ef325dbfed64298cf21f3e7b5e1
describe
'39817' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKK' 'sip-files00187.pro'
36218b0fe65e46bcc957df90e466b93a
3e0cbe2d466d15e1479c02c8ce04e503de1ac9d6
describe
'38287' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKL' 'sip-files00187.QC.jpg'
854c22ec6916c68854b7bb94bce9e6f5
8a554a8cceb17cec01fdc18ed3876d93a2a4bce7
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKM' 'sip-files00187.tif'
eb44a0a71ed1ecec7d734ef29255731b
3d52c839b730b1d49770e442889ffe1a6165c7ca
describe
'1800' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKN' 'sip-files00187.txt'
768c31bd235808307043e689619e9cb7
b11d1e338b371b5cf7e8d644e108780d12e701e9
describe
Invalid character
'8952' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKO' 'sip-files00187thm.jpg'
cf2ae180979a797740b150433cfbe4d6
5c14064127fc1fbd481710bbf5eb664658ee0340
describe
'739904' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKP' 'sip-files00188.jp2'
1349c41171aa4ae1b911f9fafce2f653
10ba9e44af4e4d6c0209deacadbc3305b8a1a844
describe
'116866' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKQ' 'sip-files00188.jpg'
44a894c9325ca7886d0ce47e191b14b3
01acf5d498ee9c05a6f7df01d9acaa74acc2c5d9
describe
'20070' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKR' 'sip-files00188.pro'
42bd92887163d6c2fe69a5a72d8cc1f8
64976fd8813e901729bdc6b04f7ce910b94f3f03
describe
'29751' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKS' 'sip-files00188.QC.jpg'
e77dc8614c0828449760c61c72f65acb
6d8d1aa65507d626fcf49ec7f271df6673533b3d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKT' 'sip-files00188.tif'
7e405caf2e666e26612bba7948b4c3b0
02b5fa74a2a93c459471952cb88ac5ef0b0e4132
describe
'908' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKU' 'sip-files00188.txt'
118e0c09503fc33016c8087e32863d70
fec1f8953b6791de60d6b0869771462d7d115070
describe
'7229' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKV' 'sip-files00188thm.jpg'
941e7a5e1caf6060bb0358d78b5f5758
028c9ad9db1b7b30913c4eb3a5254cd08d551e7d
describe
'739159' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKW' 'sip-files00189.jp2'
9ac24117e611d4284704f6947f44ccc8
bb05c5814e979c0bc648924d7b10a4f522842bb7
describe
'166826' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKX' 'sip-files00189.jpg'
c5ae59c7aed2be39f812be3df41d8a6c
ac0df60f7f9f2383cbb5dc6c87bac1c1b17bf95f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKY' 'sip-files00189.pro'
1ce5682d4a1ec5d6b7bdea7d4864100a
37975a25f1d823ec3cb108ab6f6845bc81a4c77c
describe
'39846' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYKZ' 'sip-files00189.QC.jpg'
e8f985e3607c3a6bc7f4525925da0436
b655ed9c8a1c58e0326e5d5f0d6c232061a45801
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLA' 'sip-files00189.tif'
8eb8aa004e79be027a45822dae75d69c
620743205f59d26ad549ee7c5bfe9b729529a58b
describe
'250' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLB' 'sip-files00189.txt'
5b1116190870a8c6d08763121257b238
8597fe614affde4bb3a552ca761a4b232d5b3dea
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLC' 'sip-files00189thm.jpg'
2cec8f96431006c17ae693ddc799d91b
b1b0691c3ac11d43fb8cc7a65813a5c5dfe87fb5
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLD' 'sip-files00190.jp2'
02d712996c760c05852fb66d11199b89
68b42c031e4fb41f6b3afaff7ef5c37db1ed6825
describe
'153244' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLE' 'sip-files00190.jpg'
479a7d1a3c66e359364a74f5a9794640
01a990e491de48cb9309cc39994f5c58d64a3a09
describe
'66812' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLF' 'sip-files00190.pro'
4a093e77191d8b73311132ad19f511ef
0c6c04ddcd0949d767ac31d87c8bc81d72bb2d78
describe
'41163' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLG' 'sip-files00190.QC.jpg'
aa8c80ed408fdfda28b977c8657bec6c
d1495190a7acf5877ced677627bc67ba25676362
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLH' 'sip-files00190.tif'
7d0fe1e19a149af6073bf6e825b00056
226771429a38110ecf56f3fd52c5e722c7213390
describe
'2796' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLI' 'sip-files00190.txt'
af1923b53a52f060b3e4b811a67d5701
f68e72615306512c7634e6a9c157877638f8bfdd
describe
'9720' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLJ' 'sip-files00190thm.jpg'
869df936880011cd527dc6e2b4c3cc2d
fd31b0e1a0f99cce5902f31c2fb3c0fac31ed257
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLK' 'sip-files00191.jp2'
a867783c105ebc4571917c687ffa7dfe
9e33de603366b62e76aff8e900e34111c5f3cf57
describe
'161117' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLL' 'sip-files00191.jpg'
2f982d76cdddd789d5d47016eb839123
8d517cce45dacd11cce537d85722593d8ecb591d
describe
'59017' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLM' 'sip-files00191.pro'
a07a320d048373dca8db256a81d0d063
bcba629406489ddc5424c821d83e8c4cff915fd8
describe
'42117' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLN' 'sip-files00191.QC.jpg'
f47aad54b48342e0b9b21e4d027569ca
b7f278e0252fc5fbb81914c4a5067996dcc14c97
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLO' 'sip-files00191.tif'
d476bae460846d346adab75601feaa47
a91c6d2eab935ebc809cc920a51ded5351cf0c68
describe
'2349' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLP' 'sip-files00191.txt'
b33c0a32bbb1f964940735187ffd079f
a9a9b2a5eab973669897d05af7b96103b0dcebbf
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLQ' 'sip-files00191thm.jpg'
76798daea5a36f2204ac52130589fe85
3e8f4456d6920d573cfaa24d643c0f08795e80c1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLR' 'sip-files00192.jp2'
443e8d6563db6559d13ff1be0f01e09b
bff24540a1e16e1da3b6f2c4b4894fb195e4f6ee
describe
'112142' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLS' 'sip-files00192.jpg'
32624c0e3d7a67d5e52dc4af30a75e4f
ec9a6db22c42f0f81ed2a2a496a7cfda09d0f45a
describe
'45968' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLT' 'sip-files00192.pro'
41d2f48161f5e4de6bec1319a667a9ae
1b63a6a83256c6257cf1d922def11b85ce64844d
describe
'29732' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLU' 'sip-files00192.QC.jpg'
553bb6d427961658a41498bf809a8a40
0a8ea4c1e78df55d6562d876c4c074104f69477a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLV' 'sip-files00192.tif'
ad7a862df93373518bcae7125068b3a1
6ae5d400184d3bdc493ed7907e576e1af2d9a943
describe
'2352' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLW' 'sip-files00192.txt'
8d01e49e55de5adf49b8b2b3266b95a0
599040a42366eb4e7378380329a2e688e3b1bcff
describe
'7069' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLX' 'sip-files00192thm.jpg'
24e1c5be904eacf7457023c5604d46e1
db36e29323893849fd0d7dddda08e66298351b75
describe
'739435' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLY' 'sip-files00193.jp2'
fa422bf71bbfdc087a7ca017291afd41
b9753c6f8a4de068ee1b6fcc97c06556b9d1cf03
describe
'107224' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYLZ' 'sip-files00193.jpg'
72d5944605ac4fba8960f37251bdfa07
bce21e5f1d94fa6ae856c172c510a8e410b83b30
describe
'3105' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMA' 'sip-files00193.pro'
3b232b16191bf7788e288aeafd7454f3
480aff866e58a2e45f965fd00aa6592812650688
describe
'26402' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMB' 'sip-files00193.QC.jpg'
d63fa9a44d09138dd06d3a1a05e45dab
b5fc60e3f9ea61e890000da671f57a3d9af42cf5
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMC' 'sip-files00193.tif'
c7486cc4d2fd976a534d64f15d3cd1a6
dcac918c4ac12545c236f6e655079347b637df7a
describe
'215' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMD' 'sip-files00193.txt'
0fa4807af473e1fe1f789a3b14c9a41d
7e3f12bbb6bb694f1003d3f2f8aa3d1615daa285
describe
Invalid character
'6735' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYME' 'sip-files00193thm.jpg'
61d4bce8f874ebea08d8febd51b7a0bb
00920c34356f321022484e7086d460b2a3c1054f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMF' 'sip-files00194.jp2'
b8147c11d249705e1496412d30d730bc
3eb81cd044a423a412df0746f4c0a115177dd88f
describe
'138195' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMG' 'sip-files00194.jpg'
a393cedea3ec875e164dd87d114fdfa0
ff2e10edbb4e970f03badacebb4406a8250e4820
describe
'19544' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMH' 'sip-files00194.pro'
fddec182b4b793f61d28493013f70c96
b27af0058fdf1df2e2065e8fea41757eed85daea
describe
'34093' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMI' 'sip-files00194.QC.jpg'
146bff0baa88bb4df3d87fb8639fa3e9
f0c2c8f91688363f0c662dd102ddeb4349025be3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMJ' 'sip-files00194.tif'
e68494aa9f0afd7d000fa37d7f3bf99b
b8d4fb31fc9cc1b171e0ab186f915adba13c955b
describe
'846' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMK' 'sip-files00194.txt'
522092ae8ecba4bcb885c2cd5ebcdb4d
9cbfd5420cc1128a7afcc2d3ecfc8bad14b30ccc
describe
'8216' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYML' 'sip-files00194thm.jpg'
8650f540ceba8a97a54475db33eab8c8
6acb6da7ed496dd52aa01d3b74b6243c892d9ba9
describe
'739563' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMM' 'sip-files00195.jp2'
fff6f423066e662aabb485e2901a648d
8ce1c07155492ac0091855b9d53b155c4777ecd6
describe
'137787' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMN' 'sip-files00195.jpg'
83b5c02e57853fc2a833fc809929fa4f
abe8b50c4024e7efd5247240b1984f9b7386fafa
describe
'63619' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMO' 'sip-files00195.pro'
6783e4819cebe864822f99ae93082aa3
a83c0ffcaf189c55da9c86f4326b34d515113592
describe
'37720' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMP' 'sip-files00195.QC.jpg'
2abada6df4e7e0cd714fcc4f38c58c17
209b303508d079716ed2e61aa4496feb7646971c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMQ' 'sip-files00195.tif'
5c35bb47c16402c27afaa26b77ad7221
5e7028101b8392334e32fd2dc310abba14e8fb9f
'2011-11-14T15:53:14-05:00'
describe
'2579' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMR' 'sip-files00195.txt'
4c6ff1f7950e531adcbaf9726b36149d
7a286d410f0ab30fbcf036f267efc46c54dec4c7
describe
'8697' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMS' 'sip-files00195thm.jpg'
6db8a2efc6e342a240b53b15e3b5fd74
659b82a26c9dda18639923ae8d515a0f715d3098
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMT' 'sip-files00196.jp2'
7f8f66a8f4dc0a06202ec83952fc2bbd
68e9ccd4d912bd5b3e043f073fd783974dd9cec0
describe
'142510' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMU' 'sip-files00196.jpg'
35572bd476df7d30b6c0829c0464dd74
57b570b2951405f4b11afc42cd88e469e8237f44
describe
'63428' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMV' 'sip-files00196.pro'
e9c2a8290355e9d52024a026558da03b
2e23637aba644b229056a1289fc8ee6331572556
describe
'37590' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMW' 'sip-files00196.QC.jpg'
c641c598d88d555c29af720c252d144a
c7ef7be3c4e7bd807abf2479b78246235b2fe0ff
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMX' 'sip-files00196.tif'
6b7e8b30c3b822697897bd79ace4a3a7
56df66421b7a496885a514de686b982f2db78eec
describe
'2583' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMY' 'sip-files00196.txt'
59bc97d8786a7319ef6685331fc551ce
173a11a9bf880fdf3e57a88fd0bc0120a9d432d7
describe
'8806' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYMZ' 'sip-files00196thm.jpg'
4f20e49050641e2a378fdc129db72656
6759a591bfccc7b80570f11c973dee8129b45bdd
describe
'739338' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNA' 'sip-files00199.jp2'
2169260106f79cdb707466b974212602
faa5feb2c07cba6895c90165076895eb0e9783d7
describe
'207257' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNB' 'sip-files00199.jpg'
7b0ca47a58ec4f5c5c484c955b597892
c8d655594a2e0e9a8ce0042a0ac4f80f28872e67
describe
'41926' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNC' 'sip-files00199.QC.jpg'
8a0dfe5cce923ec612821c180e27fb66
123f3c8784220447dfefc5d85b04b7b07466af5e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYND' 'sip-files00199.tif'
39f3ae9496a2774ecbb5207427391639
f14a894fa2a12df5da1ebaada209bf398ae3f0ac
describe
'7569' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNE' 'sip-files00199thm.jpg'
6d8e8c4bca7c7675dc7c95276ab61f7b
214d885a05480ddba994455c8d7337f26412cd68
describe
'793743' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNF' 'sip-files00201.jp2'
12486791f1315f7b4d95f3468a73349c
c298ffa1bfee6752e26e4aa8c2ad20060c5f39dd
describe
'108427' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNG' 'sip-files00201.jpg'
0661323df3fb35f468c1e4b6dfc8a107
ef98db94f7a8e56c7dbded29c902c0d309091b93
describe
'22067' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNH' 'sip-files00201.QC.jpg'
db377356e06d6054d33bd64be0138e43
a1110ccfb36eea549576148613c066c4fad6ee9f
describe
'19069648' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNI' 'sip-files00201.tif'
44e43c18dcc126af1205a71470077129
e08d6f87c3821682d7c96c4a5adaf0a2bfe0a571
describe
'5213' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNJ' 'sip-files00201thm.jpg'
05c34251837231aeace372e28644d7e1
4e80f25d918c971785fa3b05c2e79ff478c5cc7e
describe
'782568' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNK' 'sip-files00202.jp2'
fab1778b5145f9bf54a7340824dcd998
6a46678b7f88089b681bf33dcf43e7570d625f49
describe
'179793' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNL' 'sip-files00202.jpg'
740902f84fd41316d09e5270297cf03d
e7a16e756ff129f1e67928278823252bb9823406
describe
'598' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNM' 'sip-files00202.pro'
9677825f22bd6e349349032a950ec8dc
443ccc7eb178d59dbabf07c0c77ed6b7c183b574
describe
'40741' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNN' 'sip-files00202.QC.jpg'
36914ae03324c0406323cb192fd1db16
8196daf1f625df793e0a483b0f0ef0e61c768522
describe
'18802916' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNO' 'sip-files00202.tif'
84656d27d16c250dce7403afaa03c391
2f2b3a9e374fe1f92bbbfbdb70934c6a3a4856c9
'2011-11-14T15:52:08-05:00'
describe
'579' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNP' 'sip-files00202.txt'
6f547ac103284b808a3159d317297e4c
27f518380ae5bd6444d65ad6f4f55bcb335f00c1
describe
'9369' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNQ' 'sip-files00202thm.jpg'
909678b80f37fe2f519d551f2d17f3d0
e6a5a1f756fb8e8fef852fa2d5fac93775fc274e
describe
'24' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNR' 'sip-filesprocessing.instr'
517aec31c38d46e9d7ada23c6c4dda5b
b7c820ac55efd21f3769f5f896a3245149dd98fb
describe
'333309' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNS' 'sip-filesUF00083795_00001.mets'
c2d5ca82dc96dca4bba792822b8e1c18
7e836787690b412d8cf5a812678366937684892e
describe
TargetNamespace.1: Expecting namespace 'http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/ufdc2/', but the target namespace of the schema document is 'http://digital.uflib.ufl.edu/metadata/ufdc2/'.
'2013-12-16T14:00:48-05:00' 'mixed'
xml resolution
http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/ufdc2/ufdc2.xsdhttp://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema
BROKEN_LINK http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/digital/metadata/ufdc2/ufdc2.xsd
http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema
The element type "div" must be terminated by the matching end-tag "
".
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/'.
'430138' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFAfileF20080809_AAAYNV' 'sip-filesUF00083795_00001.xml'
d538ea92bb71ee4a560c46628edb9cb9
8612952b5ec79d5154d2d1e2d934fd47a99f367f
describe
'2013-12-16T14:00:52-05:00'
xml resolution