 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Voyages of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofting, Prologue. All that I have written so far about Dr. Doolittle, I heard long after it happened from those who had known him. Indeed, a great deal of it took place before I was born. But I now come to set down that part of the great man's life, which I myself saw and took part in. Many years ago, the doctor gave me permission to do this. But we were both of us so busy then voyaging around the world, having adventures and filling notebooks full of natural history that I never seemed to get time to sit down and write up our doings. Now, of course, when I'm quite an old man, my memory isn't so good anymore. But whenever I am in doubt and I have to hesitate and think, I always ask Polynesia, the parent. That wonderful bird, she is now 250 years old, sits on the top of my desk, usually humming sailor songs to herself while I write this book. And as everyone who ever met her knows, Polynesia's memory is the most marvelous memory in the world. If there is any happening, I'm not quite sure of, she's always able to put me right. To tell me exactly how it took place, who was there, and everything about it. In fact, sometimes I almost think I ought to say that this book was written by Polynesia instead of me. Very well then, I will begin. And first of all, I must tell you something about myself and how I came to meet the doctor. End of prologue. Part one, chapter one of The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgoyne. The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle by Hugh Lofting. Part one, the first chapter, The Cobblest Son. My name was Tommy Stubbins, son of Jack Stubbins, the cobbler of Puttleby on the marsh. And I was nine and a half years old. At that time, Puttleby was only quite a small town. A river ran through the middle of it, and over this river there was a very old stone bridge called Kingsbridge, which led you from the marketplace on one side to the church yard on the other. Sailing ships came up this river from the sea and anchored near the bridge. I used to go down and watch the sailors unloading the ships upon the river wall. The sailors sung strange songs as they pulled upon the ropes, and I learned these songs by heart, and I would sit on the river wall with my feet dangling over the water and sing with the men, pretending to myself that I too was a sailor. For I longed always to sail away with those brave ships when they turned their backs on Puttleby Church and went creeping down the river again, across the wide lonely marshes to the sea. I longed to go with them out into the world to seek my fortune in foreign lands, Africa, India, China, and Peru. When they got round the bend in the river and the water was hidden from the view, you could still see their huge brown sails towering over the roofs of the town, moving onward slowly, like some gentle giants that walked among the houses without noise. What strange things would they have seen? I wondered when next they came back to anchor at King's Bridge. And dreaming of the lands I had never seen, I'd sit on there, watching till they were out of sight. Three great friends I had in Puttleby in those days. One was Joe, the muscle man, who lived in a tiny hut by the edge of the water under the bridge. This old man was simply marvellous at making things. I never saw a man so clever with his hands. He used to mend my toy ships for me which I sailed upon the river. He built windmills and a packing cases and barrel starves. And he could make the most wonderful kites from old umbrellas. Joe would sometimes take me in his muscle boat and when the tide was running out we would paddle down the river as far as the edge of the sea to get mussels and lobsters to sell. And out there on the cold lonely marshes we would see wild geese flying and curlews and red shanks and many other kinds of seabirds that lived among the sandfire and the long grass at the Great Salt Fen. And as we crept up the river in the evening when the tide had turned we would see the lights on King's Bridge twinkle in the dusk reminding us of tea time and warm fires. Another friend I had was Matthew Mug, the Catsmeet man. He was a funny old person with a bad squint. He looked rather awful but he was really quite nice to talk to. He knew everybody in Puddlebee and he knew all the dogs and all the cats. In those times being a Catsmeet man was a regular business and you could see one nearly any day going through the streets with a wooden tray full of pieces of meat stuck on skewers crying. Meat, N-E-A-T, people paid him to give this meat to their cats and dogs instead of feeding them on dog biscuits or the scraps from the table. I enjoyed going round with old Matthew and seeing the cats and dogs come running to the garden gates whenever they heard his call. Sometimes he let me give the meat to the animals myself and I thought this was great fun. He knew a lot about dogs and he would tell me the names of the different kinds as we went through the town. He had several dogs of his own, one a Whippet, was a very fast runner and Matthew used to win prizes with her at the Saturday Coursing Races. Another, a Terrier, was a fine ratter. The Catsmeet man used to make a business of rat catching for the millers and farmers as well as his other trade as selling Catsmeet. My third great friend was Luke the Hermit but of him I will tell you more later on. I did not go to school because my father was not rich enough to send me but I was extremely fond of animals so I used to spend my time collecting birds, eggs and butterflies fishing in the river rambling through the countryside after blackberries and mushrooms and helping the muscle man mend his nets. Yes it was a pleasant life I lived in those days long ago though of course I did not think so then. I was nine and a half years old and like all boys I wanted to grow up not knowing how well off I was with no cares and nothing to worry me. Always along for the time when I should be allowed to leave my father's house to take passage in one of those brave ships to sail down the river through the misty marshes to the sea out into the world to seek my fortune. End of chapter one. One chapter two of the voyages of Dr. Dolittle. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer visit LibriVox.org. The voyages of Dr. Dolittle. Part one. The second chapter. I hear of the great naturalist. One early morning in the springtime when I was wandering among the hills at the back of the town I happened to come upon a hawk with a squirrel in its claws. I was standing on a rock and the squirrel was fighting very hard for its life. The hawk was so frightened when I came upon it suddenly like this that it dropped the poor creature and flew away. I picked up the squirrel and found that two of its legs were badly hurt so I carried it in my arms back to the town. When I came to the bridge I went into the muscleman's hut and asked him if he could do anything for it. Joe put on his spectacles and examined it carefully. Then he shook his head. Your critters got a broken leg, he said, and another badly cut and all. I can mend your boats, Tom, but I haven't the tools nor the learning to make a broken squirrel seaworthy. This is a job for a surgeon, for a right smart one and all. There be only one man I know who could save your critters life. And that's John Dolittle. Who is John Dolittle? I asked. Is he a vet? No, said the muscle man. He's no vet. Dr. Dolittle is a naturalist. What's a naturalist? A naturalist, said Joe, putting away his glasses and starting to fill his pipe. He's a man who knows all about animals and butterflies and plants and rocks and all. John Dolittle is a very great naturalist. I'm surprised you never heard of him, and you daft over animals. He knows a whole lot about shellfish, that I know from my own knowledge. He's a quiet man and don't talk much, but there's folks who do say he's the greatest naturalist in the world. Where does he live? I asked. Over on Oxenthorpe Road to the other side of town. Don't know just which house it is, but most anyone crossed there could tell you, I reckon, go and see him. He's a great man. So I thanked the muscle man, took up my squirrel again, and started off towards the Oxenthorpe Road. The first thing I heard as I came into the marketplace was someone calling, meet, meet. There's Matthew Mug, I said to myself. He'll know where this doctor lives. Matthew knows everyone. So I hurried across the marketplace and caught him up. Matthew, I said, do you know Dr. Dolittle? Do I know Dr. Dolittle? Said he. Well, I should think I do. I know him as well as I know my own wife. Better, I sometimes think. He's a great man, a very great man. Can you show me where he lives? I asked. I want to take this squirrel to him. It has a broken leg. Certainly, said the cats. Meet man. I'll be going right by his house directly. Come along and I'll show you. So off we went together. Oh, I've known John Dolittle for years and years, said Matthew, as we made our way out of the marketplace. But I'm pretty sure he ain't home just now. He's away on a voyage. But he's liable to be back any day. I'll show you his house and then you'll know where to find him. All the way down the oxenthorpe road, Matthew hardly stopped talking about his great friend, Dr. John Dolittle. Am day. He talked so much that he forgot all about calling out, meet, until we both suddenly noticed that we had a whole procession of dogs following us patiently. Where did the doctor go to on this voyage? I asked as Matthew handed round the meat to them. I couldn't tell you, he answered. Nobody never knows where he goes, nor when he's going, nor when he's coming back. He lives all alone except for his pets. He's made some great voyages and some wonderful discoveries. Last time he came back, he told me he'd found a tribe of red Indians in the Pacific Ocean. Lived on two islands they did. The husbands lived on one island and the wives lived on the other. Sensible people, some of them savages. They only met once a year when the husbands came over to visit their wives for a great feast. Christmas time, most likely. Yes, he's a wonderful man. This is the doctor. And as for the animals, well, there ain't no one knows as much about him as what he does. How did he get to know so much about the animals? I asked. The cats meet man, stopped and lent down to whisper in my ear. He talks their language. The animals' language, I cried. Why, certainly, said Matthew. All animals have some kind of a language. Some sorts talk more than others. Some only speak in sign language like deaf and dumb. But the doctor, he understands them all. Birds as well as animals. We keep it a secret, though, him and me, because folks only laugh at you when you speak of it. Why, he can even write animal language. He reads aloud to his pets. He's wrote history books in monkey-talk, poetry and canary language, and comic songs for magpies to sing. It's a fact. He's now busy learning the language of the shellfish. But he says it's hard work. And he has caught some terrible colds, holding his head under water so much. He's a great man. He certainly must be, I said. I do wish he were home so I could meet him. Well, there's his house. Look, said the cats, meet man. That little one at the bend and the road there, the one high up like it was sitting on the wall above the street. We were now come beyond the edge of the town. And the house that Matthew pointed out was quite a small one standing by itself. There seemed to be a big garden around it, and this garden was much higher than the road. So you had to go up a flight of steps in the wall before you reached the front gate at the top. I could see that there were many fine fruit trees in the garden for their branches hung down over the wall in places. But the wall was so high I could not see anything else. When we reached the house, Matthew went up the steps to the front gate, and I followed him. I thought he was going to go into the garden, but the gate was locked. A dog came running down from the house, and he took several pieces of meat, which the cats, meet man, pushed through the bars of the gate, and some paper bags full of corn and bran. I noticed that this dog did not stop to eat the meat, as any ordinary dog would have done, but he took all the things back to the house and disappeared. He had a curious wide collar around his neck, which looked as though it were made of brass or something. Then we came away. Doctor isn't back yet, said Matthew, or the gate wouldn't be locked. What were all those things in paper bags you gave the dog? I asked. Oh, those were provisions, said Matthew. Things for the animals to eat. The doctor's house is simply full of pets. I give the things to the dog, while the doctor's away, and the dog gives them to the other animals. And what was that curious collar he was wearing around his neck? That's a solid gold-dog collar, said Matthew. It was given to him when he was with the doctor on one of his voyages, long ago. He saved a man's life. How long has the doctor had him? I asked. Oh, a long time. Jip's getting pretty old now. That's why the doctor doesn't take him on his voyages anymore. He leaves him behind to take care of the house. Every Monday and Thursday I bring the food to the gate here and give it to him through the bars. He never lets anyone come inside the garden while the doctor's away. Not even me, though he knows me well. But you'll always be able to tell if the doctor's back or not, because if he is, the gate will surely be open. So, I went off home to my father's house and put my squirrel to bed in an old wooden box full of straw. And there I nursed him myself and took care of him as best I could till the time should come when the doctor should return. And every day I went to the little house with the big garden on the edge of the town and tried the gate to see if it were locked. Sometimes the dog, Jip, would come down to the gate to meet me. But though he always wagged his tail and seemed glad to see me, he never let me come inside the garden. End of the second chapter, read by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California for LibriVox. Winter, 2006. The third chapter, The Doctor's Home. One morning towards the end of April, my father asked me to take some shoes which he had mended to a house on the other side of town. They were for a Colonel Bellows, who was very particular. I found the house and rang the bell at the front door. The Colonel opened it, stuck out a very red face and said, Go round to the tradesman's entrance, go to the back door. Then he slammed the door shut. I felt inclined to throw the shoes into the middle of his flower bed. But I thought my father might be angry, so I didn't. I went round to the back door, and there the Colonel's wife met me and took the shoes from me. She looked a timid little woman and had her hands all over flower as though she was making bread. She seemed to be terribly afraid of her husband, whom I could still hear stomping round the house somewhere, grunting indignantly because I had come to the front door. Then she asked me in a whisper if I would have a bun and a glass of milk. And I said, Yes, please. After I had eaten the bun and milk, I thanked the Colonel's wife and came away. Then I thought that before I went home I would go and see if the doctor had come back yet. I had been to his house once already that morning. But I thought I'd just like to go and take another look. My squirrel wasn't getting any better, and I was beginning to be worried about him. So I turned into the oxen-thorpe road and started off towards the doctor's house. On the way I noticed that the sky was clouding over and that it looked as though it might rain. I reached the gate and found it still locked. I felt very discouraged. I had been coming here every day for a week now. The dog, Jip, came to the gate and wagged his tail as usual and then sat down and watched me closely to see that I didn't get in. I began to fear that my squirrel would die before the doctor came back. I turned away sadly, went down the steps onto the road, and turned towards home again. I wondered if it was supper time yet. Of course I had no watch of my own, but I noticed a gentleman coming towards me down the road, and when he got nearer I saw it was the colonel out for a walk. He was all wrapped up in smart overcoats and mufflers and bright colored gloves. It was not a very cold day, but he had so many clothes on he looked like a pillow inside of a roll of blankets. I asked him if he would please tell me the time. He stopped, grunted, and glared down at me, his red face growing redder still, and when he spoke it sounded like the cork coming out of a ginger beer bottle. Do you imagine for one moment, he spluttered, that I am going to get myself all unbuttoned just to tell a little boy like you the time, and he went stomping down the street, grunting harder than ever. I stood still a moment, looking after him, and wondering how old I would have to be to have him go to the trouble of getting his watch out. And then, all of a sudden, the rain came down in torrents. I have never seen it rain so hard. It got dark, almost like night. The wind began to blow, the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and in a moment the gutters of the road were flowing like a river. There was no place handy to take shelter, so I put my head down against the driving wind and started to run towards home. I hadn't gone very far when my head bumped into something soft, and I sat down suddenly on the pavement. I looked up to see whom I had run into, and there in front of me, sitting on the wet pavement, like myself, was a little round man with a very kind face. He wore a shabby high hat, and in his hand he had a small black bag. I'm very sorry, I said. I had my head down, and I didn't see you coming. To my great surprise, instead of getting angry at being knocked down, the little man began to laugh. You know this reminds me, he said, of a time once when I was in India. I ran full tilt into a woman in a thunderstorm, but she was carrying a picture of molasses on her head, and I had treacle in my hair for weeks afterwards. The flies followed me everywhere. I didn't hurt you, did I? No, I said. I'm all right. It was just as much my fault as it was yours, you know, said the little man. I had my head down too, but look here. We mustn't sit talking like this. You must be soaked. I know I am. How far have you got to go? My home is on the other side of town, I said, as we picked ourselves up. My goodness, but that was a wet pavement, said he, and I declare it's coming down worse than ever. Come along to my house and get dried. A storm like this can't last. He took hold of my hand, and we started running back down the road together. As we ran, I began to wonder who this funny little man could be, and where he lived. I was a perfect stranger to him, and yet he was taking me to his own home to get dried. Such a change after the old red-faced colonel who had refused even to tell me the time. Presently, we stopped. Here we are, he said. I looked up to see where we were, and found myself back at the foot of the steps leading to the little house with the big garden. My new friend was already running up the steps and opening the gate with some keys he took from his pocket. Surely, I thought, this cannot be the great Dr. Doolittle himself. I suppose, after hearing so much about him, I had expected someone very tall and strong and marvelous. It was hard to believe that this funny little man with the kind smiling face could be really he. Yet, here he was, sure enough, running up the steps and opening the very gate which I had been watching for so many days. The dog, Jip, came rushing out and started jumping up on him and barking with happiness. The rain was splashing down heavier than ever. Are you Dr. Doolittle? I shouted as we sped up the short garden path to the house. Yes, I'm Dr. Doolittle, said he, opening the front door with the same bunch of keys. Get in! Don't bother about wiping your feet. Never mind the mud. Take it in with you. Get in! Out of the rain! I popped in, he and Jip following. Then he slammed the door to behind us. The storm had made it dark enough outside, but inside the house, with the door closed, it was as black as night. Then began the most extraordinary noise that I have ever heard. It sounded like all sorts and kinds of animals and birds, calling and squeaking and screeching all at the same time. I could hear things trundling down the stairs and hurrying along passages. Somewhere in the dark a duck was quacking, a cock was crowing, a dove was cooing, an owl was hooting, a lamb was bleeding, and Jip was barking. I felt birds' wings fluttering and fanning near my face. Things kept bumping into my legs and nearly upsetting me. The whole front hall seemed to be filling up with animals. The noise, together with the roaring of the rain, was tremendous, and I was beginning to grow a little scared when I felt the doctor take hold of my arm and shout into my ear. Don't be alarmed, don't be frightened. These are just some of my pets. I've been away three months, and they are glad to see me home again. Stand still where you are till I strike a light. My gracious, what a storm! Just listen to that thunder. So there I stood in the pitch black dark, while all kinds of animals, which I couldn't see, chattered and jostled around me. It was a curious and a funny feeling. I had often wondered, when I had looked in from the front gate, what Dr. Dolittle would be like, and what the funny little house would have inside it. But I never imagined it would be anything like this. Yet, somehow after I had felt the doctor's hand upon my arm, I was not frightened, only confused. It all seemed like some queer dream. And I was beginning to wonder if I was really awake, when I heard the doctor speaking again. My blessed matches are all wet. They won't strike. Have you got any? No, I'm afraid I haven't, I called back. Never mind, said he. Perhaps Dab-Dab can raise us a light somewhere. Then the doctor made some funny clicking noises with his tongue, and I heard someone trundle up the stairs again and start moving about in the rooms above. Then we waited quite a while without anything happening. Well, the light be long and coming, I asked. Some animal is sitting on my foot, and my toes are going to sleep. No, only a minute, said the doctor. She'll be back in a minute. And just then I saw the first glimmerings of a light around the landing above. At once all the animals kept quiet. I thought you lived alone, I said to the doctor. So I do, said he. It is Dab-Dab who is bringing the light. I looked up the stairs trying to make out who was coming. I could not see around the landing, but I heard the most curious footstep on the upper flight. It sounded like someone hopping down from one step to the other, as though he were using only one leg. As the light came lower it grew brighter and began to throw strange, jumping shadows on the walls. Ah, at last, said the doctor. Good old Dab-Dab. And then I thought I really must be dreaming. For there, craning her neck round the bend of the landing, hopping down the stairs on one leg, came a spotless, white duck. And in her right foot she carried a lightened candle. End of the third chapter. According by Nicole Carl, St. Louis, Missouri, July 2007. The Voyages of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofting. Part 1, Chapter 4. The Whiff Waff. When at last I could look around me I found that the hall was indeed simply full of animals. It seemed to me that almost every kind of creature from the countryside must be there. A pigeon, a white rat, an owl, badger, a jackdaw. There was even a small pig, just in from the rainy garden, carefully wiping his feet on the mat, while the light from the candle glistened on his wet pink back. The doctor took the candlestick from the duck and turned to me. Look here, he said. You must get those wet clothes off. By the way, what is your name? Tommy Stubbins, I said. Oh, are you the son of Jacob Stubbins, the shoemaker? Yes, I said. Excellent bootmaker, your father, said the doctor. You see these? And he held up his right foot to show me the enormous boots he was wearing. Your father made me those boots four years ago, and I've been wearing them ever since. Perfectly wonderful boots. Well now, look here, Stubbins. You've got to change those wet things unquick. Wait a moment till I get some more candles lit, and then we'll go upstairs and find some dry clothes. You'll have to wear an old suit of mine till we can get yours dry again by the kitchen fire. So presently, when more candles had been lighted around different parts of the house, we went upstairs, and when we came into a bedroom, the doctor opened a big wardrobe and took out two suits of old clothes, these we put on. Then we carried our wet ones down to the kitchen and started to fire in the big chimney. The coat of the doctors, which I was wearing, was so large for me that I kept treading on my own coat tails while I was helping to fetch the wood up from the cellar. But very soon we had a huge big fire blazing up the chimney, and we hung our wet clothes around on chairs. Now let's cook some supper to the doctor. You'll stay and have supper with me, Stubbins, of course. Already I was beginning to be very fond of this funny little man who called me Stubbins instead of Tommy, or little lad. I did so hate to be called little lad. This man seemed to begin right away treating me as though I were a grown-up friend of his, and when he asked me to stop and have supper with him, I felt terribly proud and happy. But I suddenly remembered that I had not told my mother that I would be out late, so very sadly I answered, Thank you very much. I would like to stay, but I'm afraid that my mother will begin to worry and wonder where I am if I don't get back. Oh, but my dear Stubbins, said the doctor, throwing another log of wood on the fire. Your clothes aren't dry yet. You'll have to wait for them, won't you? By the time they are ready to put on, we will have supper cooked and eaten. Did you see where I put my bag? I think it's still in the hall. I said, I'll go and see. I found the bag near the front door. It was made of black leather and looked very, very old. One of its latches was broken, and it was tied up round the middle with a piece of string. Thank you, said the doctor, when I brought it to him. Was that bag all the luggage you had for your voyage, I asked? Yes, said the doctor, as he undid the piece of string. I don't believe in a lot of baggage. It's such a nuisance. Life's too short to fuss with it. And it isn't really necessary, you know. Where did I put those sausages? The doctor was feeling about inside the bag. First he brought out a loaf of new bread. Next came a glass jar with a curious metal top to it. He held this up to the light very carefully before he set it down upon the table. And I could see that there was some strange little water creature swimming about inside. At last the doctor brought out a pound of sausages. Now he said, all we want is a frying pan. We went into the scullery. There we found some pots and pans hanging against the wall. Doctor took down the frying pan. It was quite rusty on the inside. Dear me, just look at that, said he. That's the worst of being away so long. The animals are very good and keep the house wonderfully clean as far as they can. Dab-dab is a perfect marvel as a housekeeper. But some things, of course, they can't manage. Never mind, we'll soon clean it up. You'll find some silver sand down there under the sink stubbins. Just hand it up to me, will you? In a few moments we had the pan all shiny and bright and the sausages were put over the kitchen fire. And the beautiful frying smell went all through the house. While the doctor was busy at the cooking, I went and took another look at the funny little creature swimming about in the glass jar. What is this animal? I asked. Oh, that. So the doctor turning around. That's a whiffwaf. Its full name is Hello Campus Pipitopetus. But the natives just call it a whiffwaf. On account of the way it waves its tail swimming, I imagine. That's what I went on this last voyage for, to get that. You see, I'm very busy just now trying to learn the language of the shellfish. They have languages. Of that, I feel sure. I can talk a little shark language and corpus dialect myself. But what I particularly want to learn now is shellfish. Why? I asked. Well, you see, some of the shellfish are the oldest kind of animals in the world that we know of. We find their shells in the rocks. Turned stone, thousands of years old. So I feel quite sure that if I could only get to talk their language, I should be able to learn a whole lot about what the world was like ages and ages and ages ago. You see? But couldn't some of the other animals tell you as well? I don't think so, said the doctor, prodding the sausages with a fork. To be sure, the monkeys I knew in Africa some time ago were very helpful in telling me about bygone days. But they only went back a thousand years or so. No, I am certain that the oldest history in the world is to be had from the shellfish. And from them only. You see, most of the other animals that were alive in those very ancient times have now become extinct. Have you learned any shellfish language yet? I asked. No, I've only just begun. I wanted this particular kind of a pipefish because he is half a shellfish and half an ordinary fish. I went all the way to the eastern Mediterranean after him. But I'm very much afraid he isn't going to be a great deal of help to me. Tell you the truth, I'm rather disappointed in his appearance. He doesn't look very intelligent, does he? No, he doesn't, I agreed. Ah, said the doctor. Sausages are done to a turn. Come along, hold your plate near and let me give you some. Then we sat down at the kitchen table and started a hearty meal. It was a wonderful kitchen that I had many meals there afterward, and I found it a better place to eat than the grandest dining room in the world. It was so cozy and home-like and warm. It was so handy for the food, too. You took it right off the fire hot and put it on the table and ate it. And you could watch your toast toasting at the fender and see it didn't burn while you drank your soup. And if you had forgotten to put salt on the table, you didn't have to get up and go into another room to fetch it. You just reached round and took the big wooden box off the dresser behind you. Then the fireplace, the biggest fireplace you ever saw, was like a room in itself. You could get right inside it, even when the logs were burning, and sit on the wide seats, either side, and roast chestnuts after the meal was over, or listen to the kettle singing, or tell stories, or look at picture books by the light of the fire. It was a marvelous kitchen. It was like the doctor, comfortable, sensible, friendly, and solid. While we were gobbling away, the door suddenly opened and in marched the duck Dab-Dab, and the dog, Jip, dragging sheets and pillowcases behind them over the clean tile floor. The doctor, seeing how surprised I was, explained, They're just going to air the bedding for me in front of the fire. Dab-Dab is a perfect treasure of a housekeeper. She never forgets anything. I had a sister once who used to keep house for me. Poor dear Sarah. I wonder how she's getting on. I haven't seen her in many years. But she wasn't nearly as good as Dab-Dab. Have it in the sausage. The doctor turned and said a few words to the dog and duck in some strange talk and signs. They seemed to understand him perfectly. Can you talk in squirrel language? I asked. Oh yes, that's quite an easy language, since doctor. You could learn that yourself without a great deal of trouble. Why do you ask? Because I have a sick squirrel at home, I said. I took it away from a hawk. But two of its legs are badly hurt, and I wanted very much to have you see it, if you would. Shall I bring it to-morrow? Well, if its leg is badly broken, I think I had better see it to-night. It may be too late to do much, but I'll come home with you and take a look at it. So presently we felt the clothes by the fire, and mine were found to be quite dry. I took them upstairs to the bedroom and changed, and when I came down the doctor was already waiting for me with this little black bag full of medicines and bandages. Come along, he said. The rain is stopped now. Outside it had grown bright again, and the evening sky was all red with the setting sun, and thrushes were singing in the garden as we opened the gate to go down onto the road. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Voyages of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofting Part 1, Chapter 5, Polynesia I think your house is the most interesting house I was ever in, I said, as we set off in the direction of the town. May I come and see you again tomorrow? Certainly, said the doctor, come any day you like. Tomorrow I'll show you the garden and my private zoo. Oh, have you a zoo, I asked? Yes, said he. The larger animals are too big for the house, so I keep them in a zoo in the garden. It is not a very big collection, but it is interesting in its way. It must be splendid, I said, to be able to talk all the languages of the different animals. Do you think I could ever learn to do it? Oh, surely, said the doctor, with practice. You have to be very patient, you know. You really ought to have Polynesia to start you. It was she who gave me my very first lessons. Who is Polynesia, I asked? Polynesia was a West African parrot I had. She isn't with me any more now, said the doctor, sadly. Why, is she dead? Oh, no, said the doctor. She is still living, I hope. But when we reached Africa she seemed so glad to get back to her own country, she wept for joy. And when the time came for me to come back here, I had not the heart to take her away from that sunny land. Although it is true she did offer to come. I left her in Africa. Ah, well, I have missed her terribly. She wept again when we left. But I think I did the right thing. She was one of the best friends I ever had. It was she who first gave me the idea of learning the animal languages and becoming an animal doctor. I often wonder if she remained happy in Africa and whether I shall ever see her funny old solemn face again. Good old Polynesia, a most extraordinary bird. Well, well. Just at that moment we heard the noise of someone running behind us. And turning round we saw Jip the dog rushing down this road after us as fast as his legs could bring him. He seemed very excited about something. And as soon as he came up to us, he started barking and whining to the doctor in a peculiar way. Then the doctor, too, seemed to get all worked up and began talking and making queer signs to the dog. At length he turned to me, his face shining with happiness. Polynesia has come back, he cried. Imagine it! Jip says she has just arrived at the house. My, and it's five years since I saw her. Excuse me a minute. He turned as if to go back home. But the parrot Polynesia was already flying towards us. The doctor clapped his hands like a child getting a new toy. While the swarm of sparrows in the roadway fluttered, gossiping, up onto the fences, highly scandalized to see a gray and scarlet parrot skimming down an English lane. On she came, straight onto the doctor's shoulder, where she immediately began talking a steady stream in a language I could not understand. She seemed to have a terrible lot to say. And very soon the doctor had forgotten all about me and my squirrel and Jip and everything else. Till at length the bird clearly asked him something about me. Oh, excuse me, Stubbins said the doctor. I was so interested listening to my old friend here. We must get on and see this squirrel of yours. Polynesia, this is Thomas Stubbins. The parrot on the doctor's shoulder nodded gravely towards me and then to my great surprise said quite plainly in English, How do you do? I remember the night you were born. It was a terribly cold winter. You were a very ugly baby. Stubbins is anxious to learn animal language, said the doctor. I was just telling him about you and the lessons you gave me when Jip ran up and told us you had arrived. Well, said the parrot, turning to me. I may have started the doctor learning, but I never could have done even that if he hadn't first taught me to understand what I was saying when I spoke English. You see, many parrots can talk like a person, but very few of them understand what they are saying. They just say it because, well, because they fancy it is smart, or because they know they will get crackers given them. By this time we had turned and were going towards my home with Jip running in front and Polynesia still perched on the doctor's shoulder. The bird chattered incessantly, mostly about Africa, but now she spoke in English out of politeness to me. How is Prince Bumpo getting on, asked the doctor? Oh, I'm glad you asked me, said Polynesia. I almost forgot to tell you. What do you think? Bumpo is in England. In England you don't say, cried the doctor. What on earth is he doing here? His father, the king, sent him here to a place called Ur Bullford. I think it was to study lessons. Bullford? Bullford, muttered the doctor. I never heard of the place. Oh, you mean Oxford. Yes, that's the place. Oxford, said Polynesia. I knew it had cattle in it somewhere. Oxford, that's the place he's gone to. Well, well, murmured the doctor. Fancy Bumpo studying at Oxford. Well, well. There were great doings in Jolliginki when he left. He was scared to death to come. He was the first man from that country to go abroad. He thought he was going to be eaten by white cannibals or something. You know what those niggers are, that ignorant. Well, but his father made him come. He said that all the black kings were sending their sons to Oxford now. It was the fashion, and he would have to go. Bumpo wanted to bring his six wives with him, but the king wouldn't let him do that either. Poor Bumpo went off in tears, and everybody in the palace was crying, too. You never heard such a hollow blue. Do you know if he ever went back in search of the sleeping beauty, asked the doctor? Oh, yes, said Polynesia, the day after you left. And a good thing for him he did. The king got to know about his helping you to escape, and he was dreadfully wild about it. And the sleeping beauty did he ever find her? Well, he brought back something which he said was the sleeping beauty. Myself, I think it was an albino niggress. She had red hair and the biggest feet you ever saw. But Bumpo was no end pleased with her, and finally married her amid great rejoicings. The feastings lasted seven days. She became his chief wife and is now known out there as the crown princess Bumpo. You accent the last syllable. And tell me, did he remain white? Only for about three months, said the parrot, and after that his face slowly returned to its natural color. It was just as well. He was so conspicuous in his bathing suit the way he was, with his white face and the rest of him black. And how is Chi Chi getting on? Chi Chi, added the doctor in explanation to me, was a pet monkey I had years ago. I left him too in Africa when I came away. Well, said Polynesia Frowning, Chi Chi is not entirely happy. I saw a good deal of him the last few years. He got dreadfully homesick for you in the house and the garden. It's funny, but I was just the same way myself. You remember how crazy I was to get back to the dear old land? And Africa is a wonderful country. I don't care what anybody says. Well, I thought I was going to have a perfectly grand time. But somehow, I don't know, after a few weeks it seemed to get tiresome. I just couldn't seem to settle down. Well, to make a long story short, one night I made up my mind that I'd come back here and find you. So I hunted up old Chi Chi and told him about it. He said he didn't blame me a bit. Felt exactly the same way himself. Africa was so deadly quiet after the life we had led with you. He missed the stories you used to tell us out of your animal books, and the chats we used to have sitting around the kitchen fire on winter nights. The animals out there were very nice to us and all that. But somehow the dear kind creature seemed a bit stupid. Chi Chi said he had noticed it too. But I suppose it wasn't they who had changed. It was we who were different. When I left, poor old Chi Chi broke down and cried. He said he felt as though his only friend were leaving him. Though, as you know, he has simply millions of relatives there. He said it didn't seem fair that I should have wings to fly over here any time I liked, and him with no way to follow me. But mark my words, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he found a way to come, someday. He's a smart lad, is Chi Chi. At this point we arrived at my home. My father's shop was closed and the shutters were up, but my mother was standing at the door looking down the street. Good evening, Mrs. Stebbins, said the doctor. It is my fault your son is so late. I made him stay to supper while his clothes were drying. He was soaked to the skin, and so was I. We ran into one another in the storm, and I insisted on his coming into my house for shelter. I was beginning to get worried about him, said my mother. I am thankful to you, sir, for looking after him so well and bringing him home. Don't mention it, don't mention it, said the doctor. We have had a very interesting chat. Who might it be that I have the honour of addressing, asked my mother, staring at the gray parrot perched on the doctor's shoulders. Oh, I'm John Doolittle. I daresay your husband will remember me. He made me some very excellent boots about four years ago. They really are splendid, added the doctor, gazing down at his feet with great satisfaction. The doctor has come to cure my squirrel mother, said I. He knows all about animals. Oh, no, said the doctor. Not all, Stubbins. Not all about them by any means. It is very kind of you to come so far to look after his pet, said my mother. Tom is always bringing home strange creatures from the woods and the fields. Is he, said the doctor. Perhaps he will grow up to be a naturalist some day. Who knows? Won't you come in, asked my mother. The place is a little untidy because I haven't finished the spring cleaning yet, but there's a nice fire burning in the parlor. Thank you, said the doctor. What a charming home you have. And after wiping his enormous boots, very, very carefully on the mat, the great man passed into the house. End of Chapter 5 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read and recorded by Betsy Bush. Marquette, Michigan, December 2006. The Voyages of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofting. Part 1 Chapter 6 The Wounded Squirrel Inside we found my father busy practicing on the flute beside the fire. This he always did every evening after his work was over. The doctor immediately began talking to him about flutes and picolos and bassoons, and presently my father said, Perhaps you perform upon the flute yourself, sir. Won't you play us a tune? Well, said the doctor. It is a long time since I touched the instrument, but I would like to try. May I? Then the doctor took the flute from my father, and played and played and played. It was wonderful. My mother and father sat as still as statues, staring up at the ceiling as though they were in church. And even I, who didn't bother much about music except on the mouth organ, even I felt all sad and cold and creepy, and wished I had been a better boy. Oh, I think that was just beautiful, sighed my mother, when at length the doctor stopped. You are a great musician, sir, said my father. A very great musician. Won't you please play us something else? Why, certainly, said the doctor. Oh, but look here, I've forgotten all about the squirrel. I'll show him to you, I said. He is upstairs in my room. So I led the doctor to my bedroom at the top of the house, and showed him the squirrel in the pecking case filled with straw. The animal, who had always seemed very much afraid of me, though I had tried hard to make him feel at home, sat up at once when the doctor came into the room and started to chatter. The doctor chattered back in the same way, and the squirrel, when he was lifted up to have his leg examined, appeared to be rather pleased than frightened. I held a candle while the doctor tied the leg up in what he called a splints, which he made out of match-sticks with his pen-knife. I think you will find that his leg will get better now in a very short time, said the doctor, closing up his bag. Don't let him run about for at least two weeks yet. But keep him in the open air, and cover him up with dry leaves if the nights get cool. He tells me he is rather lonely here all by himself, and is wondering how his wife and children are getting on. I have assured him you are a man to be trusted, and I will send a squirrel who lives in my garden to find out how his family are and to bring him news of them. He must be kept cheerful at all costs. Squirrels are naturally a very cheerful active race. It is very hard for them to lie still doing nothing. But you needn't worry about him. He will be all right. Then we went back again to the parlor, and my mother and father kept him playing the flute until after ten o'clock. Although my parents both liked the doctor tremendously from the first moment that they saw him, and were very proud to have him come and play to us, for we were really terribly poor, they did not realize then what a truly great man he was one day to become. Of course now, when almost everybody in the whole world has heard about Dr. Doolittle and his books, if you were to go to that little house in Puttleby where my father had his cobbler's shop, you would see, set in the wall, over the old-fashioned door, a stone with a writing on it which says, John Doolittle, the famous naturalist, played the flute in this house in the year 1839. I often look back upon that night long ago, and if I close my eyes and think hard, I can see that parlor just as it was then, a funny little man in coattails with a round kind face playing away on the flute in front of the fire. My mother on one side of him and my father on the other holding their breath and listening with their eyes shut, myself with jib, squatting on the carpet at his feet, staring into the coals, and Polynesia perched on the mantlepiece beside his shabby high hat, gravely swinging her head from side to side in time to the music. I see it all, just as though it were before me now. And then I remember how, after we had seen the doctor out at the front door, we all came back into the parlor and talked about him till it was still later. And even after I did go to bed, I had never stayed up so late in my life before, I dreamed about him and a band of strange clever animals that played flutes and fiddles and drums the whole night through. End of Part 1 Chapter 6 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read and recorded by Betsy Bush, Marquette, Michigan, December 2006. The Voyages of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofting Part 1 Chapter 7 Shellfish Talk The next morning, although I had gone to bed so late the night before, I was up frightfully early. The first sparrows were just beginning to chirp sleepily on the slates outside my attic window when I jumped out of bed and scrambled into my clothes. I could hardly wait to get back to the little house, with the big garden, to see the doctor and his private zoo. For the first time in my life I forgot all about breakfast, and creeping down the stairs on tiptoe so as not to wake my mother and father, I opened the front door and popped out into the empty silent street. When I got to the doctor's gate I suddenly thought that perhaps it was too early to call on anyone, and I began to wonder if the doctor would be up yet. I looked into the garden, no one seemed to be about, so I opened the gate quietly and went inside. As I turned to the left to go down a path between some hedges, I heard a voice quite close to me say, Good morning, how early you are! I turned around and there, sitting on the top of a privet hedge, was the gray parrot Polynesia. Good morning, I said. I suppose I am rather early. Is the doctor still in bed? Oh no, said Polynesia. He has been up an hour and a half. You'll find him in the house somewhere. The front door is open, just push it in, and go in. He is sure to be in the kitchen cooking breakfast, or working in his study. Walk right in. I am waiting to see the sunrise. But upon my word, I believe it's forgotten to rise. It is an awful climate, this. Now if we were in Africa, the world would be blazing with sunlight at this hour of the morning. Just see that mist rolling over those cabbages. It is enough to give the rheumatism to look at it. Beastly climate, beastly. Really, I don't know why anything but frogs ever stay in England. Well, don't let me keep you. Run along and see the doctor. Thank you, I said. I'll go and look for him. When I opened the front door, I could smell bacon frying, so I made my way to the kitchen. There I discovered a large kettle boiling away over the fire, and some bacon and eggs in a dish upon the hearth. It seemed to me that the bacon was getting all dried up with the heat, so I pulled the dish a little further away from the fire, and went on through the house looking for the doctor. I found him at last in the study. I did not know then that it was called the study. It was certainly a very interesting room, with telescopes and microscopes, and all sorts of other strange things which I did not understand about, but wished I did. Hanging on the walls were pictures of animals and fishes and strange plants, and collections of birds' eggs, and seashells in glass cases. The doctor was standing at the main table in his dressing-gown. At first I thought he was washing his face. He had a square glass box before him full of water. He was holding one ear under the water while he covered the other with his left hand. As I came in he stood up. Good morning, Stubbins, said he. Going to be a nice day, don't you think? I've just been listening to the whiff-whoff. But he is very disappointing. Very. Why, I said. Didn't you find that he has any language at all? Oh, yes, said the doctor. He has a language. But it is such a poor language, only a few words like yes and no, hot and cold. That's all he can say. It's very disappointing. You see, he really belongs to two different families of fishes. I thought he was going to be tremendously helpful. Well, well. I suppose, said I, that means he hasn't very much sense if his language is only two or three words. Yes, I suppose it does. Possibly it is the kind of life he leads. You see, they are very rare now, these whiff-whoffs. Very rare and very solitary. They swim around in the deepest parts of the ocean entirely by themselves, always alone. So I presume they really don't need to talk much. Perhaps some kind of a bigger shellfish would talk more, I said. After all, he is very small, isn't he? Yes, said the doctor. That's true. Oh, I have no doubt that there are shellfish who are good talkers. Not the least doubt. But the big shellfish, the biggest of them, are so hard to catch. They are only to be found in the deep parts of the sea, and as they don't swim very much, but just crawl along the floor of the ocean most of the time, they are very seldom taken in nets. I do wish I could find some way of going down to the bottom of the sea. I could learn a lot, if I could only do that. But we are forgetting all about breakfast. Have you had breakfast yet, stubborns? I told the doctor that I had forgotten all about it, and he at once led the way into the kitchen. Yes, he said, as he poured the hot water from the kettle into the teapot. If a man could only manage to get right down to the bottom of the sea, and live there a while, he would discover some wonderful things, things that people have never dreamed of. But men do go down, don't they? I asked. Divers and people like that? Oh, yes, to be sure, said the doctor. Divers go down. I have been down myself in a diving suit, for that matter. But, my, they only go where the sea is shallow. Divers can't go down where it is really deep. What I would like to do is to go down to the great depths, where it is miles deep. Well, well, I dare say I shall manage it some day. Let me give you another cup of tea. End of Part 1, Chapter 7. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgoyne. The Voyages of Doctor Do Little by Hugh Lofting. Part 1, Chapter 8. Are you a good noticer? Just at that moment, Polynesia came into the room and said something to the doctor in bird language. Of course, I did not understand what it was, but the doctor at once put down his knife and fork and left the room. You know, it is an awful shame, said the parrot as soon as the doctor had closed the door. Directly he comes back home, all the animals over the whole countryside get to hear of it and every sick cat and mangy rabbit for miles around comes to see him and ask his advice. Now, there's a big fat hare outside at the back door with a squawking baby. Can she see the doctor, please? Thinks it's going to have convulsions. Stupid little things been eating deadly nightshade again, I suppose. The animals are so inconsiderate at times, especially the mothers. They come round and call the doctor away from his meals and wake him out of his bed at all hours of the night. I don't know how he stands it, really, I don't. Why, the poor man never gets any peace at all. I've told him time and again to have special hours for the animals to come. But he is so frightfully kind and considerate. He never refuses to see them if there is anything really wrong with them. He says the urgent cases must be seen at once. Why don't some of the animals go and see the other doctors? I asked. Oh, good gracious, exclaimed the parrot, tossing her head scornfully. Why, there aren't any other animal doctors, not real doctors. Oh, of course there are those vet persons, to be sure. But, bless you, they're no good. You see, they can't understand the animal's language. So how can you expect them to be any use? Imagine yourself, or your father, going to see a doctor who could not understand a word you say. Nor even tell you, in your own language, what you must do to get well. Poof, those vets. They're that stupid, you've no idea. Put the doctors vacant down by the pyre, will you? To keep hot till he comes back. Do you think I would ever be able to learn the language of the animals? I asked, laying the plate upon the harp. Well, it all depends, said Polynesia. Are you clever at lessons? I don't know, I answered, feeling rather ashamed. You see, I've never been to school. My father is too poor to send me. Well, said the parent, I don't suppose you have really missed much, to judge from what I have seen of school boys. But listen, are you a good noticer? Do you notice things well? I mean, for instance, supposing you saw two cock starlings on an apple tree, and you only took one good look at them, would you be able to tell one from the other if you saw them again the next day? I don't know, I said, I've never tried. Well, that, said Polynesia, brushing some crumbs off the corner of the table with their left foot. That is what you call powers of observation, noticing the small things about birds and animals, the way they walk and move their heads and flip their wings, the way they sniff the air and twitch their whiskers and wiggle their tails. You have to notice all those little things if you want to learn animal language. For you see, lots of the animals hardly talk at all with their tongues, they use their breath or their tails or their feet instead. That is because many of them, in the olden days, when lions and tigers were more plentiful, were afraid to make a noise for fear the savage creatures heard them. Birds, of course, didn't care, for they always had wings to fly away with. But that is the first thing to remember, being a good noticeer is terribly important in learning animal language. It sounds pretty hard, I said. You'll have to be very patient, said Polynesia. It takes a long time to say even a few words properly. But if you come here often, I'll give you a few lessons myself. And once you get started, you'll be surprised how fast you get on. It would indeed be a good thing if you could learn. Because then you could do some of the work for the doctor. I mean the easier work, like bandaging and giving pills. Yes, yes, that's a good idea of mine. It would be a great thing if the poor man could get some help and some rest. It is a scandal the way he works. I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to help him a great deal. That is, if you are really interested in animals. Oh, I'd love that, I cried. Do you think the doctor would let me? Certainly, said Polynesia. As soon as you have learned something about doctoring, I'll speak of it to him myself. I hear him coming. Quick, bring his bacon back onto the table. End of chapter. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgine. The Voyages of Doctor Do Little by Hugh Lofting. Part 1, Chapter 9, The Garden of Greens When breakfast was over, the doctor took me out to show me the garden. Well, if the house had been interesting, the garden was a hundred times more so. Of all the gardens I have ever seen, it was the most delightful, the most fascinating. At first, you did not realise how big it was. You never seemed to come to the end of it. When at last, you were quite sure that you had seen it all. You would peer over a hedge, or turn a corner, or look up some steps, and there was a whole new part you never expected to find. It had everything, everything a garden can have, or ever has had. There were wide, wide lawns with carved stone seats, green with moss. Over the lawns hung weeping willows, and their feathery bow tips brushed the velvet grass when they swung with the wind. The old flag paths had high, clipped, new hedges either side of them, so that they looked like the narrow streets of some old town. And through the hedges, doorways had been made, and over the doorways were shapes like vases and peacocks and half-moons all trimmed out of the living trees. There was a lovely marble fish pond with golden carp and blue water lilies in it, and big green frogs. A hybrid wall alongside the kitchen garden was all covered with pink and yellow peaches, ripening in the sun. There was a wonderful great oak hollow in the trunk, big enough for four men to hide inside. Many summer houses there were, too, summer wood and summer stone, and one of them was for the books to read. In a corner, among some rocks and ferns, was an outdoor fireplace where the doctor used to fry liver and bacon when he had a notion to take his meals in the open air. There was a couch as well on which he used to sleep. It seems, on warm summer nights, when the nightingales were singing at their best, it had wheels on it so it could be moved about under any tree they sung in. But the thing that fascinated me most of all was a tiny little prehouse, high up in the top branches of a great elm, with a long rope ladder leading to it. The doctor told me he used it for looking at the moon and the stars through a telescope. It was the kind of garden where you could wander and explore for days and days, always coming upon something new. Always glad to find the old spots over again. That first time that I saw the doctor's garden, I was so charmed by it that I felt I would like to live in it. Always and always and never go outside of it again, for it had everything within its walls to give happiness, to make living pleasant, to keep the heart at peace. It was the garden of dreams. One peculiar thing I noticed immediately I came into it, and that was what a lot of birds there were about. Every tree seemed to have two or three nests in it, and heaps of other wild creatures appeared to be making themselves at home there too. Stoats and tortoises and dormers seemed to be quite common, and not in the least shy. Toads of different colours and sizes hopped about the lawn as though it belonged to them. Green lizards, which were very rare in puddle bee, sat up on the stones in the sunlight and blinked at us. Even snakes were to be seen. You need not be afraid of them, said the doctor, noticing that I started somewhat when a large black snake wheeled across the path right in front of us. These fellows are not poisonous. They do a great deal of good in keeping down many kinds of garden pests. I play the flute to them sometimes in the evening. They love it, stand right up on their tails and carry on no wind. Funny thing, their taste for music. Why do all these animals come and live here? I asked. I never saw a garden with so many creatures in it. Well, I suppose it's because they get the kind of food they like, and nobody worries or disturbs them. And then, of course, they know me. And if they or their children get sick, I presume they find it handy to be living in a doctor's garden. Look, you see that sparrow on the sundial, swearing at the blackbird down below. Well, he has been coming here every summer for years. He comes from London. The country sparrows round about here are always laughing at him. They say he chirps with such a cockney accent. He is a most amusing bird, very brave but very cheeky. He loves nothing better than an argument. But he always ends it by getting rude. He is a real city bird. In London, he lives around St Paul's Cathedral. Cheapside, we call him. Are all these birds from the country round here? I asked. Most of them, said the doctor. But a few rare ones visit me every year, who ordinarily never come near England at all. For instance, that handsome little fellow hovering over the Snapdragon there. He's a ruby-throated hummingbird, comes from America. Strictly speaking, he has no business in this climate at all. It is too cool. I make him sleep in the kitchen at night. Then every August, about the last week of the month, I have a purple bird of paradise come all the way from Brazil to see me. She is a very great swell. Hasn't arrived yet, of course. And there are a few others, foreign birds from the tropics mostly, who drop in on me in the course of the summer months. But come, I must show you the zoo. End of chapter. This is a Libre Fox recording. All Libre Fox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreFox.org. Recording by Farida de Lang. The voyages of Dr. Dolittle by Hugh Lofting. Part 1, chapter 10, The Private Zoo. I did not think there could be anything left in that garden which we had not seen. But the doctor took me by the arm and started off down a little narrow path. And after many windings and twistings and tonings, we found ourselves before a small door in a high stone wall. The doctor pushed it open. Inside was still another garden. I had expected to find cages with animals inside them, but there were none to be seen. Instead, there were little stone houses here and there all over the garden. And each house had a window and a door. As we walked in, many of these doors opened and animals came running out to us, evidently expecting food. Having the doors and he locks on them, I asked the doctor. Oh yes, he said. Every door has a lock, but in my zoo the doors opened from the inside, not from the out. The locks are only there so the animals can go and shut themselves in any time they want to get away from the annoyance of other animals or from people who might come here. Every animal in this zoo stays here because he likes it, not because he is made to. They all look very happy and clean, I said. Would you mind telling me the names of some of them? Certainly. Well now, that funny looking thing with plates on his back, nosing under the brick over there, is a South American amadillo. The little chap talking to him is a Canadian woodchuck. They both live in those holes you see at the foot of the wall. The two little beasts doing antics in the pond are a pair of Russian minks and that reminds me I must go and get them some herrings from the town before noon. It is early closing today. That animal just stepping out of his house is an antelope, one of the smaller South African kinds. Now let us move to the other side of those bushes and there I will show you some more. Are those deer over there? I asked. Deer? said the doctor. Where do you mean? Over there. I said, pointing, nibbling the grass border of the bed. There are two of them. Oh that, said the doctor with a smile. That isn't two animals, that is one animal with two heads. The only two headed animal in the world. It is called the push me pull you. I brought him from Africa. He is very tame, acts as a kind of night watch for my zoo. He only sleeps with one head at a time. You see, very handy. The other head stays awake all night. Have you any lions or tigers? I asked as we moved on. No, said the doctor. It wouldn't be possible to keep them here. And I wouldn't keep them even if I could. If I had my way, stomachs, there wouldn't be a single lion or tiger in captivity anywhere in the world. They never take to it. They're never happy. They never settle down. They are always thinking of the big countries they have left behind. You can see it in their eyes. Dreaming. Dreaming always of the great open spaces where they were born. Dreaming of the deep dark jungles where their mothers first taught them how to scent and track the deer. And what are they given in exchange for all this? Asked the doctor. Stopping in his walk and growing all red and angry. What are they given in exchange for the glory of an African sunrise, for the twilight breeze whispering through the palms, for the green shade of the maddened tangled vines, for the cool big starred nights in the deserts, for the patter of the waterfall after a hard day's hunt. What, I ask you, are they given in exchange for these? Why, a bear cage with iron bars, a nutly piece of dead meat thrust to them once a day, and a crowd of fools to come and stare at them with open mouths. No stubbornness. Lions and tigers, the big hunters, should never, never be seen in zoos. The doctor seemed to have grown terribly serious, almost sad, but suddenly his manner changed again and he took me by the arm with the same old cheerful smile. But we haven't seen the butterfly houses yet. Nor the aquariums. Come along. I'm very proud of my butterfly houses. Off we went again, and came presently into a hatched enclosure. Here I saw several big huts made of fine wire netting, like cages. Inside the netting all sorts of beautiful flowers were growing in the sun, with butterflies skimming over them. The doctor pointed to the end of one of the huts with little boxes with holes in them stood in a row. Those are the hatching boxes, said he. There are put the different kinds of caterpillars, and as soon as they turn into butterflies and moths, they come out into these flower gardens to feed. Do butterflies have a language? I asked. Oh, how fancy they have, said the doctor. And the beetles too. But so far I haven't succeeded in learning much about insect languages. I have been too busy lately trying to master the shellfish talk. I mean to take it up, though. At that moment, Polynesia joined us and said, Doctor, there are two guinea pigs at the back door. They say they have run away from the boy who kept them, because they didn't get the right stuff to eat. They want to know if he will take them in. All right, said the doctor. Show them the way to the zoo. Give them the house on the left, near the gate, the one the black fox had. Tell them what the rules are, and give them a square meal. Now, stomachs, we will go on to the aquariums. And first of all, I must show you a big glass seawater tank, where I keep the shellfish. End of chapter 10, recorded by Verida De Lang. This is a Library Fox recording. All Library Fox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit libraryfox.org. Recording by Verida De Lang. The voyages of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Loftin, part one, chapter 11, my schoolmaster, Polynesia. Well, there were not many days after that, you may be sure, when I did not come to see my new friend. Indeed, I was at his house practically all day and every day, so that one evening my mother asked me jokingly why I did not take my bed over there and live at the doctor's house altogether. After a while I think I got to be quite useful to the doctor, feeding his pets for him, helping to make new houses and fences for the zoo, assisting with the sick animals that came, doing all manner of odd jobs about the place, so that although I enjoyed it all very much, it was indeed like living in a new world. I really think the doctor would have missed me if I had not come so often. And all this time Polynesia came with me wherever I went, teaching me bird language and showing me how to understand the talking signs of the animals. At first I thought I would never be able to learn at all, it seemed so difficult, but the old parrot was wonderfully patient with me, though I could see that occasionally she had hard work to keep her temper. Soon I began to pick up the strange chatter of the birds and to understand the funny talking antics of the dogs. I used to practice listening to the mice behind the rain scout after I went to bed and watching the cats on the roof and pigeons in the market square of Paddleby. And the days passed by very quickly, as they always do when life is pleasant. And the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and soon the roses in the doctor's garden were losing their petals and yellow leaves lay upon the white green lawn. For the summer was nearly gone. One day Polynesia and I were talking in the library. This was a fine long room with a grand mental piece and the walls were covered from the ceiling to the floor with shelves full of books. Books of stories, books on gardening, books about medicine, books of travel, these I loved, and especially the doctor's great Atlas, with all its maps of different countries of the world. This afternoon Polynesia was showing me the books about animals which John Doolittle had written himself. My, I said, what a lot of books the doctor has, all the way around the room, goodness! I wish I could read. It must be tremendously interesting. Can you read, Polynesia? Only a little, said she, be careful how you turn those pages. Don't tear them. No, I really don't get time enough for reading much. That letter there is a K and this is a B. What does this word under the picture mean? I asked. Let me see, she said, and started spelling it out. B-A-B-O-O-N. That's monkey. Reading isn't nearly as hard as it looks once you know the letters. Polynesia, I said, I want to ask you something very important. What is it my boy? said she, smoothing down the feathers of a right wing. Polynesia often spoke to me in a very patronizing way, but I did not mind it from her. After all, she was nearly two hundred years old, and I was only ten. Listened, I said. My mother doesn't think it is right that I come here for so many meals, and I was going to ask you, supposing I did a whole lot more work for the doctor, why couldn't I come and live here altogether? You see, instead of being paid like a regular gardener or workman, I would get my bed and meals in exchange for the work I did. What do you think? You mean you want to be a proper assistant to the doctor? Is that it? Yes, I suppose that's what you can call it, I answered. You know, you said yourself that you thought I could be very useful to him. Well, she thought for a moment. I really don't see why not. But is this what you want to be when you grow up? A naturalist? Yes, I said. I have made up my mind. I will soon be a naturalist than anything else in the world. Hmm, let's go and speak to the doctor about it, said Polynesia. He's in the next room, in the study. Open the door very gently. He may be working, and not want to be disturbed. I opened the door quietly and peeped in. The first thing I saw was an enormous black retriever door, sitting in the middle of the hearthrog with his ears cucked up, listening to the doctor who was reading aloud to him from a letter. What is the doctor doing? I asked Polynesia in a whisper. Oh, the dog has had a letter from his mistress, and he has brought it to the doctor to read for him. That's all. He belongs to a funny little girl called Minip Duli, who lives on the other side of the town. She has pigtails down her back. She and her brother have gone away to the seaside for the summer, and the old retriever is heartbroken while the children are gone. So they write letters to him, in English of course, and as the old dog doesn't understand them, he brings them here, and the doctor turns them into dog language for him. I think Mini must have written that she is coming back, to judge from the dog's excitement. Just look at him carrying on. Indeed, the retriever seemed to be suddenly overcome with joy, as the doctor finished the letter the old dog started barking at the top of his voice, wagging his tail wildly and jumping about the study. He took the letter in his mouth and ran out of the room, snorting hard and mumbling to himself. He's going down to meet the coach, whispered Polynesia. That dog's devotion to those children is more than I can understand. You should see Mini. She is the most conceited little minx that ever walked. She squints too. End of chapter 11, recorded by Farida de Lang. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Stefan Schmetz The voyages of Dr. Durettel By You Lofting Part 1 Chapter 12 My great idea. Presently the doctor looked up and saw us at the door. Oh, come in, Stubbins, said he. Did you wish to speak to me? Come in and take a chair. Doctor, I said. I want to be a naturalist like you when I grow up. Oh, you do, do you? Mermin the doctor. Um, well, dear me, you don't say, well, have you spoken to your mother and father about it? No, not yet, I said. I want you to speak to them for me. You would do it better. I want to be your helper, your assistant, if you'll have me. Last night my mother was saying that she didn't consider it right for me to come here so often for meals, and I've been thinking about it a good deal since. Couldn't we make some arrangements? Couldn't I work for my meals and sleep here? But my dear Stubbins, said the doctor, laughing. You are quite welcome to come here for three meals a day all the year round. I'm only too glad to have you. Besides, you do a lot of work as it is. I've often felt that I ought to pay you for what you do. But what arrangement was it that you thought of? Well, I thought, said I, that perhaps you would come and see my mother and father and tell them that if they let me live here with you and work hard, that you will teach me to read and write. You see, my mother is all fully anxious to have me learn reading and writing. And besides, I couldn't be a proper naturalist without, could I? Oh, I don't know so much about that, said the doctor. It is nice, I admit, to be able to read and write. But naturalists are not all alike, you know. For example, this young fellow Charles Darwin that people are talking about so much now. He's a Cambridge graduate, reads and writes very well. And then Cuvier. He used to be a tutor. But listen, the greatest naturalist of them all doesn't even know how to write his own name nor to read the ABC. Who is he? I asked. He is a mysterious person, said the doctor, a very mysterious person. His name is Long Arrow, the son of Golden Arrow. He's a red Indian. Have you ever seen him? I asked. No, said the doctor. I've never seen him. No white man has ever met him. I fancy Mr. Darwin doesn't even know that he exists. He lives almost entirely with the animals and with the different tribes of Indians, usually somewhere among the mountains of Peru. Never stays long in one place, goes from tribe to tribe like a sort of Indian tramp. How do you know so much about him? I asked if you've never even seen him. The purple bird of paradise, said the doctor. She told me all about him. She says he is a perfectly marvelous naturalist. I got her to take a message to him for me last time she was here. I'm expecting her back any day now. I can hardly wait to see what answer she has brought from him. It is already almost the last week of August. I do hope nothing has happened to her on the way. But why do the animals and birds come to you when they are sick? I said. Why don't they go to him if he is so very wonderful? It seems that my methods are more up to date, said the doctor. But from what the purple bird of paradise tells me, Long Arrow's knowledge of natural history must be positively tremendous. His speciality is botany, plants and all that sort of thing. But he knows a lot about birds and animals too. He's very good on bees and beels. But now tell me, Stubbins, are you quite sure that you really want to be a naturalist? Yes, said I. My mind is made up. Well, you know, it isn't a very good profession for making money, not at all it isn't. Most of the good naturalists don't make any money whatever. All they do is spend money buying butterfly nets and cases for birds, eggs and things. It is only now after I have been a naturalist for many years that I am beginning to make a little money from the books I write. I don't care about money, I said. I want to be a naturalist. Won't you please come and have dinner with my mother and father next Thursday? I told them I was going to ask you, and then you can talk to them about it. You see, there's another thing. If I'm living with you and sort of belong to your house and business, I shall be able to come with you next time you go on a voyage. Oh, I see, said he, smiling. So you want to come on a voyage with me, do you? Aha! Aha! I want to go on all your voyages with you. It would be much easier for you if you had someone to carry the butterfly nets and notebooks, wouldn't it now? For a long time the doctors had thinking, drumming on the desk with his fingers, while I waited terribly impatiently to see what he was going to say. At last he shrugged his shoulders and stood up. Well, stubborn, said he, I'll come and talk it over with you and your parents next Thursday, and, well, we'll see, we'll see. Give your mother and father my compliments and thank them for their invitation, will you? Then I tore home like the wind to tell my mother that the doctor has promised to come. End of Chapter 12 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Stefan Schmelz. The voyages of Dr. Doodlittle. By you, Lofting. Part 1 Chapter 13 A traveler arrives. The next day I was sitting on the wall of the doctor's garden after tea, talking to Dub Dub. I had now learned so much from Polynesia that I could talk to most birds and some animals without a great deal of difficulty. I found Dub Dub a very nice old motherly bird, though not nearly so clever and interesting as Polynesia. She had been housekeeper for the doctor many years now. Well, as I was saying, the old duck and I were sitting on the flat top of the garden wall that evening, looking down into the oxenthorpe road below. We were watching some sheep being driven to market in Puddlebee, and Dub Dub had just been telling me about the doctor's adventures in Africa, for she had gone on a voyage with him to that country long ago. Suddenly I heard a curious distant noise down the road towards the town. It sounded like a lot of people cheering. I stood up on the wall to see if I could make out what was coming. Presently they appeared round a bend, a great crowd of school children, following a very ragged, curious-looking woman. What in the world can it be? cried Dub Dub. The children were all laughing and shouting, and certainly the woman they were following was most extraordinary. She had very long arms and the most stooping shoulders I have ever seen. She wore a straw hat on the side of her head with poppies on it, and her skirt was so long for her it dragged on the ground like a ball-gown's train. I could not see anything of her face, because of the white hat pulled over her eyes. But as she got nearer to us and the laughing of the children grew louder, I noticed that her hands were very dark in color, and hairy, like a witch. Then, all of a sudden, Dub Dub at my side startled me by crying out in a loud voice. Why, it's Gigi. Gigi, come back at last. How dear those children tease him. I'll give the little him something to laugh at. And she flew right off the wall down into the road and made straight for the children, squawking away in a most terrifying fashion and packing at their feet and legs. The children made off down the street back to the town as hard as they could run. The strange-looking figure in the straw hat stood gazing after them a moment, and then came verily up to the gate. It didn't bother to undo the ledge, but climbed right over the gate as though it was something in the way. And then I noticed that it took hold of the boughs with its feet, so that it really had four hands to climb with. But it was only when I at last got a glimpse of the face under the hat that I could be really sure it was a monkey. Gigi, for it was he, frowned at me suspiciously from the top of the gate as though he thought I was going to laugh at him like the other boys and girls. Then he dropped into the garden on the inside and immediately started taking off his clothes. He tore the straw hat in two and threw it down into the road. Then he took off his bodies and skirt, jumped on them savagely, and began kicking them around the front garden. Presently I heard a screech from the house and out flew Polynesia, followed by the doctor and jib. Gigi, Gigi, shouted the parrot, you've come at last. I always told the doctor you'd find a way. However did you do it? They all gathered round him shaking him by his forehands, laughing and asking him million questions at once. Then they all started back for the house. Run up to my bedroom, Stubbins, said the doctor, turning to me. You'll find a bag of peanuts in the small left-hand drawer of the burrow. I have always kept them there in case he might come back unexpectedly someday. And wait a minute, see if Dub Dub has any bananas in the pantry. Gigi hasn't had a banana, he tells me, in two months. When I came down again to the kitchen, I found everybody listening attentively to the monkey who was telling the story of his journey from Africa. End of chapter 13. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Al Hunt, Alberta, Canada. The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle by Hugh Lofting Part 1 Chapter 14. Gigi's Voyage It seems that after Polynesia had left, Gigi had grown more homesick than ever for the doctor and the little house in Puttleby. At last he had made up his mind that by hook or crook he would follow her. And one day, going down to the seashore, he saw a lot of people, black and white, getting onto a ship that was coming to England. He tried to get on too, but they turned him back and drove him away. And presently he noticed a whole big family of funny people passing onto the ship, and one of the children in this family reminded Gigi of a cousin of his, with whom he had once been in love. So he said to himself, That girl looks just as much like a monkey as I look like a girl. If I could only get some clothes to wear, I might easily slip onto the ship amongst these families, and people would take me for a girl. Good idea! So he went off to a town that was quite close, and hopping in through an open window he found a skirt and bodice lying on a chair. They belonged to a fashionable black lady who was taking a bath. Gigi put them on. Next he went back to the seashore, mingle with the crowd there, and at last sneaked safely onto the big ship. Then he thought he had better hide for fear that people might look at him too closely. And he stayed hidden all the time the ship was sailing to England, only coming out at night when everybody was asleep to find food. When he reached England and tried to get off the ship, the sailor saw at last that he was only a monkey dressed up in girls' clothes, and they wanted to keep him for a pet. But he managed to give them the slip, and once he was on shore he dived into the crowd and got away. But he was still a long distance from Puttleby, and had to come right across the whole breadth of England. He had a terrible time of it. Whenever he passed through a town, all the children ran after him in a crowd, laughing, and often silly people caught hold of him and tried to stop him, so that he had to run up lampposts and to climb to chimney-pots to escape from them. At night he used to sleep in the ditches or barns or anywhere he could hide, and he lived on the berries he picked from the hedges and the cobnuts that grew in the corpses. At length, after many adventures and narrow squeaks, he saw the Tower of Puttleby Church, and knew that at last he was near his old home. When Cheechy had finished his story he ate six bananas without stopping and drank a whole bowl full of milk. My, he said, why wasn't I born with wings, like Polynesia, so I could fly here? You have no idea how I grew to hate that hat and skirt. I have never been so uncomfortable in my life. All the way from Bristol here, if the wretched hat wasn't falling off my head or catching in the trees, those beastly skirts were tripping me up and getting wound around everything. What on earth do women wear those things for? Goodness, I was glad to see Old Puttleby this morning when I climbed over the hill by Bellaby's farm. Your bed on top of the plate rack in the scullery is all ready for you, said the doctor. We never had it disturbed in case you might come back. Yes, said Dab Dab, and you can have the old smoking jacket of the doctors, which you used to use as a blanket in case it's cold in the night. Thanks, said Cheechy. It's good to be back in the old house again. Everything's just the same as when I left, except the clean roller towel on the back of the door there. That's new. Well, I think I'll go to bed now. I need sleep. Then we all went out of the kitchen into the scullery and watched Cheechy climb up the plate rack like a sailor going up a mast. On the top he curled himself up, pulled the old smoking jacket over him, and in a minute he was snoring peacefully. Good old Cheechy! whispered the doctor. I'm glad he's back. Yes, good old Cheechy! echoed Dab Dab and Polynesia. Then we all tiptoed out of the scullery and closed the door very gently behind us. End of Chapter 14. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Al Hunt, Alberta, Canada. The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle by Hugh Lofting. Part 1, Chapter 15. I Become a Doctor's Assistant When Thursday evening came there was great excitement at our house. My mother had asked me what were the doctor's favorite dishes, and I had told her spare ribs, sliced beetroot, fried bread, shrimps, and treacle tart. Tonight she had them all on the table waiting for him, and was now fussing round the house to see if everything was tidy in readiness for his coming. At last we heard a knock upon the door, and of course it was I who got there first to let him in. The doctor had brought his own flute with him this time, and after supper was over, which he enjoyed very much, the table was cleared away and the washing up left in the kitchen sink till the next day. Then the doctor and my father started playing duets. They got so interested in this that I began to be afraid that they would never come to talking over my business. But at last the doctor said, Your son tells me that he is anxious to become a naturalist. And then began a long talk which lasted far into the night. At first both my mother and father were rather against the idea, as they had been from the beginning. They said it was only a boyish whim, and then I would get tired of it very soon. But after the matter had been talked over from every side the doctor turned to my father and said, Well now, supposing, Mr. Stubbins, that your son came to me for two years, that is, until he is twelve years old. During those two years he will have time to see if he is going to grow tired of it or not. Also, during that time I will promise to teach him reading and writing, and perhaps a little arithmetic as well. What do you say to that? I don't know, said my father, shaking his head. You were very kind, and it is a handsome offer you make, doctor, but I feel that Tommy ought to be learning some trade by which he can earn his living later on. Then my mother spoke up. Although she was nearly in tears in the prospect of my leaving her house while I was still so young, she pointed out to my father that this was a grand chance for me to get learning. Now, Jacob, she said, You know many lads in town have been to the grammar school till they were fourteen or fifteen years old. Tommy can easily spare these two years for his education, and if he learns no more than to read and write, the time will not be lost. Though, goodness knows, she added, getting out her handkerchief to cry, the house will seem terribly empty when he's gone. I will take care that he comes to see you, Mrs. Stubbins, said the doctor. Every day, if you like, after all, we will not be very far away. Well, at length my father gave in, and it was agreed that I was to live with the doctor and work with him for two years in exchange for learning to read and write and for my board and lodging. Of course, added the doctor, while I have money I will keep Tommy in clothes as well, but money is a very irregular thing with me. Sometimes I have some, and then sometimes I haven't. You're a very good doctor, said my mother, drying her tears. It seems to me that Tommy is a very fortunate boy. And then, thoughtless, selfish little imp that I was, I leaned over and whispered in the doctor's ear. Please don't forget to say something about the voyages. Oh, by the way, said John Doolittle. Of course, occasionally my work requires me to travel. You will have no objection, I take it, to your sons coming with me. My poor mother looked up sharply, more unhappy and anxious than ever at this new turn, while I stood behind the doctor's chair, my heart thumping with excitement, waiting for my father's answer. No, he said slowly after a while. If we agree to the other arrangement, I don't see we've the right to make any objection to that. Well, surely there was never a happier boy in the world than I was at that moment. My head was in the clouds. I trod on air. I could scarcely keep from dancing around the parlor. At last the dream of my life was to come true. At last I was given a chance to seek my fortune, to have adventures, for I knew perfectly well that it was now almost time for the doctor to start upon another voyage. Polynesia had told me that he hardly ever stayed home for more than six months at a stretch. Therefore he would be surely going again within a fortnight, and I, I Tommy Stumbins, would go with him. Just think of it. To cross the sea, to walk on foreign shores, to roam the world, end of ch-