 Preface of Dr. Doolittle's post-office 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 Phil Chenevere, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Dr. Doolittle's post-office by Hugh Lofting Preface Nearly all of the history of Dr. Doolittle's post-office took place when he was returning from a voyage to West Africa. Therefore I will begin, as soon as I have told you a little about how he came to take the journey, from where he turned his ship towards home again and set sail for Puttleby on the marsh. Sometime before this, the push-me-pull-you, after a long stay in England, had grown a little home sick for Africa, and although he was tremendously fond of the doctor and never wanted to leave him altogether, he asked him one winter day when the weather was particularly cold and disagreeable, if he would mind running down to Africa for a holiday just for a week or two. The doctor readily agreed, because he hadn't been on a voyage in a long while, and he felt he too needed a change from the chilly December days of England. So he started off. Besides the push-me-pull-you, he took dab-dab the duck, jipped the dog, gubb-gub the pig, tutu the owl, and the white-mouse. The same good company he had had with him on his adventurous return from the land of the monkeys. For this trip the doctor bought a little sailing-boat, very old and battered and worn, bought a good sound craft for bad weather. They sailed away down to the south coast of the Bight of Benin. There they visited many African kingdoms and strange tribes, and while they were ashore, the push-me-pull-you had a chance to wonder freely through his old grazing grounds, and he enjoyed his holiday thoroughly. One morning the doctor was delighted to see his old friend the swallows gathering once more about his ship at anchor for their yearly flight to England. They asked him whether he too was returning, because if so, they said, they would accompany him, the same as they had done when he was escaping from the kingdom of Jolli-jenki. As the push-me-pull-you was now quite ready to leave, the doctor thanked the swallows and told them he would be delighted to have their company. And for the remainder of that day all was hustle and hurry and bustle, getting the ship provisioned and making preparations for the long trip back to England. By the following morning everything was in readiness to put to see. The anchor was drawn up and with all sail set, the doctor's ship moved northward before a favourable wind. And it is from this point that my story begins. End of Preface Part 1, Chapter 1 of Dr. Doolittle's Post Office by Hugh Lofting One morning, in the first week of the return voyage, when Dr. Doolittle and his animals were all sitting at breakfast round the big table in the cabin, one of the swallows came down and said that he wanted to speak to the doctor. John Doolittle at once left the table and went out into the passage where he found the swallow-leader himself, a very neat, trim little bird with long, long wings and sharp, snappy black eyes. Speedy the skimmer, he was called, a name truly famous throughout the whole of the feathered world. He was the champion flycatcher and aerial acrobat of Europe, Africa, Asia and America. For years, every summer, he had won all the flying races, having broken his own record only last year by crossing the Atlantic in eleven and a half hours at a speed of over two hundred miles an hour. Well, Speedy, said John Doolittle, what is it? Doctor, said the little bird in a mysterious whisper, we have sighted a canoe about a mile ahead of the ship and a little to the eastward, with only a black woman in it. She is weeping bitterly and isn't paddling the canoe at all. She is several miles from land, ten at least, I should say, because at the moment we are crossing the Bay of Fantipo and can only just see the shore of Africa. She is really in dangerous straits, with such a little bit of boat that far out at sea. But she doesn't seem to care. She is just sitting in the bottom of the canoe, crying as if she didn't mind what happens to her. I wish you would come and speak to her, for we fear she is in great trouble. All right, said the doctor, fly slowly on to where the canoe is and I will steer the ship to follow you. So John Doolittle went up on deck, and by steering the boat after the guiding swallows, he presently saw a small dark canoe rising and falling on the waves. It looked so tiny on the wide face of the waters that it could be taken for a log or a stick, or indeed missed altogether, unless you were close enough to see it. In the canoe sat a woman with her head bowed down upon her knees. What's the matter? shouted the doctor, as soon as he was near enough to make the woman here. Why have you come so far from the land? Don't you know that you are in great danger if a storm should come up? Slowly the woman raised her head. Go away, said she, and leave me to my sorrow. Haven't you white men done me enough harm? John Doolittle steered the boat up closer still and continued to talk to the woman in a kindly way, but she seemed for a long time to mistrust him because he was a white man. Little by little, however, the doctor won her confidence, and at last, still weeping bitterly, she told him her story. Those were the days you must understand when slavery was being done away with. To capture, to buy, or to sell slaves had in fact been strictly forbidden by most governments. But certain bad men still came down to the west coast of Africa and captured or bought slaves secretly and took them away on ships to other lands to work on cotton and tobacco plantations. Some African kings sold prisoners they had taken in war to these men and made a great deal of money that way. Well, this woman in the canoe belonged to a tribe which had been at war with the king of Funtipo. An African kingdom situated on the coast near which the swallows had seen the canoe. And in this war the king of Funtipo had taken many prisoners among whom was the woman's husband. Shortly after the war was over, some white men in a ship had called at the kingdom of Funtipo to see if they could buy slaves for tobacco plantations, and when the king heard how much money they were willing to give for black slaves, he thought he would sell them the prisoners he had taken in the war. The woman's name was Zuzana, and her husband was a very strong and fine looking man. The king of Funtipo would have kept Zuzana's husband for this reason because he liked to have strong men at his court, but the slave traders also wanted strong men, for they could do a lot of work on the plantations, and they offered the king of Funtipo a specially high price for Zuzana's husband, and the king had sold him. Zuzana described to the doctor how she had followed the white man's ship a long way out in a canoe imploring them to give her back her husband, but they had only laughed at her and gone on their way, and their ship had soon passed out of sight. That was why she said she hated all white men and had not wanted to speak to the doctor when he had hailed her canoe. The doctor was strengthily angry when he had heard the story, and he asked Zuzana how long ago it was that the slave ship bearing her husband had left. She told him it was half an hour ago. Without her husband she said life meant nothing to her, and when the ship had passed from view, going northward along the coast, she had burst into tears and just let the canoe drift, not even having the heart to paddle back to land. The doctor told the woman that no matter what it cost he was going to help her, and he was all for speeding up his ship and going in chase of the slave boat right away, but Dab Dab the duck warned him that his boat was very slow, and that its sails could be easily seen by the slavers who would never allow it to come near them. So the doctor put down his anchor and, leaving the ship where it was, got into the woman's canoe. Then, calling to the Swallows to help him as guides, he set off northward along the coast, looking into all the bays and behind all the islands for the slave ship which had taken Zuzana's husband. But after many hours of fruitless search, night began to come on and the Swallows who were acting as guides could no longer see big distances for there was no moon. Poor Zuzana began weeping some more when the doctor said he would have to give up for the night. My morning, said she, the ship of the wicked slave dealers will be many miles away, and I shall never get my husband back, alas, alas! The doctor comforted her as best he could, saying that if he failed he would get her another husband just as good. But she didn't seem to care for that idea and went on willing, alas, alas! She made such a noise that the doctor couldn't get to sleep on the bottom of the canoe, which wasn't very comfortable, anyway. So he had to sit up and listen. Some of the Swallows were still with him, sitting on the edge of the canoe. And the famous skimmer, the leader, was also there. They and the doctor were talking over what they could do, when suddenly the skimmer said, Sh, look! and pointed out to the westward over the dark heaving sea. Even Zuzana stopped her wailing and turned to look. And there, away out on the dim black edge of the ocean, they could see a tiny light. A ship, cried the doctor. Yes, said Speedy. That's the ship, sure enough. I wonder if it's another slave ship. Well, if it's a slave ship, it's not the one we're looking for, said the doctor, because it's in the wrong direction, the one we're after went northward. Listen, doctor, said Speedy, the skimmer. Suppose I fly over to it and see what kind of a ship it is, and come back and tell you. Who knows, it might be able to help us. All right, Speedy. Thank you, said the doctor. So skimmer sped off into the darkness to war the tiny light far out to sea, while the doctor fell to wondering how his own ship was getting on, which he had left at anchor, some miles down the coast to the southward. After twenty minutes had gone by, John Doolittle began to get worried, because the skimmer, with his tremendous speed, should have had time to get there and back long ago. But soon, with a flirt of the wings, the famous leader made a neat circle in the darkness overhead, and dropped light as a feather on the doctor's knee. Well, said John Doolittle, what kind of a ship was it? It's a big ship, panted the skimmer, with tall, high masts, and I should judge a fast one. But it is coming this way, and it is sailing with great care, afraid, I imagine, of shallows and sandbars. It is a very neat ship, smart and new looking all over, and there are great big guns, cannons, looking out of little doors in her sides. The men on her, too, are all well dressed in smart blue clothes, not like ordinary seamen at all. And on the ship's hull was painted some lettering, her name, I suppose. Of course, I couldn't read it, but I remember what it looked like. Give me your hand, and I'll show you. Then the skimmer, with one of his claws, began tracing out some letters on the doctor's palm. Before he had got very far, John Doolittle sprang up, nearly overturning the canoe. H. M. S., he cried. That means her majesty's ship. It's a manowar, a navy vessel. The very thing we want to deal with slave-traders. End of Part 1, Chapter 1. Part 1, Chapter 2 of Dr. Doolittle's Post Office by Hugh Lofting. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part 1, Chapter 2. The Doctor's Reception on the Warship. Then the doctor and Zuzanna started to paddle their canoe for all they were worth in the direction of the light. The night was calm, but the long swell of the ocean swung the little canoe up and down like a seesaw, and it needed all Zuzanna's skill to keep it in a straight line. After about an hour had gone by, the doctor noticed the ship they were trying to reach was no longer coming toward them but seemed to have stopped, and when he finally came up beneath its towering shape in the darkness, he saw the reason why. The manowar had run into his own ship, which he had left at anchor with no lights. However, the navy vessel had fortunately been going so carefully that no serious damage it seemed had been done to either ship. Being a rope ladder hanging on the side of the manowar, John Doolittle climbed up it with Zuzanna and went aboard to see the captain. He found the captain strutting the quarter-deck, mumbling to himself. Good evening, said the doctor politely. Nice weather we're having. The captain came up to him and shook his fist in his face. Are you the owner of that Noah's Ark down there, he stormed, bringing to the other ship alongside? Uh, yes, temporarily, said the doctor. Why? Well, will you be so good? snarled the captain, his face all out of shape with rage, as to tell me what in thunder you mean by leaving your old junk at anchor on a dark night without any lights? What kind of a sailor are you? Here I bring her majesty's latest cruiser after Jimmy Bones, the slave trader, been hunting him for weeks I have, and as though the beastly coast wasn't difficult enough as it is, I bump into a craft riding at anchor with no lights. Luckily I was going slow, taking soundings, or we might have gone down with all hands. I hallowed to your ship and got no answer, so I go aboard her with pistols ready, thinking maybe she's a slaver trying to play tricks on me. I creep all over the ship but not a soul do I meet. At last in the cabin I find a pig, a sleep in an armchair. Do you usually leave your craft in the charge of a pig with orders to go to sleep? If you own the ship, why aren't you on her? Where have you been? I was out canoeing with the lady, said the doctor, and he smiled comfortingly at Zuzana, who was beginning to weep again. Cunnowing with a lady? Sputtered the captain. Well, I'll be, yes, said the doctor. Let me introduce you. This is Zuzana, Captain. But the captain interrupted him by calling for a sailor who stood near. I'll teach you to leave Noah's arks at anchor on the high seas for the Navy to bump into my fine deep sea philanderer. Think the shipping laws are made for a joke? Here. He turned to the sailor who had come in answer to his call. Master at arms put this man under arrest. Aye, aye, sir, said the master at arms. And before the doctor knew it, he had handcuffs fastened firmly on his wrists. But this lady was in distress, said the doctor. I was in such a hurry I forgot all about lighting the ship. In fact, it wasn't dark yet when I left. Take him below, roared the captain. Take him below before I kill him. And the poor doctor was dragged away by the master at arms toward a stair leading to the lower decks. But at the head of the stairs he caught hold of the handrail and hung on long enough to shout back to the captain. I could tell you where Jimmy Bowens is if I wanted to. What's that? Snorted the captain. Here, bring him back. What was that you said? I said, murmured the doctor, getting his handkerchief out and blowing his nose with his handcuffed hands, that I could tell you where Jimmy Bowens is if I wanted to. Jimmy Bones, this labor, cried the captain. That's the man the government has sent me after. Where is he? My memory doesn't work very well while my hands are tied, said the doctor quietly nodding toward the handcuffs. Possibly if you took these things off I might remember. Oh, excuse me, said the captain, his manner changing at once. Master at arms, release the prisoner. Aye, aye, sir, said the sailor, removing the handcuffs from the doctor's wrists and turning to go. Oh, and by the way, the captain called after him, bring a chair up on deck, perhaps our visitor is tired. Then John Doolittle told the captain the whole story of Zuzana and her troubles, and all the other officers on the ship gathered around to listen. And I have no doubt, the doctor ended, that this slave who took away the woman's husband was no other than Jimmy Bones the man you are after. Quite so, said the captain, I know he is somewhere around the coast, but where is he now? He's a difficult fish to catch. He has gone northward, said the doctor, but your ship is fast and should be able to overtake him. If he hides in some of these bays and creeks, I have several birds here with me who can, as soon as it is light, seek him out for us and tell us where he is. The captain looked with astonishment into the faces of his listening officers, who all smiled unbelievingly. What do you mean, birds? The captain asked. Pigeons, train canaries or something? No, said the doctor. I mean the swallows who are going back to England for the summer. They very kindly offered to guide my ship home. They're friends of mine, you see. This time the officers all burst out laughing and tapped their foreheads knowingly to show they thought the doctor was crazy. And the captain, thinking he was being made a fool of, flew into a rage once more and was all for having the doctor arrested again. But the officer, who was second in command, whispered in the captain's ear. Why not take the old fellow along and let him try, sir? Our course was northward anyway. I seem to remember hearing something when I was attached to the home fleet about an old chap in the west countries who had some strange powers with beasts and birds. I have no doubt this is he. Do little, he was called. He seems harmless enough. There's just a chance he may be of some assistance to us. The natives evidently trust him or the woman wouldn't have come with him. You know how scared they are of putting to sea with a white man. After a moment's thought the captain turned to the doctor again. You sound clean crazy to me, my good man. But if you can put me in the way of capturing Jimmy Bones, the slaver, I don't care what means you used to do it. As soon as the day breaks, we will get underway. But if you are just amusing yourself at the expense of Her Majesty's navy, I warn you, it will be the worst days work for yourself you ever did. Now go and put riding lights on that arc of yours and tell the pig that if he lets them go out he shall be made into rashes of bacon for the officer's mess. There was much laughter and joking as the doctor climbed over the side and went back to his own ship to get his lights lit. But the next morning when he came back to the manor war and about a thousand swallows came with him, the officers of Her Majesty's navy were not nearly so inclined to make fun of him. The sun was just rising over the distant coast of Africa and it was as beautiful a morning as you could wish to see. Speedy the skimmer had arranged plans with the doctor overnight and, long before the Great Warship pulled up her anchor and swung around upon her course, the famous swallow leader was miles ahead with a band of picked hunters exploring up creeks and examining all the hollows of the coast where the slave trader might be hiding. Speedy had agreed with the doctor upon a sort of overhead telegraph system to be carried on by the swallows. And as soon as the millions of little birds had spread themselves out in a line along the coast so that the sky was speckled with them as far as the eye could reach, they began passing messages by whistling to one another all the way from the scouts in front back to the doctor on the warship to give news of how the hunt was progressing. And somewhere about noon word came through that the bones of slave ship had been cited behind a long high cape. Great care must be taken the message said, because the slave ship was all in readiness to sail at a moment's notice. The slavers had only stopped to get water and lookouts were posted to warn them to return it once if necessary. When the doctor told this to the captain, the manowar changed her course still closer inshore to keep behind the cover of the long cape. All the sailors were warned to keep very quiet so the navy ship could sneak up on the slaver unawares. Now the captain expecting the slavers to put up a fight also gave orders to get the guns ready and just as they were about to round the long cape one of the silly gunners led a gun off by accident. Boom! The shot went rolling and echoing over the silent sea like angry thunder. Instantly back came the word over the swallow's telegraph line that the slavers were warned and were escaping. And sure enough when the warship rounded the cape at last there was the slave ship putting out to sea with all sail set and a good ten-mile start on the manowar. In part one, chapter two. Part one, chapter three of Dr. Doolittle's post office by Hugh Lofting. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part one, chapter three, a great gunner. And then began a most exciting sea race. It was now two o'clock in the afternoon and there were not many hours of daylight left. The captain, after he had done swearing at the stupid gunner who had let off the gun by accident, realized that if he did not catch up to the slaver before dark came on he would probably lose him all together. For this Jim Bones was a very sly and clever rascal and he knew the west coast of Africa. It is sometimes called to this day the slave coast very well. After dark by running without lights he could easily find some nook or corner to hide in or double back on his course than be miles away before morning came. So the captain gave orders that all possible speed was to be made. These were the days when steam was first used on ships. But at the beginning it was only used together with the sails to help the power of the wind. Of this vessel, HMS Violet, the captain was very proud. And he was most anxious that the Violet should have the honor of catching Bones the slaver who for so long had been defying the navy by carrying on slave trade after it had been forbidden. So the Violet's steam engines were put to work their hardest and thick black smoke rolled out of her funnels and darkened the blue sea and smudged up her lovely white sails humming tight in the breeze. Then the engine boy also anxious that his ship should have the honor of capturing Bones tied down the safety valve on the steam engine to make her go faster and then went up on deck to see the show. And soon, of course, one of the Violet's brand new boilers burst with a terrific bang and made an awful mess of the steam room. But being a full rigged Manowar, the Violet was still a pretty speedy sailor. And on she went furiously plowing the waves and slowly gaining on the slave ship. However, the crafty Bones, with so big a start, was not easy to overtake. And soon the sun began to set and the captain frowned and stamped his feet, for with darkness he knew his enemy would be safe. Down below among the crew, the man who had fired the gun by accident was having a terrible time. All his companions were setting on him and mobbing him for being such a duffer to warn Bones, who would now almost certainly escape. The distance from the slaver was still too great to use the kind of gun they had in those days. But when the captain saw darkness creeping over the sea and his enemy escaping, he gave orders to man the guns anyway, although he hadn't the least hope that his shots would hit the slaver at that distance. Now speedy the skimmer, as soon as the race had begun, had come on to the warship to take a rest. And he happened to be talking to the doctor when the order to man the guns came down from the captain, so the doctor and speedy went below to watch the guns being fired. They found an air of quiet but great excitement there. Each gunner was leaning on his gun, aiming it, watching the enemy ship in the distance and waiting for the order to fire. The poor man who had been mobbed by his fellows was still almost in tears at his own stupid mistake. Suddenly an officer shouted, Fire! And with the crash that shook the ship from stem to stern, eight big cannon balls went whistling out across the water. But not one hit the slave ship. Splash, splash, splash! They fell harmlessly into the water. The light's too bad, grumble the gunners, who could hit anything two miles away in this rotten light. Then speedy whispered in the doctor's ear, Ask them to let me fire a gun. My sight is better than theirs for bad light. But just at that moment the order came from the captain, sees firing, and the men left their places. As soon as their backs returned, speedy jumped on top of one of the guns and straddling his short white legs apart, he cast his beady little black eyes along the aiming sites. Then with his wings he signaled to the doctor behind him to swing the gun this way and that, so as to aim it the way he wanted. Fire! said speedy, and the doctor fired. What in thunder's this? roared the captain from the quarter-deck as the shot rang out. Didn't I give the order to cease firing? But the second in command plucked him by the sleeve and pointed across the water. Speedy's cannonball had cut the slaver's main mast clean in two and brought the sails down in a heap upon the deck. Holy smoke! cried the captain. We've hit him. Look, bones is flying the signal of surrender. Then the captain, who a moment before was all for punishing the man who had fired without orders, wanted to know who it was that aimed that marvelous shot which brought the slaver to a standstill, and the doctor was going to tell him it was speedy. But the skimmer whispered in his ear, Don't bother, doctor. He would never believe you anyway. It was the gun of the man that made the mistake before that we used. Let him take the credit. They'll likely give him a medal and then he'll feel better. And now all was excitement aboard the violet as they approached the slave boat lying crippled in the sea. Bones, the captain with his crew of eleven other ruffians, was taken prisoner and put down in the cells of the warship. Then the doctor, with Zuzana, some sailors and an officer, went on to the slave ship. Entering the hole they found the place packed with slaves, with chains on them, and Zuzana immediately recognized her husband and wept all over him with joy. The black men were once freed from their chains and brought on to the manor war. Then the slave ship was taken in tow by the violet, and that was the end of Mr. Bones' slave trading. Then there was such rejoicing and handshaking and congratulation on board the warship, and a grand dinner was prepared for the slaves on the main deck. But John Doolittle, Zuzana and her husband were invited to the officer's mess where their health was drunk in port wine and speeches in port wine and speeches were made by the captain and the doctor. The next day, as soon as it was light, the warship went cruising down the coast again, putting the black people ashore in their own particular countries. This took considerable time because Bones, it seemed, had collected slaves from a great many different tribes. And it was afternoon before the doctor, with Zuzana and her husband, were returned to John Doolittle's ship, who still had her lights faithfully burning in the middle of the day. Then the captain shook hands with the doctor and thanked him for the great assistance he had given her majesty's navy. And he asked him for his address in England, because he said he was going to tell the government about him, and the queen would most likely want to make him a knight or give him a medal or something. But the doctor said he would rather have a pound of tea instead. He hadn't tasted tea in several months, and the kind they had of the officer's mess was very good. So the captain gave him five pounds of the best china tea and thanked him again in the name of the queen and the government. Then the violet swung her great bow around to the north once more and sailed away for England, while the blue jackets crowded the rail and sent three hearted cheers for the doctor ringing across the sea. And now Jip, Dab-Dab and Gub-Gub, and now Jip, Dab-Dab, Gub-Gub, Tutu and the rest of them gathered around John Doolittle and wanted to hear all about his adventures. And it was tea time before he had done telling them, so the doctor asked Zuzana and her husband to take tea with him before they went ashore. They were glad, this they were glad to do, and the doctor made the tea himself and it was very excellent. Over the tea, Zuzana and her husband, whose name was Begui, were conversing about the kingdom of Fentipo. I don't think we ought to go back there, said Begui. I don't mind being a soldier in the Fentipo army, but suppose some other slave comes along. Maybe the king would sell me again. Did you send that letter to our cousin? Yes, said Zuzana, but I don't think he ever got it, because no answer came. The doctor asked Zuzana how she had sent the letter, and she explained to him that when bones had offered a big price for Begui, Begui, and the king had been tempted to sell him, she had told the king she would get twelve oxen and thirty goats from a rich cousin in her own country if he would only wait till she had written to them, to him. Now the king of Fentipo was very fond of oxen and goats, cattle being considered as good as money in his land, and he promised Zuzana that if she got the twelve oxen and thirty goats in two days time, her husband should be a free man instead of being sold to the slavers. So, Zuzana had hurried to a professional letter writer, the common people of those tribes couldn't write for themselves, you see, and had a letter written begging their cousin to send the goats and oxen to the king without delay. Then she had taken the letter to the Fentipo post office and sent it off. But the two days went by and no answer came, and no cattle. Then poor Begui had been sold to bones as men. End of Part One, Chapter Three. Part One, Chapter Four of Dr. Doolittle's post office. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part One, Chapter Four, The Royal Males of Fentipo. Now, this Fentipo post office of which Zuzana had spoken to the doctor was rather peculiar. For one thing it was, of course, quite unusual to find a post office or regular mails of any kind in a savage African kingdom. And the way such a thing had come about was this. A few years before this forage of the doctors, there had been a great deal of talk in most civilized parts of the world about males and how much it should cost for a letter to go from one country to another. And in England a man called Roland Hill had started what was called the penny postage, and it had been agreed that a penny a letter should be the regular rate charged for males from one part of the British Isles to another. Of course, for especially heavy letters you had to pay more. Then stamps were made, penny stamps, two penny stamps, two pence hat penny stamps, six penny stamps, and shilling stamps. And each was a different color and they were beautifully engraved, and most of them had a picture of the queen on them, some with her crown on her head and some without. And France and the United States and all the other countries started doing the same thing. Only their stamps were counted in their own money, of course, and had different kings or queens or presidents on them. Very well then. Now it happened one day that a ship called at the coast of West Africa and delivered a letter for Koko, the king of Fentipo. King Koko had never seen a stamp before, and sending for a white merchant who lived in his town, he asked him what queen's face was this on the stamp which the letter bore. Then the white merchant explained to him the whole idea of penny postage and government males. And he told him that in England all you had to do when you wanted to send a letter to any part of the world was to put a stamp on the envelope with the queen's head on it and place it in a letterbox on the street corner, and it would be carried to the place to which you addressed it. Aha! said the king. A new kind of magic. I understand. Very good. The high kingdom of Fentipo shall have a post office of its own, and my serene and beautiful face shall be on all the stamps, and my letters shall travel by faster magic than any of them. Then King Koko of Fentipo, being a very vain man, had a fine lot of stamps made with his pictures on them, some with his crown on and some without, some smiling, some frowning, some with himself on horseback, some with himself on a bicycle. But the stamp which he was most proud of was the two-penny stamp, which bore a picture of himself playing golf, a game which he had just recently learned from some scotchmen who were mining for gold in his kingdom. And he had letterboxes made just the way the white trader had told him they had in England, and he set them up at the corners of the streets, and told his people that all they had to do was to put one of his stamps on their letters, poke them into these boxes, and they would travel to any corner of the earth they wished. But presently the people began complaining that they had been robbed. They had paid good money for the stamps, they said, trusting in their magic power, and they had put their letters in the boxes at the corners of the street as they had been told. But one day a cow had rubbed her neck against one of the letterboxes and burst it open, and inside there were all the people's letters which had not traveled one inch from where they put them. Then the king was very angry and calling for the white trader. He said, You have been fully my majesty. These stamps you speak of have no magic power at all. Explain. Then the trader told him that it was not through magic in the stamps or boxes that letters traveled by mail. But proper post offices had mailmen or postmen who collected the letters out of these boxes, and he went on to explain to the king all the other duties of a post office and the things that made letters go. So then the king, who was a persevering man, said that Fentypo should have its post office anyway, and he sent to England for hundreds of postmen's uniforms and caps, and when these arrived he dressed a lot of black men up in them and set them to work as postmen. But the black men found the heavy uniforms straightfully hot for Fentypo weather, where they wear only a string of beads, and they left off the uniforms and wore only the caps. That is how the Fentypo postman's uniform came to be a smart cap, a string of beads and a mailbag. Then when King Coco had got his mailmen, the royal Fentypo post office began really working. Letters were collected from the boxes at street corners and sent off when ships called, and incoming mail was delivered at the doors of the houses in Fentypo three times a day. The post office became the busiest place in town. Now the people of West Africa have curious tastes in dress. They love bright things, and some Fentypo dandy started the idea of using up old stamps off letters by making suits of clothes out of them. They looked very showy and smart, and a suit of this kind made of stamps became a valuable possession among the natives. About this time too in the civilized parts of the world, one of the things that arose out of all this penny postage business was the craze or hobby of collecting stamps. In England and America and other countries, people began buying stamp albums and pasting stamps in them. A rare stamp became quite valuable, and it happened that one day two men whose hobby was collecting stamps came to Fentypo in a ship. The one stamp they were both most anxious to get for their collections was the two-penny, half-penny Fentypo red, a stamp which the king had given up printing for the reason that the picture of himself on it wasn't handsome enough. And because he had given up printing it, it became very rare. As soon as these two men stepped ashore at Fentypo, a porter came up to them to carry their bags. And right in the middle of the porter's chest the collectors spied the two-penny, half-penny Fentypo red. Then both of the stamp collectors offered to buy the stamp. And as each was anxious to have it for his collection, before long they were offering high prices for it bidding against one another. King Coco got to hear of this and he called up one of these stamp collectors and asked him why men should offer high prices for one old huge stamp. And the white men explained to him this new craze for stamp collecting that was sweeping over the civilized world. So King Coco, although he thought that the civilized world must be crazy, decided it would be a good idea if he sold stamps for collections. Much better business than selling them at his post office for letters. And after this, whenever a ship came into the harbor of Fentypo, he sent his postmaster general, a very grand man who wore two strings of beads, a postman's cap and no mailbag, out to the ship with stamps to sell for collections. Such a roaring trade was done in this way, that the king set the stamp printing presses to work more busily than ever, so that a whole new set of Fentypo stamps should be ready for sale by the time the same ship called again on her way home to England. But with this new trade in selling stamps for stamp collections and not for proper mailing purposes, the Fentypo mail surface was neglected and became very bad. Now, Dr. Doolittle, while Zuzana was talking over the tea about her letter, which she had sent to her cousin, and to which no answer had ever come, suddenly remembered something on one of his earlier voyages, the passenger ship by which he had been traveling, had stopped outside this same harbor of Fentypo, although no passengers had gone ashore, and a postman had come aboard to sell a most elegant lot of new green and violet stamps. The doctor being at this at the time a great stamp collector, had bought three whole sets, and he realized now, as he listened to Zuzana, what was wrong with the Fentypo post office, and why she had never got an answer to the letter, which would have saved her husband from slavery. As Zuzana and Begui rose to go, for it was beginning to get dark, the doctor noticed a canoe setting out toward his ship from the shore, and in it, when it got near, he saw King Coco himself coming to the white man's boat with stamps to sell. So the doctor got to talking to the king, and he told him in plain language that he ought to be ashamed of his post office. Then, giving him a cup of china tea, he explained to him how Zuzana's letter had probably never been delivered to her cousin. The king listened attentively and understood how his post office had been at fault, and he invited the doctor to come ashore with Zuzana and Begui, and arrange the post office for him, and put it in order so it would work properly. End of Part 1, Chapter 4, Part 1, Chapter 5 of Dr. Doolittle's Post Office, by Hugh Lufting. After some persuasion, the doctor consented to this proposal, feeling that perhaps he could do some good. Little did he realize what great labors and strange adventures he was taking upon himself as he got into the canoe with the king, Begui, and Zuzana to be paddled to the town of Fentipo. This place he found very different from any of the African villages or settlements he had ever visited. It was quite large, almost a city. It was bright and cheerful to look at, and the people, like their king, all seemed very kind and jolly. The doctor was introduced to all the chief men of the Fentipo Nation, and later he was taken to see the post office. This he found in a terrible state. There were letters everywhere on the floors, in old drawers, knocking about on desks, even lying on the pavement outside the post office door. The doctor explained to the king that this would never do, that in properly run post offices, the letters that had stamps on were treated with respect and care. It was no wonder, he said, that Zuzana's letter had never been delivered to her cousin if this was the way they took care of the males. Then king Coco again begged him to take charge of the post office and try to get it running in proper order. And the doctor said he would see what he could do. And going into the post office, he took off his coat and set to work. But after many hours of terrific labor, trying to get letters sorted in the place in order, John Doolittle saw that such a tremendous job as setting the Fentipo post office to rights would not be a matter of a day or two. It would take weeks at least. So he told this to the king. Then the doctor's ship was brought into the harbor and put safely at anchor, and the animals were all taken ashore. And a nice new house on the main street was given over to the doctor for himself and his pets to live in while the work of straightening out the Fentipo males was going on. Well, after ten days, John Doolittle got what is called the domestic males in pretty good shape. Domestic males are those that carry letters from one part of a country to another part of the same country or from one part of a city to another. The males that carry letters outside the country to foreign lands are called foreign males. To have a regular and good service of foreign males in the Fentipo post office, the doctor found a hard problem because the mail ships which could carry letters abroad did not come very often to this port. Fentipo, although King Coco was most proud of it, was not considered a very important country among the regular civilized nations, and two or three ships a year were all that ever called there. Now, one day, very early in the morning, when the doctor was lying in bed wondering what he could do about the foreign male service, Dab-Dab and Jip brought him in his breakfast on a tray, and told him there was a swallow outside who wanted to give him a message from Speedy the Skimmer. John Doolittle had the swallow brought in, and the little bird sat on the foot of his bed while he ate his breakfast. Good morning, said the doctor, cracking open the top of a hard-boiled egg. What can I do for you? Speedy would like to know, said the swallow, how long you expect to stay in this country? He doesn't want to complain, you understand, nor do any of us, but this journey of yours is taking longer than we thought it would. You see, there was the delay while we hunted out bones the slaver, and now it seems likely you will be busy with this post office for some weeks yet. Ordinarily, we would have been in England long before this, getting the nests ready for the new season's families. We cannot put off the nesting season, you know. Of course, you understand, we are not complaining, don't you? But this delay is making things rather awkward for us. Oh, quite, quite, I understand perfectly, said the doctor, poking salt into his egg with a bone-egg spoon. I am dreadfully sorry, but why didn't Speedy bring the message himself? I suppose he didn't like to, said the swallow. Thought you'd be offended, perhaps. Oh, not in the least, said the doctor. You birds have been most helpful to me. Tell Speedy I'll come to see him as soon as I've got my trousers on, and we'll talk it over. Something can be arranged, I have no doubt. Very good, doctor, said the swallow, turning to go. I'll tell the skimmer what you say. By the way, said doctor, do little, I've been trying to think where I've seen your face before. Did you ever build your nest in my stable at Puttleby? No, said the bird. But I am the swallow that brought you the message from the monkeys that time they were sick. They were sick. Oh, to be sure, of course, cried the doctor. I knew I'd seen you somewhere. I never forget faces. You had a pretty hard time coming to England in the winter, didn't you? Snow on the ground and all that sort of thing? Very plucky of you to undertake it. Yes, it was a hard trip, said the swallow. I came near freezing to death more than once. Flying into the teeth of that frosty wind was just awful. But something had to be done. The monkeys would most likely have been wiped out, wiped right out if you hadn't, if we hadn't got you. How was it that you were the one chosen to bring the message? asked the doctor. Well, said the swallow, speedy did want to do it himself. He's frightfully brave, you know, and fast as lightning. But the other swallows wouldn't let him. But the other swallows wouldn't let him. They said he was too valuable as a leader. It was a risky job. And if he had lost his life from the frost, we'd never be able to get another leader like him. Because besides being brave and fast, he's the cleverest leader we ever had. Whenever the swallows are in trouble, he always thinks of a way out. He's a born leader. He flies quick and he thinks quick. Remember the doctor? As he thoughtfully brushed the toast crumbs off the bedclothes. But why did they pick you to bring the message? They didn't, said the swallow. We nearly all of us volunteered for the job, so as not to have speedy risk his life. But the skimmer said the only fair way was to draw lots. So we got a number of small leaves and we took the stalks off all of them except one, and we put the leaves in an old coconut shell and shook them up. Then with our eyes shut, we began picking them out. The swallow who picked the leaf with the stalk on it was to carry the message to England, and I picked the leaf with the stalk on. Before I started off on the trip, I kissed my wife goodbye, because I never really expected to get back alive. Still, I'm kind of glad the lot failed to me. Why? asked the doctor, pushing the breakfast stray off his knees and punching the pillows into shape. Well, you see, said the swallow, lifting his right leg and showing a tiny red ribbon made of corn silk tied about his ankle. I got this for it. What's that? asked the doctor. That's the show I've done something brave and special, said the swallow modestly. Oh, I see, said the doctor, like a medley. Yes, my name is Quip. I used to be just plain Quip. Now I'm called Quip the Carrier, said the small bird, proudly gazing down at his little stubby white leg. Splendid, Quip, said the doctor, I congratulate you. Now I must be getting up. I have a frightful lot of work to do. Don't forget to tell Speedy I'll meet him on the ship at ten. Goodbye. Oh, and would you mind asking Dab-Dab as you go out to clear away the breakfast things? I'm glad you came. You've given me an idea. Goodbye. And when Dab-Dab and Quip came to take away the tray, they found the doctor shaving. He was peering into a looking glass, holding the end of his nose and muttering to himself. That's the idea for the Fentipo Foreign Mail Service. I wonder why I never thought of it before. I'll have the fastest overseas mail the world ever saw. Why, of course, that's the idea, the Swallow Mail. As soon as he was dressed and shaved, the doctor went down to his ship and met the skimmer. I am terribly sorry, Speedy, said he, to hear what a lot of trouble I have been given you birds by my delay here, but I really feel that the business of the post office ought to be attended to, you know. It's in a shocking state, honestly it is. I know, said Speedy, and if we could, we would have nested right here in this country to oblige you and not bothered about going to England this year. It wouldn't have mattered terribly much to miss one summer in the north, but, you see, we swallows can't nest very well in trees. We like houses and barns and buildings to nest in. Couldn't you use the houses of Fentipo? asked the doctor. Not very well, said Speedy. They're so small and noisy, with the native children playing around them all day. The eggs and young ones wouldn't be safe for a minute. And then they're not built right for us, mostly made of grass, the roofs sloping wrong, the eaves too near the ground, and all that. What we like are solid English buildings, where the people don't shriek and hoop and play drums all day. Quiet buildings like old barns and stables, where, if people come at all, they come in proper dignified manner, arriving and leaving at regular hours. We like people, you understand, in their right place, but nesting mother birds must have quiet. Hmm, I see, said the doctor. Of course, myself, I rather enjoy the jolliness of these Fentipos, but I can quite see your point. By the way, how would my old ship do? This ought to be quite enough for you here. There's nobody living on it now, and look, it has heaps of cracks and holes and corners in it where you could build your nests. What do you think? That would be splendid, said Speedy. If you think you won't be needing the boat for some weeks, of course it would never do after we had the nests built and the eggs laid, you were to pull up the anchor and sail away. The young ones would get seasick. No, of course not, said the doctor, but there will be no fear of my leaving for some time yet. You could have the whole ship to yourselves and nobody will disturb you. All right, said Speedy, then I'll tell the Swallows to get on with the nest building right away. But, of course, we'll go on to England with you, when you are ready, to show you the way. And also to teach the young birds how to get there too. You see, each year new birds make their first trip back from England to Africa with us grown ones. They have to make the first journey under our guidance. Very good, said the doctor. Then that settles that. Now I must get back to the post office. The ship is yours. As soon as the nesting is over, come and let me know, because I have a very special idea I want to tell you about. So the doctor's boat was now turned into a nesting ship for the Swallows. Calmly, she stood at anchor in the quiet waters of Fentipo Harbor, where thousands and thousands of Swallows built their nests in her rigging, in her ventilators, in her portholes, and in every crack and corner of her. No one went near her, and the Swallows had her all to themselves. And they agreed afterward that they found her the best place for nesting they had ever used. In a very short time the ship presented a curious and extraordinary sight, with the mud nests stuck all over her and birds flying in thousands around her masts, coming and going, building homes, and feeding young ones. And the farmers in England that year said the coming winter would be a hard one, because the Swallows had done their nesting abroad before they arrived, and spent only a few weeks in the autumn in the north. And later, after the nesting was all over, there were more than twice as many birds as there were before, of course. And you simply couldn't get onto the ship for the tons and tons of mud on her. But the parent birds, as soon as the young ones were able to fly, set their children to work cleaning up the mess. And all that mud was taken off and dropped into the harbor piece by piece, and the doctor's ship was left in a cleaner state than it had ever been before in its whole life. Now it happened one day that the doctor came to the post office, as usual, at nine o'clock in the morning. He had to get there at that time, because if he didn't, the postman didn't start working. And outside the post office he found Jip gnawing a bone on the pavement. Something curious about the bone struck the doctor, who was, of course, being a naturalist, quite a specialist in bones. He asked Jip to let him look at it. Why, this is extraordinary, said the doctor, examining the bone with great care. I did not know that this class of animals were still to be found in Africa. Where did you get this bone, Jip? Over in No Man's Land, said Jip, there are lots of bones there. And where might No Man's Land be, said John Dolittle? No Man's Land is that round island just outside the harbor, said Jip. You know the one that looks like a plum pudding? Oh, yes, said the doctor. I know the island you mean. It's only a short distance from the mainland, but I haven't heard that that was the name of it. Hmm, if you lend me this bone a while, Jip, I think I'll go and see the king about it. So, taking the bone, John Dolittle went off to call on King Coco, and Jip asked if he might come along. They found the king sitting at the palace door, sucking a lollipop. For he, like all the Fantipos, was very fond of sweetmeats. Good morning, Your Majesty, said the doctor. Do you happen to know what kind of animal this bone belongs to? The king examined it, then shook his head. He didn't know much about bones. Maybe it's a cow bone, said he. Oh, certainly not, said John Dolittle. No cow ever had a bone like this. That's a jaw, but not a cow's jaw. Listen, Your Majesty, would you mind lending me a canoe and some paddlers? I want to go over to visit No Man's Land. Do the doctor's astonishment, the king choked on his lollipop and nearly fell over his chair backwards. Then he ran inside the palace and shut the door. How extraordinary, said John Dolittle, entirely bewildered. What else the man? Oh, it's some humbug or other, growled Jip. There are superstitious lot these natives. Let's go down to the harbor doctor and try to hire a canoe to take us. So they went down to the water's edge and asked several of the canoe's men to take them over to No Man's Land. But every one they asked got dreadfully frightened and refused to talk when the doctor told them where he wanted to go. They wouldn't even let him borrow their canoes to go there by himself. At last they found one very old boatman who loved chatting so much that, although he got terribly scared when John Dolittle mentioned No Man's Land, he finally told the doctor the reason for all this extraordinary behavior. That island, said he, we don't even mention its name unless we have to—is the land of evil magic. It is called, the old man whispered it so low the doctor could scarcely hear him. No Man's Land, because No Man lives there. No Man ever even goes there. But why? asked the doctor. Dragons live there, said the old boatman, his eyes wide and staring, enormous horned dragons that spit fire and eat min, if you value your life never go near that dreadful island. But how do you know all this? asked the doctor, if nobody has ever been there to see if it's true or not. A thousand years ago, said the old man, when King Kaka Buchi ruled over this land, he put his mother-in-law upon that island to live because she talked too much, and he couldn't bear her around the palace. It was arranged that food should be taken to her every week, but the first week that the men went there in canoes, they could find no trace of her. While they were seeking her about the island, a dragon suddenly roared out from the bushes and attacked them. They only just escaped with their lives and got back to Fantipo and told King Kaka Buchi. A famous wizard was consulted, and he said it must have been the king's mother-in-law herself who had been changed into a dragon by some magic spell. Since then she has had many children and the island is peopled with dragons whose food is men. Whenever a canoe approaches, the dragons come down to the shores, breathing flame and destruction, but for many hundreds of years now no man has set foot upon it. That is why it is called, well, you know. After he had told this story the old man turned away and busy himself with his canoe as though he were afraid that the doctor might again ask him to paddle him to the island. Look here, Chip, said John Doolittle. You said you got this bone from no man's land. Did you see any dragons there? No, said Chip. I swam out there just to get cool. It was a hot day yesterday, and then I didn't go far inland on the island. I found many bones on the beach, and as this one smelled good to me, I picked it up and swam back here with it. I was more interested in the bone and the swim that I was at the island to tell you the truth. It's most extraordinary, murmured the doctor. This legend about the island. It makes me more anxious than ever to go there. That bone interests me too immensely. I've seen only one other like it, and that was in a natural history museum. Do you mind if I keep it, Chip? I'd like to put it in my own museum when I get back to Puttleby. Not at all, said Chip. Look here, doctor. If we can't raise the canoe, let's you and I swim out to the island. It's not over a mile and a half, and we're both good swimmers. That's not a bad idea, Chip, said the doctor. We'll go down the shore away till we're opposite the island, then we won't have to swim too far. So off they went, and when they had come to the best place on the shore the doctor took off his clothes and, tying them up in a bundle, he fastened them on his head with the precious high hat on the top of all. Then he waited into the surf and, with Chip beside him, started swimming for the island. Now this particular stretch of water they were trying to cross happened to be a bad place for swimming, and after about a quarter of an hour, Chip and the doctor felt themselves being carried out to sea in the grip of a powerful current. They tried their hardest to get to the island, but without any success. Let yourself drift, doctor, panted Chip. Don't waste your strength fighting the current. Let yourself drift, even if we're carried past the island out to sea we can land on the mainland further down the coast where the current isn't so strong. But the doctor didn't answer, and Chip could see from his face that his strength and breath were nearly gone. Then Chip barked his loudest, hoping that possibly Dab-Dab might hear him on the mainland and fly out and bring help. But of course they were much too far from the town for anyone to hear. Turn back, Chip, gasped the doctor. Don't bother about me. I'll be all right. Turn back and try and make the sure. But Chip had no intention of turning back and leaving the doctor to drown, though he saw no possible chance of rescue. Presently John Doolittle's mouth filled with water and he began to splutter and gurgle, and Chip was really frightened. But just as the doctor's eyes were closing and he seemed too weak to swim another stroke, a curious thing happened. Chip felt something come up under the water right beneath his feet and lift him and the doctor slowly out of the sea like the rising deck of a submarine. Up and up they were lifted now entirely out of the water, and gasping and sprawling side by side they gazed at one another in utter astonishment. What is it, doctor? said Chip, staring down at the strange thing, which had now stopped rising and was carrying them like a ship right across the strong course of the current in the direction of the island. I haven't the remotest idea, panted John Doolittle. Can it be a whale? No, because the skin isn't a whale's. This is fur, he said, plucking at the stuff he was sitting on. Well, it's an animal of some kind, isn't it, said Chip? But where's its head? And he gazed down the long sloping back that stretch in a flat curve in front of them for a good thirty yards. Its head is under water, said the doctor. But there's its tail, look, behind us. And turning around, Chip saw the longest tail that mortal beast ever had, thrashing the water and driving them toward the island. I know, cried Chip. It's the dragon. This is King Kakabuchi's mother-in-law we're sitting on. Well, anyway, thank goodness she rose in time, said the doctor, shaking the water out of his ears. I was never so near drowning in my life. I suppose I'd better make myself a little more presentable before she gets her head out of the water. And taking down his clothes off his own head, the doctor smartened up his high hat and dressed himself, while the strange thing that had saved their lives carried them steadily and firmly toward the mysterious island. End of Pt. 1, Chapter 6 Pt. 1, Chapter 7 of Dr. Doolittle's Post Office by Hugh Lofting. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Pt. 1, Chapter 7, The Animals' Paradise At length the extraordinary creature that had come to their rescue reached the island, and with Chip and the doctor still clinging to his wide back, he crawled out of the water onto the beach. And then Dr. Doolittle, seeing its head for the first time, cried out in great excitement. Chip, it's a Quiffino docus, as sure as I'm alive. A Quiffino whatus, asked Chip. A Quiffino docus, said the doctor. A prehistoric beast. Naturalists thought they were extinct, that there weren't any more alive ones anywhere in the world. This is a great day, Chip. I'm awfully glad I came here. The tremendous animal which the Phantypians had called a dragon, had now climbed right up the beach, and was standing fully revealed in all his strangeness. At first he looked like some curious mixture between a crocodile and a giraffe. He had short, spreading legs, but enormously long tail and neck. On his head were two stubby little horns. As soon as the doctor and Chip had climbed down off his back, he swung his head around on the end of that enormous neck and said to the doctor, Do you feel all right now? Yes, thanks, said John Doolittle. I was afraid, said the creature, that I wouldn't be in time to save your life. It was my brother who first saw you. We thought it was the native, and we were getting ready to give him our usual terrifying reception. But while we watched from behind the trees, my brother suddenly cried, Great heavens, that's Dr. Doolittle and his drowning. See how he waives his arms? He must be saved at any cost. There isn't one man like that born in a thousand years. Let's go after him quick. Then word was passed around the island that John Doolittle, the great doctor, was drowning out in the straits. Of course we had all heard of you, and rushing down to a secret cove, which we have on the far side of the island, we dashed into the sea and swam out to you under water. I was the best swimmer and got to you first. I'm awfully glad I was in time. You're sure you feel all right? Oh, quite, said the doctor. Thank you. But why did you swim under water? We didn't want the natives to see us, said the strange beast. They think we are dragons, and we let them go on thinking it, because then they don't come near the island, and we have our country to ourselves. The creature stretched his long neck still longer and whispered in the doctor's ear. They think we live on men and breathe fire, but all we ever really eat is bananas. And when anyone tries to come here, we go down to a hollow in the middle of the island, and suck up the mist, the fog, that always hangs around there. Then we come back to the beach and roar and rampage, and we breathe the fog out through our nostrils, and they think it's smoke. That's the way we've kept this island to ourselves for us. And this is the only part of the world where we are left, where we can live in peace. How very interesting, said the doctor. Naturalists have thought your kind of animals are no longer living, you know. You are Quiphanadochi, are you not? Oh, no, said the beast. Quiphanadochus has gone long ago. We are the Piphilosaurus. We have six toes on the back feet while the Quiphanadochi, our cousins, have only five. They died out about two thousand years ago. But where are the rest of your people? Asked the doctor. I thought you said that many of you had swum out to rescue us. They did, said the Piphilosaurus, but they kept hidden under the water, lest the natives on the shore should see and get to know that the old story about the dragon's mother-in-law wasn't true. While I was bringing you here, they were swimming all around you under the water, ready to help if I needed them. They have gone around to the secret cove so that they may come ashore unseen. We had better be going on ourselves now. Whatever happens, we mustn't be seen from the shore, and have the natives coming here. It would be the end of us if that should ever happen, because, between ourselves, although they think us so terrible, we are really more harmless than sheep. Do any other animals live here? asked the doctor. Oh, yes, indeed, said the Piphilosaurus. This island is entirely peopled by harmless vegetable-eating creatures. If we had the others, of course, we wouldn't last long. But, come, I will show you around the island. Let us go quietly up that valley there, so we shan't be seen till we reach the cover of the woods. Then John, Doolittle, and Jip were taken by the Piphilosaurus all over the island of no man's land. The doctor said afterward that he had never had a more enjoyable or more instructive day. The shores of the island all around were high and steep, which gave it the appearance Jim had it spoken of like a plumb pudding. But in the center, on top, there was a deep and deep, pleasant hollow, invisible from the sea and sheltered from the winds. In this great bowl a good thirty miles across, the Piphilosauruses had lived at peace for a thousand years, eating ripe bananas and frolicking in the sun. Down by the banks of the streams, the doctor was shown great herds of hippopotami, feeding on the luscious reeds that grew with the water's edge. In the wide fields of high grass, there were elephants and rhinocerai browsing. On the slopes where the forests were sparse, he spied long-necked giraffes nibbling from the trees. Monkeys and deer of all kinds were plentiful, and birds swarmed everywhere. In fact, every kind of creature that does not eat meat was there. Living peaceably and happily with the others in this land where vegetable food abounded and the disturbing tread of man was never heard. Standing on the top of the hill, with Jip and the Piphilosaurus at his side, the doctor gazed down over the wide bowl of contented animal life and heaved a sigh. This beautiful land could also have been called the animal's paradise, he murmured. Long may they enjoy it to themselves. May this indeed be no man's land forever. You, doctor, said the deep voice of the Piphilosaurus at his elbow, are the first human in a thousand years that has set foot here. The last one was King Kakabuchi's mother-in-law. By the way, what really became of her, asked the doctor. The natives believed that she was turned into a dragon, you know. We married her off, said the great creature, nibbling idly at a lily-stalk. We couldn't stand her here any more than the king could. You never heard anybody talk so in all your life. Yes, we carried her one dark night by sea, far down the coast of Africa, and left her at the palace door of a deaf king who ruled over a small country south of the Congo River. He married her, of course being deaf, he didn't mind her everlasting chatter in the least. And now, for several days, the doctor forgot all about his post office work and King Koko, and his ship at anchor, and everything else. For he was kept busy from morning to night with all the animals who wanted to consult him about different things. Many of the giraffes were suffering from sore hoofs, and he showed them where to find a special route that they could put into a foot bath that would bring immediate relief. The rhinoceroses' horns were growing too long, and John Doolittle explained to them how by grinding them against a certain kind of stone and by eating less grass and more berries, they could keep the growth down. A special sort of nut tree that the deer were fond of had grown scarce that almost died out from constant nibbling, and the doctor showed the chief stags how by taking a few nuts and poking them down into the soft earth with their hoofs before the rainy season set in, they could make new trees grow and so increase the supply. One day, when he was pulling out a loose tooth for a baby hippopotamus with his watch chain, speedy the skimmer turned up looking rather annoyed. Well, said the neat little bird, settling down on the ground at his feet, I found you at last, doctor. I've been hunting all over creation for you. Oh, hello, speedy, said the doctor. Glad to see you. Did you want me for something? Why, of course I did, said speedy. We finished the nesting season two days ago, and you had said you wanted to see me about some special business as soon as it was over. I went to your house, but Dab-Dab had no idea where you could be, that I hunted all over. At last I heard some gossiping boatmen down at the harbor say that you came to this island five days ago and had never returned. All the Phantippians have given you up for lost. They say you have surely been eaten by the dragons that live here. I got an awful fright, though of course I didn't quite believe the dragon-storing. Still, you have been gone so long I didn't know what to make of it. The post office, as you can imagine, is in a worse mess than ever. Hmm, said the doctor, who had now got the loose tooth out and was showing the baby hippo how to rinse his mouth in the river. I'm sorry, I suppose I should have sent you a message, but I've been so awfully busy. Let's go up under the shade of those palms and sit down. It was about the post office that I wanted to talk to you. End of Part 1 Chapter 7 Part 1 Chapter 8 of Dr. Doolittle's Post Office By Hugh Lofting, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part 1 Chapter 8 The Swiftest Male in the World So the doctor and gyp and speedy the skimmer sat down in the shade of the palm trees, and for the first time plans for that great service which was to be known as the swallow male were discussed. Now my idea, speedy, is this, said the doctor. Regular foreign males are difficult for the Fentipo post office, because so few boats ever call there to bring or take the males. Now how would it be if you swallows did the letter carrying? Well, said speedy, that would be possible, but of course we could only do it during certain months of the year when we are in Africa. And then we could only take letters to the mild and warm countries. We should get frozen if we had to carry male where severe winters were going on. Oh, of course, said the doctor. I wouldn't expect you to do that. But I had thought we might get the other birds to help. Cold climate birds, hot climate ones, and temperate. And if some of the trips were too far or disagreeable for one kind of birds to make, we could deliver the male in relays. I mean, for instance a letter going from here to the North Pole could be carried by the swallows as far as the North end of Africa. From there it would be taken by thrushes up to the top of Scotland. There seagulls would take it from the thrushes and carry it as far as Greenland. And from there, penguins would take it to the North Pole. What do you think? I think it might be all right, said speedy, if we can get the other birds to go in with us on the idea. Well, you see, said John Duke Little, I think we might, because we could use the male service for the birds themselves and the animals, too, to send their letters by as well as the Phantypians. But doctor, birds and animals don't send letters, said speedy. No, said the doctor. But there's no reason why they shouldn't begin. Neither did people write or send letters once upon a time, but as soon as they began, they found it very useful and convenient. So would the birds and animals. We could have the head office here in this beautiful island in this animal's paradise. You see, my idea is, firstly, a post office system for the education and betterment of the animal kingdom, and secondly, a good foreign mail for the Phantypians. Do you think we could ever find some ways by which birds could write letters? Oh, yes, I think so, said speedy. We, swallows for incidents, always leave marks on houses where we have nested, which are messages for those who may come after us. Look, speedy scratched some crosses and signs in the sand at the doctor's feet. That means, don't build your nest in this house, they have a cat here. And this, the skimmer made four more signs in the sand, this means good house, flies plentiful, folks quiet, building mud can be found behind the stable. Splendid, cried the doctor, it's a kind of shorthand. You say a whole sentence and four signs. And then, speedy went on, nearly all other kinds of birds have a sign language of their own. For example, the kingfishers have a way of marking the trees along the river to show where good fishing is to be found. And thrushes have signs too, one I've often seen on stones, which means, crack your snail shells here. That's so the thrushes won't go throwing their snail shells all over the place and scare the live snails into keeping out of sight. There you are, said the doctor. I always thought you birds had at least the beginnings of a written language, otherwise you wouldn't be so clever. Now all we have to do is to build up on these signs a regular and proper system of bird writing, and I have no doubt whatever, that with the animals we can do the same thing. Then we'll get the swallow-mail going, and we'll have animals and birds writing letters to one another all over the world, and to people too, if they want to. I suspect, said speedy, that you'll find most of the letters will be written to you, doctor. I've met birds all over creation who wanted to know what you look like, what you ate for breakfast, and all sorts of silly things about you. Well, said the doctor, I wouldn't mind that. But my idea is firstly an educational one. With a good post office system of their own, I feel that the conditions of the birds and animals will be greatly bettered. Only to-day, for example, some deer on this very island asked me what they should do about their nut trees which were nearly eaten up. I showed them at once how they could plant seeds and grow more trees. Heaven knows how long they had been going on short rations. But if they'd only been able to write to me, I could have told them long ago by swallow-mail. Then the doctor and chip went back to Fentipo, carried by the Piphilosaurus, who landed them on the shore under cover of night so no one would see them. And in the morning John Doolittle called upon the king again. Your Majesty, said the doctor, I have now a plan to provide your country with an excellent service of foreign males if you will agree to what I suggest. Good, said the king. My Majesty is listening. Proceed. Let me offer you a lollipop. The doctor took one, a green one, from the box the king held out to him. King Coco was very proud of the quality of his lollipops made in the royal candy kitchen. He was never without one himself and always wore it hung around his neck on a ribbon. And when he wasn't sucking it, he used to hold it up to his eye and peer through it at his courtiers. He had seen white men using quizzical glasses and he had his lollipops made thin and transparent so he could use them in this elegant manner. But constant lollipops had ruined his figure and made him directly stout. However, his fatness was considered a sign of greatness on Fentipo, he didn't mind that. My plan, said the doctor, is this. The domestic males of Fentipo, after I have instructed the postmen a little more, can be carried by your own people. But the handling of foreign males as well as the domestic ones is too much for them. And besides, you have so few boats calling at your port. So I propose to build a floating post office for the foreign males which shall be anchored close to the island called, the doctor only just stopped himself in time from speaking the dreaded name, close to the island I spoke of to you the other day. I don't like that, said the king frowning. Your majesty need have no fear, the doctor put in hurriedly. It will never be necessary for any of your people to land upon the island. The foreign male post office will be a houseboat anchored a little way out from the shore. And I will not need any Fentipian postmen to run it at all. On the contrary, I make it a special condition on your port that, or the island we are speaking of, shall continue to be left undisturbed for all time. I am going to run the foreign males office in my own way with special postmen of my own. When the Fentipians wish to send out letters to foreign lands, they must come by canoe and bring them to the house boat post office. But incoming letters addressed to the people of Fentipo shall be delivered at the doors of the houses in the regular way. What do you say to that? I agree, said the king, but the stamps must all have my beautiful face upon them and no other. Very good, said the doctor. That can be arranged. But it must be clearly understood that from now on the foreign males shall be handled by my own postmen in my way. And after I have got the domestic post office running properly at Fentipo, you must see to it that it continues to work in order. If you will do that in a few weeks time, I think I can promise that your kingdom shall have the finest male service in the world. Then the doctor asked Speedy to send off messages through the birds to every corner of the earth, and to ask all the leaders of seagulls, tomtits, magpies, thrushes, stormy petrels, finches, penguins, vultures, snow buntings, wild geese, and the rest to come to no man's land because John Doolittle wanted to speak to them. And in the meantime he went back and continued the work of getting the domestic male service in good running order at the post office at Fentipo. So the good Speedy sent off messengers, and all around the world and back again word was passed from bird to bird that John Doolittle, the famous animal doctor, wished to see all the leaders of all kinds of birds great and small, and presently in the big hollow in the center of no man's land they began to arrive. After three days Speedy came to the doctor and said, All right doctor, they are ready for you now. A good strong canoe had by this time been put at the doctor's service by the king, who was also having the post office houseboat built at the doctor's orders. So John Doolittle got into his canoe and came at lift to the same hill we had before gazed out over the pleasant hollow of the animal's paradise. And with a skimmer on his shoulder, he looked down into a great sea of bird faces, leaders all, every kind from a hummingbird to an albatross, and taking a palm leaf and twisting it into a trumpet so that he could make himself heard, he began his great inauguration speech to the leaders which was to set working the famous swallow mail service. After the doctor had finished his speech and told the leaders what it was he meant to do, the birds of the world applauded by whistling and screeching and flapping their wings so that the noise was terrible. And in the streets of Fentipo the natives whispered it about that the dragons were fighting one another in no man's land. Then the doctor passed down among the birds and, taking a notebook, he spoke to each leader in turn, asking him questions about the signs and sign language that his particular kind of bird was in the habit of using. And the doctor wrote it all down in his notebook and took it home with him and worked over it all night, promising to meet the leaders again the following day. And on the morrow, crossing once again to the island, he went on with the discussion and planning and arrangement. It was agreed that the swallow mail service should have its head office here in no man's land, and that there should be branch offices at Cape Horn, Greenland, in Christmas Island, Tahiti, Kashmir, Tibet, and Puttleby on the marsh. Most of the males were arranged so that the birds who migrated on went to other lands in the winter and back again in summer should carry the letters on their regular yearly journeys. And as there are some kinds of birds crossing from one land to another in almost every week of the year, this took care of much of the males without difficulty. Then of course there were all those birds who don't leave their home lands in winter, but stay in one country all the time. The leaders of these had come under special guidance of other birds to oblige the doctor by being present at the great meeting. They promised to have their people all the year round take care of letters that were brought to their particular countries to be delivered. So between one thing and another, much of the planning and arrangement of the services was got through in these first two meetings. Then the doctor and the leaders agreed upon a regular kind of simple, easy writing for all the birds to use so that the addresses on the envelopes could be understood and read by the post birds. And at last John Doolittle sent them off home again to instruct their relatives in this new writing and reading and explained to all the birds of all the world how the post office was going to work and how much good he hoped it would do for the education and betterment of the animal kingdom. Then he went home and had a good sleep. The next morning he found that King Coco had got his post office houseboat ready and finished and very smart it looked. It was paddled out and anchored close to the shore of the island. Then dab dab, jip, tutu, gub gub, the push me, pull you and the white mouse were brought over and the doctor gave up his house on the main street of Fentypo and settled down to live at the foreign mail's post office for the remainder of his stay. Then now John Doolittle and his animals got tremendously busy arranging the post office, its furniture, the stamp drawers, the postcard drawers, the weighing scales, the sorting bags and all the rest of the paraphernalia. Dab dab, of course, was housekeeper as usual and she saw to it that the post office was swept properly every morning. Jip was the watchman and had charge of locking up at night and opening in the morning. Tutu, with his head for mathematics, was given the bookkeeping and kept account of how many stamps were sold and how much money was taken in. The doctor ran the information window and answered the 101 questions that people are always asking at post offices. And the good and trusty speedy was here and there and everywhere. And this was how the first letter was sent off by the swallow mail. King Coco himself came one morning and putting his large face at the information window, asked what is the fastest foreign mail delivery ever made by any post office anywhere in the world. The British post office is now boasting, said the doctor, that it can get a letter from London to Canada in fourteen days. All right, said the king. Here is a letter to a friend of mine who runs the Shoe Shine Parlor in Alabama. Let me see how quickly you can get me an answer to it. Now the doctor really had not got everything ready yet to work the foreign meals properly, and he was about to explain to the king. But speedy hopped up on the desk and whispered, Give me that letter, doctor. We'll show him. Then going outside he called for quip the carrier. Quip, said speedy. Take this letter to the Azores as fast as you can. There you'll just catch the white-tailed Carolina Warblers about to make their summer crossing to the United States. Give it to them and tell them to get the answer back here as quick as they know how. In a flash quip was gone seward. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the king brought that letter to the doctor, and when his majesty woke up in the morning and came down to breakfast, there was the answer to it lying beside his plate. End of part one, chapter eight. Part two, chapter one of Dr. Doolittle's Post Office by Hugh Loftening. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part two, chapter one, a most unusual post office. Nobody thought, not even John Doolittle himself, when the swallow-mail was first started, what a tremendous system it would finally grow into. And what a lot of happenings and ideas would come about through it. Of course, such an entirely new thing as this required a great deal of learning and working out before it could be made to run smoothly. Something new, some fresh problem cropped up every day. But although the doctor, at all times a busy man, was positively worked to death, he found it all so interesting that he didn't mind. But the motherly dab-dab was dreadfully worried about him, for indeed at the beginning he seemed never to sleep at all. Certainly in the whole history of the world there never was another post office like the doctors. For one thing it was a houseboat post office, for another tea was served to everybody, the clerks and the customers as well, regularly at four o'clock every afternoon with cucumber sandwiches on Sundays. Paddling over to the foreign mail's post office for afternoon tea became quite the fashionable thing to do among the more up-to-date fan-tippians. A large awning was put over the back entrance, forming a pleasant sort of veranda with a good view of the ocean and the bay. And if you dropped in for a stamp around four o'clock, as likely as not you would meet the king there and all the other high notables of fan-tippo sipping tea. Another thing in which the doctor's post office was peculiar was its pins. Most post offices the doctor had found always had abominably bad pins that sputtered and scratched and wouldn't write. In fact, very many post offices even nowadays seemed to pride themselves on their bad pins. But the doctor saw to it that his pins were of the very best quality. Of course, in those times there were no steel pins, only quills were used. And John Doolittle got the albatrosses and the seagulls to keep for him their tail feathers, which fell out in the molting season. And, of course, with such a lot of quills to choose from, it was easy to have the best pins in the post office. Still another thing in which the doctor's post office was different from all others was the gum used on the stamps. The supply of gum which the king had been using for his stamps ran short and the doctor had to set about discovering and making a new kind, and, after a good deal of experiment, he invented a gum made of licorice which dried quickly and worked very well. But, as I have said, the fan-tippians were very fond of sweetmeats and, soon after the new gum was put into use, the post office was crowded with people buying stamps by the hundred. At first the doctor could not understand this sudden new rush of business which kept Tutu the cashier working overtime every night adding up the day's takings. The post office safe could hardly hold all the money taken in and the overflow had to be put in a vase on the kitchen mantelpiece. But presently the doctor noticed that after they had licked the gum off the stamps, the customers would bring them back and want to exchange them for money again. Now it is a rule that all post offices have to exchange their own stamps when asked for the price paid for them. So long as they are not torn or marked, it doesn't matter whether the gum has been licked off or not. So the doctor saw that he would have to change his kind of gum if he wanted to keep stamps that would stick. And one day the king's brother came to the post office with a terrible cough and asked him in the same breath or gasp to give him five half-penny stamps and a cure for a cough. This gave the doctor an idea. And the next gum which he invented for his stamps he called whooping cough gum. He made it out of a special blend of sweet sticky cough mixture. He also invented a bronchitis gum, a mumps gum, and several others. And whenever there was a catching disease in the town, the doctor would see that the proper kind of gum to cure it was issued on the stamps. It saved him a lot of trouble because the people were always bothering him to cure colds and sore throats and things. And he was the first post master to use this way of getting rid of sickness by serving round pleasant medicine on the back of stamps. He called it damping out an epidemic. One evening at six o'clock, Jip shut the doors of the post office as usual and hung up the sign closed as he always did at that hour. The doctor heard the bolts being shot and he stopped counting postcards and took out his pipe to have a smoke. The first hard work of getting the post office in full swing was now over. And that night John Doolittle felt when he heard the doors being shut that at last he could afford to keep more regular hours and not be working all the time. And when Jip came inside the registered mail booths he found the doctor leaning back in a chair with his feet on the desk gazing around him with great satisfaction. Well, Jip, said he with a sigh, we now have a real working post office. Yes, said Jip, putting down his watchman's lantern and a mighty good one it is too, there isn't another like it anywhere. You know, said John Doolittle, although we opened more than a week ago, I haven't myself written a single letter yet. The fancy living in a post office for a week and never writing a letter. Look at that drawer there. Ordinarily the site of so many stamps would make me write dozens of letters. All my life I never had a stamp when I really wanted to write a letter and funny thing, now that I'm living and sleeping in a post office, I can't think of a single person to write to. It's a shame, said Jip, and you with such beautiful handwriting too, as well as a drawer full of stamps. Never mind, think of all the animals that are waiting to hear from you. Of course there's Sarah, the doctor went on puffing at his pipe dreamily. Poor dear Sarah, I wonder whom she married. But there you are, I haven't her address, so I can't write to Sarah, and I don't suppose any of my old patients would want to hear from me. I know, cried Jip, write to the cat's meat man. He can't read, said the doctor gloomily. No, but his wife can, said Jip. That's true, murmured the doctor. But what shall I write to him about? Just at that moment, speedy the skimmer came in and said, Doctor, we've got to do something about the city deliveries in Fantipo. My post birds are not very good at finding the right houses to deliver the letters. You see, we swallows, although we nest in houses, are not regular city birds. We pick out lonely houses as a rule in the country. City streets are a bit different for swallows to find their way round in. Some of the post birds have brought back the letters they took out this morning to deliver, saying they can't find the houses they are addressed to. Hmm, said the doctor. That's too bad. Let me think a minute. Oh, I know I'll send for Cheapside. Who is Cheapside? asked speedy. Cheapside is a London sparrow, said the doctor, who visits me every summer at Puttleby. The rest of the year he lives around St. Paul's Cathedral. He builds his nest in St. Edmund's left ear. Where? cried Chip. In the left ear of a statue of St. Edmund on the outside of the chancel, the Cathedral, you know, the doctor explained. Cheapside's the very fellow we want for city deliveries. There's nothing about houses and towns he doesn't know. I'll send for him right now. I'm afraid, said speedy, that a post bird, unless he was a city bird himself, would have a hard job finding a sparrow in London. It's an awful big city, isn't it? Yes, that's so, said John Doolittle. Listen doctor, said Chip, you were wondering just now what to write to cat's meat man about. Let speedy write the letter to Cheapside in bird's scribble, and you enclose it in a letter to the cat's meat man. Then, when the sparrow comes to Puttleby for his summer visit, the cat's meat man can give it to him. Splendid, cried the doctor, and he snatched a piece of paper off the desk and started to write. And you might ask him, too, put in Dab-Dab, who had been listening, to take a look at the back windows of the house to see that none of them is broken. We don't want the rain coming in on the beds. All right, said the doctor, I'll mention that. So the doctor's letter was written and addressed to Matthew Mug Esquire, cat's meat merchant, Puttleby on the Marsh, Slopshire, England, and it was sent off by Quip the Carrier. The doctor did not expect an answer to it right away, because the cat's meat man's wife was a very slow reader and still slower writer. And anyhow, cheap side would not be expected to visit Puttleby for another week yet. He always stayed in London until after the Easterbank holiday. His wife refused to let him leave for the country till the spring family had been taught by their father how to find the houses where people threw out crumbs, how to pick up oats from under the cab horse's nose bags, without being stamped on by the horse's hoofs, how to get about in the traffic streets of London and a whole lot of other things that young city birds have to know. In the meantime, while Quip was gone, life went forward busily and happily at the doctor's post office. The animals, Tutu, Dab Dab, Gub Gub, the Push Me Pull You, the White Mouse and Jip, all agreed that they found living in a houseboat post office great fun. Whenever they got tired of their floating home, they would go off for picnic parties to the island of No Man's Land, which was now more often called by the name John Doolittle had given it, The Animals Paradise. On these trips, too, the doctor sometimes accompanied them. He was glad too, because he so got an opportunity of talking with the many different kinds of animals there about the signs they were in the habit of using. And on these signs, which he carefully put down in notebooks, he built up a sort of written language for animals to use, or animal scribble, as he called it, the same as he had done with the birds. Whenever he could spare the time, he held afternoon scribbling classes for the animals in the Great Hollow, and they were very well attended. He found the monkeys, of course, the easiest to teach and, because they were so clever, he made some of them into assistant teachers. But the zebras were quite bright too. The doctor discovered that these intelligent beasts had ways of marking and twisting the grasses to show where they had smelled lions about, though happily they did not have to use this trick in The Animals Paradise, but had brought it with them when they had swung across from the mainland of Africa. The doctor's pets found it quite thrilling to go through the mail that arrived each day to see if there were any letters for them. At the beginning, of course, there wasn't much, but one day Quip had returned from Puttleby with an answer to the doctor's letter to the cat's meat man. Mr. Matthew Mug had written, through his wife, that he had hung the letter for cheap side on an apple tree in the garden where the sparrow would surely see it when he arrived. The windows of the house were all right, he wrote, but the back door could do with a coat of paint. And while Quip had been waiting for this letter to be written, he had filled in the time at Puttleby by gossiping with all the startlings and blackbirds in the doctor's garden about the wonderful new animal's post office on the island of No Man's Land, and pretty soon every creature in and around Puttleby had got to hear of it. After that, of course, letters began to arrive at the houseboat for the doctor's pets. And one morning, when the mail was sorted, there was a letter for Dab-Dab from her sister, one for the white mouse written by a cousin from the doctor's bureau drawer, one for Quip from the collie who lived next door in Puttleby, and one for Tutu, telling him he had a new family of six young ones in the rafters of the stable. But there was nothing for Gub-Gub. The poor pig was nearly in tears at being left out, and when the doctor went into town that afternoon, Gub-Gub asked could he come along. The next day the postbirds complained that the mail was an extra heavy one, and when it was sorted there were ten thick letters for Gub-Gub and none for anybody else. Gip got suspicious about this and looked over Gub-Gub's shoulder when he opened them. In each one there was a banana skin. Who sent you those? asked Gip. I sent them to myself, said Gub-Gub, from Fanteepo yesterday. I don't see why you fellas should get all the mail. Nobody writes to me, so I write to myself. End of Part Two, Chapter Two