' King Leo, having lost his mother, commanded by proclamation all
his subjects to attend her funeral, and none failed save Orson. One
evening his Feline Majesty, when going his rounds, found the delinquent
upon the ground, and roughly demanded the reason why. Orson, shuffling
towards the nearest tree, pleaded in all humility, 'O King, is thy beloved
parent really deceased? I never heard of it. I am so sorry; I would never
have failed to show the respect due to the royal house.' When he had
climbed the foot of the tree his tone began to alter. 'But, Sire, if thy
Majesty hath lost a mother, I see no cause compelling me to attend her
funeral.' And when quite safe the change was notable. 'Bother the old
woman! very glad she is dead, and may her grave be defiled!' These people
know the stuff of which courtiers are made.
My collection of specimens from the mines and the river-beds filled a
dozen cases. The butterflies, of which we collected a large number, were
all spoilt by the moth for want of camphor. 'Insect-powder' had been our
only preservative. I had also a thirty-gallon cask of plants preserved in
spirits, two boxes well stuffed, a large case of orchids, and a raceme of
the bamboo-palm (_Raphia vinifera_), whose use has still to be found.
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