Forestme

ONCE AND NOW.

THE OLD SQUIRE'S TROUBLES.

A TALE OF THE PASSIONS; OR, THE DEATH OF DESPINA

SIX WEEKS AT HEPPENHEIM

“THE MORE HASTE THE WORSE SPEED.”

The scale of CO2 emissions released into the air worldwide is unstoppably rising, with the carbon footprint of the most advanced and industrially intensive economies taking a toll on the local environment. As a result, people in all corners of the world are deprived of a basic right to breathe fresh air and drink clean water. These adverse trends observed in many regions have given rise to a variety of green initiatives aimed to reduce CO2 emissions, conserve natural resources, and ensure vulnerable ecosystems’ survival. Tree Planting for Climate Change Offsetting The simplest and the most effective way to combat this ecological crisis is tree planting. This initiative serves as a sequestration measure for minimizing the impact of CO2 emissions on the local communities and the environment. Tree planting has been a popular offset measure across the globe, with over 1.8 billion trees planted in 2021 only. Yet, humanity shouldn’t stop at that, as argue that a minimum of 1.2 trillion new trees are needed to revert climate change’s disastrous dynamics. climate ecologists Recently, supported by Bitkraft Foundation and Terraformation, the project (Re-climate) launched a green initiative for tree planting in the Rivne region of Ukraine. ‘ Treetrio It was an ambitious project aimed at restoring the local forests’ biodiversity and capturing the CO2 emissions released by local industrial facilities. Treetrio initiated this project as part of its far-reaching mission of attaining sustainable forest management and rejuvenating the local environment to address the harms of climate change. The project involved planting massive forest areas in four districts within a Rivne-located forestry cooperative. The joint team selected those districts to achieve the greatest impact in terms of ecosystem revival and CO2 sequestration. As a result of thorough planning, the Treetrio project covered the following areas: 🌿 Blazhivske – 21.9 hectares 🌿 Snovidovytske – 10.6 hectares 🌿 Kamyanske – 3.5 hectares 🌿 Karpilivske – 14.0 hectares The team for tree planting included 23 hired staff – 13 men and 10 women – responsible for tree placement and organizing all the processes. The project started in November 2021, with the second planting phase scheduled for March 2022 – the time when Ukraine was already under massive attacks and hostilities unleashed by Russia. However, the team’s resilience and commitment to the initial goal were unrivaled, with all the milestones completed on time. The initiative’s implementation encountered several unexpected challenges underway, with a surge in fuel prices increasing the total cost estimation of the project. As a result, the project’s budget rose by 19%, which was compensated jointly by all project participants. The planting process entailed the use of tractors, specialized team engagement, smart tree mapping with software use, and the replacement of non-germinated seedlings. Besides, the initial two-week planting session in November 2021 had to be paused because of the unfortunate weather conditions and early snowfall. The second planting phase was scheduled for March 2022, even amid the war hostilities, which reveals the team’s heroism and commitment to green initiatives and biodiversity preservation. About Treetrio Treetrio is a sustainable forest management project aimed to unify local foresters and small businesses and give each of them a fair role in biodiversity restoration in the Rivne region. Though the primary focus of tree planting initiatives is CO2 sequestration, this initiative’s impact goes far beyond this outcome, covering: Local economy stimuli Water resource conservation Forest revival Biodiversity protection Carbon sink setup Hindering the desertification dynamics in the region. As a result of pursuing a number of tree-planting initiatives in the region, Treetrio has managed to attain the following award-winning milestones: The proliferation of 12 tree species 50 hectares of new forests planted in the Rivne region 100,000 planted trees 90% of all plants’ survival rate The far-reaching goals of the Treetrio initiative cover tree management, replacement of non-viable seedlings, and tree planting for the next 45 years. To help foresters handle the project’s large scale and manage huge forest areas, the Treetrio team integrated smart software to simplify tracking and trained the involved team. Each planted tree has a mark and is conveniently tagged on the smart map, guaranteeing proper monitoring. To date, the project has been implemented by 40%, with 40,000 out of the planned 100,000 already planted. This contribution to the Rivne region’s carbon emission reduction and biodiversity enrichment is unrivaled, promising substantial gains and benefits for the local population. As this project goes on, Treetrio makes vital steps toward a greener, cleaner environment in the region and a more sustainable future for Ukraine with the unending support of all engaged parties, including 4IRE. Mitigating Climate Crisis With Blockchain & GreenFi , a Swedish-Ukrainian blockchain development company, is another example of a company that supports green initiatives for the sake of sustainable, positive ecological gains. 4IRE The team offers a unique combination of technical expertise in the digital solutions underlying Green Finance projects and domain-specific expertise in the environmental landscape for such projects. They’ve participated in several impactful GreenFi projects and offer white-label Carbon Credit Marketplace software to speed up such projects’ market entry and development. Blockchain is at the heart of many GreenFi solutions ensuring the project’s security, technical excellence, and transparency vital for the GreenFi industry. Blockchain operations rest on the principle of transaction recording into a public ledger, immutable to manipulations and decentralized for ultimate user control. Such technical execution raises user trust in GreenFi projects and attracts a larger audience of consumers and investors interested in contributing to a positive environmental change. New Projects for Treetrio and 4IRE After the inspiring success of the reforestation initiative in the Rivne region, 4IRE is planning to join hands with Treetrio in another sustainable project – post-war forest revival in the regions affected by hostilities, such as Kherson, Odesa, and Mykolaiv. The present-day preparation for this large-scale work involves compiling an expert team of forestry scholars and practitioners who will collaborate with interested investors to renew Ukrainian biodiversity. Treetrio’s prior hands-on experience in tree planting is an invaluable contribution to this ambitious plan, promising effective solutions for the unprecedented ecological problems. We are optimistic that the emergence of further green initiatives, similar to the remarkable project led by Treetrio, will play a pivotal role in shaping a more environmentally conscious and sustainable future for Ukraine. It is important that we unite our efforts and work diligently for a beautiful tomorrow in our nation.

Building a Greener Future: Restoring Biodiversity in Ukraine

Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . QUEER STREET, NUMBER FORTY here CHAPTER XVIII. QUEER STREET, NUMBER FORTY Lady Muriel was the speaker. And, for the moment, that was the only fact I could clearly realise. But how she came to be there and how I came to be there—and how the glass of champagne came to be there—all these were questions which I felt it better to think out in silence, and not commit myself to any statement till I understood things a little more clearly. 'First accumulate a mass of Facts: and then construct a Theory.' That, I believe, is the true Scientific Method. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and began to accumulate Facts. A smooth grassy slope, bounded, at the upper end, by venerable ruins half buried in ivy, at the lower, by a stream seen through arching trees—a dozen gaily-dressed people, seated in little groups here and there—some open hampers—the debris of a picnic—such were the Facts accumulated by the Scientific Researcher. And now, what deep, far-reaching Theory was he to construct from them? The Researcher found himself at fault. Yet stay! One Fact had escaped his notice. While all the rest were grouped in twos and in threes, Arthur was alone: while all tongues were talking, his was silent: while all faces were gay, his was gloomy and despondent. Here was a Fact indeed! The Researcher felt that a Theory must be constructed without delay. Lady Muriel had just risen and left the party. Could that be the cause of his despondency? The Theory hardly rose to the dignity of a Working Hypothesis. Clearly more Facts were needed. The Researcher looked round him once more: and now the Facts accumulated in such bewildering profusion, that the Theory was lost among them. For Lady Muriel had gone to meet a strange gentleman, just visible in the distance: and now she was returning with him, both of them talking eagerly and joyfully, like old friends who have been long parted: and now she was moving from group to group, introducing the new hero of the hour: and he, young, tall, and handsome, moved gracefully at her side, with the erect bearing and firm tread of a soldier. Verily, the Theory looked gloomy for Arthur! His eye caught mine, and he crossed to me. “He is very handsome,” I said. “Abominably handsome!” muttered Arthur: then smiled at his own bitter words. “Lucky no one heard me but you!” “Doctor Forester,” said Lady Muriel, who had just joined us, “let me introduce to you my cousin Eric Lindon Captain Lindon, I should say.” Arthur shook off his ill-temper instantly and completely, as he rose and gave the young soldier his hand. “I have heard of you,” he said. “I'm very glad to make the acquaintance of Lady Muriel's cousin.” “Yes, that's all I'm distinguished for, as yet!” said Eric (so we soon got to call him) with a winning smile. “And I doubt,” glancing at Lady Muriel, “if it even amounts to a good-conduct-badge! But it's something to begin with.” “You must come to my father, Eric,” said Lady Muriel. “I think he's wandering among the ruins.” And the pair moved on. The gloomy look returned to Arthur's face: and I could see it was only to distract his thoughts that he took his place at the side of the metaphysical young lady, and resumed their interrupted discussion. “Talking of Herbert Spencer,” he began, “do you really find no logical difficulty in regarding Nature as a process of involution, passing from definite coherent homogeneity to indefinite incoherent heterogeneity?” Amused as I was at the ingenious jumble he had made of Spencer's words, I kept as grave a face as I could. “No physical difficulty,” she confidently replied: “but I haven't studied Logic much. Would you state the difficulty?” “Well,” said Arthur, “do you accept it as self-evident? Is it as obvious, for instance, as that 'things that are greater than the same are greater than one another'?” “To my mind,” she modestly replied, “it seems quite as obvious. I grasp both truths by intuition. But other minds may need some logical—I forget the technical terms.” “For a complete logical argument,” Arthur began with admirable solemnity, “we need two prim Misses—” “Of course!” she interrupted. “I remember that word now. And they produce—?” “A Delusion,” said Arthur. “Ye—es?” she said dubiously. “I don't seem to remember that so well. But what is the whole argument called?” “A Sillygism? “Ah, yes! I remember now. But I don't need a Sillygism, you know, to prove that mathematical axiom you mentioned.” “Nor to prove that 'all angles are equal', I suppose?” “Why, of course not! One takes such a simple truth as that for granted!” Here I ventured to interpose, and to offer her a plate of strawberries and cream. I felt really uneasy at the thought that she might detect the trick: and I contrived, unperceived by her, to shake my head reprovingly at the pseudo-philosopher. Equally unperceived by her, Arthur slightly raised his shoulders, and spread his hands abroad, as who should say “What else can I say to her?” and moved away, leaving her to discuss her strawberries by 'involution,' or any other way she preferred. By this time the carriages, that were to convey the revelers to their respective homes, had begun to assemble outside the Castle-grounds: and it became evident—now that Lady Muriel's cousin had joined our party that the problem, how to convey five people to Elveston, with a carriage that would only hold four, must somehow be solved. The Honorable Eric Lindon, who was at this moment walking up and down with Lady Muriel, might have solved it at once, no doubt, by announcing his intention of returning on foot. Of this solution there did not seem to be the very smallest probability. The next best solution, it seemed to me, was that I should walk home: and this I at once proposed. “You're sure you don't mind?” said the Earl. “I'm afraid the carriage wont take us all, and I don't like to suggest to Eric to desert his cousin so soon.” “So far from minding it,” I said, “I should prefer it. It will give me time to sketch this beautiful old ruin.” “I'll keep you company,” Arthur suddenly said. And, in answer to what I suppose was a look of surprise on my face, he said in a low voice, “I really would rather. I shall be quite de trop in the carriage!” “I think I'll walk too,” said the Earl. “You'll have to be content with Eric as your escort,” he added, to Lady Muriel, who had joined us while he was speaking. “You must be as entertaining as Cerberus—'three gentlemen rolled into one'—” Lady Muriel said to her companion. “It will be a grand military exploit!” “A sort of Forlorn Hope?” the Captain modestly suggested. “You do pay pretty compliments!” laughed his fair cousin. “Good day to you, gentlemen three—or rather deserters three!” And the two young folk entered the carriage and were driven away. “How long will your sketch take?” said Arthur. “Well,” I said, “I should like an hour for it. Don't you think you had better go without me? I'll return by train. I know there's one in about an hour's time.” “Perhaps that would be best,” said the Earl. “The Station is quite close.” So I was left to my own devices, and soon found a comfortable seat, at the foot of a tree, from which I had a good view of the ruins. “It is a very drowsy day,” I said to myself, idly turning over the leaves of the sketch-book to find a blank page. “Why, I thought you were a mile off by this time!” For, to my surprise, the two walkers were back again. “I came back to remind you,” Arthur said, “that the trains go every ten minutes—” “Nonsense!” I said. “It isn't the Metropolitan Railway!” “It is the Metropolitan Railway,” the Earl insisted. “'This is a part of Kensington.” “Why do you talk with your eyes shut?” said Arthur. “Wake up!” “I think it's the heat makes me so drowsy,” I said, hoping, but not feeling quite sure, that I was talking sense. “Am I awake now?” “I think not,” the Earl judicially pronounced. “What do you think, Doctor? He's only got one eye open!” “And he's snoring like anything!” cried Bruno. “Do wake up, you dear old thing!” And he and Sylvie set to work, rolling the heavy head from side to side, as if its connection with the shoulders was a matter of no sort of importance. And at last the Professor opened his eyes, and sat up, blinking at us with eyes of utter bewilderment. “Would you have the kindness to mention,” he said, addressing me with his usual old-fashioned courtesy, “whereabouts we are just now and who we are, beginning with me?” I thought it best to begin with the children. “This is Sylvie. Sir; and this is Bruno.” “Ah, yes! I know them well enough!” the old man murmured. “Its myself I'm most anxious about. And perhaps you'll be good enough to mention, at the same time, how I got here?” “A harder problem occurs to me,” I ventured to say: “and that is, how you're to get back again.” “True, true!” the Professor replied. “That's the Problem, no doubt. Viewed as a Problem, outside of oneself, it is a most interesting one. Viewed as a portion of one's own biography, it is, I must admit, very distressing!” He groaned, but instantly added, with a chuckle, “As to myself, I think you mentioned that I am—” “Oo're the Professor!” Bruno shouted in his ear. “Didn't oo know that? Oo've come from Outland! And it's ever so far away from here!” The Professor leapt to his feet with the agility of a boy. “Then there's no time to lose!” he exclaimed anxiously. “I'll just ask this guileless peasant, with his brace of buckets that contain (apparently) water, if he'll be so kind as to direct us. Guileless peasant!” he proceeded in a louder voice. “Would you tell us the way to Outland?” The guileless peasant turned with a sheepish grin. “Hey?” was all he said. “The way—to—Outland!” the Professor repeated. The guileless peasant set down his buckets and considered. “Ah dunnot—” “I ought to mention,” the Professor hastily put in, “that whatever you say will be used in evidence against you.” The guileless peasant instantly resumed his buckets. “Then ah says nowt!” he answered briskly, and walked away at a great pace. The children gazed sadly at the rapidly vanishing figure. “He goes very quick!” the Professor said with a sigh. “But I know that was the right thing to say. I've studied your English Laws. However, let's ask this next man that's coming. He is not guileless, and he is not a peasant—but I don't know that either point is of vital importance.” It was, in fact, the Honourable Eric Lindon, who had apparently fulfilled his task of escorting Lady Muriel home, and was now strolling leisurely up and down the road outside the house, enjoying; a solitary cigar. “Might I trouble you, Sir, to tell us the nearest way to Outland!” Oddity as he was, in outward appearance, the Professor was, in that essential nature which no outward disguise could conceal, a thorough gentleman. And, as such, Eric Lindon accepted him instantly. He took the cigar from his mouth, and delicately shook off the ash, while he considered. “The name sounds strange to me,” he said. “I doubt if I can help you?' “It is not very far from Fairyland,” the Professor suggested. Eric Lindon's eye-brows were slightly raised at these words, and an amused smile, which he courteously tried to repress, flitted across his handsome face: “A trifle cracked!” he muttered to himself. “But what a jolly old patriarch it is!” Then he turned to the children. “And ca'n't you help him, little folk?” he said, with a gentleness of tone that seemed to win their hearts at once. “Surely you know all about it? 'How many miles to Babylon?
    Three-score miles and ten.
    Can I get there by candlelight?
    Yes, and back again!'” To my surprise, Bruno ran forwards to him, as if he were some old friend of theirs, seized the disengaged hand and hung on to it with both of his own: and there stood this tall dignified officer in the middle of the road, gravely swinging a little boy to and fro, while Sylvie stood ready to push him, exactly as if a real swing had suddenly been provided for their pastime. “We don't want to get to Babylon, oo know!” Bruno explained as he swung. “And it isn't candlelight: it's daylight!” Sylvie added, giving the swing a push of extra vigour, which nearly took the whole machine off its balance. By this time it was clear to me that Eric Lindon was quite unconscious of my presence. Even the Professor and the children seemed to have lost sight of me: and I stood in the midst of the group, as unconcernedly as a ghost, seeing but unseen. “How perfectly isochronous!” the Professor exclaimed with enthusiasm. He had his watch in his hand, and was carefully counting Bruno's oscillations. “He measures time quite as accurately as a pendulum!” {Image...'How perfectly isochronous!'} “Yet even pendulums,” the good-natured young soldier observed, as he carefully released his hand from Bruno's grasp, “are not a joy for ever! Come, that's enough for one bout, little man!' Next time we meet, you shall have another. Meanwhile you'd better take this old gentleman to Queer Street, Number—” “We'll find it!” cried Bruno eagerly, as they dragged the Professor away. “We are much indebted to you!” the Professor said, looking over his shoulder. “Don't mention it!” replied the officer, raising his hat as a parting salute. “What number did you say!” the Professor called from the distance. The officer made a trumpet of his two hands. “Forty!” he shouted in stentorian tones. “And not piano, by any means!” he added to himself. “It's a mad world, my masters, a mad world!” He lit another cigar, and strolled on towards his hotel. “What a lovely evening!” I said, joining him as he passed me. “Lovely indeed,” he said. “Where did you come from? Dropped from the clouds?” “I'm strolling your way,” I said; and no further explanation seemed necessary. “Have a cigar?” “Thanks: I'm not a smoker.” “Is there a Lunatic Asylum near here?” “Not that I know of.” “Thought there might be. Met a lunatic just now. Queer old fish as ever I saw!” And so, in friendly chat, we took our homeward ways, and wished each other 'good-night' at the door of his hotel. Left to myself, I felt the 'eerie' feeling rush over me again, and saw, standing at the door of Number Forty, the three figures I knew so well. “Then it's the wrong house?” Bruno was saying. “No, no! It's the right house,” the Professor cheerfully replied: “but it's the wrong street. That's where we've made our mistake! Our best plan, now, will be to—” It was over. The street was empty, Commonplace life was around me, and the 'eerie' feeling had fled. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Lewis Carroll (1996). Sylvie and Bruno. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/620/pg620-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

QUEER STREET, NUMBER FORTY

Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . A CHANGED CROCODILE here CHAPTER XVI. A CHANGED CROCODILE The Marvellous—the Mysterious—had quite passed out of my life for the moment: and the Common-place reigned supreme. I turned in the direction of the Earl's house, as it was now 'the witching hour' of five, and I knew I should find them ready for a cup of tea and a quiet chat. Lady Muriel and her father gave me a delightfully warm welcome. They were not of the folk we meet in fashionable drawing-rooms who conceal all such feelings as they may chance to possess beneath the impenetrable mask of a conventional placidity. 'The Man with the Iron Mask' was, no doubt, a rarity and a marvel in his own age: in modern London no one would turn his head to give him a second look! No, these were real people. When they looked pleased, it meant that they were pleased: and when Lady Muriel said, with a bright smile, “I'm very glad to see you again!”, I knew that it was true. Still I did not venture to disobey the injunctions—crazy as I felt them to be—of the lovesick young Doctor, by so much as alluding to his existence: and it was only after they had given me full details of a projected picnic, to which they invited me, that Lady Muriel exclaimed, almost as an after-thought, “and do, if you can, bring Doctor Forester with you! I'm sure a day in the country would do him good. I'm afraid he studies too much—” It was 'on the tip of my tongue' to quote the words “His only books are woman's looks!” but I checked myself just in time—with something of the feeling of one who has crossed a street, and has been all but run over by a passing 'Hansom.' “—and I think he has too lonely a life,” she went on, with a gentle earnestness that left no room whatever to suspect a double meaning. “Do get him to come! And don't forget the day, Tuesday week. We can drive you over. It would be a pity to go by rail——there is so much pretty scenery on the road. And our open carriage just holds four.” “Oh, I'll persuade him to come!” I said with confidence—thinking “it would take all my powers of persuasion to keep him away!” The picnic was to take place in ten days: and though Arthur readily accepted the invitation I brought him, nothing that I could say would induce him to call—either with me or without me on the Earl and his daughter in the meanwhile. No: he feared to “wear out his welcome,” he said: they had “seen enough of him for one while”: and, when at last the day for the expedition arrived, he was so childishly nervous and uneasy that I thought it best so to arrange our plans that we should go separately to the house—my intention being to arrive some time after him, so as to give him time to get over a meeting. With this object I purposely made a considerable circuit on my way to the Hall (as we called the Earl's house): “and if I could only manage to lose my way a bit,” I thought to myself, “that would suit me capitally!” In this I succeeded better, and sooner, than I had ventured to hope for. The path through the wood had been made familiar to me, by many a solitary stroll, in my former visit to Elveston; and how I could have so suddenly and so entirely lost it—even though I was so engrossed in thinking of Arthur and his lady-love that I heeded little else—was a mystery to me. “And this open place,” I said to myself, “seems to have some memory about it I cannot distinctly recall—surely it is the very spot where I saw those Fairy-Children! But I hope there are no snakes about!” I mused aloud, taking my seat on a fallen tree. “I certainly do not like snakes—and I don't suppose Bruno likes them, either!” “No, he doesn't like them!” said a demure little voice at my side. “He's not afraid of them, you know. But he doesn't like them. He says they're too waggly!” Words fail me to describe the beauty of the little group—couched on a patch of moss, on the trunk of the fallen tree, that met my eager gaze: Sylvie reclining with her elbow buried in the moss, and her rosy cheek resting in the palm of her hand, and Bruno stretched at her feet with his head in her lap. {Image...Fairies resting} “Too waggly?” was all I could say in so sudden an emergency. “I'm not praticular,” Bruno said, carelessly: “but I do like straight animals best—” “But you like a dog when it wags its tail,” Sylvie interrupted. “You know you do, Bruno!” “But there's more of a dog, isn't there, Mister Sir?” Bruno appealed to me. “You wouldn't like to have a dog if it hadn't got nuffin but a head and a tail?” I admitted that a dog of that kind would be uninteresting. “There isn't such a dog as that,” Sylvie thoughtfully remarked. “But there would be,” cried Bruno, “if the Professor shortened it up for us!” “Shortened it up?” I said. “That's something new. How does he do it?” “He's got a curious machine,” Sylvie was beginning to explain. “A welly curious machine,” Bruno broke in, not at all willing to have the story thus taken out of his mouth, “and if oo puts in—some-finoruvver—at one end, oo know and he turns the handle—and it comes out at the uvver end, oh, ever so short!” “As short as short!” Sylvie echoed. “And one day when we was in Outland, oo know—before we came to Fairyland me and Sylvie took him a big Crocodile. And he shortened it up for us. And it did look so funny! And it kept looking round, and saying 'wherever is the rest of me got to?' And then its eyes looked unhappy—” “Not both its eyes,” Sylvie interrupted. “Course not!” said the little fellow. “Only the eye that couldn't see wherever the rest of it had got to. But the eye that could see wherever—” “How short was the crocodile?” I asked, as the story was getting a little complicated. “Half as short again as when we caught it—so long,” said Bruno, spreading out his arms to their full stretch. I tried to calculate what this would come to, but it was too hard for me. Please make it out for me, dear Child who reads this! “But you didn't leave the poor thing so short as that, did you?” “Well, no. Sylvie and me took it back again and we got it stretched to—to—how much was it, Sylvie?” “Two times and a half, and a little bit more,” said Sylvie. “It wouldn't like that better than the other way, I'm afraid?” “Oh, but it did though!” Bruno put in eagerly. “It were proud of its new tail! Oo never saw a Crocodile so proud! Why, it could go round and walk on the top of its tail, and along its back, all the way to its head!” {Image...A changed crocodile} “Not quite all the way,” said Sylvie. “It couldn't, you know.” “Ah, but it did, once!” Bruno cried triumphantly. “Oo weren't looking—but I watched it. And it walked on tippiety-toe, so as it wouldn't wake itself, 'cause it thought it were asleep. And it got both its paws on its tail. And it walked and it walked all the way along its back. And it walked and it walked on its forehead. And it walked a tiny little way down its nose! There now!” This was a good deal worse than the last puzzle. Please, dear Child, help again! “I don't believe no Crocodile never walked along its own forehead!” Sylvie cried, too much excited by the controversy to limit the number of her negatives. “Oo don't know the reason why it did it!” Bruno scornfully retorted. “It had a welly good reason. I heerd it say 'Why shouldn't I walk on my own forehead?' So a course it did, oo know!” “If that's a good reason, Bruno,” I said, “why shouldn't you get up that tree?” “Shall, in a minute,” said Bruno: “soon as we've done talking. Only two peoples ca'n't talk comfably togevver, when one's getting up a tree, and the other isn't!” It appeared to me that a conversation would scarcely be 'comfable' while trees were being climbed, even if both the 'peoples' were doing it: but it was evidently dangerous to oppose any theory of Bruno's; so I thought it best to let the question drop, and to ask for an account of the machine that made things longer. This time Bruno was at a loss, and left it to Sylvie. “It's like a mangle,” she said: “if things are put in, they get squoze—” “Squeezeled!” Bruno interrupted. “Yes.” Sylvie accepted the correction, but did not attempt to pronounce the word, which was evidently new to her. “They get—like that—and they come out, oh, ever so long!” “Once,” Bruno began again, “Sylvie and me writed—” “Wrote!” Sylvie whispered. “Well, we wroted a Nursery-Song, and the Professor mangled it longer for us. It were 'There was a little Man, And he had a little gun, And the bullets—'” “I know the rest,” I interrupted. “But would you say it long I mean the way that it came out of the mangle?” “We'll get the Professor to sing it for you,” said Sylvie. “It would spoil it to say it.” “I would like to meet the Professor,” I said. “And I would like to take you all with me, to see some friends of mine, that live near here. Would you like to come?” “I don't think the Professor would like to come,” said Sylvie. “He's very shy. But we'd like it very much. Only we'd better not come this size, you know.” The difficulty had occurred to me already: and I had felt that perhaps there would be a slight awkwardness in introducing two such tiny friends into Society. “What size will you be?” I enquired. “We'd better come as—common children,” Sylvie thoughtfully replied. “That's the easiest size to manage.” “Could you come to-day?” I said, thinking “then we could have you at the picnic!” Sylvie considered a little. “Not to-day,” she replied. “We haven't got the things ready. We'll come on—Tuesday next, if you like. And now, really Bruno, you must come and do your lessons.” “I wiss oo wouldn't say 'really Bruno!'” the little fellow pleaded, with pouting lips that made him look prettier than ever. “It always show's there's something horrid coming! And I won't kiss you, if you're so unkind.” “Ah, but you have kissed me!” Sylvie exclaimed in merry triumph. “Well then, I'll unkiss you!” And he threw his arms round her neck for this novel, but apparently not very painful, operation. “It's very like kissing!” Sylvie remarked, as soon as her lips were again free for speech. “Oo don't know nuffin about it! It were just the conkery!” Bruno replied with much severity, as he marched away. Sylvie turned her laughing face to me. “Shall we come on Tuesday?” she said. “Very well,” I said: “let it be Tuesday next. But where is the Professor? Did he come with you to Fairyland?” “No,” said Sylvie. “But he promised he'd come and see us, some day. He's getting his Lecture ready. So he has to stay at home.” “At home?” I said dreamily, not feeling quite sure what she had said. “Yes, Sir. His Lordship and Lady Muriel are at home. Please to walk this way.” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Lewis Carroll (1996). Sylvie and Bruno. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/620/pg620-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

FORESTME

forestme.io

-- employees

Since n.d.

COMPANY RANKING

FORESTME

EVERGREEN INDEX #5097

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Forestme WIKI

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FORESTME

forestme.io

-- employees

Since n.d.

COMPANY RANKING

FORESTME

EVERGREEN INDEX #5097

RELATED COMPANIESRANK

STORIES ABOUT FORESTME

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