Tea would arrive, the cakes squatting on cushions of cream, toast in a melting shawl of butter, cups agleam and a faint wisp of steam rising from the teapot shawl.

We stared at the odd garment and wondered what it was for. 'What is it?' asked Larry at length. 'It's a bathing costume, of course,' said Mother. 'What on earth did you think it was?' 'It looks like a badly skinned whale,' said Larry, peering at it closely.

A house is not a home until it has a dog.

All over the world the wildlife that I write about is in grave danger. It is being exterminated by what we call the progress of civilization.

Right in the Hart of the Africn Jungel a small wite man lives. Now there is one extraordinary fact about him that he is the frind of all animals.

By neglecting our garden, we are storing up for ourselves, in the not very distant future, a world catastrophe as bad as any atomic war, and we are doing it with all the bland complacency of an idiot child chopping up a Rembrandt with a pair of scissors.

Animals generally return the love you lavish on them by a swift bite in passing-not unlike friends and wives.