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Updated: June 21, 2025
It sounded like the ticking of a watch. "Yes, I hear how it ticks," cried Karr, and ran no farther. He understood that the elk did not want him to follow, but to take notice of something that was happening in the forest. Karr was standing beneath the drooping branches of a great pine. He looked carefully at it; the needles moved.
Take for instance the poetical M. Alphonse Karr, whose name has passed all over Europe as the charming author of A Journey round my Garden. Nothing can be more engaging than the manner in which M. Karr leads his readers about with him among his flowers and the parasites of his garden. He falls into raptures over the petals of the rose, and his eye brightens tenderly over the June fly.
The only difficulty about my part was to find a name for it. I might have taken the name of the man who wrote the book it is Alphonse Karr, just as Arthur was going to be called John Parkinson. But I am a girl, so it seemed silly to take a man's name.
Others went out to see the glorious new worlds of the West, the glorious old worlds of the East why should not I? Others rambled over Alps and Apennines, Italian picture-galleries and palaces, filling their minds with fair memories why should not I? Others discovered new wonders in botany and zoology why should not I? Others too, like you, fulfilled to the utmost that strange lust after the burra shikar, which even now makes my pulse throb as often as I see the stags' heads in our friend A -'s hall: why should not I? It is not learnt in a day, the golden lesson of the Old Collect, to 'love the thing which is commanded, and desire that which is promised. Not in a day: but in fifteen years one can spell out a little of its worth; and when one finds one's self on the wrong side of forty, and the first grey hairs begin to show on the temples, and one can no longer jump as high as one's third button scarcely, alas! to any button at all; and what with innumerable sprains, bruises, soakings, and chillings, one's lower limbs feel in a cold thaw much like an old post-horse's, why, one makes a virtue of necessity: and if one still lusts after sights, takes the nearest, and looks for wonders, not in the Himalayas or Lake Ngami, but in the turf on the lawn and the brook in the park; and with good Alphonse Karr enjoys the macro-microcosm in one 'Tour autour de mon jardin.
As he bent his head toward the calla stalks, he happened to disturb a big black snake, which lay sleeping under them. Grayskin had heard Karr speak of the poisonous adders that were to be found in the forest. So, when the snake raised its head, shot out its tongue and hissed at him, he thought he had encountered an awfully dangerous reptile.
This is Alphonse Karr's magnificent spring assortment his Grand Occasion. "So you see, Mr. Cockayne," said his wife, "this Mr. Karr, whose book about the garden twaddle, I call it you used to think so very fine and poetic, is just a market-gardener and nothing more. He is positively an advertising tradesman." "Nothing more, mamma, I assure you," said Sophonisba.
Karr asked when he came up to the elk. They stood with lowered heads, far protruding upper lips, and looked puzzled. "No one can tell," answered Grayskin. "This insect family used to be the least hurtful of any in the forest, and never before have they done any damage. But these last few years they have been multiplying so fast that now it appears as if the entire forest would be destroyed."
Karr conducted the elk to a part of the forest where the pines grew so thickly that no wind could penetrate them. "It is here that your kind are in the habit of seeking shelter from cold and storm," said Karr. "Here they stand under the open skies all winter. But you will fare much better where you are going, for you will stand in a shed, with a roof over your head, like an ox."
M. Karr is quite up to the market value of every bud that breaks within the charmed circle of his garden at Nice. He cultivates the poetry for his books, but he does not neglect his ledger. In the spring, when, according to Mr.
"What can be the meaning of this?" wondered Karr. "It's too bad about the pretty trees! Soon they'll have no beauty left." He walked from tree to tree, trying with his poor eyesight to see if all was well with them. "There's a pine they haven't touched," he thought. But they had taken possession of it, too. "And here's a birch no, this also!
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