The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle

by Hugh Lofting

  And then I remember how, after we had seen the Doctor out at the frontdoor, we all came back into the parlor and talked about him till itwas still later; and even after I did go to bed (I had never stayed upso late in my life before) I dreamed about him and a band of strangeclever animals that played flutes and fiddles and drums the whole nightthrough.

  _THE SEVENTH CHAPTER_

  SHELLFISH TALK

  THE next morning, although I had gone to bed so late the night before,I was up frightfully early. The first sparrows were just beginning tochirp sleepily on the slates outside my attic window when I jumped outof bed and scrambled into my clothes.

  I could hardly wait to get back to the little house with the biggarden—to see the Doctor and his private zoo. For the first time inmy life I forgot all about breakfast; and creeping down the stairs ontip-toe, so as not to wake my mother and father, I opened the frontdoor and popped out into the empty, silent street.

  When I got to the Doctor’s gate I suddenly thought that perhaps it wastoo early to call on any one: and I began to wonder if the Doctor wouldbe up yet. I looked into the garden. No one seemed to be about. So Iopened the gate quietly and went inside.

  As I turned to the left to go down a path between some hedges, I hearda voice quite close to me say,

  “Good morning. How early you are!”

  I turned around, and there, sitting on the top of a privet hedge, wasthe gray parrot, Polynesia.

  “Good morning,” I said. “I suppose I am rather early. Is the Doctorstill in bed?”

  “Oh no,” said Polynesia. “He has been up an hour and a half. You’llfind him in the house somewhere. The front door is open. Just push itand go in. He is sure to be in the kitchen cooking breakfast—or workingin his study. Walk right in. I am waiting to see the sun rise. Butupon my word I believe it’s forgotten to rise. It is an awful climate,this. Now if we were in Africa the world would be blazing with sunlightat this hour of the morning. Just see that mist rolling over thosecabbages. It is enough to give you rheumatism to look at it. Beastlyclimate—Beastly! Really I don’t know why anything but frogs ever stayin England—Well, don’t let me keep you. Run along and see the Doctor.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll go and look for him.”

  When I opened the front door I could smell bacon frying, so I made myway to the kitchen. There I discovered a large kettle boiling away overthe fire and some bacon and eggs in a dish upon the hearth. It seemedto me that the bacon was getting all dried up with the heat. So Ipulled the dish a little further away from the fire and went on throughthe house looking for the Doctor.

  I found him at last in the Study. I did not know then that it wascalled the Study. It was certainly a very interesting room, withtelescopes and microscopes and all sorts of other strange things whichI did not understand about but wished I did. Hanging on the walls werepictures of animals and fishes and strange plants and collections ofbirds’ eggs and sea-shells in glass cases.

  The Doctor was standing at the main table in his dressing-gown. Atfirst I thought he was washing his face. He had a square glass boxbefore him full of water. He was holding one ear under the water whilehe covered the other with his left hand. As I came in he stood up.

  “Good morning, Stubbins,” said he. “Going to be a nice day, don’tyou think? I’ve just been listening to the Wiff-Waff. But he is verydisappointing—very.”

  “Why?” I said. “Didn’t you find that he has any language at all?”

  “Oh yes,” said the Doctor, “he has a language. But it is such a poorlanguage—only a few words, like ‘yes’ and ‘no’—‘hot’ and ‘cold.’ That’sall he can say. It’s very disappointing. You see he really belongsto two different families of fishes. I thought he was going to betremendously helpful—Well, well!”

  “I suppose,” said I, “that means he hasn’t very much sense—if hislanguage is only two or three words?”

  “Yes, I suppose it does. Possibly it is the kind of life he leads.You see, they are very rare now, these Wiff-Waffs—very rare and verysolitary. They swim around in the deepest parts of the ocean entirelyby themselves—always alone. So I presume they really don’t need to talkmuch.”

  “Perhaps some kind of a bigger shellfish would talk more,” I said.“After all, he is very small, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” said the Doctor, “that’s true. Oh I have no doubt that thereare shellfish who are good talkers—not the least doubt. But the bigshellfish—the biggest of them, are so hard to catch. They are only tobe found in the deep parts of the sea; and as they don’t swim verymuch, but just crawl along the floor of the ocean most of the time,they are very seldom taken in nets. I do wish I could find some way ofgoing down to the bottom of the sea. I could learn a lot if I couldonly do that. But we are forgetting all about breakfast—Have you hadbreakfast yet, Stubbins?”

  I told the Doctor that I had forgotten all about it and he at once ledthe way into the kitchen.

  “Yes,” he said, as he poured the hot water from the kettle into thetea-pot, “if a man could only manage to get right down to the bottomof the sea, and live there a while, he would discover some wonderfulthings—things that people have never dreamed of.”

  “But men do go down, don’t they?” I asked—“divers and people like that?”

  “Oh yes, to be sure,” said the Doctor. “Divers go down. I’ve been downmyself in a diving-suit, for that matter. But my!—they only go wherethe sea is shallow. Divers can’t go down where it is really deep. WhatI would like to do is to go down to the great depths—where it is milesdeep—Well, well, I dare say I shall manage it some day. Let me give youanother cup of tea.”

  _THE EIGHTH CHAPTER_

  ARE YOU A GOOD NOTICER?

  JUST at that moment Polynesia came into the room and said something tothe Doctor in bird language. Of course I did not understand what itwas. But the Doctor at once put down his knife and fork and left theroom.

  “You know it is an awful shame,” said the parrot as soon as the Doctorhad closed the door. “Directly he comes back home, all the animalsover the whole countryside get to hear of it and every sick cat andmangy rabbit for miles around comes to see him and ask his advice. Nowthere’s a big fat hare outside at the back door with a squawking baby.Can she see the Doctor, please!—Thinks it’s going to have convulsions.Stupid little thing’s been eating Deadly Nightshade again, I suppose.The animals are _so_ inconsiderate at times—especially the mothers.They come round and call the Doctor away from his meals and wake himout of his bed at all hours of the night. I don’t know how he standsit—really I don’t. Why, the poor man never gets any peace at all! I’vetold him time and again to have special hours for the animals to come.But he is so frightfully kind and considerate. He never refuses to seethem if there is anything really wrong with them. He says the urgentcases must be seen at once.”

  “Why don’t some of the animals go and see the other doctors?” I asked.

  “Oh Good Gracious!” exclaimed the parrot, tossing her head scornfully.“Why, there aren’t any other animal-doctors—not real doctors. Oh ofcourse there _are_ those vet persons, to be sure. But, bless you,they’re no good. You see, they can’t understand the animals’ language;so how can you expect them to be any use? Imagine yourself, or yourfather, going to see a doctor who could not understand a word yousay—nor even tell you in your own language what you must do to getwell! Poof!—those vets! They’re that stupid, you’ve no idea!—Put theDoctor’s bacon down by the fire, will you?—to keep hot till he comesback.”

  “Do you think I would ever be able to learn the language of theanimals?” I asked, laying the plate upon the hearth.

  “Well, it all depends,” said Polynesia. “Are you clever at lessons?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered, feeling rather ashamed. “You see, I’venever been to school. My father is too poor to send me.”

  “Well,” said the parrot, “I don’t suppose you have really missedmuch—to judge from what _I_ have seen of school-boys.
But listen: areyou a good noticer?—Do you notice things well? I mean, for instance,supposing you saw two cock-starlings on an apple-tree, and you onlytook one good look at them—would you be able to tell one from the otherif you saw them again the next day?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never tried.”

  “Well that,” said Polynesia, brushing some crumbs off the cornerof the table with her left foot—“that is what you call powers ofobservation—noticing the small things about birds and animals: the waythey walk and move their heads and flip their wings; the way they sniffthe air and twitch their whiskers and wiggle their tails. You have tonotice all those little things if you want to learn animal language.For you see, lots of the animals hardly talk at all with their tongues;they use their breath or their tails or their feet instead. That isbecause many of them, in the olden days when lions and tigers were moreplentiful, were afraid to make a noise for fear the savage creaturesheard them. Birds, of course, didn’t care; for they always had wings tofly away with. But that is the first thing to remember: being a goodnoticer is terribly important in learning animal language.”

  “It sounds pretty hard,” I said.

  “You’ll have to be very patient,” said Polynesia. “It takes a longtime to say even a few words properly. But if you come here oftenI’ll give you a few lessons myself. And once you get started you’llbe surprised how fast you get on. It would indeed be a good thing ifyou could learn. Because then you could do some of the work for theDoctor—I mean the easier work, like bandaging and giving pills. Yes,yes, that’s a good idea of mine. ’Twould be a great thing if the poorman could get some help—and some rest. It is a scandal the way heworks. I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to help him a greatdeal—That is, if you are really interested in animals.”

  “‘Being a good noticer is terribly important’”]

  “Oh, I’d love that!” I cried. “Do you think the Doctor would let me?”

  “Certainly,” said Polynesia—“as soon as you have learned somethingabout doctoring. I’ll speak of it to him myself—Sh! I hear him coming.Quick—bring his bacon back on to the table.”

  _THE NINTH CHAPTER_

  THE GARDEN OF DREAMS

  WHEN breakfast was over the Doctor took me out to show me the garden.Well, if the house had been interesting, the garden was a hundredtimes more so. Of all the gardens I have ever seen that was the mostdelightful, the most fascinating. At first you did not realize how bigit was. You never seemed to come to the end of it. When at last youwere quite sure that you had seen it all, you would peer over a hedge,or turn a corner, or look up some steps, and there was a whole new partyou never expected to find.

  It had everything—everything a garden can have, or ever has had. Therewere wide, wide lawns with carved stone seats, green with moss. Overthe lawns hung weeping-willows, and their feathery bough-tips brushedthe velvet grass when they swung with the wind. The old flagged pathshad high, clipped, yew hedges either side of them, so that they lookedlike the narrow streets of some old town; and through the hedges,doorways had been made; and over the doorways were shapes like vasesand peacocks and half-moons all trimmed out of the living trees. Therewas a lovely marble fish-pond with golden carp and blue water-lilies init and big green frogs. A high brick wall alongside the kitchen gardenwas all covered with pink and yellow peaches ripening in the sun. Therewas a wonderful great oak, hollow in the trunk, big enough for four mento hide inside. Many summer-houses there were, too—some of wood andsome of stone; and one of them was full of books to read. In a corner,among some rocks and ferns, was an outdoor fire-place, where the Doctorused to fry liver and bacon when he had a notion to take his meals inthe open air. There was a couch as well on which he used to sleep, itseems, on warm summer nights when the nightingales were singing attheir best; it had wheels on it so it could be moved about under anytree they sang in. But the thing that fascinated me most of all was atiny little tree-house, high up in the top branches of a great elm,with a long rope ladder leading to it. The Doctor told me he used itfor looking at the moon and the stars through a telescope.

  It was the kind of a garden where you could wander and explore for daysand days—always coming upon something new, always glad to find the oldspots over again. That first time that I saw the Doctor’s garden I wasso charmed by it that I felt I would like to live in it—always andalways—and never go outside of it again. For it had everything withinits walls to give happiness, to make living pleasant—to keep the heartat peace. It was the Garden of Dreams.

  One peculiar thing I noticed immediately I came into it; and that waswhat a lot of birds there were about. Every tree seemed to have two orthree nests in it. And heaps of other wild creatures appeared to bemaking themselves at home there, too. Stoats and tortoises and dormiceseemed to be quite common, and not in the least shy. Toads of differentcolors and sizes hopped about the lawn as though it belonged to them.Green lizards (which were very rare in Puddleby) sat up on the stonesin the sunlight and blinked at us. Even snakes were to be seen.

  “You need not be afraid of them,” said the Doctor, noticing that Istarted somewhat when a large black snake wiggled across the path rightin front of us. “These fellows are not poisonous. They do a great dealof good in keeping down many kinds of garden-pests. I play the flute tothem sometimes in the evening. They love it. Stand right up on theirtails and carry on no end. Funny thing, their taste for music.”

  “Why do all these animals come and live here?” I asked. “I never saw agarden with so many creatures in it.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s because they get the kind of food they like; andnobody worries or disturbs them. And then, of course, they know me. Andif they or their children get sick I presume they find it handy to beliving in a doctor’s garden—Look! You see that sparrow on the sundial,swearing at the blackbird down below? Well, he has been coming hereevery summer for years. He comes from London. The country sparrowsround about here are always laughing at him. They say he chirps withsuch a Cockney accent. He is a most amusing bird—very brave but verycheeky. He loves nothing better than an argument, but he always ends itby getting rude. He is a real city bird. In London he lives around St.Paul’s Cathedral. ‘Cheapside,’ we call him.”

  “Are all these birds from the country round here?” I asked.

  “Most of them,” said the Doctor. “But a few rare ones visit me everyyear who ordinarily never come near England at all. For instance,that handsome little fellow hovering over the snapdragon there, he’sa Ruby-throated Humming-bird. Comes from America. Strictly speaking,he has no business in this climate at all. It is too cool. I make himsleep in the kitchen at night. Then every August, about the last weekof the month, I have a Purple Bird-of-Paradise come all the way fromBrazil to see me. She is a very great swell. Hasn’t arrived yet ofcourse. And there are a few others, foreign birds from the tropicsmostly, who drop in on me in the course of the summer months. But come,I must show you the zoo.”

  _THE TENTH CHAPTER_

  THE PRIVATE ZOO

  I DID not think there could be anything left in that garden which wehad not seen. But the Doctor took me by the arm and started off down alittle narrow path and after many windings and twistings and turningswe found ourselves before a small door in a high stone wall. The Doctorpushed it open.

  Inside was still another garden. I had expected to find cages withanimals inside them. But there were none to be seen. Instead there werelittle stone houses here and there all over the garden; and each househad a window and a door. As we walked in, many of these doors openedand animals came running out to us evidently expecting food.

  “Haven’t the doors any locks on them?” I asked the Doctor.

  “Oh yes,” he said, “every door has a lock. But in my zoo the doors openfrom the inside, not from the out. The locks are only there so theanimals can go and shut themselves _in_ any time they want to get awayfrom the annoyance of other animals or from people who might come here.Every animal in this zoo stays here because he l
ikes it, not becausehe is made to.”

  “They all look very happy and clean,” I said. “Would you mind tellingme the names of some of them?”

  “Certainly. Well now: that funny-looking thing with plates on his back,nosing under the brick over there, is a South American armadillo. Thelittle chap talking to him is a Canadian woodchuck. They both live inthose holes you see at the foot of the wall. The two little beastsdoing antics in the pond are a pair of Russian minks—and that remindsme: I must go and get them some herrings from the town before noon—itis early-closing to-day. That animal just stepping out of his house isan antelope, one of the smaller South African kinds. Now let us move tothe other side of those bushes there and I will show you some more.”

  “Are those deer over there?” I asked.

  “_Deer!_” said the Doctor. “Where do you mean?”

  “Over there,” I said, pointing—“nibbling the grass border of the bed.There are two of them.”

  “Oh, that,” said the Doctor with a smile. “That isn’t two animals:that’s one animal with two heads—the only two-headed animal in theworld. It’s called the ‘pushmi-pullyu.’ I brought him from Africa. He’svery tame—acts as a kind of night-watchman for my zoo. He only sleepswith one head at a time, you see—very handy—the other head stays awakeall night.”

  “Have you any lions or tigers?” I asked as we moved on.