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Seligor's Castle, fun for all the children of the world.
Diddilys Choice


SELIGOR'S CASTLE, There is a Difference

From DEE DOT'S Favourites

"There is a Difference."

It was in the month of May. The wind was still cold, but spring had come, said the trees and the bushes, the fields and the meadows. Everywhere flowers were budding into blossom; even the hedges were alive with them. Here spring spoke about herself; it spoke from a little apple tree, from which hung a single branch so fresh and blooming, and fairly weighed down by a glorious mass of rosy buds just ready to open.

Now this branApple Branchch knew how lovely it was, for that knowledge lies in the leaf as well as in the flesh, so it wasn't a bit surprised when one day a grand carriage stopped in the road beside it, and the young Countess in the carriage said that this apple branch was the most beautiful she had ever seen-it was spring itself in its loveliest form. So she broke off the apple branch and carried it in her own dainty hand, shading it from the sun with her silk parasol, as they drove on to her castle, in which there were lofty halls and beautifully decorated rooms. Fleecy-white curtains fluttered at its open windows, and there were many shining, transparent vases full of beautiful flowers. In one of these vases, which looked as if it were carved of new-fallen snow, she placed the apple branch, among fresh green beech leaves-a lovely sight indeed.

And so it happened that the apple branch grew proud, and that's quite human.

All sorts of people passed through the rooms, and according to their rank expressed their admiration in different ways; some said too much, some said too little, and some said nothing at all. And the apple branch began to realize that there were differences in people as well as in plants.

"Some are used for nourishment, some are for ornament, and some you could very well do without," thought the apple branch.

From its position at the open window the apple branch could look down over the gardens and meadows below, and consider the differences among the flowers and plants beneath. Some were rich, some were poor, and some were very poor.

"Miserable, rejected plants," said the apple branch. "There is a difference indeed! It's quite proper and just that distinctions should be made. Yet how unhappy they must feel, if indeed a creature like that is capable of feeling anything, as I and my equals do; but it must be that way, otherwise everybody would be treated as though they were just alike."The Humble Dandelion

And the apple branch looked down with especial pity on one kind of flower that grew everywhere in meadows and ditches. They were much too common ever to be gathered into bouquets; they could be found between the paving stones; they shot up like the rankest and most worthless of weeds. They were dandelions, but people have given them the ugly name, "the devil's milk pails."

"Poor wretched outcasts," said the apple branch. "I suppose you can't help being as common as you are, and having such a vulgar name! It's the same with plants as with men-there must be a difference."

"A difference?" repeated the sunbeam, as it kissed the apple branch; but it kissed the golden "devil's milk pails," too. And all the other sunbeams did the same, kissing all the flowers equally, poor as well as rich.

The apple branch had never thought about our Lord's infinite love for everything that lives and moves in Him, had never thought how much that it is good and beautiful can lie hidden but still not be forgotten; and that, too, was human.

But the sunbeam, the ray of light, knew better. "You don't see very clearly; you are not very farsighted. Who are these outcast flowers that you pity so much?"

"Those devil's milk pails down there," replied the apple branch. "Nobody ever ties them up in bouquets; they're trodden under foot, because there are too many of them. And when they go to seed they fly about along the road like little bits of wool and hang on people's clothes. They're just weeds! I suppose there must be weeds too, but I'm certainly happy and grateful that I'm not like one of them!"

Now a whole flock of children ran out into the meadow to play. The youngest of them was so tiny that he had to be carried by the others. When they set him down in the grass among the golden blossoms, he laughed and gurgled with joy, kicked his little legs, rolled over and over, and plucked only the yellow dandelions. These he kissed in innocent delight.

The Dandelion with its precious Seed Clock.

The bigger children broke off the flowers of the dandelions and joined the hollow stalks link by link into chains. First they would make one for a necklace, then a longer one to hang across the shoulders and around the waist, and finally one to go around their heads; it was a beautiful wreath of splendid green links and chains.

But the biggest of the children carefully gathered the stalks that had gone to seed, those loose, aerial, woolly blossoms, those wonderfully perfect balls of dainty white plumes, and held them to their lips, trying to blow away all the white feathers with one breath. Granny had told them that whoever could do that would receive new clothes before the year was out. The poor, despised dandelion was considered quite a prophet on such occasions.

"Now do you see?" asked the sunbeam. "Do you see its beauty and power?"

"Oh, it's all right-for children," replied the apple branch.

Now an old woman came into the meadow. She stooped and dug up the roots of the dandelion with a blunt knife that had lost its handle. Some of the roots she would roast instead of coffee berries, others she would sell to the apothecary to be used as drugs.

"Beauty is something higher than this," said the apple branch. "Only the chosen few can really be allowed into the kingdom of the beautiful; there's as much difference between plants as between men."

Then the sunbeam spoke of the infinite love of the Creator for all His creatures, for everything that has life, and of the equal distribution of all things in time and eternity.

"That's just your opinion," replied the apple branch.

Now some people came into the room, and among them was the young Countess who had placed the apple branch in the transparent vase. She was carrying a flower-or whatever it was-that was protecteA beautiful Blue image of a Dandelion Seed Clockd by three or four large leaves around it like a cap, so that no breath of air or gust of wind could injure it. She carried it more carefully and tenderly than she had the apple branch when she had brought it to the castle. Very gently she removed the leaves, and then the apple branch could see what she carried. It was a delicate, feathery crown of starry seeds borne by the despised dandelion!

This was what she had plucked so carefully and carried so tenderly, so that no single one of the loose, dainty, feathered arrows that rounded out its downy form should be blown away. There it was, whole and perfect. With delight she admired the beautiful form, the airy lightness, the marvelous mechanism of a thing that was destined so soon to be scattered by the wind.

"Look how wonderfully beautiful our Lord made this!" she cried. "I'll paint it, together with the apple branch. Everybody thinks it is so extremely beautiful, but this poor flower is lovely, too; it has received as much from our Lord in another way. They are very different, yet both are children in the kingdom of the beautiful!"

The sunbeam kissed the poor dandelion, and then kissed the blooming apple branch, whose petals seemed to blush a deeper red.

dottido@hotmail.co.uk will reach me from wherever you are.


With poems from DEE DOT'S Favourites

A Robot Restaurant


Dinsow Restaurant RobotsAs I was going down the street,
I wanted something good to eat.
I wondered where to stop for lunch
And then I saw a lively bunch
Of robots standing in a line
Outside a café with a sign
That said- “All robots welcome here,
Stop in for food and great root beer!”  
I joined the line and stepped inside-
It was the funniest place I’d ever tried.
I sat down in a corner spot-
The waiter was a small robot.
The menu left me quite confused
And the appetizers I refused.
Here was what the menu said:
Transistor sandwich on onion bread

Computer chips and curly fries,Wacky Robot
And homemade wire and apple pies!
A tender, tasty steel filet,
With piston rings and soup of the day.
A battery bacon burger meal
With orange iced tea and lemon peel.
A fiberglass and plastic stew,
And a copper pizza made for 2.
A tasty cake of nuts and bolts
And special tasting root beer floats.
I didn’t see much I could eat
And so I made a quick retreat.
I’ve never been back to this day,
But I will remember the Robot Café!

Robots in Chinese restaurant


From DEE DOT'S Favourites

Eugene Field (1850-1895) was an unusual poet in that he was one of the few poets who wrote only children's poetry. Rather unimaginatively, he was nicknamed, The Children's Poet.


By Eugene Field

On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap,
and sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap,
in some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face,
and cautiously and quietly I move about the place;
then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view,
and you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "booh"!

Sometimes the rascal tries to make believe that he is scared,
and really, when I first began, he stared, and stared, and stared;
and then his under lip came out and farther out it came,
till mamma and the nurse agreed it was a "cruel shame" -
but now what does that same wee, toddling, lisping baby do
but laugh and kick his little heels when I say "booh!"

He laughs and kicks his little heels in rapturous glee, and then
in shrill, despotic treble bids me "do it all aden!"
And I - of course I do it; for, as his progenitor,
it is such pretty, pleasant play as this that I am for!
And it is, oh, such fun I and sure that we shall rue
the time when we are both too old to play the game "booh!"

SELIGOR'S CASTLEThrough the Looking Glass

Dee Dot's Choice for Today

An extract from Chapter IX of

Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll

At that moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing :-

To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said
"I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head;,
Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be
Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and Me ! "
And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus :-

Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,
And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:
Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea--
And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!

Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself,
"Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one's counting ?"
In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill voice sang another verse :-
"O Looking-Glass creatures," quoth Alice, "draw near !
'Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:
'Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea
Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and Me!"

Then came the chorus again :-
Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,
Or anything else that is pleasant to drink:
Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine--
And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!

" Ninety times nine !" Alice repeated in despair. "Oh, that'll never be done !"

Many people have read "Alice in Wonderland" but if you have never read "Through the Looking Glass" you are missing another fantastic story by the wonderful Lewis Carroll. He wrote it way back in 1865, my book as you may guess is a very old hardback, and was published  by William Clowes and Sons. It is in a wonderful condition mind, and has six beautiful sketches in the Alice in Wonderland half, but only three in Through the Looking Glass.

Here is the story of how Valentine, had the word Saint added to his simple life "after his death."

St. Valentine's Story

Let me introduce myself. My name is Valentine. I lived in Rome during the third century. That was long, long ago! At that time, Rome was ruled by an emperor named Claudius. I didn't like Emperor Claudius, and I wasn't the only one! A lot of people shared my feelings.

Claudius wanted to have a big army. He expected men to volunteer to join. Many men just did not want to fight in wars. They did not want to leave their wives and families. As you might have guessed, not many men signed up. This made Claudius furious. So what happened? He had a crazy idea. He thought that if men were not married, they would not mind joining the army. So Claudius decided not to allow any more marriages. Young people thought his new law was cruel. I thought it was preposterous! I certainly wasn't going to support that law!

Did I mention that I was a priest? One of my favourite activities was to marry couples. Even after Emperor Claudius passed his law, I kept on performing marriage ceremonies -- secretly, of course. It was really quite exciting. Imagine a small candlelit room with only the bride and groom and myself. We would whisper the words of the ceremony, listening all the while for the steps of soldiers.

One night, we did hear footsteps. It was scary! Thank goodness the couple I was marrying escaped in time. I was caught. (Not quite as light on my feet as I used to be, I guess.) I was thrown in jail and told that my punishment was death.

I tried to stay cheerful. And do you know what? Wonderful things happened. Many young people came to the jail to visit me. They threw flowers and notes up to my window. They wanted me to know that they, too, believed in love.

One of these young people was the daughter of the prison guard. Her father allowed her to visit me in the cell. Sometimes we would sit and talk for hours. She helped me to keep my spirits up. She agreed that I did the right thing by ignoring the Emperor and going ahead with the secret marriages. On the day I was to die, I left my friend a little note thanking her for her friendship and loyalty. I signed it, "Love from your Valentine."

I believe that note started the custom of exchanging love messages on Valentine's Day. It was written on the day I died, February 14, 269 A.D. Now, every year on this day, people remember. But most importantly, they think about love and friendship. And when they think of Emperor Claudius, they remember how he tried to stand in the way of love, and they laugh -- because they know that love can't be beaten!


"Hello and Welcome to Dee and Dot's Special Choice
I have decided to give you a fabulous treat today. something
a bit different. Buttons and what else to start off with than the
The Wonderful Chick-a-boom-boom. Wow, this is great.

And after that wonderful playlist how's about some real buttons

How to Start a Button Collection

  More Butterflies        Fishy Buttons         Flowery Buttons       

Button, button, who's got the button? A great many people, it seems. Whether you seek buttons for an antique, art, painting, glass or just a button collection, the variety of these little treasures is remarkable. You may collect them for their beauty, their novelty, their monetary value or just for fun. Buttons collectors can be found all over the world and sharing and discussing this hobby can lead to broadened perspectives and new friends. Best of all, a button collection need not be complicated or expensive to start. 

Button WeatherStart with any buttons you may have at home. While it is unlikely that you will find anything of major value, you may get an idea for the type of buttons you would like to collect (a specific color, a material such as glass, wood or Bakelite, a particular shape or a certain image, such as animals). For help on this visit the Button Collecting website (see Resources below). 

Check Internet button display sites such as the National Button Society website to see what types of buttons are plentiful or rare and what they cost (see Resources below). Use the facts you find to help you decide on "your" buttons.

Button Strawberries


Continue your research with books found at the library, local bookstore or at the A Button Collector's Book List website (see Resources below).

Collect Buttons Everywhere: if you go to the charity shops and boot fares, you Button Picniccan get a tin full for a few pence.

Make sure that the type of button you have chosen is easily available. If not, expand your category to include other materials, historical periods or themes.

Start attending live button shows held every year in most places, look them up on google and contacting other collectors near you. If you are interested in modern buttons, you may find something that suits you at your local fabric and craft store.
Button Shell

Consider joining a button collector's club.
Find one at the Button Society Links page (see Resources below).
Look for Buttons, all these buttons shown are from ebay,

Tips & Warnings - http://www.ukcraftfairs.com/
  • The huge variety of buttons to collect can be confusing. It is best to limit yourself to one category of buttons rather than spreading your collection out to include everything under the sun.
  • If you decide to collect buttons for their historical value, for example military or Victorian era buttons, be aware that these items are expensive. If your resources are limited, choose a less demanding category.



I am a Virgo, and therefore I have a head start on collecting, many of the great collections of strange and weird things are collected by those under the sign of Virgo. I have a fantastic collection of marbles and a huge library of books adding at least three to it every week. They are usually very old ones, and that is why I can come up with a lot of old rhymes and stories.
Button Flower But I would like to give you another warning.Button Tulip

This is DEE and DOT'S Choice.

Watch the fish follow your mouse

Is there a difference between oatmeal and porridge? 

Yes. Porridge is what they eat in fairy tales.


Once upon a time there was a good little girl who lived alone with her mother at the far end of a village on the edge of a great forest.
They were happy together in their small wooden house with its thick warm thatch, although there was very little to eat. And one day her mother looked in at the larder; and there was not even as much as a dry crust of bread or a cheese rind on the shelf.
  And she said to her daughter, "Esmeralda, my dear there is nothing to eat what so ever. Not a crumb. See if you can find just a handful or two of the late blackberries in the forest; or maybe a few nuts."
So Esmeralda went into the forest, and she had not picked more than six or seven late berries, and they over ripe, when there came an old woman along the glade of the forest, and she approached and said to the child:
"Sometimes when I have been sitting looking down at the village I have heard you singing at your work, my dear. And as it will soon be your birthday, I have brought you a little gift. It is this little pot. When you are hungry and you say 'Cook, little pot, cook!' it will give you as much porridge as ever you want. And when, having had enough, you say, 'Stay, littlle pot, stay!' it will stay. All you need do is to keep in cleaned and burnished and keep it safe."
Almost to happy to contain herself, Esmeralda ran home with the pot to her mother. And there and then, her mother put the pot on the table; and Esmeralda whispered, "Cook, little pot, cook!"
Instantly smoke began to rise out of the pot, and a gentle bubbling was heard, and and what was within rose to view, sweet as milk, rich as cream, and steaming hot! And presently Esmeralda and her mother were enjoying as fine a feast of as toothsome a porridge as they had ever tasted in their lives. And so it went on, day after day. But they were careful of the little pot, kept it sweet and burnished on a shelf all by itself, and never set it cooking unless they were hungry.
     Once on a time however, Esmeralda went off to see her Aunt Joram who lived on the other side of the forest. And in the evening, her mother, finding the house empty and comfortless in her absence fancied a mouthfull of porridge for supper. And she put the pot on the table, and she said, "Cook, little pot, cook," and at once it began to steam and rise as usual, and the pot began to cook, and the4 porridge to come.
But then, poor creature, when she wanted the pot to stop cooking, she could not remember the magic words. The more she tried to think, the more confused she became.
"Stop, little pot! Cease little pot ! No more little pot ! Hold little pot ! .  .  . " Nothing had the slightest effect. The pot went on cooking, until the porridge came tumbling over the edge, and still it kept on, and ran over the table and down onto the floor, and over the bed - everywhere, everywhere, until at last the whole house was full, and then the next house, and the street - it was just as if that small pot's one desire was to satisfy the hunger of the whole world. And still the porridge came, and no one knew how to stop it. At last only a single house remained - one outside the village, standing up on its little hill like an island in one immense Sea of Porridge. And that evening Esmiralda came home.
"Oh, oh, oh !" she cried seeing the strange scene; "Oh, oh, oh !" and she ran to her mother's a mile round through the trees. "Stay, little pot, stay !" she cried and the pot stayed.
And you'll never guess what happened then.... Anyone whosoever wished to visist the village after that had to eat his way in, and then - unless he went back by the way he had come -- to eat his way out again.

Now Seligor doesn't know who wrote this story  for it is just called An Old Tale, though I seem to remember a Indian story that Dadadzi sent me over from India, being very similar. I like it though, all that porridge, golly they must have been eating it for moths, maybe years.
I just popped over to wiki to ask about Sweet Porridge and it seems this could be one of their small tales.
                                                Books and Candle                                   
Play-Asia.com - Your One-Stop-Shop for Asian Entertainment

 The Dancing Monkeys

 A PRINCE had some Monkeys trained to dance.
Being naturally great mimics of men's actions, they showed themselves most apt pupils, and when arrayed in their rich clothes and masks, they danced as well as any of the courtiers.
The spectacle was often repeated with great applause, till on one occasion a courtier, bent on mischief, took from his pocket a handful of nuts and threw them upon the stage.
The Monkeys at the sight of the nuts forgot their dancing and became
(as indeed they were) Monkeys instead of actors.
Pulling off their masks and tearing their robes, they fought with one another for the nuts.
The dancing spectacle thus came to an end amidst the laughter and ridicule of the audience.


  Not everything you see is what it appears to be.


Enjoy Eugene Fields's Poem before you meet Betushka and the Woodmaiden.

Wynken, Blynken and NodWynken, Blynken, and Nod

by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

this he first called

A Dutch Lullaby

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
   Sailed off in a wooden shoe---
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
   Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
   The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
   That live in this beautiful sea;
   Nets of silver and gold have we!"
  Said Wynken,   Blynken,   And Nod.

Wynken, Blynken and Nod

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
   As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
   Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
   That lived in that beautiful sea---
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish---
   Never afeard are we";
   So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
  Wynken, Blynken,  And Nod.

Wynken, Blynken and Nod

All night long their nets they threw
   To the stars in the twinkling foam---
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
   Bringing the fishermen home;
'T was all so pretty a sail it seemed
   As if it could not be,
And some folks thought 't was a dream they 'd dreamed
   Of sailing that beautiful sea---
   But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,   Blynken,   And Nod.

The Film of Wynken, Blynken and Nod by Disney

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
   And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
   Is a wee one's trundle-bed.
So shut your eyes while mother sings
   Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
   As you rock in the misty sea,
   Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:
  Wynken,   Blynken,
  And Nod.


One of a very old picture from Eugene Fields Wynken, Blynken and Nod
This is just a single of Walt Disney's Silly Symphonies, this being Wynken, Blynken and Nod, by Eugene Field.

Disney made these small films in and around 1938, and I am sure if you look around this web site you will find all of the Disney Silly Symphonies. In  fact I think the first of them is on the First Homepage of Seligor's Castle. Go back to the Homepage at the top and have a look.

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