The keepers were there. They 

 scarcely understood the scene, but 

 one of them, acting on the hint, pushed 

 the honeycomb nearer and cried, 

 " Honey, Jacky honey!" 



Filled by despair, he had lain down 

 to die, but here was a new-born hope, 

 not clear, not exact as words might 

 put it, but his conqueror had shown 

 himself a friend; this seemed a new 

 hope, and the keeper, taking up the 

 old call, " Honey, Jacky honey!" 

 pushed the comb till it touched his 

 muzzle. The smell was wafted to his 

 sense, its message reached his brain; 

 hope honored, it must wake response. 

 The great tongue licked the comb, 

 appetite revived, and thus in new- 

 born Hope began the chapter of his 

 gloom. 



Skilful keepers were there with 

 plans to meet the Monarch's every 



