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", "center", "70", "0", "0", "[Frontispiece]", SmallCapsText("On a shelving bank of dry sand Baby Akbar sitting up and rubbing his eyes.")) ?> \n
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April, 1875")?> This  book. So take it boys—'twas writ for you.", "") ?> 1911")?> book is written for all little lads and lasses, but especially for the former, since it is the true—quite  true—story of a little lad who lived to be, perhaps, the greatest king this world has ever seen.

It is a strange, wild tale this of the adventures of Prince Akbar among the snowy mountains between Kandahār and Kābul, and though the names may be a bit of a puzzle at first, as they will have to be learned by and bye in geography and history lessons, it might be as well to get familiar with them in a story-book; though, indeed, as everybody in it except Roy the Rājput, Meroo the cook boy; Tumbu, the dog; and Down, the cat (and these four may  have been true, you know, though they have not been remembered) really lived, I don't know whether this book oughtn't to be considered real history, and therefore



Anyhow, I hope you won't find it dull.

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