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index.html
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<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<title>-moz-element Flipper test</title>
<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../tests.css" />
<link rel="stylesheet" href="styles.css" />
<script src="script.js"></script>
</head>
<body class="narrow">
<a href="../../index.html" class="backToGuide">← Back to Guide</a>
<h1><code>-moz-element</code> Flipper</h1>
<p>
Designed for recent versions of Firefox (11+?).
Click left half of page to go backward, right to go forward.
</p>
<hr class="softBreak" />
<div id="mode">
<div id="frame">
<section>
<div id="imp1" class="imposter"></div>
<div id="gate">
<div id="imp2" class="imposter"></div>
<div id="imp3" class="imposter"></div>
</div>
<div id="imp4" class="imposter"></div>
</section>
</div>
</div>
<hr />
<div class="colCntr">
<div id="origin" class="columns">
<p>
Lorem ipsum dolor.
</p>
<p>
The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his
little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and
steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust
in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black
fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air
above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark
and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.
It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the
floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!'
and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat.
Something up above was calling him imperiously, and he made for
the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the gaveled
carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer to the sun
and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged and
then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working
busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, 'Up we go! Up we
go!' till at last, pop! his snout came out into the sunlight, and he
found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow.
</p>
<p>
'This is fine!' he said to himself. 'This is better than whitewashing!'
The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated
brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long
the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout.
Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the
delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the
meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side.
</p>
<p>
'Hold up!' said an elderly rabbit at the gap. 'Sixpence for the
privilege of passing by the private road!' He was bowled over in an
instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the
side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly
from their holes to see what the row was about. 'Onion-sauce!
Onion-sauce!' he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could
think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started
grumbling at each other. 'How STUPID you are! Why didn't you tell
him——' 'Well, why didn't YOU say——' 'You might have reminded
him——' and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much
too late, as is always the case.
</p>
<p>
It all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the
meadows he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the
copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves
thrusting—everything happy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead
of having an uneasy conscience pricking him and whispering 'whitewash!'
he somehow could only feel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog
among all these busy citizens. After all, the best part of a holiday
is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other
fellows busy working.
</p>
<p>
He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly
along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in
his life had he seen a river before—this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied
animal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and
leaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that shook
themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake and
a-shiver—glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and
bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of
the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man
who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; and when tired at
last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him,
a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the
heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.
</p>
</div>
</div>
</body>
</html>