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    <title>-moz-element Flipper test</title>
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    <a href="../../index.html" class="backToGuide">&larr; 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>
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    </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>
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