though much lacerated; but instead of blood appeared this milky fluid, which had an odour of a most singular kind, different from anything I ever smelt. It is impossible to describe it. It was not fetid, but of a sickly, disgusting, and overpowering character, so that I could not endure to inhale it for a moment. I had read and seen a good deal of the extraordinary powers of revivification in toads, but was not prepared for what I witnessed on this occasion. I laid this poor animal, crushed, flattened, motionless, and to all appearance dead, upon a cold iron plate of the fireplace. He fell over on one side, and showed no sign of life for a full hour. After that he had slightly moved one leg, and so remained for about another half-hour. Then he began to breathe feebly, and gathered up his legs, and his back began to rise up into its usual form. In about two hours from the time of the accident, he had so far recovered as to crawl about, though with difficulty. The milky liquor was reabsorbed, and gradually disappeared as the toad recovered. The next morning it was all gone, and no mark of injury could be seen, except a small hole in his back, which soon closed. He recovered so far as to move about pretty well, but his back appeared to have been broken, and one fore-leg crippled. I therefore thought it best to give him his liberty in the garden. But so wonderful and speedy a recovery I could never have believed without ocular testimony. "I then tried my third and last Running Toad. I began to keep him on Sept. 13th. He was a very fine specimen, and larger than the two former. He fed well, and amused me exceedingly. He was very tame, and would sit on my hand quite quiet, and enjoy my stroking him gently down his head and back. Soon after I got him he began to cast his skin. I helped him to get rid of it by stripping it down each side, which he seemed to like much, and sat very quiet during the operation. The new skin was quite beautiful, and shone as if varnished. This Toad lived in a crystal palace, or glass jar, where I had kept all the others before him. He took food freely, and his appetite was so good that in one day he ate seven large flies and three bees without stings. He was particularly fond of woodlice and earwigs, but would take centipedes, moths, and even butterflies. Being more active than common Toads, he often made great efforts to get out of his glass jar. I used to let him run about the room nearly every day for a short time, and often treated him to a run in the garden. Toads make a slight noise sometimes in the evenings, uttering a short sound like 'coo,' but I never heard them croak. Before wet weather, and during its continuance, my Toad was disinclined for food, and took no notice of flies even walking over his nose. He would then burrow and hide himself in the moss at the bottom of his glass palace. Thus I kept him, and found him very tame and amusing. But after