“’Tis a noble piece of information, sure enough,” said one. “Ban’t that gude-fashioned larnin’?” asked the scholar in triumph. And the ancient cynic answered him: “Be gormed if _I_ sees the use of it! Knawledge ain’t nothin’ ’less you can put it to a purpose.” There was an awkward pause, then another spoke: “Come to think o’t, theer ban’t ’zactly any _use_ to it, be theer?” “All the same, souls, ’tis a purty thing,” argued the Jacky-Toad’s personal friend. “But I’ve got purtier,” said the traveller, though in a crestfallen voice. “I’m thinkin’ I shan’t please ’e, but I’ll give ’e a bit o’ poetry whether or no.” Then he recited to them the first verse of Longfellow’s “Excelsior,” to which they listened with patient attention. “The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore ’mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior!” “Be that all?” said the old Jacky-Toad. “Ess, ’tis,” answered the reciter, immorally concealing the fact that there were eight other verses which he had not been able to learn. “Well, then, ’tis as silly a bit o’ man’s twaddle as ever I heard. Doan’t ’mount to nothin’ so far as I can see.” “’Tis poetry,” said the Jacky-Toad feebly. “What’s rhyme wi’out reason? No better’n water wi’out mud. You’ve bin wastin’ your time somethin’ shockin’--that’s what you’ve bin doin’. I could ’a taught ’e more in this ’ere bog than what you’ve got in Lunnon, seemin’ly.” “Is that all you knaw?” asked a very young Jacky-Toad, who had no ambitions of his own, and could therefore afford to be sympathetic. “Yes--that’s all,” said the wanderer. Then he turned away his face, and his little eyes blinked and he wept. “Poor fule,” commented the ancient Jacky-Toad; “you never ought to a left the quag. What’s the gude o’ the like o’ you gwaine to foreign paarts? Wheer theer’s no brains by nature, theer ban’t nothin’ for larnin’ to catch hold upon.” “’Pears to me I did teach more’n I larned, come to think of it,” said the crushed Jacky-Toad. “Her what took me to Lunnon got to dance the ‘Wildfire Gallop’ somethin’ butivul ’fore I left her.” “Why, theer it is, then! That’s very comfortin’ for ’e, for ’tis somethin’ to knaw us have done more for our betters than our betters have done for us.” There was consolation in this--of a sort; and I am glad to leave the Jacky-Toad with a smile on his extremely plain face, because this is the end of the story. The narrative will be seen to bristle with morals, even as a porcupine with quills. Of these I have removed as many as possible; yet one seems vital to the plot, and must be unwillingly permitted to remain. This indicates, of course, that all knowledge is not useful--if you are a Jacky-Toad. A CELESTIAL CHAT “Well, old man, how goes it?” said the Comet. “Still jogging along, old chap,” answered the Sun. “Any news since my last round?” “Don’t think so.”