As far as we know, this bee-eating is Bufo’s one fault; to counterbalance it he devours millions of harmful insects, and so assuredly saves the world thousands of bushels of fruit and vegetables. We will not say that Bufo is greedy in eating. It is true that he swallows insects ceaselessly and swiftly, so much so that a grasshopper’s legs, or some other creature’s antennæ, may sometimes be seen sticking out of a toad’s mouth, while the carcass is well down his throat--but we will not be hard on him; we call this--zealous attention to business. The French gardeners appreciate Bufo’s usefulness, and he is brought alive to market to be sold to those who need his help in their gardens. Bufo can be tamed and taught to eat from your hand. He can be beguiled with sugar, and with bread soaked in milk. As to this last dainty, like a captious child, he eats out the middle of the slice and leaves the crust! There are three myths about the toad: first, that he can live during centuries shut up in clay or stone; this is no more true of Bufo than of his cousin Rana. The second myth is that his skin when handled causes warts, and that the fluid he discharges is poisonous; this is an idle tale. The third allegation is, that he has a jewel in his head. This has been believed from very ancient times; perhaps the story rose from the beauty of his eyes, with their iris of flame-color. The eggs of the toad are deposited closely set side by side in a long transparent tube which is dropped into water, and sinking to the bottom coils up until the eggs hatch. The young tadpoles are jet black and very active. They make all their changes very early and in the same manner as the frog, and are quite small when they arrive at the perfect toad-shape. As soon as they have produced four legs and their tails have been absorbed, they leave the water and set off on long journeys; for the toad is a born vagrant, and not, like the frog, a home-stayer. Avoiding the sun’s heat they travel chiefly by night, and by day hide under stones or herbage. If clouds cover the sky they take heart and hop forth on their pilgrimage. During a long drought they disappear, but if a rain comes they suddenly swarm out by hundreds, and thus have arisen the tales of a “shower of toads.” Going one day into my garden, I saw under my favorite rose tree a little hollow in the loose earth. It looked just like the cup-shaped impression made by an egg half buried in the ground. An hour later, I found a toad seated in this place, which he had evidently fashioned for himself in order to preserve the moisture of his body, while he hunted for his dinner. His keen, black eyes were fixed on the drooping stem and leaves of the rose-bush, and out and in played his little ribbon-like tongue, capturing an insect at every dart.