My father was already well up in years and corpulence, when the joys of paternity came upon him for the last time. Alas! his happiness was of short duration. My poor mother’s strength was overtaxed with a dreadful laying of eggs, and, in spite of the tenderest nursing, she at last succumbed to the effort of bringing me to the light. I was brought forth in sorrow, and to this fact I attribute the deep shade of melancholy which has clouded my existence. I was always of a dreamy, contemplative nature. This, indeed, formed the basis of my character. The early days of my Tadpole life are wrapped in gloom, so dense as to render them void of incident. I can just dimly recollect my father, squatted beneath a broad leaf on the bank of a stream, smiling benignly as he watched my progress. He had always a soft, liquid eye, in whose depths I could read the love of his tender heart. His eyes were of a greenish hue, and protruded. This, taken together with his noble proportions, his enemies attributed to high living. He was in reality a contemplative Toad, whose greatest success lay in the cultivation of philosophic leisure. He carefully avoided the water, and, little by little, withdrew himself from the scene of my exploits. I am ashamed to say that his absence never caused me to shed a tear. I had two or three brothers about my own age, with whom I giddily threw myself into all the pleasures of life. It was a joyous time! What would I not give to recall those fleeting hours of my youth, with all their happy experiences. Where is now the lovely stream, over whose dewy banks the reeds and grasses bent to watch the play of sunlight on its smiling face? Where the crystal {78} pools, the scenes of my adventures in an enchanted world? the dark-bearded stones, ’neath which we followed many a giddy course, our hearts throbbed with fright as we came face to face with some motionless Eel, or touched the silver scales of a dreamy Carp? I can recall the great fish, troubled in his sleep, viewing us with a quick, angry glance, until, perceiving our shame and confusion, he smiled, and we renewed our game. It is impossible to describe the pleasure of being rocked, caressed and fondled by the current as it pursues its tranquil course. Every ray of sunlight that found its way through the willows revealed new wonders. The dull, dead sand was glorified by the light until it shone like a bed of jewels. Myriads of creatures seemed to spring into life. The weeds flashed with a thousand hues, the hard-hearted pebbles flung back the rays with a brightness that pierced the deep recesses of the stony bed.