One day, I descried on the bank of the stream a Goose and her family about to take their daily bath. The scene was not new to me, but the emotions which filled my breast differed from anything I had experienced. The Goslings were lying all of a heap on a tuft of fine grass, and from my point of view, presented a confused mass of down, gilded by the sun. Here and there a little yellow beak might be seen. But the immobility of their position, and the utter abandonment of their postures informed me of their perfect contentment and tranquillity. The young brood was steeped in sleep, while the mother, bending a tender, watchful eye over them, uttered a sound so touching to their hearts, that every eye blinked, and every beak opened with a joyous quack. “Good morning, mother,” they seemed to say, “Is it time for our bath?” “Yes, lazy little ones. Do you not hear the music of the stream, or feel the heat of the mid-day sun? Your heads are exposed to its scorching rays.” “O mother! don’t disturb our rest,” they replied. “You have no notion of our comfort. The drowsy humming of the bees, the languid nodding of the harebell, and the scent of the new-mown hay are soothing us to sleep.” “Hush your silly prattle and wake. A little courage, a little self-denial, my dears, and up with you.” This was too much for the Goslings who slowly separated, presenting a confusion of pink feet, plushy wings, and golden beaks most {80} interesting to behold. Some rolled over and over in their attempts to gain their legs. At length they succeeded, and went waddling, and wagging their stumpy tails streamwards. When they reached the water’s edge, after many hesitations, strivings, and chatterings, they at last stretched their necks and entered boldly to float with the current. [Illustration] “Strike out, my dears,” said the dame. “Heads erect, mind. It is supremely vulgar, my children, to bend the head unless to pick up something to your advantage. Kick the water bravely; it is made to serve you.” It was a beautiful sight, and I was about to ask permission to {81} make one of their number, when the mother, in passing, haughtily tossed her beak in the air, saying, “Avoid slimy toads, and all such creatures—their presence is defiling!” Judge, dear reader, of my pain and surprise. I dived into a dark pool to drown my wounded pride. When I again came to the surface, the interval had transformed me into a truly melancholy toad. A large spider, with whom I had become acquainted, passed over my head, smiling kindly at me; but he won no responsive smile. Feeling need of breath, I mechanically sought the bank, and was startled by a hoarse voice shouting—