“Confound you, reptile!” I turned, and perceived a gay personage decked in blue and gold—a Kingfisher. “What are you doing there, stupid? You with the four superfluous feet, body, head, and eyes. You slimy scoundrel! Don’t you know your vile presence poisons the stream? Get out, else I will swallow you like a gudgeon. Ugh!” I thought he was going to be sick. “Make off, you frighten my clients.” He was a fine-looking fellow, the colour of heaven itself; but with a voice like a lawyer, or the devil. To tell the truth, I was so afraid of him that I made for the bank. When fairly out of the water, I leant over its surface to return thanks for all the pleasure it had afforded me. To my horror, I beheld at my feet a strange misshapen thing, bearing some likeness to my father. I moved my head, it did the same; I raised my feet, it imitated the motion. “Hah! hah!” shrieked the Kingfisher, “you lovely coquette! what do you think of your beautiful proportions?” “What!” I said, “is that my image?” “Yes, my treasure; are you not proud of the picture?” It was all too true. There I was, and the willows above me as a frame, and the blue heaven as a background to my poor image. Well, after all, I thought the pure mirror of the stream was perhaps my truest friend, as it taught me to know myself. Bidding adieu to my former haunts, I turned my back upon the stream, and soon felt humbled and forsaken. My departure was quite unnoticed. The river went on its way as before, not a single blade of grass, not an insect moved to wish me a happy journey. Could I then be so completely dispensed with, I who at first had thought the world all my own? I felt so ashamed of giving offence that I asked pardon of the Kingfisher, who replied—