“Listen!” said one; “he speaks well, although thick, like a person in liquor.” “This is horribly interesting.” “You witnessed,” I continued, almost fainting, “an act of devotion. I loved”—— The hilarity burst forth anew, and the grasshoppers, no longer able to control themselves, joined hands and danced round me like a troop of green devils, singing— “Hail, lover, hail! joy to your tender heart.” They certainly enjoyed themselves thoroughly that day. After all, they had only obeyed their nature, and I had mistaken my own. I had fully proved my own vanity and stupidity—at least, that was the opinion of my friend the Porcupine, who that night drove me out of his den. From that time I felt myself an outcast, and sought humbly to win the favour of my own kind by making myself useful in my own proper sphere. I became almost a creature of the night, and lost sight of much of the beautiful that had charmed me, for the world is full of beautiful things to those who can look out of and beyond themselves. It boasts also fortunate beings whose lives would be all the more happy if they would only consent, now and then, to yield up one of their joyous hours to gladden the hearts of the poor. I ask you, dear reader, is it not so? You may be a creature, charming in person, refined in manner, and successful. Their attributes, as you use them, may make {87} you either a god-like ministering spirit in the world, or a fascinating fiend. Your strong sympathy and timely help may lighten the burden of the poor, may cause a deformed brother to forget his deformity and delight in your beauty as much as if it were his own. There would be no plain-looking or even ugly creatures to curse the day of their birth, were there no cruel, well-favoured observers to wound them with their looks and gestures. But I am forgetting the lesson which I myself learned late in life. I had put myself in the way of finding out by experience that a poor toad could never have wings, nor, though everything is fair in love and war, could he hope to win the heart of a grasshopper. I am now full of years and philosophy; my wife, like myself, is a contemplative full-bodied toad, in whose eyes I am perfectly beautiful. I must own my appearance has greatly improved. The like compliment cannot be honestly paid to my mother-in-law, who has caused me no small trouble. She increases in age and infirmities. The reader will pardon my repeating, that notwithstanding my rotundity, I am no longer ugly. Should he have any doubt on this point, let him ask my wife! [Illustration] {88} THE THEATRICAL CRITIC. MY DEAR MASTER, [Illustration]