Then Glooscap rose to a giant's height, caught the monster in his powerful hand and squeezed him with all his might. When he loosened his grasp there in his hand was a great bullfrog with crumpled back, yellow, bulging eyes, wide mouth, and broad, skinny feet. Glooscap flung the creature back into the pond and ever since that day croaking bull-frogs may be found in muddy streams. WOODLAND WATERS Through leaves of the nodding trees Where blossoms sway in the breeze, Pink bag-pipes make for the bees, Whose slogan is droning and drawling, Where columbine scatters its bells And the wild bleeding-heart its shells O'er mosses and rocks of the dells The brook of the forest is calling. You can hear it under the hill When the wind in the wood is still, And, strokes of a fairy drill, Sounds the bill of the yellow-hammer. By the Solomon's seal it slips Cohosh and the grass that drips Like the sound of an Undine's lips Is the sound of its falls that stammer. MADISON CAWEIN. THE GRUBBIEST GRUB J. BEVAN "There's no use trying," said the newest newt; "you'll never be anything _but_ grubby." The newest newt lived at the bottom of the garden pond. He was a very elegant newt. The orange spots on his waistcoat were the brightest to be seen in all the garden. The grubbiest grub was not elegant. He was unquestionably the very grubbiest thing in the garden pond. However, he had ambitions. "But there's no use trying," said the newest newt again. "I myself saw you fall from a willow leaf not so long since, and had ideas about you. I thought, perhaps, you might be some new kind of egg and hatch into a royal turtle. But I watched you, and you didn't hatch—you grew just like a tadpole. Only you didn't grow even into a frog." The grubbiest grub said nothing. His heart grew a little bitter as he thought, "Not even into a frog." "But cheer up," said the newest newt, "there's mud enough at the bottom of the garden spot for all of us. And it's not a bad place—aristocratic turtles in the neighbourhood, and I live here." He was off with an extra swirl of his extra shiny tail. He was due at the turtles' ball at sunset. He was always being invited somewhere because of the orange on his waistcoat. The grubbiest grub was never invited anywhere, and he didn't look like anything that anybody had ever seen, and didn't seem related to anybody. And his heart rebelled.