_But that is no reason why you should ill-use them_: _but only why you should pity them_, _and be kind to them_, _and hope that some day they will wake up_, _and be ashamed of their nasty_, _dirty_, _lazy_, _stupid life_, _and try to amend_, _and become something better once more_. _For_, _perhaps_, _if they do so_, _then after_ 379,423 _years_, _nine months_, _thirteen days_, _two hours_, _and twenty-one minutes_ (_for aught that appears to the contrary_), _if they work very hard and wash very hard all that time_, _their brains may grow bigger_, _and their jaws grow smaller_, _and their ribs come back_, _and their tails wither off_, _and they will turn into water-babies again_, _and perhaps after that into land-babies_; _and after that perhaps into grown men_. _You know they won’t_? _Very well_, _I daresay you know best_. _But you see_, _some folks have a great liking for those poor little efts_. _They never did anybody any harm_, _or could if they tried_; _and their only fault is_, _that they do no good—any more than some thousands of their betters_. _But what with ducks_, _and what with pike_, _and what with sticklebacks_, _and what with water-beetles_, _and what with naughty boys_, _they are_ “_sae sair hadden doun_,” _as the Scotsmen say_, _that it is a wonder how they live_; _and some folks can’t help hoping_, _with good Bishop Butler_, _that they may have another chance_, _to make things fair and even_, _somewhere_, _somewhen_, _somehow_. _Meanwhile_, _do you learn your lessons_, _and thank God that you have plenty of cold water to wash in_; _and wash in it too_, _like a true Englishman_. _And then_, _if my story is not true_, _something better is_; _and if I am not quite right_, _still you will be_, _as long as you stick to hard work and cold water_. _But remember always_, _as I told you at first_, _that this is all a fairy tale_, _and only fun and pretence_: _and_, _therefore_, _you are not to believe a word of it_, _even if it is true_. [Picture: Water baby riding fish]