TWlben <3tas0 is <5reen 



caught in the rain. I sought shelter under a tall 

 tulip-tree, and while toying with its beautiful bloom 

 listened to the patter of rain drops on the tree's 

 large leaves. Much has been written of the rain 

 upon the roof, but finer music is that of the pat- 

 ter of rain-drops upon the leaves, and they af- 

 forded all necessary shelter, too. The wooded 

 hillside was behind me, and a lake of a thousand 

 acres before. Whether I looked landward or 

 waterward, there was an embarrassment of riches, 

 but I found the rain itself of peculiar interest. The 

 surface of the water was unchanged. No trace of 

 a dimple could be detected, .and yet the big round 

 drops fell with force and a steady rattle upon the 

 foliage. Over the meadow there was but a fine 

 mist that had to be felt to be realized. 



It was at this time I noticed the drowned-out 

 life that was floating about in most disconsolate 

 manner. Beetles and spiders were fellow travel- 

 ers on many a twig, and one poor toad was the 

 picture of despair. Just as we associate frogs with 

 water, so the toad belongs to dry upland, with its 

 hot highways, where the dust is seldom laid even 

 by the dew. But toads can swim well, if they 

 need, and have no dread of water, but they draw 

 the line at an in voluntary bath. People have curious 

 ideas concerning toads. They do not come down 

 from the clouds ; never believe the statement that 

 they do, even if the narrator says he saw it. Such 

 people see without reasoning, and what appears to 

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