BITS BY POND, RIVER, AND SEASHORE. 167 



progression instead of leaping. I remember how very 

 frightened I used to be of the poor innocent crea- 

 tures when I was a boy, labouring under the belief 

 that what some of the old country folks said about 

 their venomous qualities was true. 



A member of the species sat all last winter 

 under a big tuft of grass in my garden. He had 

 worked such a hole for himself in the mould that 

 his back was on a level with the ground. An 

 errand boy belonging to a general store discovered 

 him one day when delivering goods, and afterwards 

 harassed the poor thing by all sorts of unwelcome 

 attentions until he was obliged to desert his shelter 

 probably long before he intended to do so. I 

 thought I had quite lost my toad until one night, 



