COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN. 177 



Old Unke has distinguished himself on moonlight nights 

 in performing bass solos in a very deep, heavy voice, down 

 in the river, but he has never hopped his way back into 

 that conservatory from which he was disgracefully turned 

 out at the point of Mr. Fred's cane. He has contented 

 himself with the heavy musical performances I spoke of, 

 and I have fancied they sounded much like "Won't come 

 any more, won't come any more, won't come any more ! " 



Sometimes, strolling down to the river, we have seen his 

 solemn green spectacles emerging from the tall water-grasses, 

 as he sat complacently looking about him. Near by him, 

 spread out on the sunny bottom of the pool, was a large 

 flat-headed water-snake, with a dull yellow-brown back and 

 such a swelled stomach that it was quite evident he had 

 been making his breakfast that morning by swallowing some 

 unfortunate neighbor like poor little Cri-cri. This trick of 

 swallowing one's lesser neighbors seems to prevail greatly 

 among the people who live in our river. Mr. Water-snake 

 makes his meal on little Mr. Frog, and Mr. Bullfrog fol- 

 lows the same example. It seems a sad state of things ; 

 but then I suppose all animals have to die in some way 

 or other, and perhaps, if they are in the habit of seeing it 

 done, it may appear no more to a frog to expect to be 

 swallowed some day, than it may to some of us to die of 

 a fever, or be shot in battle, as many a brave fellow has 

 been of late. 



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