less fascinating than the swallow's or the gray 

 squirrel's. 



However, the toad to the most of us is anything 

 but a poem. What, indeed, looks less lovely, less 

 nimble and buoyant, more chained to the earth, 

 than a toad ? But stretch the least web between 

 his toes, lengthen his hind legs, and over he 

 goes, the leopard-frog, champion high diver of 

 the marsh ! Or, instead of the web, tip his toes 

 with the tiniest disks, and there he swings, 

 Pickering's little hyla, clinging as easily to the 

 under surface of that oak-leaf high in the tree as 

 a fly clings to the kitchen ceiling. 



When a boy I climbed to the top of the flag- 

 pole on one of the State geological survey sta- 

 tions. The pole rose far above the surrounding 

 pines the highest point for miles around. As 

 I clinched the top of the staff, gripping my fin- 

 gers into the socket for the flag-stick, I felt 

 something cold, and drawing myself up, found a 

 tree-toad asleep in the hole. Under him was a 

 second toad, and under the second a third all 

 dozing up here on the very topmost tip of all 

 the region. 



From the river-ooze to the tree-top, nature 

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