54 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 



idea, for toads, like pine-snakes, convey absolutely 

 no appeal to his narrow, flower-bound nature. 



I have erected a monument in the shape of a chest- 

 nut stake beside Mr. Toad's winter residence, and I 

 strongly suspect that he will be the last of his family 

 to get up when the spring rising-bell finally rings. 



"There's positively nothing to this early-rising 

 business," I can hear him telling his friends at the 

 Puddle Club in April. "Look at what happened to 

 me. If it had n't been for a well-meaning giant, I 

 would have caught my death of cold from getting 

 out of bed too soon. Never again!" 



Our calendar-makers use red letters to mark special 

 days. Personally, I prefer orchids and birds and 

 sunrises and nests and snakes and similar markers. 

 I have in my diary "The Day of the Prothonotary 

 Warbler," "The Day of the Henslow's Sparrow's 

 Nest" (that was a day!), "The Day of the Fringed 

 Gentian," and many, many others. But always and 

 forever that snowy 21st of December is marked in 

 my memory as "The Day of the Early Toad." 



Once more I was climbing the Cobble. The wood- 

 road on which I started had narrowed to a path. 

 Overhead masses of rock showed through the snow, 

 and above them were the dark depths of the Bear- 

 Hole where Great-great-uncle Jake had once shot 

 with his flintlock musket the largest bear ever killed 

 in that part of the state. It was here at the cliff 

 side that Shahrazad snow told me another story. 



Along the edge of the slope ran a track made up of 

 four holes in the snow. The front ones were far 



