My Boyhood and Youth 



would go on about its business as if nothing 

 had happened. The commonest kinds were the 

 striped slender species of the meadows and 

 streams, good swimmers, that lived mostly on 

 frogs. 



Once I observed one of the larger ones, 

 about two feet long, pursuing a frog in our mea- 

 dow, and it was wonderful to see how fast the 

 legless, footless, wingless, finless hunter could 

 run. The frog, of course, knew its enemy and 

 was making desperate efforts to escape to the 

 water and hide in the marsh mud. He was 

 a fine, sleek yellow muscular fellow and was 

 springing over the tall grass in wide-arch- 

 ing jumps. The green-striped snake, gliding 

 swiftly and steadily, was keeping the frog in 

 sight and, had I not interfered, would probably 

 have tired out the poor jumper. Then, perhaps, 

 while digesting and enjoying his meal, the 

 happy snake would himself be swallowed frog 

 and all by a hawk. Again, to our astonishment, 

 the small specimens were attacked by our hens. 

 They pursued and pecked away at them until 

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