THE TOAD 



and doorstep crawls slowly out upon a 

 barren islet of cobble-stone, and, assured 

 that no intruder is within the precincts 

 sacred to the wooing of the toads, she in- 

 flates her throat and tunes up her long, 

 monotonous chant. Ere it ceases, an- 

 other and another take it up, and from 

 distant pools you hear it answered, till 

 all the air is softly shaken as if with 

 the clear chiming of a hundred swift- 

 struck, tiny bells. They ring in the re- 

 turning birds, robin, sparrow, finch and 

 meadow lark, and the first flowers, squir- 

 relcup, arbutus, bloodroot, adder-tongue 

 and moose-flower. 



When the bobolink has come to his 

 northern domain again and the oriole 

 flashes through the budding elms and 

 the first columbine droops over the gray 

 ledges, you may still hear an occasional 

 ringing of the toads, but a little later the 

 dignified and matronly female, having 

 lost her voice altogether, has returned 

 to her summer home, while her little 

 mate has exchanged his trill for a dis- 

 agreeable and uncanny squawk, perhaps 

 a challenge to his rivals, who linger 

 SO 



