40 



IN WINTER. 



This seems too trivial to mention, but really is 

 not. There are people in my neighborhood who 

 growl because the sun does not shine through 

 the north windows, and more than one old 

 farmer who persists in shivering in the wagon- 

 house, under protest, of course, while the wood- 

 shed is warm and sunny, There is a chance for 

 every man born in the world, but this same 

 world is not to be molded to every crank's con- 

 venience. Even my tree-toad knows that a fly 

 may be on the wrong side of the glass for him ; 

 although it took months of vain bumping of his 

 precious head before the idea reached his brain, 

 and even now he sometimes forgets the lesson 

 so painfully learned. On the other hand, there is 

 little reason to believe that John Blank will look 

 in the sunny meadows next year for belated blos- 

 soms. If he finds one by accident in a corner of 

 a cold upland field, it will be heralded as a great 

 discovery. 



There is another tree-toad in the frog-pen 

 that is a happy philosopher, Of late, either the 

 food offered is not the proper sort, or the creat- 

 ure habitually fasts at this time of year, which is 

 not improbable. Be this as it may, there is no 

 giving way to despondency because of an empty 

 stomach, and when his companions are taking 

 noonday naps, or recalling the outer world that 

 once they knew, this little fellow, from the door 



