AN ISLAND GARDEN 9 



and woke in the morning to find the whole space 

 stripped of any sign of green, as blank as a board 

 over which a carpenter's plane has passed. 



In the thickest of my fight with the slugs some 

 one said to me, " Everything living has its enemy; 

 the enemy of the slug is the toad. Why don't 

 you import toads ? " 



I snatched at the hope held out to me, and im- 

 mediately wrote to a friend on the continent, " In 

 the name of the Prophet, Toads!" At once a 

 force of only too willing boys was set about the 

 work of catching every toad within reach, and 

 one day in June a boat brought a box to me from 

 the far-off express office. A piece of wire net- 

 ting was nailed across the top, and upon the 

 earth with which it was half filled, reposing 

 among some dry and dusty green leaves, sat three 

 dry and dusty toads, wearily gazing at nothing. 

 Is this all, I thought, only three ! Hardly worth 

 sending so far. Poor creatures, they looked so 

 arid and wilted, I took up the hose and turned 

 upon them a gentle shower of fresh cool water, 

 flooding the box. I was not prepared for the 

 result! The dry, baked earth heaved tumul- 

 tuously ; up came dusky heads and shoulders and 

 bright eyes by the dozen. A sudden concert of 

 liquid sweet notes was poured out on the air from 

 the whole rejoicing company. It was really beau- 

 tiful to hear that musical ripple of delight. I 

 surveyed them with eager interest as they sat 

 singing and blinking together. "You are not 

 handsome," I said, as I took a hammer and 

 wrenched off the wire cover that shut them in, 



