New Walks in Old Ways 



either afraid of him or meant no 

 harm. I then stamped hard very near 

 to his tiny body, and, whereas this 

 had at first set him off in a panic, 

 he now refused to budge an inch fur- 

 ther. Of course, there was nothing for 

 me to do then but move on, allowing 

 him to gloat over the success of his 

 intrepid stand in defense of his own 

 rights. 



At night in mid-summer toads are 

 apt to come in out of the woods, and 

 take this concrete walk for their even- 

 ing strolls. I don't ever want to be a 

 toad. They may have their uses. 

 Shakespeare intimates as much; but 

 neither their shape nor their gait, as 

 they squat or flop clumsily along the 

 walk, appeal to me. It is not a de- 

 light to step on one. They are about 

 as vivacious as a lump of mud, and I 

 confess that I prefer the snake that 

 coiled in the grass alongside the walk, 

 and, with open mouth, defied me to 

 strike. He was of a harmless species, 

 [io6] 



