178 
NATURE NOTES 
round the garden to feed on insects found on the flowers. And if we turn to that 
beautiful book which is the fountain of our existence as Selbornians, our Master 
directs us thus : “ It is strange that the matter with regard to the venom of toads 
has not been yet settled. That they are not noxious to some animals is plain, for 
ducks, buzzards, owls, stone-curlews and snakes eat them, to my knowledge, with 
impunity.” 
The Toad in the Hole question was once taken up in Oxford by my cousin. 
Dr. Giles B. Daubeny, F.R.S. (who died in 1867), Professor of Chemistry and 
Botany in the University. Pie had a number of toads enclosed in hermetically 
sealed boxes and buried, in the presence of witnesses, in the Botanical Gardens. 
After some months the boxes were taken up, but I forget with what result. 
I think all the toads were dead ; perhaps some of your readers can remember. 
Dr. Daubeny used to visit at my father’s house, and I have there listened to him 
discoursing on many subjects. On one occasion he produced a letter he had 
received from his friend Darwin, who had just published “The Origin of 
Species,” turning men’s thoughts in a new direction — imperilling the very founda- 
tions of religion, as some feared, but which Darwin denied in the letter — and 
ushering in that era which, as German philosophers tell us, will be known to 
posterity by one name only — the Darwinian. I do not remember, however, 
having heard my cousin speak on toads. 
My own experiences of toads are these. When young I was told that if you 
spat at a toad he would spit poison at you. I often tried the experiment, but 
without success. I have always felt a disinclination to handle toads : however, 
I have done so, but never would if I had a cut in my hand. I have noticed that 
if a dog incautiously seizes a toad in his mouth he always drops him “ like a hot 
potato.” Toads are most useful when in their proper place, and whenever, 
during my very wandering life, I have been the happy possessor of a kitchen 
garden, I have taken care to have some toads in the strawberry beds to eat the 
slugs. They can be troublesome however. When I was living at South Brent, 
in Devonshire, I had a small stream running through iny garden, part of which 
I had enclosed for the purpose of rearing young trout. Toads would get in here 
to deposit spawn, and I had to take numbers of them in my landing net and 
remove them to other water. 
Toads sometimes make interesting migrations soon after birth. I have 
noticed this on several occasions, two of which at this moment occur to my 
memory — once when I was walking in the Carbarn at Carsel, in Germany, 
about ten years ago, and again last year at Southbourne in Hampshire. On 
passing along the road through woods in both cases, there were myriads of small 
toads — so many that I could not help killing some each time I put my foot down 
— about the size of the finger nail on the ground, and marching, if I remember 
rightly, all in one direction across the road. The toads were all gone next day 
and must have furnished a fine meal for nocturnal animals and birds. I should 
be glad to hear the meaning of these migrations. Unfortunately, I did not take 
note of the state of weather or direction of wind when they took place. I must 
take care to do this next time. 
I can only remember once having seen a toad being eaten. This was some 
forty years ago. I Was walking through the fields in Somersetshire, and on 
getting over a gate I found in front of me a large green snake holding on to a big 
toad, and, singularly as it seemed to me, trying to swallow him ; one of the toad’s 
legs was down the snake’s throat. The toad appeared to have been bitten in 
several places, bubbles protruding through the wounds. I at once killed the 
snake by hitting over the back with my stick, and, after examining the toad, put 
him out of misery under my heel. 
Frogs are well known to be excellent eating, being much appreciated by the 
French. I am now sorry I did not call for a dish of frogs when in Paris last 
week, as I could then speak from experience. It is .said that if a man has missed 
his breakfast he can satisfactorily make up for it by letting a frog jump down his 
throat. I should not mind trying this if the necessity arose, but I should fear 
that breakfast off toad would bring indigestion, if not further trouble. Still I have 
no doubt that toads have been and are eaten by man. 
Shakespeare tells us that the toad, though ugly and venomous, wears yet a 
precious jewel in its head — of course referring to the eye, which is specially bright. 
