THE TOAD [2]
then she hopped into the kitchen
garden. "How green it is here! how beautiful it is here!"
"I know that," said the Caterpillar, on the leaf, "my leaf is
the largest here. It hides half the world from me, but I don't care
for the world."
"Cluck, cluck!" And some fowls came. They tripped about in the
cabbage garden. The Fowl who marched at the head of them had a long
sight, and she spied the Caterpillar on the green leaf, and pecked
at it, so that the Caterpillar fell on the ground, where it twisted
and writhed.
The Fowl looked at it first with one eye and then with the
other, for she did not know what the end of this writhing would be.
"It doesn't do that with a good will," thought the Fowl, and
lifted up her head to peck at the Caterpillar.
The Toad was so horrified at this, that she came crawling straight
up towards the Fowl.
"Aha, it has allies," quoth the Fowl. "Just look at the crawling
thing!" And then the Fowl turned away. "I don't care for the little
green morsel; it would only tickle my throat." The other fowls took
the same view of it, and they all turned away together.
"I writhed myself free," said the Caterpillar. "What a good
thing it is when one has presence of mind! But the hardest thing
remains to be done, and that is to get on my leaf again. Where is it?"
And the little Toad came up and expressed her sympathy. She was
glad that in her ugliness she had frightened the fowls.
"What do you mean by that?" cried the Caterpillar. "I wriggled
myself free from the Fowl. You are very disagreeable to look at.
Cannot I be left in peace on my own property? Now I smell cabbage; now
I am near my leaf. Nothing is so beautiful as property. But I must
go higher up."
"Yes, higher up," said the little Toad; "higher-up! She feels just
as I do; but she's not in a good humor to-day. That's because of the
fright. We all want to go higher up." And she looked up as high as
ever she could.
The stork sat in his nest on the roof of the farm-house. He
clapped with his beak, and the Mother-stork clapped with hers.
"How high up they live!" thought the Toad. "If one could only
get as high as that!"
In the farm-house lived two young students; the one was a poet and
the other a scientific searcher into the secrets of nature. The one
sang and wrote joyously of everything that God had created, and how it
was mirrored in his heart. He sang it out clearly, sweetly, richly, in
well-sounding verses; while the other investigated created matter
itself, and even cut it open where need was. He looked upon God's
creation as a great sum in arithmetic- subtracted, multiplied, and
tried to know it within and without, and to talk with understanding
concerning it; and that was a very sensible thing; and he spoke
joyously and cleverly of it. They were good, joyful men, those two,
"There sits a good specimen of a toad," said the naturalist. "I
must have that fellow in a bottle of spirits."
"You have two of them already," replied the poet. "Let the thing
sit there and enjoy its life."
"But it's so wonderfully ugly," persisted the first.
"Yes, if we could find the jewel in its head," said the poet, "I
too should be for cutting it open.'
"A jewel!" cried the naturalist. "You seem to know a great deal
about natural history."
"But is there not something beautiful in the popular belief that
just as the toad is the ugliest of animals, it should often carry
the most precious jewel in its head? Is it not just the same thing
with men? What a jewel that was that Aesop had, and still more,
Socrates!"
The Toad did not hear any more, nor did she understand half of
what she had heard. The two friends walked on, and thus she escaped
the fate of being bottled up in spirits.
"Those two also were speaking of the jewel," said the Toad to
herself. "What a good thing that I have not got it! I might have
been in a very disagreeable position."
Now there was a clapping
garden. "How green it is here! how beautiful it is here!"
"I know that," said the Caterpillar, on the leaf, "my leaf is
the largest here. It hides half the world from me, but I don't care
for the world."
"Cluck, cluck!" And some fowls came. They tripped about in the
cabbage garden. The Fowl who marched at the head of them had a long
sight, and she spied the Caterpillar on the green leaf, and pecked
at it, so that the Caterpillar fell on the ground, where it twisted
and writhed.
The Fowl looked at it first with one eye and then with the
other, for she did not know what the end of this writhing would be.
"It doesn't do that with a good will," thought the Fowl, and
lifted up her head to peck at the Caterpillar.
The Toad was so horrified at this, that she came crawling straight
up towards the Fowl.
"Aha, it has allies," quoth the Fowl. "Just look at the crawling
thing!" And then the Fowl turned away. "I don't care for the little
green morsel; it would only tickle my throat." The other fowls took
the same view of it, and they all turned away together.
"I writhed myself free," said the Caterpillar. "What a good
thing it is when one has presence of mind! But the hardest thing
remains to be done, and that is to get on my leaf again. Where is it?"
And the little Toad came up and expressed her sympathy. She was
glad that in her ugliness she had frightened the fowls.
"What do you mean by that?" cried the Caterpillar. "I wriggled
myself free from the Fowl. You are very disagreeable to look at.
Cannot I be left in peace on my own property? Now I smell cabbage; now
I am near my leaf. Nothing is so beautiful as property. But I must
go higher up."
"Yes, higher up," said the little Toad; "higher-up! She feels just
as I do; but she's not in a good humor to-day. That's because of the
fright. We all want to go higher up." And she looked up as high as
ever she could.
The stork sat in his nest on the roof of the farm-house. He
clapped with his beak, and the Mother-stork clapped with hers.
"How high up they live!" thought the Toad. "If one could only
get as high as that!"
In the farm-house lived two young students; the one was a poet and
the other a scientific searcher into the secrets of nature. The one
sang and wrote joyously of everything that God had created, and how it
was mirrored in his heart. He sang it out clearly, sweetly, richly, in
well-sounding verses; while the other investigated created matter
itself, and even cut it open where need was. He looked upon God's
creation as a great sum in arithmetic- subtracted, multiplied, and
tried to know it within and without, and to talk with understanding
concerning it; and that was a very sensible thing; and he spoke
joyously and cleverly of it. They were good, joyful men, those two,
"There sits a good specimen of a toad," said the naturalist. "I
must have that fellow in a bottle of spirits."
"You have two of them already," replied the poet. "Let the thing
sit there and enjoy its life."
"But it's so wonderfully ugly," persisted the first.
"Yes, if we could find the jewel in its head," said the poet, "I
too should be for cutting it open.'
"A jewel!" cried the naturalist. "You seem to know a great deal
about natural history."
"But is there not something beautiful in the popular belief that
just as the toad is the ugliest of animals, it should often carry
the most precious jewel in its head? Is it not just the same thing
with men? What a jewel that was that Aesop had, and still more,
Socrates!"
The Toad did not hear any more, nor did she understand half of
what she had heard. The two friends walked on, and thus she escaped
the fate of being bottled up in spirits.
"Those two also were speaking of the jewel," said the Toad to
herself. "What a good thing that I have not got it! I might have
been in a very disagreeable position."
Now there was a clapping