Our stanch good friend is he;
And for the ploughshare and the plough,
To him our praise shall be.
But while oppression lifts its head,
Or a tyrant would be lord;
Though we may thank him for the plough,
We'll not forget the sword!"

CHARLES MACKAY




PROFESSOR FROG'S LECTURE


Bobby was not quite sure that he was awake, but when he opened his eyes
there was the blue sky, with the soft, white clouds drifting across it,
the big pine waving its spicy branches over his head, and beyond, the
glint of sunshine on the waters of the pond. Presently Bobby heard
voices talking softly.

"This is a good specimen," said one voice. "See how stout and strong he
looks!"

"I wonder who that is, and what he has found," thought Bobby. "I wish it
wasn't such hard work to keep my eyes open." He made a great effort,
however, and raised his heavy lids. At first he could see nothing. Then
he caught a glimpse of a mossy log, with a row of frogs and toads
sitting upon it. They were looking solemnly at him. Bobby felt a little