he young of
frog or toad. If you had found the eggs, which you might have done
earlier in the year, there would have been no difficulty in saying
whether they belonged to a toad or a frog; for the toad lays its black
eggs imbedded in a long clear jelly-like line, whereas the frog's eggs
are imbedded in a shapeless mass of jelly. Look at some of these
little black fellows, as black as niggers; there is a delicate fringe
on each side of the head; these are the creature's gills and answer
the same purpose as the gills in a fish; the blood circulates through
them, and is made fresh and pure by the action of the air contained in
the water. In this state the tadpole is more of a fish than a reptile;
in a short time, however, these gills will be lost and then the
tadpole can no longer breathe the air of the water, but must come to
the surface to take in air from the atmosphere. By-and-by we should
see two small tubercles appear near the root of the tail; these are
the first indications of hind-legs. Meanwhile the forelegs are budding
forth, and in time would assume their distinct forms. The changes of
the tadpole, when it is a fish, to a frog, when it becomes a reptile,
are most curious and instructive. If you have never seen the
circulation of blood in a tadpole's tail, you have something to look
forward to, and I will promise to show it you some day under the
microscope. "What kind of frog," Willy asked, "do they eat in France?
because you know the French eat frogs." The frog which the French eat
is a different species from our common frog, though I dare say our
common frog would be quite as good. The edible frog has been several
times found in this country, and Mr. Eyton says that during the time a
detachment of the French were prisoners at Wellington, they were
highly delighted to find their old friend the edible frog in the wild
moors here. I have never myself seen any other than the common frog in
this neighbourhood. You may think a frog would make a curious sort of
pet, but a gentleman once kept a frog for several years quite
domesticated. It made its appearance in an underground kitchen at
Kingston on the banks of the Thames. The servants, wonderful to say,
showed him kindness and gave him food; one would rather have expected
that they would have uttered loud shrieks of terror and fainted away
at the unexpected sight. Curiously enough, during the winter seasons,
when frogs as a rule are lying asleep at the bottom of a p