THE MOON, FROM A FROG'S POINT OF VIEW.

By Fleta Forrester.

Miss Frog sat, in the cool of the evening, under a plantain-leaf, by the side of her blue and placid lake.

"OH-H-H! BOO-HOO-HOO!"

The day had been excessively warm, and so, as she sat, she gracefully waved, backward and forward, one of her delicate web feet.

It was a beautiful, natural fan, and served, admirably, the purpose intended.

Around Miss Frog arose the varied warble of other frogs. The little polliwogs had all been put to bed; and now, came stealing on, the season for silent thoughts. Always anxious to improve her mind, Miss Frog gazed about her to find a subject on which to fasten her attention.

She had been once sent to a southern lake to finish her education, and was really quite superior to ordinary frogs.

"There is no one here, in this mud-hole, to appreciate me," she regretfully sighed, as two silly frogs passed her leaf, flirting so hard that neither of them observed her.

She drew around her her shawl of lace, made from the finest cobwebs of Florida—and sulked.

Just then arose the moon, taking its solitary, silvery way across the sky.

Her attention was arrested at once.

"How like to a polliwog it is!" she rapturously exclaimed, "save that it lacks a tail."

"And a glorified polliwog it is, daughter of the water!" croaked a sudden hoarse voice beside her.

She hopped with fright, and gasped as if about to faint; but calmed herself again as she recognized the tones of the rough-skinned Sage of the Frogs, who dwells alone in some remote corner of the lake. He it is who always sings, "Kerdunk!" when he condescends to sing at all.

This learned hermit, after clearing his throat repeatedly, thus explained himself:

"There is a legend, connected with our race, that runs in this wise:"

"Ahem!"

Upon a time, in a certain valley, where once flowed a considerable stream, the waters suddenly failed and the stream died away.

Upon the unfortunate frogs who dwelt there, in vast numbers, the hot summer sun shone its fiercest rays unhindered.

"Dreadful!" piped Miss Frog.

"Yes, it did!" said the Sage, reproachfully, "and if you wish to hear this story, you must be careful not to interrupt me again, thoughtless girl!"

As Miss Frog was very desirous, indeed, of hearing the story, she remained quiet, and the hermit frog continued:

The waters dried away, and hundreds of wretched frogs died on those scorching fields. Dying fishes gasped with their last breath for a drop of cool water, and joined their wails to those of our suffering kindred.

THE TADPOLE TO THE RESCUE.

At length, one old trout, who had held out to the last, confessed:

"Miserable I! and wicked! I have caused this drouth! And now I have no power to remedy the evil I have done!"

At this, all of the frogs who were not yet dead gathered around the tough old trout, and listened to his words.

"That was an evil day," gasped the speckled sinner, "when I poked my nose out of water to dare a saucy kingfisher, who was mocking the whole fish tribe in his usual dashing manner. 'Catch me, if you can!' I cried, darting about at my ease.

"But the bird beguiled me. He made me believe that, if I would only work a little hole through that dam there, I could descend with the escaping waters to the stream below, and make my way to the sea, where, as I heard, the fishes were all kings, and ate nothing but diamonds for dinner.

"I enticed all the trout that I could influence to assist me, and we wriggled and wriggled our noses into the gravel for a long time, apparently to no purpose.

"But, at last, a little leak started, and our water dripped away, drop by drop; but not in sufficient volume to carry us with it.

"When the waters had receded, so as to make the stream very low, back came that artful kingfisher, to dive for us in the shallow pools.

"And now, what the drouth had not destroyed that tempter has gorged himself upon.

"'Oh-h-h! Boo-hoo-hoo!'"

The frogs freely forgave him because he cried.

But the problem remained, how was the supply of water to be renewed.

At this juncture, an earnest, meek-eyed polliwog flopped feebly, and said: "Show me the place where these waters leak away."

Astonished at her manner, the sobbing trout indicated the spot.

"Drag me thither by my tail!" exclaimed the heroine, resolutely.

Then the frogs used their last remaining strength to do as she bade them, and waited, in exhausted surprise, to see what would happen next.

"Good-bye!" wept the brave little polliwog, wriggling with feeling, and groaning some. "If any of you survive me, tell it to your children that I laid myself in the breach!"

With these few farewell words she crowded herself into the hole, out of their sight.

Presently, the stream began to rise and the pools to fill up. The frogs sat knee-deep in water, and the fishes swam upon their sides.

"IN THE SKY."

Day by day things improved, and the fishes began to sit up in bed, while the frogs were heard incessantly blessing the little polliwog. One night, she appeared to them in the sky, as you see her to-night; returning nightly, for many nights, to beam at them; growing larger and brighter at every appearance.

"Such," said the Sage, concluding, "is our Legend of the Moon!" And he leaped into the waves with a resounding plump!

Miss Frog felt so many different sensations at once that she dropped her lower jaw involuntarily, and sat so, unconscious of aught until awakened from her reverie by a cricket jumping suddenly into her throat.

Hastily gulping him down, she gathered her shawl about her, and, with a spring, sprawled graciously toward her wave.