Then Mr. Frog, rising gracefully on his hind feet, tested what he called his “chest notes,” running up and down the scale easily and with considerable noise. “As I have said, “ he went on after showing your Aunt Amy the quality of his voice, even while quite young I was famed as a musician, then I played the cornet, and led the Frog Town Orchestra. I can’t truthfully say that we played before all the crowned heads of Europe, for that class of people didn’t come where we were; but it is a fact, or should be, for we sang loud enough, that we have been heard by every one who came within half a mile of this pond during the summer season.” “Where do you go in the winter, Mr. Frog?” your Aunt Amy asked. “Into the mud, of course,” he replied, looking surprised because such a question had been necessary. “Did you suppose we stayed around on the surface at risk of having out toes frozen? Please give us credit for having sufficient sense to get in out of the cold.-

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