The Ontario Readers | Page 6

over eight thousand eggs last night, and I have a long journey
before me. But I must stay to hear this. We may never have such a
chance again."
"Ladies and gentlemen," began the professor, in a sonorous tone that
was easily heard for several feet, "this is a specimen of the creature
known to us as the human tadpole. You will kindly observe his long
legs. They were doubtless given to him for the purpose of protection.
Being possessed of a most mischievous and reckless spirit, the species
is always getting into difficulties, and would probably become extinct
if it had not the power to run away."
"Nonsense!" said Bobby under his breath. There was a murmur of
interest and curiosity among the crowd. Bobby felt his legs twitch
nervously, but his power over them was gone.
"Otherwise," went on the lecturer, "he is not at all adapted to his
surroundings. Observe how carefully we are dressed. The frogs have
the green and brown tints of their homes by the water-side. The toads
look like lumps of dirt, so that they may not be too readily snapped up
by birds of prey. But the Boy--to call him by his scientific name--has
no such protection. Look at this red shirt and these white trousers, and
this hat as big as a trout pool! Could anything be more ridiculous? Even
a giraffe does not look so absurd as this."

A red flush mounted to Bobby's freckled cheeks, but this time he did
not try to speak.
"Now," said the professor, "as far as we have been able to learn, the
human tadpole is absolutely useless. We are, therefore, doing no harm
in experimenting upon this specimen. There are plenty of them, and
this one will not be a serious loss."
"Stop!" said Bobby, so unexpectedly that everybody jumped. "What are
you going to do with me?"
"You will be so kind as to lie still," said the professor severely. "At
present you are only a specimen."
There was no help for it. Bobby found it impossible to move hand or
foot. He could wriggle a little,--but that was all.
"Not only is the Boy entirely useless," went on the professor, "but he is
often what might be called a pest, even to his own kind. He is endured
in the world for what he may become when he is full-grown, and even
then he is sometimes disappointing. You are familiar with many of his
objectionable ways towards the animal world, but I am sure you would
be surprised if you knew what a care and trouble he frequently is to his
own people. He can be trusted to do few kinds of work. It is difficult to
keep him clean. He doesn't know how to get his own dinner. He has a
genius for making weaker things miserable. He likes fishing, and he
longs for a gun; he collects birds' eggs; he puts butterflies on pins; he
teases his little sisters."
"Why isn't the species exterminated?" asked another frog angrily.
Then the toad near Bobby's ear spoke timidly: "I think you are a little
unjust, Professor. I have known boys who were comparatively
harmless."
"It is true there may be a few, Mrs. Bufo," said the professor with great
politeness, "but as a class they may be fairly set down as of very
doubtful value. Speak up, Tadpole, and say if I have made any false

statements so far."
Bobby fairly shouted in his eagerness to be heard.
"We do work," he said. "We have to go to school every day."
"What a help that must be to your parents and to the world at large!"
said the frog with sarcasm. "I am surprised that we never see the results
of such hard labour. Do you know how useful even our smallest
tadpoles are? Without them this pond would be no longer beautiful, but
foul and ill-smelling. As for what we do when we are grown up,
modesty forbids me to praise the frogs, but you know what a toad is
worth to mankind?"
"No," said Bobby. "About two cents, I guess." Bobby didn't intend to
be rude. He thought this a liberal valuation.
"Twenty dollars a year, as estimated by the Department of
Agriculture!" cried the frog triumphantly. "What do you think of that?"
"I should like to know why," said Bobby, looking as if he thought
Professor Rana was making fun of him.
"What are the greatest enemies of mankind?" asked the professor,
peering over his goggles at poor Bobby.
"Tigers," said Bobby, promptly; "or wolves."
"Wrong," said the lecturer. "Insects. Insects destroy property on this
continent to the amount of over four hundred million dollars annually.
Insects destroy the crops upon which man depends for his food. Going
to school