THE FROG WHO WOULD A-WOOING GO. BY CHARLES BENNETT. On the quiet sedgy bank of a stagnant pool, and under the shadow of rank reeds and bulrushes, sat two frogs. They had retired from the shoal, who were disporting themselves in the water, and were earnestly talking. The elder of the two, an old matron, addressing the younger, who, by-the-by, was her son, said,-- "My dear Froggy, you had better stop quietly with me; you do not know what dangers you may encounter, if you leave your secluded home." "Croak, croak!" said Froggy. "Ah, my son!" continued the old lady, "I see that, like most young frogs, you are very obstinate, and will not listen to reason. But why on earth you should wish to go gadding after a poor, hungry little mouse, is more than I can tell--you with your beautiful legs and speckled coat, born to a splendid estate of reeds and water, the heir of nine bulrushes and a water-lily. I thought you were more of a frog." "Croak, croak!" said Froggy again. "Have you thought of the boys who throw stones?" "Croak!" "Or the birds with long beaks?" "Croak!" "Or the ducks?" "Croak!" "If you want to go a-wooing, there are frogs in your own station in life; indeed, with your personal appearance, you might even aspire to an eft or a lizard." "Croak!" persisted the sulky little Frog. "You are no better than a tadpole!" said his mother, getting very angry at last; and no sooner were the words out of her lips, than up jumped Master Froggy in a passion, and taking his opera-hat under his arm, off he went at a rapid pace, singing at the top of his voice, so as to hide his rage,-- "Rowley, powley, gammon and spinach.