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[Illustration]
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With the distinction of residence in the main court of the reptile-house
itself, as also with the knowledge of its rarity, the Smooth-clawed
Frog sets no small value on himself. He lives in water perpetually, and
is always bobbing mysteriously about in it with his four-fingered hands
spread out before him. This seems to me to be nothing but a vulgar
manifestation of the Smooth-clawed Frog's self-appreciation. He is like
a coster conducting a Dutch auction, except that it is himself that he
puts up for the bids of admiring visitors. With his double bunch of four
fingers held eagerly before him he says--or means to say--"'Ere--eight!
Ain't that cheap enough? Eight! Going at eight. Who says eight? Now
then--eight; for a noble frog like me!" Presently, he wriggles a little
in the water, as though vexed at the slackness of offers; then he drops
one of the hands and leaves the other outstretched. "'Ere--four!
Anythink to do business. Four! Nobody say four? Oh, blow this!" and with
a jerk of one long paddle he dives among the weeds. "Them shiny-lookin'
swells ain't got no money!" is what I am convinced he reports to
his friends.

The Smooth-clawed Frog has lately begun to breed here, a thing before
unknown; so that his rarity and value are in danger of depreciation. But
such is his inordinate conceit of himself that I am convinced he will
always begin the bidding with eight.

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