boy, my sympathetic cylinder, my
batrachian love, how cold you are, how wet, how sad, how you suffer,
oooo!" And before I'm able to judge of the sincerity of her pity, the
tears will overflow, my throat contract, and we'll wail in unison....

Ah, but what delirious joy when the capricious wooden shoes turn again
toward the house, hurrying to rejoin Him whom we've left scratching
paper! They don't go half fast enough for me then! I jump 'round her,
barking with delight to see the hill diminishing, our climb at an end,
to smell the good stable smell and that of burning wood as we near the
house. At last you shine forth, O Fire, O Sun, through the misty window
pane!... I shall hardly have crossed the threshold when an overpowering
sleepiness will dash me to the floor in front of you--you, who will
reduce the mud on my belly to fine powder and change the water of the
roads to smoky vapor.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE A delightful glow penetrates my coat to the silky
down, the impalpable colorless threads which protect my delicate skin. I
feel myself swelling like a cloud. I must quite fill the room. My
whiskers seem charged with electricity--a sign that I will sleep--but
for the time being, the contemplation of your splendor and thoughts of
the coming season keep me awake. It's raining. I shall not go out. I'll
wait for the sun, or the dry wind, or better still, the frost. Ah, how
the biting cold stimulates me! It lashes my lungs with handfuls of
needles, and makes a _bonbon glace_ of my charming nose. The rollicking
frost-sprite will blow his madness into me. She'll laugh and He too,
leaving his scratching-paper, to see me vie with the leaves in bounds,
leaps and wild whirlings, resembling a floating flurry of gray smoke
rather than a Cat. To the top of a tree! Down again! Then seven turns
after my tail! A perilous backward leap! A vertical jump, with aerial
_danse du ventre_! Girations, sneezes, careering from the real to the
dream, until in terror of myself, I come to a sudden stop.... Everything
turns before my eyes. I'm the center of a strange, spinning world ... In
my bewilderment (half-feigned) I'll make a little moo, like a cow, which
will bring them both running to me,--She laughing, and He fearing
something wrong. That will suffice to sober me, and with a bold front
and noble mien, I'll regain this cushion near your altar, O Fire!

TOBY-DOG

This hearth-stone burns the horny pads of my feet. What shall I do?
Move away? n