ut of his house in the sunshine, which he did not like at all, and went
across the grass to the iron railings, where the spider had then got his
web. The spider saw him coming, and being very proud of his cleverness,
began to taunt and tease him.

"Your back is all over warts, and you are an old toad," he
said. "You are so old, that I heard the swallows saying their
great-great-great-grandmothers, when they built in the chimney, did
not know when you were born. And you have got foolish, and past doing
anything, and so stupid that you hardly know when it is going to rain.
Why, the sun is shining bright, you stupid old toad, and there isn't a
chance of a single drop falling. You look very ugly down there in the
grass. Now, don't you wish that you were me and could catch more flies
than you could eat? Why, I can catch wasps and bees, and tie them up so
tight with my threads that they cannot sting nor even move their wings,
nor so much as wriggle their bodies. I am the very cleverest and most
cunning spider that ever lived."

"Indeed, you are," replied the toad. "I have been thinking so all the
summer; and so much do I admire you, that I have come all this way,
across in the hot sun, to tell you something."

"Tell _me_ something!" said the spider, much offended, "_I_ know
everything."

"Oh, yes, honoured sir," said the toad; "you have such wonderful eyes,
and such a sharp mind, it is true that you know everything about the
sun, and the moon, and the earth, and flies. But, as you have studied
all these great and important things, you could hardly see all the very
little trifles like a poor old toad."

"Oh, yes, I can. I know everything--everything!"

"But, sir," went on the toad so humbly, "this is such a little--such a
very little--thing, and a spider like you, in such a high position of
life, could not mind me telling you such a mere nothing."

"Well, I don't mind," said the spider--"you may go on, and tell me, if
you like."

"The fact is," said the toad, "while I have been sitting in my hole, I
have noticed that such a lot of the flies that come into this garden
presently go into the summer-house there, and when they are in the
summer-house, they always go to that little round window, which is
sometimes quite black with them; for it is the nature of flies to buzz
over glass."

"I do not know so much about that," said the spider; "for I have never
lived in houses, being an independent insect; but it is possible