house on the edge of a wood haunted by elves and
brownies a boy named Arthur. He was a bright, handsome lad, but a little
lazy, and much more fond of pleasure than of work; and he had a way of
flinging himself down in the woods to lounge and sleep when his mother
at home was waiting for him to come back with a message, or to do some
little promised task. Now the fairies knew this, and it displeased them;
for they are as busy as bees, and do not like idleness. Besides, as one
bad habit leads to another, Arthur, in his lounging ways, would often do
great damage to the fairies' flower-beds, switching off the heads of
wild-flowers in the most ruthless fashion, and even pulling them up by
the roots when he felt like it.

"One day he had been indulging this whim without any motive, hardly even
thinking what he was doing, when he began to feel very strangely: a
slight chill made him shiver; his eyes felt as if they were coming out
of his head, his legs as if they were getting smaller and smaller; he
had an irresistible desire to hop, and he was very thirsty. There was a
rivulet near, and instead of walking to it he leaped, and stooping to
drink, he saw himself reflected in its smooth surface. No longer did he
see Arthur; no longer was he a mortal boy. Instead of this, a frog--a
green speckled frog, with great bulging eyes and a fishy mouth--looked
up at him. He tried to call, to shout, but in vain; he could only croak,
and this in the most dismal manner. What was he to do? Sit and stare
about him, try to catch flies, plunge down into the mud--charming
amusements for the rest of his life! A little brown bird hopped down for
a drink from the rivulet; she stooped and rose, stooped and rose, again
and again.

"A great green tear rolled down from the frog's bulging eye, and
splashed beside the bird's drinking-place. She looked up in alarm, and
said, in the sweetest voice imaginable, 'Can I do anything to assist
you?'

"'I am sure I don't know,' croaked Arthur, hoarse as if he had been born
with a sore throat.

"'But what _is_ the matter?' persisted the little brown bird, as more
green tears splashed beside her.

"'The matter is that I am a frog, I suppose,' said Arthur, rather
rudely.

"'Well, what of that?' still said the little bird. 'Frogs are very
respectable.'

"'Are they, indeed; then I'd rather not be respectable,' said Arthur.

"'You shock me,' said the bird.

"'I don't wonder; it has been a great shock to me,'