es and fat, but feared that the air, (it would have been more
correct to have said the smoke and smells), of the court went against
roses and fat, somehow. She was thankful, however, to the good Lord for
the health they all enjoyed in spite of local disadvantages.

"Ah!" sighed Mrs Twitter, "if we could only transport you all to
Canada--"

"Oh! ma'am," exclaimed Mrs Frog, brightening up suddenly, "we've had
_such_ a nice letter from our Bobby. Let her see it, Hetty."

"Yes, and so nicely written, too," remarked Hetty, with a beaming face,
as she handed Bobby's production to the visitor, "though he doesn't
quite understand yet the need for capital letters."

"Never mind, Hetty, so long as he sends you capital letters," returned
Mrs Twitter, perpetrating the first pun she had been guilty of since
she was a baby; "and, truly, this is a charming letter, though short."

"Yes, it's rather short, but it might have been shorter," said Mrs
Frog, indulging in a truism.

Mrs Twitter was already late for the mothers' meeting, but she felt at
once that it would be better to be still later than to disappoint Mrs
Frog of a little sympathy in a matter which touched her feelings so
deeply. She sat down, therefore, and read the letter over, slowly,
commenting on it as she went along in a pleasant sort of way, which
impressed the anxious mother with, not quite the belief, but the
sensation that Bobby was the most hopeful immigrant which Canada had
received since it was discovered.

"Now, mind, send Ned up _at once_," said the amiable lady when about to
quit the little room.

"Yes, Mrs Twitter, I will; good-night."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

NED FROG'S EXPERIENCES AND SAMMY TWITTER'S WOES.

But Ned Frog, with strong drink combined, rendered fruitless all the
efforts that were put forth in his behalf at that time.

When discharged with a lot of other jail-birds, none of whom, however,
he knew, he sauntered leisurely homeward, wondering whether his wife was
alive, and, if so, in what condition he should find her.

It may have been that better thoughts were struggling in his breast for
ascendency, because he sighed deeply once or twice, which was not a
usual mode with Ned of expressing his feelings. A growl was more common
and more natural, considering his character.

Drawing nearer and nearer to his old haunts, yet taking a roundabout
road, as the moth is drawn to the candle, or as water descends to its
level, he went slo