Attempt > Volume 3

82 THE ATTEMPT.
" But," I asked, " could it really harm them 1"
" It might, and it might not; I, at least, would have been safe, for it does not
injure those who dislike it as much as I do, but I dreaded coming in contact with it,
or being in any way associated with it."
" Well ! if you had really nothing to be afraid of, do you not think it was
foolish ]"
" I never said I was wise," interupted the Frog.
" No, to be sure ; and after all you are but a Frog," I said smiling; " and now
pray tell me how came the Bull-dog to think of asking you to join in that work,
surely he could not expect such as you to do much ?"
" It will take me a little time to explain that," said the Frog; " but if you have
patience to hear it, I will tell you."
" Certainly, I am all attention, Froggie."
" I said at the commencement of my story that there were two islands in the
Meadow of Edina to which I would direct your attention. I have spoken of one,
and now I am going to tell you about the other, namely, the Island of Thought.
It is impossible for me to describe it to you, the subject is much too vast for my
comprehension, but I may mention one or two facts concerning it. There is found
growing there, in great abundance, a small blue flower, very pretty, and smelling
sweet; but I have heard that there is thorn sometimes found on the stem."
" What is the name of it?"
" Remembrance," said the Frog. " There is also in this Island a certain bird
(called Reverie, I think), whose notes possess a peculiar charm. I am inclined to
think it is enchanted; at least, it has the power of enchanting those who hear it."
" I think its music could not be sweeter than this brook's," said I, pointing to
the stream at my feet.
" It may resemble it," said the Frog, musingly ; " why do you love the brook 1
Is it simply because of its sound, or because of a strain it calls forth, a strain of
chords distinct in themselves, but which, blending rapidly together, form a melody,
sometimes low, soft and pleasing, at others stirring and tumultuous, sometimes
joyful, sometimes mournful 1 Such is the music of the enchanter."
Now, not being over credulous, I could not believe that the Frog could appre¬
ciate music, either of the sensible kind, or of the—what shall I call it?—mysterious ?
No, nonsensical kind, of which it spoke. I hinted the same, upon which my friend
replied, with its croaking laugh, that, "of course he knew nothing about the matter;
1 ut he had picked up his information from the whispoi-s of the fairies, which Frogs