"Forgive me," said the Toad to the Swallow, "but, although you may not be aware of it, you are flying on totally false principles!"
"Am I?" said the Swallow meekly. "I'm so sorry! Do you mind showing me how you do it?"
"I don't fly myself," said the Toad, with an air of superiority. "I've other things to do—but I have thoroughly mastered the theory of the Art."
"Then teach me the theory!" said the Swallow.
"Willingly," said the Toad; "my fee—to you—will be two worms a lesson."
"I can't bear to think that no one will weep for me when I am gone!" said the sentimental Fly, as he flew into the eye of a Moneylender.
Note.—Cf. Poet Byron: "'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come!"—H. B. J.