Whereas Mrs. Surinam Toad's little fellows have to spend all their tadpolehood in their mamma's dark little pockets, with no freedom and no society; […]
Without a word, she bounded up and flitted off like a brown bird, gleaming dull-golden in the sun, glancing in and out among the trees, till she paused above a tiny black pool, and then came tripping and swaying back with hands held cupwise and dripping with cool water.
The tinkers then formed a hereditary caste.
They turned the boat into the face of the storm.
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