Tuesday, July 2, 2013

July 6

TWO frogs I met in early childhood have lingered in my memory: I frightened one frog, and the other frog frightened me.
   The frightened frog evinced fear by placing its two hands on its head: at least, I have since understood that a frog assumes this attitude when in danger, and my frog assumed it.
   The alarming frog startled me, "gave me quite a turn," as people say, by jumping when I did not know it was near me.
   My fright was altogether without justifying cause. Not so the first frog's: for presumably my warm finger made the cool creature uncomfortable. Besides, how could it tell what was coming next? although in truth I meant it no harm.
   I wish that as regards their intention as much could nowadays be certified for some of the wiset of this world, and that every scared frog were like my scared self, unreasonable.
   But seeing that matters are as they are--because frogs and such like cannot in reason frighten  us now,--is it quite certain that no day will ever come when even the smallest, weakest, most grotesque, wronged creature will not in some fashion rise up in the Judgment with us to condemn us, and so frighten us effectually once for all?

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