years before my acquaintance commenced with it, and had been admired by my father for its size (being the largest I ever met with), who constantly paid it a visit every evening. I knew it myself upwards of thirty years; and, by constantly feeding it, brought it to be so tame, that it always came to the candle and looked up, as if expecting to be taken up and brought upon the table, where I always fed it upon insects of all sorts. It was fondest of flesh-maggots, which I kept in bran: it would follow them, and when within a proper distance, would fix its eyes, and remain motionless for near a quarter of a minute, as if preparing for the stroke, which was an instantaneous throwing of its tongue at a great distance upon the insect, which stuck to the tip by a glutinous matter. The motion is quicker than the eye can follow. I cannot say how long my father had been acquainted with the Toad before I knew it; but when I was first acquainted with it, he used to mention it as ‘the old Toad I have known for so many years.’ I can answer for thirty-six years.” The end of this Toad was somewhat tragical. A tame Raven seeing it at the mouth of its hole, pulled it out, and before help could come, destroyed one of its eyes, and so injured it, that, though it survived a year, it never enjoyed itself again, nor could take its prey with the same precision as before. Up to that accident it had seemed to be in perfect health.
