The Magic Flutes/By the Marsh
BY THE MARSH
The first son of the Mouse family wandered to the edge of a marsh. Not far off a sick Frog was trying to warm his limbs in the spring sun. The poor Frog had only a bed of mud to lie on, and his bed-covers were made of slippery foam.
“Ah, my boy,“ said he sadly to the young Mouse, “once I was a stalwart hero like yourself. These swollen feet of mine were as full of action as steel springs. Whenever a fly chanced to flash by above my home, I leapt after it like a flying bird, so high I almost touched the clouds! And in every contest held here, I always dove the deepest of all into the water and won the wreath of duckweed.
“But last year my foot caught cold in a hole in the bog. Since then, 
I have been tormented by sickness day and night. I lie on this wet couch so helpless that even the tadpoles mock me. Today, or tomorrow at the latest, kind death will give me rest at last.“
Here a song burst from the flute. It was so sweet, so brimful of cheer that the poor Frog leapt to his feet in delight. He tapped his forehead in wonder: “Why, what’s become of all my pain?“ He touched his shoulders, then his back.— —Not a twinge! He felt no more chills running down his spine, no more fire in his knees. Healthy blood once more flowed merrily through every vein in his body.
“Hurrah!“ cried the Frog in his happiness. Play, golden laddie, play! You have made me young again! Once more my feet are as spry as a lynx’s. I’ll wager that I could jump hip-hop, hop-hip across a ditch all day!“
As the Frog thus exulted, a new wonder of wonders came to pass. A carriage appeared shining like gold and drawn by strong young beetles. Master Frog gaped in amazement. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Then, almost before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting down on the soft velvet of the seat and waving the magic wand for an excursion trip.
Off he went, while all the folk he met bowed low and doffed their caps. Yet he had not gone far when he began to frown. “Alas,“ he sighed, “I see now that indulgence, pomp, and luxury are vain delusions. Little fairy carriage, I must bid you goodbye! My merry heart and active feet call me back home. There only do I care to dance!“
So saying, the Frog leapt from the carriage to the meadow, and started to skip about in the joy of health and strength. But before he turned home, he thanked the Mouse again:
“Golden laddie,“ said he, “do not stay here. Take the magic carriage; it is now yours. Ride in it far and wide; seek out every marsh and every creature who suffers torment, whether they be young tadpoles or grandfather frogs. Play for them your magic songs to cure their pain. Bless the whole world with health, and may you keep well yourself a thousand years!“
Thus the Frog spoke, and with one hip-hop, hop-hip, he vanished under the water.
