THE STORY OF A FROG
Everyone knows what excitement the approach of the shooting season causes to a certain class of people in Paris. One is perpetually meeting some of them on their way back from the canal where they have been i getting their hands in' by popping at larks and sparrows, dragging a dog after them, and stopping each acquaintance to ask: ' Do you like quails and partridges ? ' ' Certainly.' ' Ah, well, I'll send you some about the second or third of next month.' 'Many thanks.' ' By the way I hit five sparrows out of eight shots just now. Not bad, was it? ' ' First rate indeed!'
Well, towards the end of August, 1830, one of these sportsmen called at No. 109,in the Faubourg St.-Denis, and on being told that Decamps was at home, climbed to the fifth floor, dragging his dog up step by step, and knocking his gun against every corner till he reached the studio of that eminent painter. However, he only found his brother Alexandre, one of those brilliant and original persons whose inherent laziness alone prevented his bringing his great natural gifts to perfection.
He was universally voted a very good fellow, for his easy good nature made him ready to do or give whatever anyone asked. It was not surprising, therefore, that the new comer soon managed to persuade Alexandre that nothing could be more delightful than to attend the