The Pond 



up to the first, magnified in its delights and 

 mortifications by the marvellous perspective of 

 the years. 



Nor would any of them suit my plans of to- 

 day. Their world is too vast. I should lose 

 myself in their immensities, where life swarms 

 freely in the sun. Like the ocean, they are 

 infinite in their fruitfulness. And then any as- 

 siduous watching, undisturbed by passers-by, is 

 an impossibility on the public way. What I 

 want is a pond on an extremely reduced scale, 

 sparingly stocked in my own fashion, an artifi- 

 cial pond standing permanently on my study- 

 table. 



A louis has been overlooked in a corner 

 of the drawer. I can spend it without seri- 

 ously jeopardizing the domestic balance. Let 

 me make this gift to Science, who, I fear, 

 will be none too much obliged to me. A gor- 

 geous equipment may be all very well for labo- 

 ratories wherein the cells and fibres of the dead 

 are consulted at great expense; but such mag- 

 nificence is of doubtful utility when we have to 

 study the actions of the living. It is the hum- 

 ble makeshift, of no value, that stumbles on 

 the secrets of life. 



What did the best results of my studies of 

 instinct cost me? Nothing but time and, 



177 



