DREDGING NOTES. 15 



Yet the fact of the matter is that there is not 

 much character to a pond-snail. To slip out of 

 a mass of jelly with one's house on one's back, to 

 float on the surface of a pond, to dine on leaves 

 or confer vae, to rest when weary and to journey 

 when so disposed, to retreat into one's house when 

 in danger, to pass along through life in a some- 

 what humdrum fashion with small spirit or vim 

 in one, to cleanse the pool the little one may, and 

 finally to drop down through the water and whiten 

 with one's lifeless shell the slime of the pond, to 

 have that slime close at last over one's shell and 

 leave one buried in oblivion while all the pond- 

 life goes on above one still, this is a snail's life. 

 Devoid of fighting instincts, not gifted with am- 

 bition to soar like the beetles, or to be ever in 

 sight like the skaters, treating all the pond- 

 neighbors with quiet reserve, going one's own 

 way and doing much good in the world, such is 

 the pond-snail. If he is not brilliant, he is good, 

 and what more could be asked of him ? 



There is a stir in the grass at the top of the 

 bank. 



" What do you s'pose she 's getting ? " says 

 one low voice. 



A bug-hunter learns to listen and generally 

 hears much that is said about dredging. 



" Fish, I guess," answers another boy, confi- 

 dently ; and they pass on, leaving me to climb 

 the bank and wend my way homeward, battling 



