30 HURRAH! FOR THE COUNTRY ! 



But, hark ! all is still now, save the piping notes of the 

 little peeper along the shore. Wait, however, a moment. 

 There, hear that venerable podunker off to the right, with his 

 deep bass, like the sound of a brazen serpent. Listen ! 

 another deep voice on the left has fallen in. There, another 

 right over against us I another and another still I a dozen I a 

 hundred 1 a thousand ! ten thousand 1 a million of them ! 

 close by us 1 far off ! on the right hand and on the left ! 

 here ! there ! everywhere ! until above, around us, all 

 through the woods, all along the shore, all over the lake is 

 a solid roar, unpenetrable to any other sound, surging and 

 swaying, rolling and swelling as if all the voices in the 

 world were concentrated in one stupendous concert. 



But, hark ! the roar is dying away ; voice after voice 

 .drops out ; here and there is one laggard in the song, still 

 dragging out the chorus. Now all is still again, save the 

 note of the little peeper along the shore. In two minutes 

 that band will strike up again. The roar will go bellowing 

 over the lake through the woods, to be thrown from hill to 

 hill, to die away into silence again ; and so it will be through 

 all the long night, and until the sun looks out from among 

 the tree tops in the morning. Touch that solemn looking 

 old croaker on yonder broad leaf of that pond lily, with the 

 end of your fishing rod, while the music is at the highest, 

 he will send forth a quick discordant and cracked cry, like 

 that of a greedy dog choked with a bone, as he plunges for 

 the bottom ; and note how suddenly that sound will be 

 repeated, and how quick the roar of the frogs will be hushed 



