42 THE ROLL OF THE SEASONS 



spawn that will soon break the surface of the paddock- 

 pond. The water-boatman will take his infinitesimal 

 but oft-repeated toll. Greater than he, the jawed larva 

 of the giant water-beetle will suck the wriggling tad- 

 poles. Newts, hungry after their own spawning, will 

 snap them up and swallow them by sixes and sevens 

 at a meal. Snakes not of a size to negotiate grown 

 frogs will come to the pond and catch them with 

 wonderful grace, at a time when the tadpoles are large 

 and of intelligence enough to fly like minnows before 

 a pike. Not to enumerate any more disasters, the 

 horde will be decimated and the remainder decimated 

 again and again, but there will remain enough to 

 blacken the shallows with life, to scatter the margin 

 with complete frogs, as with seeds, and to provide the 

 high road half a mile distant some July afternoon 

 with all the appearance of there having been a descent 

 of froglets from the clouds. 



Few stories are so circumstantial as those that tell 

 of frogs having come down from the sky. Two French- 

 men are walking along a straight road through an arid 

 country when a peculiar black storm overtakes them. 

 It bursts and showers on their astonished heads, not 

 merely rain, but myriads of little frogs. A number of 

 workmen are engaged in repairing the roof of an Essex 

 Church when a similar shower comes on. When the 

 storm is over, behold the flat roof of the church tower 

 and the rain-water spouts contain numbers of little 

 frogs ! Such are the stories. They only become 

 unbelievable when an explanation follows of how 

 the frogs got into the cloud. One theory is that a 

 wandering whirlwind took up the contents of a pond 

 and put them down at a place far away. Another 



