THE POND AT LOW TIDE 



which shows these striae you may see on 

 the soft mud imprints of this year's 

 leaves, dropped a moment there by the 

 wind, then whirled away again, but 

 leaving their tracks behind them. This 

 mark of the season may be obliterated 

 by a breath, or it may be covered with 

 sifting silt and finally harden into sand- 

 stone and bear the trail of the leaf as 

 far down the ages as has come that of 

 the glacier. Here are moments and aeons 

 elbowing one another for place. 



Other interesting records of past time 

 may be read in Stumpy Cove, which is 

 still the wildest and most secluded of 

 spots, though the trolley tripper has found 

 the pond and builds his bungalows on its 

 shore, sinks his tin cans in its waters, 

 and scares the bullfrogs with his phono- 

 graph. The tin cans will not last long, 

 however. Fresh water in motion is con- 

 201 



