IX 



A FROZEN WORLD 



THE pond in the valley is a world by itself. 

 So far as its inhabitants are concerned, in- 

 deed, it is the whole of the world. For a 

 pond without an outlet is like an oceanic island ; 

 it is a system, a microcosm, a tiny society apart, 

 shut off by impassable barriers from all else around 

 it. As the sea severs Fiji or St. Helena from the 

 great land-surface of the continents, so, and just as 

 truly, the fields about this pond sever it from all 

 other inhabited waters. The snails and roach and 

 beetles that dwell in it know, of no other world ; 

 to them, the pond is all ; the shore that bounds it 

 is the world's end ; their own little patch of stag- 

 nant water is the universe. 



A pond which empties itself into a river by 

 means of a stream or brook is not quite so iso- 

 lated. It has points of contact with the outer 

 earth : it resembles rather a peninsula than an 

 island : it is the analogue of Spain or Greece, 

 not of Hawaii or Madeira. And you will see 

 how important this distinction is if you remember 

 that trout and stickleback and stone-loach and 



