118 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



flat stone could be found that did not shelter a toad, and 

 every mossy pool had its full complement of frogs. They 

 were all more silent during the day than at home, and 

 save an occasional wood-frog in the forest, I am not sure 

 that I heard them at all. But not so at sunset ; then every 

 one came from its damp and dark retreat, and with all 

 its strength croaked, clucked, and spluttered. Though 

 the nights were cool, even the toads were out in force, 

 and filled the valley with a flood-tide of dolefulness. This, 

 of all sounds in nature, is the most gloomy ; but there is 

 a grain of satisfaction to be got from it there is no 

 better evidence that summer is really here. I do not say 

 it is good evidence far from it ; but of the many signs of 

 the seasons, no one is better. I am indifferent to the alma- 

 nac's dictum of June 21 as the proper date. If there is a 

 general epithalamial rejoicing on the part of the toads, 

 then frost, if it comes, is not baneful, and the strawberries 

 are safe. 



As was so plainly the case with the birds, I could de- 

 tect no difference in the voices of the batrachians here, 

 as compared with those of their meadow-dwelling cousins, 

 except in one notable instance. The great bull-frog here 

 at the lake has a more metallic note, and is like those I 

 have heard in New England, and differs greatly from the 

 smothered, guttural cry of the same creature in the tide- 

 water marshes. 



As the nights were still cold, I was surprised to find 

 both toads and frogs so active and vocal, for at home, a 

 lowering of temperature is pretty sure to silence them, 

 and very often the croaking entirely ceases. But none of 

 those upon the western shore of the lake felt equal to 

 greeting the tardy sunrise ; while I have often heard them 

 so doing in south Jersey, where, indeed, it is one of na- 

 ture's pleasant sounds, blending admirably with the songs 

 of the birds. 



