€l}t &a^ of t^t Banb 



silo, eats all his winter hay in the summer while it is 

 green, turns it at once into a surplus of himself, then 

 buries that self, feeds upon it, and sleeps — and 

 lives ! 



The north wind doth blow, 



And we shall have snow, 



but what good reason is there for our being daunted 

 at the prospect ? Robin and all the others are well 

 prepared. Even the wingless frog, who is also lack- 

 ing in fur and feathers and fat, even he has no care 

 at the sound of the cold winds. Nature provides for 

 him too, in her way, which is neither the way for the 

 robin, the muskrat, nor the woodchuck. He survives, 

 and all he has to do about it is to dig into the mud 

 at the bottom of the ditch. This looks at first like 

 the journey Woodchuck takes. But it is really a 

 longer, stranger journey than Woodchuck's, for it 

 takes the frog far beyond the realms of mere sleep, 

 on into the cold, black land where no one can tell 

 the quick from the dead. 



The frost may or may not reach him here in the 

 ooze. No matter. If the cold works down and freezes 

 him into the mud, he never knows. But he will 

 thaw out as good as new ; he will sing again for joy 



14 



