THE FROZEN POND. 



the shorter-lived kinds, indeed, die out alto- 

 gether at the first touch of autumn, leaving 

 only their eggs or their pupae to represent 

 them through the cold season. In these 

 cases, therefore, we might almost say that 

 the species, not the individual, lies dormant 

 through the winter. It ceases to exist 

 altogether for the time, and is only vouched 

 for by the eggs or spawn, so that each 

 generation knows nothing by sight of the 

 generation that preceded it. 



But when spring comes round again, 

 there is a sudden waking up into spas- 

 modic activity on the part of the pond 

 and all its inhabitants. The season has 

 set in, and life is to the fore again. The 

 greater newt, in imitation of the poet's 

 wanton lapwing, " gets himself another 

 crest," and adorns his breast with brilliant 

 spots of crimson and orange. The mating 

 proceeds apace ; frogs pair and spawn ; the 

 water swarms once more with layer upon 

 layer of wriggling black tadpoles. Now the 



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