OLD ALMANACS. 37 



ing toward the west to see the sun rise. Know- 

 ing my love for the open fields, this would-be 

 genius has kindly treated me, of late, to in- 

 numerable accounts of recent observations of 

 beasts, birds, reptiles, and wild life's less noble 

 forms, and certainly the man has remarkable 

 powers in one direction he can misinterpret 

 admirably. " Think of it ! " he exclaimed excit- 

 edly ; " here it is December, and I have heard a 

 frog croak ! It was not a springtime croak, of 

 course, but a cry of pain, and I believe a musk- 

 rat dug it out of its winter quarters, and the 

 sound I heard was a cry of pain." It is a won- 

 der that he did not hear the musk-rat's chuckle 

 over a good dinner, also. Here we have three 

 assumptions that frogs never sing in winter; 

 that they habitually hibernate ; and that musk- 

 rats dig them out of the mud. The aforesaid 

 John Blank had lived forty-odd years on a farm, 

 and did not know that frogs voluntarily sang or 

 croaked during mild winter days. Like many 

 another, finding that it is cold in December, he 

 turns his back on winter sunshine. 



Here are some statistics concerning frogs in 

 winter. Previous to Oct. 20, 1889, there had 

 been white frost, some chilly days as well as 

 nights, and yet the frogs sang merrily on that 

 date. There was frost, snow, and ice during 

 the following week, and then these same frogs 



