TIIE VISIONARY 
53 
and on a warm still night it is well worth a long walk to hear 
them. The manyblended voices rise and fall like the sound of 
distant church bells borne on the wind ; now almost dying 
away, and again swelling to a mighty roar. At present the 
toads have not reached the water, but their weak chirping note 
will soon be heard, as they make their way from their winter 
retreats, under logs, stones, roots of trees and holes in dry banks. 
So wary and alert are the frogs at this season, that in order to 
see, or even to hear them to advantage, one has to approach 
with the utmost caution — the sound of footsteps or the passing 
of a cart near their haunts silences them at once. On hearing 
any unaccustomed noise, the whole array of bright eyes and 
pointed snouts disappears as if by magic, subsiding at once to 
the bottom. A sort of boiling, bubbling appearance is seen on 
the surface, as each frog strikes hurriedly upwards with his hind 
legs making for the rotting leaves and soft mud below where all 
lie hidden till the coast is once more clear. It is generally a 
long time before they again venture to show their noses above 
water. Presently, however, one of the boldest pops up his 
shining, polished head, and, after a time, perceiving no enemy 
by, summons courage to utter a faint croak. Gradually one 
after another follows suit, till the chorus is once more in full 
swing. On cold windy evenings there is no frog music, and even 
when the weather is fine and warm there are occasions when, 
from some reason best known to the performers themselves, no 
concert takes place. 
G. T. Rope. 
THE VISIONARY. 
It must be true, I’ve sometimes thought, 
That beings from some realm afar 
Oft wander in the void immense, 
Flying from star to star. 
In silence through this various world, 
They pass, to mortal eyes unseen, 
And toiling men in towns know not 
That one with them has been. 
But oft, when on the woodland falls 
A sudden hush, and no bird sings ; 
When leaves, scarce fluttered by the wind, 
Speak low of sacred things, 
My heart has told me I should know, 
In such a lonely place, if one 
From other worlds came there and stood 
Between me and the sun. 
