No electric metals are found in the vicinity of this shrub. The electricity belongs solely to the plant. At two in the afternoon the electricity is at its height; at night the plant nearly loses its curious properties. This is no doubt owing to the dewy dampness of night; for during a rain the electricity is also lost, and one can then break off a leaf with impunity. During an electric storm its intensity redoubles, so that the shrub becomes nearly as dangerous as an electric wire. FOOTNOTES: [62] Some of the highest authorities state that in its native waters the Regia blossom lasts but one day and two nights. LESSON XXXI. A NOISY FAMILY. “When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.” --A. C. SWINBURNE. [Illustration: BROTHER HOP O’ MY THUMB.] Passing one day beside one of those shallow basins that are dug out of the clay soil of the west, to collect the rainfall and to serve as watering-places for stock, I saw a strange sight. Above the brown and turbid water projected a row of green and yellow roundish knobs. These were placed at intervals eight or ten inches apart, nearly around the edge of the basin. Looking closer, I saw that at the base of each knob were two bright, prominent eyes. I laughed, as who would not, considering this living wreath encircling the pond. I had never before seen frogs drawn up in such orderly array. For frogs these were, silent and alert. Whether fear or the heat of the day had driven them to this position I could not tell. Presently one of the bronze-green knobs elevated itself a little, became evident head and shoulders, rose above the surface of the water with a hop, and paused on the muddy edge of the basin for further observations. Watching carefully I saw that all the knobs moved now and again with a quick, bobbing motion. Connecting this motion with the sudden and final disappearance of numerous insects flying low over the water, I discovered that the neatly ambushed frogs were taking their supper. Presently I tossed a stone lightly into the pond, and at once, with a plash all the noses vanished. A little later, as twilight fell, a loud clangor of dissonant voices told that my frogs were engaged in their evening concert. A family of vocalists are these frogs. The other day I passed this same pond. A winter of sunny weeks, with neither rain nor snow, had caused the water to dry away until only a few inches lay over the mud in the centre of the hollow.