It would certainly be an exaggeration to claim that about that time there existed no other subject of conversation or newspaper attention than the talking newts. People and newspapers were also concerned with the next war, with the depression, with the cup final, with vitamins and with fashion; nevertheless, the talking newts did enjoy a great deal of publicity, and moreover of uninformed publicity. That was why Professor Vladimir Uher, an outstanding scientist from Brno University, wrote an article for LidoveNoviny, in which he pointed out that Andrias Scheuchzeri’s alleged ability to utter articulated speech was essentially just a parroting of spoken words and, from a scientific point of view, was not nearly as interesting as a number of other questions surrounding that unusual amphibian, the scientific mystery of Andrias Scheuchzeri lay elsewhere: for instance, where did it come from; where were its origins, the place where it survived entire geological periods; why had it remained unknown for so long when it was now appearing in large numbers virtually throughout the equatorial zone of the Pacific? It would seem that it had recently been multiplying with unusual rapidity; where did that enormous vitality come from in an ancient tertiary creature which, until not long ago, had led a totally unobserved, and hence presumably very sporadic and indeed probably geographically isolated, existence? Was it possible that the environmental conditions of this fossil newt had somehow changed in a biologically favourable direction, so that this rare Miocene relic was now enjoying a new and astonishingly successful evolutionary phase? In that case it could not be ruled out that Andrias would not only multiply quantitatively but also develop qualitatively, so that science would have a unique opportunity for witnessing, at least in one animal species, a major mutation in actu. That Andrias Scheuchzeri could croak a few dozen words and learn a few tricks - a fact which io the layman seemed evidence of some kind of intelligence - was not, in any scientific sense, a miracle. The miracle was the powerful vital élan which had so suddenly and extensively revived the arrested existence of an evolutionarily backward and indeed near-extinct creature. There were a number of special circumstances in this case: Andrias Scheuchzeri was the only newt living in the sea and - even more significantly - the only newt occurring in the Ethiopian-Australian zone, in mythical Lemuria. Might we not almost say that Nature was trying, belatedly and almost precipitously, to catch up on one of the biological potentialities and forms which, in that zone, it had omitted to develop or else been unable to bring to fulfilment? Moreover, it would be surprising if in the oceanic region lying between the Japanese giant salamanders on the one hand and the Alleghanian ones on the other, there existed no connecting link whatever. If Andrias did not exist, we would actually have to postulate its existence in the very places where it has been found; it is almost as if it filled the slot which, in accordance with geographical and evolutionary circumstances, it should always have occupied. Be that as it may, the learned professor’s article concluded, on this evolutionary resurrection of a Miocene newt we observe, with respect and amazement, that the Genius of Evolution on our planet has by no means yet concluded its creative operation.
That article appeared in spite of the editorial board’s silent but unshakable conviction that such learned stuff really had no place in a daily paper. As a result of its publication Professor Uher received a letter from a reader:
Dear Sir,
A year ago I bought a house in the Market Square in Câslav. In the course of looking it over I found a box in the attic with valuable old publications, mostly scientific, such as two annual runs of Hýbl’s periodical ‘Hyllos’ for 1821-22, Jan Svatopluk Presl’s ‘Mammalia’, Vojtëch Sedláček’s ‘The Foundations of the Natural Sciences or Physics’, nineteen annual runs of the encyclopaedic publication ‘Krok’ and thirteen annual runs of the ‘Journal of the Bohemian Museum’. In Presl’s translation of Cuvier’s ‘Dissertation on the Transformations of the Earth’s Crust’ (dating from 1834) I found, inserted as a bookmark, a cutting from an old newspaper with a report of some strange lizards.
Upon reading your splendid article about those mysterious newts I remembered that bookmark and looked it up. I believe that it might be of interest to you and therefore, as an enthusiastic friend of nature and eager reader of your writings, enclose it herewith.
Respectfully yours,
J. V. Najman
The enclosed cutting contained neither the name of the paper nor a date; judging by the type and the orthography, however, it clearly came from the twenties or thirties of the last century; it was so yellowed and worn that it could only be read with difficulty. Professor Uher was on the point of throwing it into his wastepaper basket but somehow he was touched by the antiquity of the printed page; so he began to read. A moment later he gasped ‘Christ!’ and excitedly adjusted his spectacles. This was the text:
Thus far the cutting. Christ, Professor Uher repeated excitedly, why isn’t there a date or the name of the paper from which whoever it was cut this account? And what was that foreign newspaper, and what was the name of that certain captain or of that 
And which was the little island in the Australian ocean? Why couldn’t people have been more specific then - and, well, a little more scientific? Surely this was a historical record of immense value -
A small island in the Australian ocean, all right. A little lake with salt water. That suggested a coral island, an atoll with a salt lagoon 
the very place where such a fossil animal might survive, insulated from an evolutionarily more advanced environment and undisturbed in its natural reserve. True, it could not multiply greatly because it would not find very much food in that little lake thereof. So much was clear, thought the professor, catching himself thinking in the archaic language of the newspaper cutting. An animal resembling a lizard, but devoid of scales and walking upon two legs in the manner of Men: that meant either Andrias Scheuchzeri or some other salamander closely related to it. Let’s assume it was our Andrias. Let’s assume that those damned swimmers slew all specimens in the little lake and that but one pair got on board the ship alive, the pair which, but stay!, escaped into the sea near the island of Sumatra. In other words, directly on the equator, in conditions biologically most favourable and in an environment offering unlimited food supplies. Was it possible that such a change of environment imparted to the Miocene newt that powerful evolutionary impulse? It was certain that it was used to salt water; let us imagine its new habitat as a calm, land-locked bay with a great profusion of food. So what happens? Having been transplanted into optimal conditions the newt begins to flourish with colossal vital energy. That was it! The scientist was jubilant. The newt gets down to evolving with boundless appetite; it hurls itself into life like crazy; it multiplies fantastically because its eggs and tadpoles have no specific natural enemies in the new environment. It colonises island after island - though it is odd that it somehow should skip certain islands in its advance. Otherwise it’s a typical migration in search of food. And now comes the question: why didn’t it evolve earlier? Isn’t this perhaps connected with the evidence that in the Ethiopian-Australian zone no salamanders have been, or until quite recently were, recorded? Isn’t it possible that in the course of the Miocene period some changes occurred in that zone which were biologically unfavourable to the salamanders? It’s possible. Or could a specific enemy have appeared, one which simply exterminated the newts? Only on one single small island, in a small enclosed lake, did the Miocene newt survive - though, of course, at the price of evolutionary arrest. Its evolutionary progress was halted. Just like a wound coil-spring which couldn’t unwind. It’s not impossible that Nature had great plans for that newt, that it was meant to evolve further and further, higher and higher, who could tell how high … (Professor Uher felt a slight shiver run down his spine at this thought; who could tell if Andrias Scheuchzeri had not in fact been meant to become Miocene Man?)
But stay! That under-evolved animal suddenly finds itself in a new, infinitely more promising, environment; the coiled spring of evolution within it is released. And watch that vital elan, that Miocene exuberance with which Andrias hurls himself forward along the road of evolution! How feverishly he makes up for the hundreds of thousands and millions of years of evolution he has missed! Is it conceivable that he will content himself with the evolutionary stage he has reached today? Will the generic upsurge we have witnessed now exhaust itself - or is Andrias still only on the threshold of his evolution and just getting ready to rise to further, and who can say to what, heights?
Such were the reflections and prospects which Professor Vladimir Uher, Doctor of Science, jotted down as he gazed on that yellowed old newspaper cutting, quivering with the intellectual excitement of discovery. I’m going to put it in the newspaper, he said to himself; no one reads scientific journals. Everybody should understand the great natural event we are witnessing! As a headline I’ll have: DO THE NEWTS HAVE A FUTURE?
Except that the editorial staff at Lidove Noviny looked at Professor Uher’s article and shook their heads. Those newts again! I believe that our readers are sick and tired of those newts. Time to give them something different. And anyway a daily paper is no place for this scientific stuff.
In consequence the article on the evolution and future of the newts was never published.