CICADA. 169 



a great height from the ground ; the eggs brought 

 home were obtained at Colville. 



Striking in among the trees, and following on 

 a trail for about a quarter of a mile from our log- 

 house, I came suddenly on an open glade (or more 

 aptly, perhaps, I may compare it to a meadow), 

 such as one often stumbles on in Devonshire. 



The grass was green, and peeping out in all 

 directions were wild flowers of various species. 

 A tiny stream, clear as crystal, twisted its way 

 in many a bend and turn through this fairy spot. 

 No human voice had ever, perhaps, disturbed the 

 silence of this unusually solitary glen ; but the 

 song and twitter of birds, and the buzz and hum 

 of insect life, told at once that flower and tree 

 were alike inhabited. 



But there was one sound song, perhaps, I may 

 venture to call it that was clearer, shriller, and 

 more singularly tuneful than any other. It never 

 appeared to cease, and it came from everywhere 

 from the tops of the trees, from the trembling 

 leaves of the cottonwood, from the stunted 

 underbrush, from the flowers, the grass, the 

 rocks and boulders nay, the very stream itself 

 seemed vocal with hidden minstrels, all ch aunt- 

 ing the same refrain. It was the first time I 

 had heard this song in these wilds ; and although 



