THE CICADA 



Indeed, there is one kind of Cicada who sacrifices a great 

 deal in order to give full play to his musical tastes. He 

 carries such an enormous sounding-board that there is 

 hardly any room left for his vital organs, which are 

 squeezed into a tiny corner. Assuredly one must be 

 passionately devoted to music thus to clear away one's 

 internal organs in order to make room for a musical box I 

 Unfortunately the song he loves so much is extremely 

 unattractive to others. Nor have I yet discovered its 

 object. It is usually suggested that he is calling his 

 mate; but the facts appear to contradict this idea. 



For fifteen years the Common Cicada has thrust his 

 society upon me. Every summer for two months I 

 have these insects before my eyes, and their song in my 

 ears. I see them ranged in rows on the smooth bark of 

 the plane-trees, the maker of music and his mate sitting 

 side by side. With their suckers driven into the tree 

 they drink, motionless. As the sun turns they also turn 

 round the branch with slow, sidelong steps, to find the 

 hottest spot. Whether drinking or moving they never 

 cease singing. 



It seems unlikely, therefore, that they are calling 

 their mates. You do not spend months on end calling 

 to some one who is at your elbow. 



Indeed, I am inclined to think that the Cicada him- 



[33] 



