INSECT MINSTRELS. 347 



bell, but sweeter far, we know that Summer is nigh, 

 that the swallows are due, and that the Quince tree 

 will soon be decked with its porcelain blossoms. 

 There is something mysterious about this music 

 issuing from beneath the earth. So must the strains 

 of Orpheus have echoed forth from the dark caves of 

 Tasnarus as he descended to the lower regions to claim 

 the lost Eurydice. 



This insect is able to enjoy himself in solitude : 

 like the Greek philosopher, he has learnt the secret of 

 associating with himself, Diogenes may be perfectly 

 happy in his cask, but then he can peep out through 

 the bung-hole and see how the wide world is going on. 

 Whereas Gryllus can see nothing whatever from the 

 bottom of his burrow ; nor is it likely that he can hear 

 anything ; his own voice is far too loud. 



" Que faire dans un gite, si Ton ne songe ? " 



says the poet : but the cricket does nothing of the 

 sort. Dream and ponder ! Not he. He makes merry 

 in his dark retreat. " Est Ulubris." 



Lest any one should take me to task for enjoying 

 the music of the Mole Cricket, I will shelter myself 

 behind an authority which no naturalist will venture 

 to impugn. Says Gilbert White : " Sounds do not 

 always gives us pleasure according to their sweetness 

 and melody : nor do harsh sounds always displease. 

 We are more apt to be captivated or disgusted with 

 the associations which they promote than with the 

 notes themselves. Thus the shrilling of the field 

 Cricket, though sharp and stridulous, yet marvellously 

 delights some hearers, filling their minds with a train 

 of Summer ideas of everything that is rural, verdurous, 

 and joyous." 



