IXSECT MINSTRELS. 349 



he strikes up, and he stops when he can hold out no 

 longer. He may be out of tune ; he cares not a rap. 

 I have heard a Cricket quite a semitone flat. Up 

 somewhere in the seventh position, so to speak, he 

 shrills his strident solo. The altos may come in where 

 they can. His style is simple ; but for staccato and 

 pizzicato w T ho can beat him ? 



Older than the song of birds is the music of the 

 Cricket. The Palseornis of the Weald, and that 

 strange feathered creature of the Solenhofen States, 

 may seem to us to be incalculably ancient But 

 they are new-comers on this planet, if we compare 

 them with the great Cricket of the old Devonian age. 

 " The stridulating or musical apparatus of this 

 primeval insect " (says Lyell) " introduces us to the 

 sounds of the Devonian woods, bringing before our 

 imagination the trill and hum of insect life that 

 enlivened the solitudes of these strange old forests." 



Thoreau would postpone any business to hear 

 a Cricket sing. Yes, the simple sounds and sights of 

 Nature are a necessity to certain men. The townsman 

 knows not the meaning of this ; nor can he under- 

 stand the painful and paralysing effect of the pande- 

 monium roar of London upon the man who loves the 

 wilds. 



Now we come to the Cicada (Fig. 119). How to 

 describe her song ? I shall not venture to attempt it. 

 Anacreon has called the Tettix "blessed": what further 

 compliment is needed ? The Diva of the insect world 

 would scorn our little bouquets. Hers are no modest 

 drawing-room pieces, but a wild, fierce, passionate 

 whirling chant, like that of the sun worshippers of 

 old, as they danced intoxicated round the image of 



