244 THE NATURAL HISTORY [LETT. 



for liquids, being found frequently drowned in pans of water, 

 milk, broth, or the like. Whatever is moist they affect ; and 

 therefore often gnaw holes in wet woollen stockings and 

 nprons that are hung to the fire : they are the housewife's 

 barometer, foretelling her when it will rain ; and they prognos- 

 ticate sometimes, she thinks, good or ill luck ; the death of 

 near relations, or the approach of an absent lover. By being 

 the constant companions of her solitary hours, they naturally 

 become the objects of her superstition. These crickets are not 

 only very thirsty, but very voracious ; for they will eat the 

 scummings of pots, and yeast, salt, and crumbs of bread ; and 

 any kitchen offal or sweepings. In the summer we have 

 observed them to fly out of the windows when it became dusk, 

 and over the neighbouring roofs. This feat of activity accounts 

 for the sudden manner in which they often leave their haunts, 

 as it does for the method by which they come to houses where 

 they were not known before. It is remarkable, that many 

 sorts of insects seem never to use their wings but when they 

 have a mind to shift their quarters and settle new colonies. 

 When in the air they move volatu undoso, in " waves or curves," 

 like woodpeckers, opening and shutting their wings at every 

 stroke, and so are always rising or sinking. 



When they increase to a great degree, as they did once in 

 the house where I am now writing, they become noisome pests, 

 flying into the candles, and dashing into people's faces; but 

 may be blasted and destroyed by gunpowder discharged into 

 their crevices and crannies. 



[In November, after the servants are gone to bed, the kitchen 

 hearth swarms with minute crickets not so large as fleas, which 

 must have been lately hatched, so that these domestic insects, 

 cherished by the influence of a constant and large fire, regard 

 not the season of the year, but produce their young at a time 

 when their congeners are either dead or laid up for the winter, 

 passing away the uncomfortable months in a state of torpidity. 



When house-crickets are out and running about a room in 

 the night, if surprised by a candle, they utter two or three 

 shrill notes, as if it were a signal to their fellows, that they 

 may escape to their crannies and lurking-places to avoid danger.] 



