The Road to Dumbiedykes 



his friend the grasshopper. You never 

 know just what the next move is 

 going to be. I certainly do not envy 

 these ephemeral creatures their mode 

 of locomotion. To be compelled to 

 wind yourself up, spring the traps that 

 unloose your various legs, find yourself 

 projected aimlessly somewhere into 

 space, and fall all over yourself in the 

 landing may seem to them a pleasant 

 enough way of going through life, but 

 the movement seems to need what a 

 dancing teacher might call "smoothing 

 out." 



There is something most pathetic 

 about the last days of the cricket. 

 In some way the grasshoppers and the 

 katydids take their leave so quietly 

 and so privately that you know little 

 or nothing of their final exits. But 

 the cheery chirping cricket does not 

 make so graceful a goodbye. The 

 first frosts dull the edge of his music, 

 and give him rheumatism. He be- 

 comes a wandering wreck along the 

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