The White-faced Decticus: his Habits 



fuls, behold him stridulating once more. 

 The tune is certainly lacking in spirit. It is 

 far from being as brilliant or prolonged as 

 it was before the wedding; but, after all, the 

 poor old crock is doing his best. 



Can he have any further amorous pre- 

 tensions? It is hardly likely. Affairs of 

 that kind, calling for ruinous expenditure, 

 are not to be repeated : it would be too much 

 for the works of the organism. Neverthe- 

 less, next day and every day after, when a 

 diet of Locusts has duly renewed his strength, 

 the Decticus scrapes his bow as noisily as 

 ever. He might be a novice, instead of a 

 glutted veteran. His persistence surprises 

 me. 



If he be really singing to attract the atten- 

 tion of his fair neighbours, what would he do 

 with a second wife, he who has just extracted 

 from his paunch a monstrous wallet in which 

 all life's savings were accumulated? He is 

 thoroughly used up. No, once more, in the 

 big Grasshopper these things are too costly 

 to be done all over again. To-day's song, 

 despite its gladness, is certainly no epi- 

 thalamium. 



And, if you watch him closely, you will 

 see that the singer no longer responds to the 

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