The Cricket: the Song 



sunset and continues for the best part of the 

 night. 



This song is known to everybody here, for 

 the smallest clump of bushes has its orches- 

 tra. It is heard even in the granaries, into 

 which the insect sometimes strays, attracted 

 by the fodder. But the pale Cricket's ways 

 are so mysterious that nobody knows exactly 

 the source of the serenade, which is very 

 erroneously ascribed to the Common Black 

 Cricket, who at this period is quite young 

 and silent. 



The song is a soft, slow gri-i-i, gri-i-i, 

 which is rendered more expressive by a slight 

 tremolo. On hearing it, we divine both the 

 extreme delicacy and the size of the vibrating 

 membranes. If nothing happen to disturb 

 the insect, settled in the lower leaves, the 

 sound remains unaltered; but, at the least 

 noise, the executant becomes a ventriloquist. 

 You heard him here, quite close, in front of 

 you; and now, all of a sudden, you hear him 

 over there, fifteen yards away, continuing 

 his ditty softened by distance. 



You move across. Nothing. The sound 



comes from the original place. No, it 



doesn't, after all. This time, it is coming 



from over there, on the left, or rather from 



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