BEETLE MUSICIANS 139 



the locust (I refer to the flying locust of our fields, 

 those "grasshoppers" so generous with their "molas- 

 ses;" these are the true locusts, the insect usually called 

 "locust" being the cicada] this individual fiddle of the 

 locust, then, is an inconspicuous instrument in itself, 

 being barely distinguishable by the ear without effort, 

 but in its myriadfold reenforcement it becomes an im- 

 portant element in the great meadow symphony. 



But while the grasshopper and locust tribes are re- 

 sponsible for most of our meadow music, there are yet 

 a few minor isolated musicians whose modest strains 

 we seldom hear, though individually their solos may be 

 superior to those of their recognized rivals. 



In a previous paper I alluded to the mysterious music 

 of the Antiopa butterfly, and the click- wheel rattle of 

 the "Coral-wing;" and I now desire to introduce to 

 the music -loving public a trio of instrumentalists whose 

 claims are not sufficiently recognized. But on second 

 thought, perhaps one of my performers is already famil- 

 iar to most of my readers, if not as a musician, assuredly 

 as a " horrible creature " and a " horrid bug," that brings 

 terror and confusion to the peaceful family group as- 

 sembled around the evening lamp. A low drone just 

 outside the window announces the visitor, and in a mo- 

 ment more he is buzzing and bumping about the ceil- 

 ing, and is soon master of the house, his formidable jaws 

 insuring him a respectful distance and careful attention. 



But if we forego formalities, and unceremoniously lift 

 our intruder by the nape of his neck, we learn of an ac- 

 complishment which doubtless explains his overweening 

 assurance. For, lo ! is he not the " first fiddle " of all 

 out- doors? "Squeak, squeak, squeak!" is his now in- 

 cessant refrain. It is well for us if we are content to 



