292 NATURE-STUDY REVIEW 



The odd little ears at the base of Mrs. Grasshopper's wings 

 are deafened this morning to the shrill voices which rent the very- 

 air about her. Her hundreds of young brothers are scraping 

 their drums with the queer files fastened to their hind legs. Some- 

 where in this throng of musicians is Mrs. Gray Grasshopper's 

 husband; but his drum sotmds very faint, for his heart is sad. 

 He is trying to forget his wife who, so soon after their wedding 

 feast, spread out her wings and left him. 



Thinking not of her lonely husband, but only of finding a firm, 

 dried reed suificently long and thick to cradle her young, Mrs. 

 Gray Grasshopper hurries on. Not for the briefest second will 

 she stop even to listen to the booming of the Bee- soldiers' guns, 

 as they fly from blossom to blossom. Nor, will she listen to 

 the rasping scale coming from Billy Quail's violin; neither will 

 she heed the doleful air Father Meadowlark scrapes from his 

 'cello. 



What cares Mrs. Gray Grasshopper for this lively music? What 

 cares she for anything but a place to store her little ones during 

 the long months of Fall and Winter. But she should stop now, 

 for only a moment, as the Cricket Brothers in the bushes close by, 

 are ringing their tiny, silver bells. And Mrs. Gray Grasshopper 

 knows they are playing some one's funeral anthem. 



"I wonder who it is?" this gray-brown lady asks of a very 

 old man grasshopper whom she meets near a tuft of yellow grass. 



"Jerry Bluejay is dead," the old man grasshopper replies, 

 "a Human Boy with a gun shot him this morning. You see lam 

 an invalid — I have but five legs and my wings are gone." 



"I have no time to talk with you," Mrs. Gray Grasshopper 

 snaps, striking the old fellow with her long antennae, or whiskers, 

 "and, besides, I think you are joking about your not having any 

 wings. I see something light resting upon your shoulder." 



"Oh, my dear, watch me. I cannot fly even one foot. Bob 

 White snipped off my real wings two days ago, and what you see 

 upon my shoulder is only my wing shields, of course I cannot 

 fly with them. May I come along with you? 



"Nonsense!" "I cannot bother with you." 



On and on she jimips until she reaches a small hazel busii 

 standing upon a barren knoll. 



**0h, this is splendid." says she. "I'll stop here for a moment's 

 rest and and a bite to eat. Also, I must keep my big eyes open 



