146 HAMPSHIRE DAYS 



people of the southern countries of Europe infinitely 

 less than they were to some of the civilised nations of 

 antiquity, and than they are to the Japanese of to-day. 

 This is, I suppose, on account of their rarity with us, 

 for our best singers are certainly somewhat rare or else 

 exceedingly local. The field-cricket, which must be 

 passed over in this chapter to be described later on, 

 is an instance in point. The universal house-cricket 

 is known to and in -some degree loved by all or most 

 persons; it is the cricket on the hearth, that warm, 

 bright, social spot when the world outside is dark and 

 cheerless; the lively, companionable sound endears 

 itself to the child, and later in life is dear because of 

 its associations. The field-grasshopper, too, is familiar 

 to every one in the summer pastures ; but the best of 

 our insect musicians, the great green grasshopper, 

 appears to be almost unknown to the people. Here, 

 for instance, where I am writing, there is one on the 

 table which stridulates each afternoon, and in the 

 evening when the lamp is lighted. The sustained 

 bright shrilling penetrates to all parts of the house, 

 and in the tap-room of the inn, two rooms away, the 

 villagers, coming in for their evening beer and conver- 

 sation, are startled at the unfamiliar, sharp, silvery 

 sound, and ask if it is a bird. 



Probably it is owing to this rarity of our best insect 

 singers, and partly, too, perhaps to the disagreeable 

 effect on our ears of the loud cicadas heard during our 

 southern travels, that an idea is produced in us of 



