The Life of the Grasshopper 



translate both of these into sound. In a 

 trailing melody, he sings to the bushes of his 

 happiness; in a like melody, hardly altered, 

 he pours forth his griefs and his fears. His 

 mate, herself an instrumentalist, shares this 

 privilege. She exults and laments with two 

 cymbals of another pattern. 



When all is said, the cogged drum need 

 not be looked down upon. It enlivens the 

 lawns, murmurs the joys and tribulations of 

 existence, sends the lover's call echoing all 

 around, brightens the weary waiting of the 

 lonely ones, tells of the perfect blossoming 

 of insect life. Its stroke of the bow is almost 

 a voice. 



And this magnificent gift, so full of 

 promise, is granted only to the inferior races, 

 coarse natures, near akin to the crude begin- 

 nings of the carboniferous period. If, as we 

 are told, the superior insect descends from 

 ancestors who have been gradually trans- 

 formed, why did it not preserve that fine in- 

 heritance of a voice which has sounded from 

 the earliest ages? 



Can it be that the theory of progressive 



acquirements is only a specious lure? Are 



we to abandon the savage theory of the 



crushing of the weak by the strong, of the 



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