The Life of the Grasshopper 



know that, by the time that the very hot 

 weather comes, the true Cricket, the chorister 

 of spring, has disappeared. His pleasant 

 violin has been succeeded by another more 

 pleasant still and worthy of special study. 

 We shall return to him at an opportune 

 moment. 



These then, limiting ourselves to select 

 specimens, are the principal participants in 

 this musical evening: the Scops-owl, with his 

 languorous solos; the Toad, that tinkler of 

 sonatas; the Italian Cricket, who scrapes the 

 first string of a violin ; and the Green Grass- 

 hopper, who seems to beat a tiny steel 

 triangle. 



We are celebrating to-day, with greater 

 uproar than conviction, the new era, dating 

 politically from the fall of the Bastille ; they, 

 with glorious indifference to human things, 

 are celebrating the festival of the sun, 

 singing the happiness of existence, sounding 

 the loud hosanna of the July heats. 



What care they for man and his fickle 

 rejoicings! For whom or for what will our 

 squibs be spluttering a few years hence? 

 Far-seeing indeed would he be who could 

 answer the question. Fashions change and 

 bring us the unexpected. The time-serving 

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