VOCAL ¢ INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC OF INSECTS. 379 
whay!” that might have been the parting sigh of the Sisters of 
Phaeton. As time went on I captured one of the performers, 
and examined the expanded membranes concealed by the flaps 
beneath its body, on whose surface I found two raised horny 
needles corresponding to the corresponding ones on the similarly 
placed ears of grasshoppers and moths, to which I discovered 
with some difficulty that a ganglion was similarly connected. 
These organs are more conspicuous in the male than in the 
female Cicada, and before leaving Madonna del Pilone I made 
some other careful drawings of their structure in Tettigia orni 
and Tibicina hematodes, as would appear. Some of the Cicadas 
were cleared off by a small bird which sat on the bushes that grew 
on the sunny side of a hill, and twittered to provoke a response 
and discover their whereabouts; their choir in July was aug- 
mented by a smaller species that appeared on the scene with a 
seraping note of ‘‘chip-chip!”’ Plebeja ceased to sing on the 26th 
of July, and then the copper-shaking cries of Cicada orni alone 
resounded from the tall poplars and aspens, until, on the 1st of 
August, a mournful silence had settled on the shady avenue at 
the side of the Po. There is a well-known ride from Madonna 
del Pilone to the summit of the eminence of the Superga, where 
at times a grand panorama of the Alpine peaks can be enjoyed, 
but it should be accomplished before sunrise, for during the day 
they are obscured with haze. The thick-pated shepherd Cory- 
don, with whom the poet Virgil was acquainted, must have lived 
somewhere on those mountains, where the Cicadas were accus- 
tomed to screak among the bay and myrtle scrub. 
- While sojourning with my relatives at Guildford, in Surrey, I 
made some drawings of the frescoes in St. Mary’s Church, and 
the carvings on the castle wall. I read the local guide-books ; 
the romantic adventures of the Plantagenet Kings captivated 
my imagination, and to satisfy my curiosity I took an anti- 
quarian tour in 1884 down Western EKurope, until I arrived at 
the mud-plastered town of Valladolid. On the 27th of June I 
took a walk in the public gardens, which were full of luxuriant 
blossoms, but so solitary it seemed a scene of some story such 
as is told in the ‘Arabian Nights.’ On arriving at the calm 
sunny waters of the Pisuerga, where there were pleasure boats 
and rafts of timber floating, I again heard Cicada plebeja per- 
262 
