Chapter II: Part 2

Charlie says he has seen these fellows in Kansas, and Nellie says she has a cousin in the South who has told her about them.

Here is a picture of one; is it not a beauty!

Its wings are green and its body is brown, so that it can stealthily creep about among the foliage without being noticed.

When at rest it holds its front legs up as though it were raising its arms in an attitude of devotion.

But not a thought of devotion lies in that cruel little head. There is only one idea there; and if any unwary insect were to come along, those devotional arms would be thrust out with incredible rapidity, and the unfortunate insect clasped tightly in them.

Then the mantis, hugging its prey in the strong trap-like clasp of its spiked legs, would coolly proceed to devour it alive, eating it as a boy would eat an apple.

This praying mantis is called a "mule-killer" in the South, where the people think the brown liquor it spits out of its mouth, when disturbed, is fatal to mules.

The mantis is also called a devil-horse, a rear-horse, a camel-cricket, and many other names inspired by its outlandish appearance.

Some have even thought it looked wise, standing in that knowing attitude with extended arms, and so it has been called prophet and soothsayer, as though it could foretell what is going to happen.

Undoubtedly it never foretells anything but the approaching death of some insect and possibly a coming change in the weather, for insects often know when the weather is going to change long before we do.

Although our mantes are brown or green, there are a great many species living in hot countries that are much more brightly attired; and when you find yourself on a visit to the tropics, you must look for the flower mantis.

It mimics in color the brilliant hues of the showy orchids in which it hides.

It does not seem to wear its gorgeous robes from a love for the beautiful, however, but rather that it may the better lie concealed in the heart of the gay flowers, to pounce upon unsuspecting insects that come there for refreshing draughts of honey.

In some parts of Africa the mantis is worshipped by the natives, and in France these fellows are believed to point out the way to travellers by stretching out one leg when questioned.

Its strange attitude, with uplifted arms, has won the mantis regard in all parts of the world, though the insects it clasps in these uplifted arms would not be likely to share the good opinion held of this hardy cannibal.

For it is a cannibal, and enjoys eating another mantis as much as anything else.

The mantes are terrible fighters, too, and if there is a meeting between two of them, there is very apt to be a battle in which one is vanquished and devoured by the other.

Our mantis lays its eggs, thirty or forty in number, on tree twigs, and they are embedded in a soft substance that soon becomes very tough and horny. These strange egg-cases of the mantis are easily recognized because they look as though they were braided on top, as you can see in the picture.

Yes, May, the tough covering is to protect the eggs from wet and from prying birds and hungry insects.

The young mantes are similar to their parents, only they have no wings. But they hold up their spiny front legs and catch insects, and they grow and moult in the usual way.

While we have been talking about leaf-like insects and mule-killers our walking stick has gone off.

Well, well, let him go, and good luck go with him.

I am glad you like the walking stick, children.

And now, May, let me tell you something.

This queer fellow is a very near relative of your friend, the cockroach.

THE GRASSHOPPER TRIBES

Don't you often wonder where they come from? The swarms of grasshoppers in the late summer?

Charlie says he walked across a field last night where he believes there were as many grasshoppers as there were blades of grass.

Just think of it! and yet they do not seem to do any harm.

In some places, however, they do a great deal of harm.

They come flying in swarms that darken the sun, and they settle on the trees and the crops and eat up every green thing. There is nothing a Western farmer dreads so much as the passing of the grasshoppers.

Grasshoppers are funny little fellows, and we like them--when there are not too many of them.

Summer would not seem quite like summer unless we heard the grasshoppers shrilling.

There are a great many species of them, and we have placed them in two divisions,--The Shorthorned Grasshoppers and The Longhorned Grasshoppers.

THE SHORTHORNED GRASSHOPPERS

They have no horns, of course, but some have short antennæ that stick out like little horns, and those we call shorthorned.

The right name for the shorthorned grasshoppers is locusts.

We call another insect a locust, but the shorthorned grasshoppers are the true locusts.

Some say it was these locusts that John the Baptist ate with his honey in the wilderness.

A good many people in different parts of the world still eat locusts.

They are said to be good food when roasted, but I would rather eat roasted peanuts.

Come here, little locust, and let us look at you.

Now, stand still, and show us your short "horns."

See its eyes!

Yes, May, they are compound eyes, but I do not know how many facets they have.

What a funny little rabbit face it has.

See it move its little mouth parts.

It bites bits out of the leaves and chews them up very fast.

Has it teeth? May is asking.

Well, yes, but not like our teeth. Sometime you must see the mouth parts of the grasshopper under the microscope. They are very interesting.

Mollie says the locust has a cape on.

John says the cape is the top of its thorax.

Frank has been counting its legs; he says it has six.

See it walk. It uses all six legs to walk with.

But it does something besides walk with its hind legs.

Yes, it jumps with them. How long and large they are! Now watch it jump.

See! It draws those long hind legs close up to its body, then suddenly straightens them out--and away it goes as though it had been shot from a spring board.

John says its hind legs work just like a spring, and so they do. It can leap several times the length of its body. Amy thinks it should be called a grass-jumper instead of a grasshopper.

Suppose we all look carefully at the locust's long hind leg, segment by segment.

What, John? You do not know what a segment is?

Well, a segment is the part between two joints. The joints are where the leg bends, you know.

May proposes that we draw a picture of the long hind leg.

It will be fun to try.

There are two tiny segments close to the body.

If you are not careful, you will find only one.

You must look sharp to see both of them.

How well Charlie has drawn his! He has both the little segments.

The one next the body we will mark I, and we will call it the coxa.

The next little one we will mark II, and that we will call the trochanter.

The long, strong one, III, we will call the femur.

The next one, long and narrow, we will mark IV, and call the tibia.

All the rest of the leg, made of several short segments, we will call the tarsus, and we will mark it V.

Now how are we to remember all those hard names?

Here is a jingle that perhaps will help us:--

_Coxa_ first, and then _trochanter_,
Number three the _femur_ stands,
After this, the long, straight _tibia_,
And last of all the _tarsus_ comes.

Now let us see who can learn it first.

Charlie says we are taking a good deal of trouble over the hind legs of a grasshopper.

Very true, Mr. Philosopher, but let me tell you something.

When we have learned the names of the segments in the grasshopper's hind leg, we have learned the names of the segments in the legs of all insects.

You see all the legs are made on one common plan, and it is very convenient, as you will soon see, to have the parts named.

What a fine set of drawings of the grasshopper's hind leg we have!

Why do you suppose the coxa and trochanter are so small?

Yes, John, it is in order that the leg can move easily.

The grasshopper can turn its leg in almost any direction because of these small upper segments.

It can put its leg up over its head if it wants to. Next to the little coxa and trochanter is the longest and largest segment in the grasshopper's leg; I suppose nobody remembers its name.

Listen to little Nell,--"number three the _femur_ stands."

So it does, and what a very useful femur it is!

If it were not for the long femur and the long, slender tibia, the grasshopper would not be a grasshopper--it could not hop at all.

Watch the grasshopper, and see how he uses those long segments to jump with.

First he draws the tibia close up to the femur--now he is off!

He just straightened those long hind legs out with a jerk, and away he went!

What do you suppose the two little sharp spines at the end of the tibia are for?

What, May? You did not see any spines?

Look again.

See, Charlie has drawn them very plainly in his picture of the grasshopper's leg. Mark them _s_, Charlie.

Now we must all look at Charlie's picture.

He says he thinks he knows what the spines are for--they are to keep the grasshopper from slipping when he makes his leap forward.

I have no doubt Charlie is right.

May wants us to look at the beautiful little hinge x where the femur and the tibia are fastened together.

Let us mark it _X_.

See the little ball on the end of the tibia. How well it fits into the hollow on the end of the femur.

In order to see this hollow or groove, you must look on the under side of the leg.

Yes, John, it reminds us of the ball-and-socket joint, only this is a hinge joint, and does not move in so many directions.

The tibia can move towards the femur and away from it on this hinge.

When our little friend gets ready to jump, he draws the tibia close up to the femur. When he jumps, he pushes the femur quickly away from the tibia.

If you watch the grasshoppers, you will soon understand just how they use their hind legs in jumping.

The tarsus bends easily.

It has three joints.

The last segment is a cunning little foot.

What is John doing?

He is looking at the grasshopper's foot through the magnifying glass. Wise John!

Let us all look.

Yes, Charlie, we will try to draw it.

Mollie has hers drawn already. Do not hurry too much, Mollie. You cannot draw well if you hurry.

See the sharp claw on each side of the foot.

Let us mark these claws _a_ and _b_.

Between them is a flat little pad which we may as well mark _c_.

May says her picture looks like a crazy pond lily.

Let us see, May. Well, it _is_ rather funny.

If I were you, I should try again. Any child can learn to draw who will keep trying.

Touch the grasshopper's foot with the tip of your finger.

How the little foot clings to you!

It clings by the two little claws that have caught in your skin, and that hold fast.

What do you suppose the little pad between the claws is for?

It is important, I can tell you.

John says he has heard there is a little pad in the fly's foot that enables it to walk on glass.

Yes, and it is the same with the grasshopper.

The little pad between the claws is fringed with hairs.

You can see them with a good magnifying glass.

Out of the tip of each hair comes a little drop of sticky liquid.

This fastens the foot to any smooth surface.

Many insects have these sticky hairs on their foot pads.

When a fly walks up a window pane, it does it by gluing its feet, one after the other, to the glass.

I don't wonder you laugh.

No, Mollie, the glue does not harden and hold it fast.

The fly can easily pull its foot loose. The grasshopper cannot walk on glass quite as well as the fly. Its foot pads do not cling so well.

Would you not like to know the name of these curious little foot pads?

We call the foot pad a _pulvillus_.

Some insects do not have sticky hairs on the pulvillus.

There are beetles that simply put the pulvillus so flat against a smooth surface that it stays there by the pressure of the air above.

Some people think that is the way the pulvillus on the fly's foot acts.

Perhaps it acts both ways, sucking fast and sticking by hairs.

John wants to know if the beetle's pulvillus does not act just like the "sucker" that boys make.

The sucker, you know, is a round piece of leather with a string attached to the middle.

When the leather is wet and laid flat on the floor or on a smooth stone, all the air below it is pushed out, and the air above presses so hard that a boy cannot pull the leather up from the floor.

You can peel it up from one edge and let the air under easily enough, and then a baby could lift it.

When the insect wants to move, it peels its foot loose.

It can do this very quickly.

Mollie wants to know what all these little sharp spines on the back of the tibia are for.

Let us look at them.

There is a double row of them.

Do they not look a little like a comb?

I suspect that is what they are, the grasshopper's comb.

Insects are very neat little folks.

They are always cleaning their wings and their legs and their antennæ and their bodies.

The spines on their legs are very convenient for that.

Charlie says he thinks the grasshopper's legs are as good as a whole box of tools.

So they are, and you have not yet heard all they can do.

The funniest is to come.

Mr. Grasshopper sings his song with his hind legs!

He rubs the inside of his femurs against the outside of his wings.

There is a row of very fine spines down the inside of the femur for the use of the little fiddler.

He scrapes away with these on his wing covers.

Yes, Ned, his femur is his violin bow, and his wing cover is his violin.

The noise he makes does not sound much like a violin, little Nell thinks.

No, indeed, it does not.

It is the shrilling sound we hear in the grass in the summer time.

It is only the male grasshopper that sings.

The little lady grasshopper sits still and listens to him.

Now, let us look at the other legs.

The front pair are the smallest.

Can you find the little coxa and trochanter?

Yes, Charlie, we will draw the little front leg.

Let us number the segments as we did those of the hind leg.

See, the femur is larger than the other segments, but it is small as compared to the femur of the hind leg.

The tibia is shorter, too, than the tibia of the hind leg.

The little tarsus is like the tarsus of the hind leg with its claws and its pulvillus, only, of course, it is smaller.

The middle pair of legs is like the front pair, only larger.

Now, see how the legs are placed on the grasshopper's body.

The front pair are directed forward. When the insect walks, they pull.

The middle and hind legs are directed backward. When the insect walks, they push.

Well, little legs, you all have your own work to do, and you surely do it very well.

Let me see, who has front legs as odd as the grasshopper's hind legs.

Yes, Mollie, the mantis has.

Let us look again at the mantis.

Here is another picture of it.

Its hind legs are just common walking legs, you see.

And so are its middle legs.

John says they are directed forward instead of backward.

You can see why.

They have to take the place of the front legs, that do not touch the ground at all.

They have to hold Mr. Mantis up, and pull him along when he wants to walk.

Now, let us see if we can make anything out of these front legs.

The coxa is small and close to the body.

The trochanter, II, is very large and long.

Yes, Charlie, it increases the size and strength of the leg very greatly, by being thus enlarged.

The femur, III, is large and strong, too, and it has a row of sharp, spiny teeth down the inside.

The tibia, IV, is also well supplied with cruel teeth, and at the end of it is the tarsus, as you see.

You know how the mantis uses these legs. The joint between the tibia and femur is a strong hinge joint. If can shut the tibia close to the femur, the spiny teeth of the one locking into the spiny teeth of the other, and forming a terrible trap for the insects that are so unfortunate as to get caught in its merciless grip.

Altogether, you see, it is quite a terrible leg, though it has no more segments than a common leg.

The segments are changed in shape and size from the regular leg segments.

When any part is changed from the regular shape or size, we say it is _modified_.

The front legs of the mantis are modified to catch and hold its prey.

Yes, John, the hind legs of the grasshopper are modified too.

They are modified to jump with.

Ned says he didn't know there was so much to learn about a little thing like an insect's leg.

Yes, indeed, there is a great deal to learn about all living things.

I wonder how you would like to look at the grasshopper's wings for a little while.

Here is one with large wings.

See how they lie along each side of the body.

They come together on top like the ridge of a sloping house roof.

Yes, May, they are the roof to the grasshopper's body, and they help to protect it.

Let us gently spread them out.

Ah! these roof wings are not what the locust flies with at all.

See, folded up under them is a pair of delicate gauzy wings.

If we are careful, we can spread them out.

We will use this dead grasshopper that Charlie has found.

What pretty wings! So dainty! And how cleverly they are folded up, like little fans.

Who would imagine such delicate gauzy wings were folded away under the hard, stiff roof wings.

The roof wings are called wing covers, because they cover up these pretty inner wings.

The locust does not fly with the wing covers.

It spreads them out wide to get them out of the way.

It flies with the inner wings.

How pretty the flying wings are when they are spread out!

See, over there goes a grasshopper whose flying wings are bright yellow.

And there goes another with red flying wings.

Some of the grasshoppers are almost as pretty as butterflies when they are flying.

They show their gay inner wings only during flight.

As soon as the grasshopper comes to rest the inner wings close of themselves.

The wing joints act like springs.

The grasshopper does not have to think about shutting up its wings.

John says it has a spring in its wing covers too.

Open the wing cover.

There, it locks itself, as it were, and stays open without any effort on the part of the grasshopper.

You see the grasshopper wants its wing covers to stay open and out of the way of the inner wings when it flies.

So it just opens them, and there they are.

It moves the inner wings very fast indeed when it is flying. It would not do at all for them to be fastened open.

If it did not move them, it could not fly. The wings fairly _whirr_, they go so fast. They beat against the air, and thus the grasshopper is pushed along through the air.

As soon as it is done flying it stops moving the wings, and they instantly close of themselves.

Then it unlocks the wing covers and they shut down over the inner wings. They shut down very tightly. They overlap, as you can see, just below where they are fastened to the insect's body. Thus they form a very good roof.

What wonderful wings the grasshopper has!

And there is something more to be said about them.

Some species of locusts use their wings as musical instruments. When they wish to, they rub the upper end of the inner wings against the upper end of the wing covers when they are flying.

This makes the crackling sound we sometimes hear when the locusts fly.

What is that, Mollie? You have caught a locust that has no wings at all?

Who can guess why?

Ah, yes, our wise John says he thinks it is because it is a young one.

What makes you think so, John?

I know, you remembered the larva of the dragon fly and of the May fly.

Those larvæ had no wings at first, but the wings grew, and finally at the last moult they were full-sized.

When first hatched, the locust larva is like the full-grown locust, only, of course, it is very small, and it has no wings at all.

It is a little dot of a thing with an enormous head.

Here are three clinging to a blade of grass.

Are they not funny little rascals!

The baby locust eats and grows and moults until, finally, the wings begin to show as little pads at its sides.

It is easy to find these half-grown grasshoppers in the middle of the summer.

Here is one that little Nell has caught.

See its wing pads.

Mollie says they are rudimentary wings.

It continues to eat and grow and moult, and the little wings are moulted off with the rest of the skin--for the wings of the insect are only modified parts of the skin.

But there are new and larger wings underneath, and these grow and are moulted off with the next skin, until, at last, the grasshopper is full-grown, with full-grown wings.

It will not moult any more after that.

When full-grown, the females lay their eggs.

Where do you suppose they lay their eggs?

Some of them make a hole in the ground.

The end of the abdomen is very strong and sharp, and the locust can make a hole with it quite easily.

When the hole is made, then the eggs are laid in it, and the locust covers the opening to the hole with a sticky substance to keep out the wet.

The eggs usually lie in the ground all winter.

Just think of the locust eggs there are under our feet as we cross the fields!

Millions and millions of little eggs are hidden in the ground.

Early in the next summer the little eggs hatch, and then tiny locusts creep up out of the earth and go hopping about everywhere.

Most of the full-grown locusts die in the fall.

As you know, the young ones have no wings, and this is why there are so few winged locusts early in the summer.

Some locusts make their holes in fence rails or in old stumps.

It is the locusts, or shorthorned grasshoppers, that sometimes come in swarms that darken the sun.

There is nothing the Western farmer dreads so much as a swarm of locusts.

I have heard how the grasshoppers came in Kansas one year.

They appeared all of a sudden in countless millions.

They were piled up against the fences clear to the top.

They swarmed into the houses, and in places on the railroad track they were piled so deep the trains could not run through them.

Think of a railway train being stopped by grasshoppers!

They stripped every leaf from the trees and left them as bare as in winter.

They ate up every blade of grass.

But in the East they do not do so much damage, though they sometimes cause the farmers serious loss. When summer comes we may listen to their cheery din with pleasure.

I am sure we shall enjoy the merry sounds of the grasshoppers all the more now that we know something about how they are made, and something about the little fellow that makes them.

THE LONGHORNED GRASSHOPPERS

Probably it was the longhorned grasshoppers that Charlie saw so many of in the meadow.

Look, next time, Charlie, and see if the swarms that start up before you have not long, slender antennæ.

See, here is one.

Its antennæ are like threads, and they are longer than its body.

If you were to look at its tarsus, you would find it had four joints instead of three.

Otherwise, the longhorned, or meadow grasshoppers are very much like the locusts, or shorthorned grasshoppers.

John says he thinks the meadow grasshoppers are more slender and delicate in shape.

That is true, as a rule, though there are some species of the locusts that are as slender as the longhorned grasshoppers.

But there is one thing about these longhorned fellows that will amuse you.

Some of them have ears on their front legs!

It is not uncommon for insects to have hearing organs on their front legs.

You know what an ear is. It is something to hear with. The hearing part of our own ears is way inside, out of sight.

The outer part of the ear, that we can take hold of, is only a sort of funnel to gather up the sound, and we could still hear if this part of our ears were cut off.

Way back inside the ear is a little curtain, or eardrum, made of a thin membrane.

When sounds enter the ear they cause the eardrum to tremble or vibrate, and this excites the nerve of hearing that is behind the eardrum.

Now some grasshoppers have a little flat membrane on the tibia of each front leg. It is an eardrum. Behind it is the nerve of hearing. When sounds strike the eardrum it vibrates and excites the nerve of hearing.

So you see the insects have _ears_, though they have no funnel-like outsides to them.

So, after all, there isn't so _very_ much difference between the way the grasshoppers hear, and the way we hear, although they do hear with their legs.

Yes, Ned, it is about the same thing when they hear with sensitive spots on their antennæ.

The sounds strike the sensitive spots, which are tiny eardrums, and cause the nerves that come to them to hear.

You see, after all, an ear is only a membrane able to vibrate when sounds strike it and a nerve sensitive to those sounds.

It does not matter much where the ear is located. Our ears are on either side of our head, and so are the ears of all the higher animals.

But the ears of the insects are more useful to them when on the antennæ, or the legs, or some have them on the abdomen. An ear is an ear wherever it happens to be, and the insects hear well enough with theirs.

In many species of the longhorned grasshoppers, the male has a curious musical instrument on his wing covers, close to where they grow from the body.

Little Mr. Grasshopper sings to his lady-love by rubbing the upper parts of the wing covers together. You see the round places at _X_,--those are the modified parts of the wing cover, by means of which he can make his music.

What is that, May? Your grasshopper has a long sword at the end of its body?

Yes, that is its ovipositor. Ovipositor means "egg-placer."

With this long, sharp ovipositor the grasshopper can roughen the bark of twigs or make holes in the stems of plants or in the earth.

Then the eggs are guided down through the long ovipositor to the place prepared for them, and fastened there by a gummy substance.

Only the female grasshoppers have the long, sword-shaped ovipositor.

The ovipositor of the locust is not long and sword-like.

It is short, but it is strong and sharp, and you remember how the locust uses it to dig with.

Yes, indeed, Mollie, there are a great many species of locusts and grasshoppers, and some of them are very beautiful.

In hot countries they sometimes grow to an enormous size.

May is asking why they make molasses.

No, Ned, of course it isn't molasses. Children call it molasses because it looks like it.

Now, May, where does it make its molasses?

In its mouth, you say, and then it spits it out on your finger.

What? You don't like its old molasses on your finger?

No, of course not.

It smells bad, and it is sticky and disagreeable to the touch, and if you happen to put your finger in your mouth it has a nasty taste.

John says he hates to touch the grasshopper on account of this molasses.

You _all_ do?

Well, I guess that is why it makes its molasses; it doesn't want you to touch it.

It doesn't want birds to eat it, or other insects to bother it, and so it smears them with this ill-smelling, sticky liquid.

Some birds eat it, however, in spite of its molasses.

Turkeys do.

What is that, Ned? turkeys are not birds, you think?

What are they?

If you think about it, you will have to come to the conclusion that turkeys are birds.

Then chickens and ducks and geese must be birds?

Well, so they are. They are all birds.

But to return to turkeys.

A flock of turkeys will spread out in a long line, and go across a field, driving the grasshoppers ahead of them, and eating them as fast as they can pick them up.

It is a funny sight to see a big flock of turkeys hunting grasshoppers in a meadow.

It is not funny to the grasshoppers, though.

What is that, Charlie? The grasshopper somehow reminds you of the praying mantis?

Do you know it is a near relative of the mantis?

Now, I will tell you something funny about the mantis.

It makes "molasses" like the grasshopper. Yes, it is this harmless "molasses" that has given it the name of "mule-killer."

I will tell you something else. If you lie down in the grass and watch the grasshoppers, you will have a good time, and you will see some strange things.

Nobody can tell you very much about the grasshoppers--or about the living creature. The best way is to use your own eyes and watch.

Just lie down in the grass perfectly still, and soon the insects that live in the grass will begin to appear.

What they will do you must find out for yourselves; but you may be sure it will be worth finding out,--the funny, clever, wise little people!--ah! they are good to watch.

They will soon go on chirping and shrilling and rasping and kricking and tapping and whizzing and whirring and buzzing all about you; and if you listen sharp, perhaps you can understand some of the things they say.

And this I am sure of; if you really watch and listen, you can learn to know the different insects by their sounds, just as you can know the birds by their songs. You can even tell whether you are listening to the meadow grasshopper, or the locust.

If I thought you were not tired of hearing how grasshoppers are made, I should tell you some more.

John says he would like to know some more.

Well, then, I will tell you about their rings.

You can see the rings of the grasshopper people very plainly in their abdomens.

Here is a picture of a grasshopper. It is not all drawn. The legs and wings are not shown, and the abdomen is drawn by itself so you can see it easily.

There are ten rings, you see.

The rings are covered with a hard, horny substance.

This horny substance is what makes the body of the insect so stiff. It would be soft but for the chitin, as the horny substance is called.

It is better for the insect to have a chitinous covering.

If you had no bones, you would be glad to have your skin hardened with chitin.

You see how it is, you wear your skeleton inside. Your skeleton is of bones; it is an inside skeleton.

The grasshoppers and all the insects wear their skeleton outside. It is made of chitin; it is an outside skeleton.

Insects have no bones.

They do not need any. They are kept stiff by the chitin.

Each ring in the insect's abdomen is made of four pieces, the back piece, the side pieces, and the under piece. You can see the back piece and one side piece in the picture, but you cannot see the other side piece nor the under piece without turning the insect over.

The rings are made in pieces so the insect can move.

Suppose each ring were made of one stiff piece like a finger ring. What a poor stiff, old grasshopper it would be! The rings are called segments.

Segment number one has only a back piece, you see.

All the other segments have four pieces.

Segments two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight are alike.

Segments nine and ten are modified to form the ovipositor.

The segments are fastened together by skin. The skin is soft so the segments can move back and forth.

The segments can be crowded close together to shorten the abdomen.

The segments can be separated from each other to lengthen the abdomen.

There is no chitin in the skin between the segments. It is soft so the segments can move.

Do you know how a telescope is made?

The abdomen of the insect can lengthen and shorten somewhat like a telescope.

It is easy to see the rings in the abdomen of the locust or grasshopper.

Now, what about the thorax?

That, you tell me, has no rings.

Look again, and look carefully.

You will have to see another picture.

This is a picture of the head and thorax of the grasshopper. It is drawn to show the separate parts of the thorax.

Yes, John, the thorax has three segments. They are grown so close together you would not suspect it until you looked very close.

The front legs are fastened to the first segment.

What is fastened to the middle segment?

Yes, May, the middle pair of legs and the wing covers.

Mollie says the long hind legs and the flying wings are fastened to the third or hind segment.

Oh, you funny little folks! you are all made up of rings.

Yes, indeed, little Nell, the segments of the thorax are made of chitin; they are very stiff.

Ned thinks the segments of the legs are made of chitin too.

Their outside shell certainly is.

The whole outer shell of the insect is made of the horny chitin.

You hard little chitin-covered, segmented people, you are very different from us.

Ah! yes, May, they are like us in many ways.

Indeed, Mollie, insects do have brains.

They have muscles, too, to move their little bodies with.

We have muscles under our skin, you know. The muscles move our arms and legs and bodies.

If you clasp your fingers around your arm and then move your arm, you can feel the muscles.

The insects have muscles inside their chitinous shells. The muscles move their bodies.

The muscles are very, very strong.

They are stronger for their size than the muscles of a horse.

John, do you know how heavy a load a horse can pull?

Well, it cannot pull a load equal to the weight of its own body.

Now, listen to this,--almost any insect can pull a load that is five times the weight of its body!

Ah, yes, some insects can pull a much heavier weight than that. The honey bee, for instance, can pull a load twenty times as heavy as its body.

And think how our little insect friends can jump! Why, a kangaroo cannot begin to jump like a grasshopper.

No, indeed, Ned, the finest jumper in the world of men cannot begin to jump as well as a grasshopper, not even with the aid of a spring board. He is a mere baby in comparison.

Ah, yes, we can do a great many things better than the grasshoppers, but, you see, they can do some things better than we can.

What is that, John?

You want to know about the mouth parts of the grasshopper?

Suppose we leave the mouth parts.

They are difficult to understand. We have had a good many new names to learn lately.

What, May? You can't remember such hard words?

Oh, yes, of course you can.

You don't mind learning "rhinoceros," and "Mississippi," and "Popocatepetl," and "eenie, meenie, monie mike," and they are quite as hard as femur and tibia; and, besides, you have a femur yourself! Did you know it?

Your thigh bone, like the grasshopper's thigh, is called a femur.

Yes, Mollie, there is a bone in your leg called the tibia, and you have a tarsus in your foot.

So, after all, when you are learning hard words about insects you are learning a great deal besides, as you will find.

PRETTY KATYDIDS

Katy did!

Katy didn't!

Katy did!

Well, well, did she or didn't she, and what of it anyway.

Come here, Katy did and Katy didn't, the children want to see you.

She's a pretty little Did and Didn't, isn't she.

Katy, why do you not know your own mind and always tell the same story?

Krick--krick--krick, there, she is talking; that's her way of saying "Katy did."

Krick--krick--krickkrick. Now she has said "Katy didn't."

Well, we never shall know anything more about it.

No, little Nell, she doesn't really say Katy did or Katy didn't, but it sounds like that, and we make believe she says it.

John says he is sure the katydids are first cousins to the grasshoppers and locusts, and so they are.

They are very closely related to--which division of locusts, do you think?

Oh, yes, the longhorned, of course.

See their long, long antennæ, and the male has the same little musical places on his wings, little membranes that vibrate and make his song of Katy did and Katy didn't.

No, the little lady katydid cannot sing--only the little male, and he keeps it up all night long.

We sometimes wish he would get tired or sleepy and stop, but he never does.

Why do you suppose he likes to sing so well in the night?

The katydids generally live on trees and bushes.

Yes, they are a beautiful, pale green people, and that is one reason we do not often see them. It is not easy to find a katydid among the green leaves.

The female katydids have a long sword-shaped ovipositor with which they roughen the bark on twigs, and place the eggs there, fastening them with a gummy substance.

The egg is glued fast so it will not fall off.

It hatches into a little dot of a katydid that has no wings, but, like the larvæ of the other insects we know about, it eats and grows and moults, and at last its wings and the rest of its body are full grown.

It casts its skin for the last time; it is no longer a larva, but a full-grown insect.

Yes, May, we call the young of all insects larvæ.

See this dainty katydid that Charlie has caught for us.

How pretty it is!

Its feelers are like long green threads.

And how sensitive they are!

It quickly starts away when we touch one of the feelers.

Yes, Mollie, the katydid walks more than the grasshopper.

It can jump well with those long, slender hind legs. How beautiful its hind legs are! They are longer and more delicate than those of the grasshopper.

And its wings, how gauzy and dainty! Its wing covers are not so stiff as those of the grasshopper. They look almost like flying wings, they are so delicate.

See, they open, and fasten themselves open, like the wing covers of the grasshopper; and when they are at rest they overlap like the wings of the grasshopper.

The inner wings are like fine lace.

They look too delicate for use, and yet the katydid flies very well indeed with them.

They are a little longer than the wing covers.

When the katydid is at rest you can see the tips of the wings extending beyond the ends of the wing covers.

The part of the inner wing that extends beyond the wing covers is green, like the wing covers, you see.

But the rest of the inner wing is not green, it is like very thin glass, or like fine isinglass.

Look for a moment at the long curved ovipositor of the female katydid.

If you look sharp, you will see teeth on it like a little saw. It is with these teeth the little katydid is able to rasp the surface of the twigs, and make a place to fasten her eggs to.

Her wings are wrapped about her form like an ample cloak of green.

Now, my little katydid, you may fly away if you want to.

We are very much obliged to you for letting us look at you, and we hope we have not troubled you too much.

See her go!

How prettily the katydids fly.

They seem almost like little birds.

I am sure they love to fly about in the bright summer-time.

Happy katydids.

THE CRICKET-LIKE GRASSHOPPERS

Now what strange-looking little creature are you?

John says it looks like a grasshopper, only it has no wings and its body is not that of a grasshopper.

May says it looks like a cricket, only it has the long legs of a grasshopper.

It is called the cricket-like grasshopper, and it is partly like a cricket, as you see, and partly like a grasshopper.

It is a funny little fellow that lives around in dark corners, usually in the woods.

Do see those long, spiny legs!

How he _can_ jump.

He has strong, short, sharp spines on the femurs and on the tibias.

He has spines on all his legs, and what long feet he has!

Yes, Nell, his antennæ are longer than anything else about him. I should think they would be in his way.

He has no wings at all, and he never will have any.

He has two pairs of feelers in front of his mouth that show very plainly. They show more plainly than the mouth parts of the grasshopper, though they are quite like them.

Yes, Ned, they are larger than the mouth parts of the grasshopper.

There is another little fellow very similar to the cricket-like grasshopper.

It has no wings, and the top of the thorax is like a broad shield.

It is called the shield-backed grasshopper.

See if you can find one of them.

THE CHEERY CRICKET PEOPLE

Chirp! chirp!

Chirp! chirp!

Ah, listen to that cheery song. It is the cricket on the hearth singing thus gayly.

Dear little cricket; he lives in the corner by the fireplace. When all is still we hear his cheery chirp! chirp! chirp!

Sometimes he comes peering out and runs across the hearth, a little black fireside fairy.

Do you know one of the prettiest stories in the world has been written about a cricket?

Charles Dickens wrote it, and it is called "The Cricket on the Hearth."

Be sure to read this beautiful story. If you do not own it, ask to have it for Christmas. It is in the book of "Christmas Tales," a book that everybody ought to have.

Grasshoppers and katydids are pleasant people, but they live out of doors, and they do not seem quite so much like our very own little friends as the crickets.

Of course the crickets live out of doors, too, only once in a while one of them comes into the house to live with us.

We hear them chirping in the grass and among the stones.

There is a certain place near the seashore where the rocks are alive with the black cricket folk.

They come peeping out at you from all sides. They skip over the rocks, and you will often see a pair of long feelers and an inquisitive little head looking around a corner.

You too, know there are crickets, little Nell?

Let us go and see them.

Ah, yes, there is one, looking at us out of inquisitive eyes, over there by that big stone.

Of course they are cousins to the grasshoppers. I knew you would guess that right away.

Yes, John, the little cricket people have flat backs.

Their wing covers do not make a peaked roof over their backs, but are flat on top and bent down at the sides like a box cover.

They are not so long as the wings of the grasshopper, but they overlap on top.

Sometimes they are not so long as the body of the cricket.

Just watch now!

How spry the cricket folk are!

They jump well, but they also run well. They are always running about as though they enjoyed it.

It is not easy to catch one of them unless we, too, are "as spry as a cricket."

Funny little rascals, to come peeping at us like that, from out the crevices in the stones.

When we stir,--pop! they are back out of sight.

They eat leaves, and they enjoy a piece of nice, ripe fruit, or a bit of juicy vegetable.

See here, one has jumped on my hand and is sitting quite still.

It is a male cricket.

How do I know that?

May says because it has no ovipositor.

Yes, that is one way to know.

Look at his wing covers.

See how they are ribbed.

Now look at this cricket Mabel has caught. It is a female, and its wings, you see, are not ornamented like those of the male.

Do you know the meaning of his heavily ribbed wing covers?

Why, his wing covers are his musical instruments. See one of them magnified.

It is divided into spaces like so many little drum-heads. The ridge that runs across the top of the wing is something like a file in structure.

When little Mr. Cricket is in the mood for chirping, he raises his wing covers and rubs them together.

This throws the stiff membranes of which the wing covers are made into vibration, and the result is the cheery call of our little black fairy.

Little Nell says the cricket is more like a brownie than a fairy, and maybe she is right.

You can easily see the crickets rub their wings together if you watch in the fall of the year.

John says, Why do you have to watch in the fall of the year?

Now who can guess?

Yes, May, it is because the crickets are then full-grown, and have large wing covers. At first, in the early summer, they have no wings, and so of course, we could not see them chirp.

The whole grasshopper tribe is a vocal one; the males all have musical instruments, and in Japan, the people are so fond of the song of _their_ grasshopper folk, which are not quite like ours, that they make tiny cages for them.

The chirpers are caught and put in these cages, and sold in the city streets.

Yes, little Nell, the crickets make molasses. So do the katydids.

All these little hopping neighbors of ours seem to understand the useful art of molasses making.

The mole crickets are different from the others.

They burrow in the ground like a mole, and we do not often see them.

The strangest thing about them is their hands.

No, of course they are not really hands, but they look like them.

All the joints of the fore legs are modified to form strong digging tools, and they look very much like the paws of the mole.

They are troublesome fellows, sometimes, when they eat the tender roots of the vegetables in the garden.

You all have seen the little tree cricket, but you might not recognize it as a cricket, it is such a pale little creature.

Its light green body may often be seen on bushes in the summer-time, and, if you look carefully, the form will tell you what the little one is.

A LARGE FAMILY

The crickets, grasshoppers, walking sticks, praying mantes, and cockroaches, strange as it may seem, are all near relatives to each other.

They all belong to one large family or order, the ORTHOPTERA.

Or-thop-te-ra, is it not a hard word!

It will not seem so hard when you know what it means.

It comes from two Greek words _orthos_, meaning straight, and _pteron_, meaning a wing.

Straight-wing.

And do you know, it does not mean that the _upper_ wings are straight, but that the under wings are folded down in long straight lines.

Now let us see if we can tell in what ways all of our Orthoptera are alike.

They all have--?

"Four wings"--that is right, little Nell.

What, John? the walking sticks have no wings?

Not our walking sticks, but yet they belong to a winged family. You remember the tropical walking sticks that have queer leaf-like wings, do you not?

Are the four wings alike?

No, John says, the upper ones are narrow and stiff and serve as wing covers.

The inner ones are broader and more delicate. They fold up when not in use and are used to fly with.

Very good indeed, John. Now I will tell you something. The Orthoptera all have mouth parts made to bite with. They do not bite anything but what they eat, however. They are quite harmless so far as we are concerned.

The young Orthoptera look like the old ones, only they have no wings. They hatch out of the egg with a head, a six-legged thorax, and an abdomen.

Now, come, let us look at all of our orthopterous friends again, cockroaches first.

How do they get about, John?

Yes, indeed, they run, the rascals. They run fast too. They are flat and their six legs are very much alike. They are well built for running and hiding in cracks.

Suppose we call them the _Running Orthoptera_.

Now, look at our mantis.

He does not run very much. How is he different from the others?

Ah, yes, he has big front legs, and little Nell says he grabs things with them.

So he does. Now, what shall we call these grabbers?

The Grabbing Orthoptera, Ned says.

Suppose we say instead the _Grasping Orthoptera_, because grasping sounds a little better than grabbing. Do you not think so?

Now for Mr. Walking Stick.

We cannot very well call him a member of the Running Orthoptera, can we?

Ah, Mollie has it. We must call his kind the _Walking Orthoptera_.

His six legs are all long and slender, and he moves them slowly.

Now for those fellows with the long hind legs, the locusts and katydids and crickets. Yes, all of you are ready to name them.

We call them--what?

May says, the Hopping Orthoptera.

John thinks Jumping Orthoptera would sound better.

And that is what we name them, the _Jumping Orthoptera_.

How many kinds of Jumping Orthoptera are we acquainted with, Ned? Now, think before you speak.

He says we know the shorthorned grasshoppers, or locusts, the longhorned, or meadow, grasshoppers, and the crickets.

Very well done, Ned.

May wants to know what has become of the katydids and the cricket-like grasshoppers--she thinks Ned has left them out.

Ned says they belong to the longhorned grasshoppers.

Now you shall have a list of the Orthoptera that will help you to remember them.

If we can group together things that are like each other, it is easier to remember them.

ORDER ORTHOPTERA.

_Running Orthoptera._
Cockroaches, Croton Bugs.
_Grasping Orthoptera._
Praying Mantis.
_Walking Orthoptera._
Walking Sticks.
_Jumping Orthoptera._
Shorthorned Grasshoppers, or Locusts.
Longhorned, or Meadow, Grasshoppers.
Crickets.

There are a great many species of Orthoptera in the world, and we have seen but a very few of them.

But I can tell you, we feel a little better acquainted with you orthopterous fellows than we did.