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.