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Updated: June 12, 2025
There were other sounds; the faintest fragment of song far away; strident, gossiping laughter from a back porch diagonally across the alley; and crickets, crickets singing in the patched, patterned, moonlit grass of the yard. Within the house there seemed to lie an ominous silence. He was glad he did not know who lived here.
Even the crickets were no longer heard. The fields were all wrapped in sleep. The pair digested while they inhaled the breeze which blew refreshingly against their cheeks. Above, the sky was covered with stars; some shone in clusters, others in a row, or rather alone, at certain distances from each other. A zone of luminous dust, extending from north to south, bifurcated above their heads.
All about the fields, where the night crickets are now chirruping and the flying beetles are droning, there is a general movement of life towards the village of men carrying their mattocks on their shoulder or walking in front of the ox that has done his long day's ploughing, of women and children, geese, turkeys, and sheep.
You might think that he had swallowed so many crickets that he wouldn't want anything more to eat just then. But to tell the truth, it was very seldom that Tommy Fox wasn't hungry as a bear. "Not so fast!" Mrs. Fox said. "I'm going to teach you to hunt. And you're to begin with this woodchuck. Now I'm going to let him go, and you must catch him." So Mrs.
Wallace noticed a kind of sand-wasp, in Borneo, much given to devouring crickets; but there was one species of cricket which exactly reproduced the features of the sand-wasps, and mixed among them on equal terms without fear of detection. Mr.
"If it want for this you'd all cheer up, an be as merry as crickets." "Is there any prospect of its going away?" "Wal, not jest yet. You can't reckon on it. When it chooses to go away, it does so. It may hang on for weeks, an p'aps months. Thar's no tellin. I don't mind it, bein as I've passed my hull life in the middle of fog banks; but I dare say it's a leetle tryin to youns."
But if he had made the least sound, Brushtail would have come diving under that brush pile in a second, for he isn't afraid of brush piles as he is of briar patches. Pretty soon the hen reached the woods. She stretched up her neck and looked around, but not seeing anything she started into the woods for some crickets.
And she shows the window, open on the blackness of the savage country from which ascends an immense silence, with, from time to time, the noise of spring, intermittent musical notes of crickets and tree-toads. Hearing her talk so quietly, Ramuntcho feels confounded by this renunciation of all things; she appears to him still more irrevocably changed, far-off poor little nun!
"I'll send a chirp to all the crickets in this house and garden, and they'll send a chirp to all the crickets in the next house and garden, and so on, and so on, and so on, all through this country, and in a little while I'll be able to tell you if they're here or not." "How'll you ever get the message back?" asked Sweetclover.
I have heard, too, of a little cage, or frame, which was to be seen in the early meeting-houses, for the purpose of holding children who were too young to sit alone, poor Puritan babies! Little girls sat with their mothers or elder sisters on "crickets" within the pews; or if the family were over-numerous, the children and crickets exundated into "the alley without the pues."
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