The Cricket's Friends Part 3

"'Eat away,' he urged. 'I can get plenty more at any time, while you look as thin as a starved gra.s.shopper.'

"We had already become excellent friends, when we suddenly beheld a large boat steering swiftly towards us. The Raft-spider is extremely cautious; so, bidding me follow, he slid overboard to hide, as he was in the habit of doing when any danger threatened. Now this was all very well for him, as he could live under water for some time; but what was to become of me? The water bubbled up into my ears; I opened my jaws to scream, only to have more gurgle down my throat. I sputtered and gasped and floundered, until my companion took compa.s.sion upon me, and held my head up until the boat had pa.s.sed, when he dragged me on to the raft again, more dead than alive.

"'To be sure,' he remarked gayly, 'I forgot you were not the same kind of a Spider as myself. You are only a landsman, after all.'

"'Do you have to jump overboard in that fashion often?' I faintly asked.

"'Bless you! I have done so every five minutes sometimes.'

"'I should like to land, then, if you please.'

"The Raft-spider made fun of my fears; but I was determined to get away from the water as soon as possible, so he put me ash.o.r.e, and went on his way, still laughing."

Here the narrator was interrupted by the entrance of Hulda, who whisked the Teapot and Saucepan off to a high shelf across the room. The Cricket, Wasp, and Caterpillar fled in opposite directions, but the unfortunate Spider was not quick enough to escape. The thrifty housekeeper espied him with her keen eyes, and, pouncing upon him, caught, and threw him out of the window.

Here was an abrupt close to the story. The others could do nothing but sigh over this misfortune, and finally the Cricket said,--

"I propose, for one, that we do not meet again until the family have gone to bed; as, by so doing, we will not run the risk of being thrown out of the window."

To this they agreed; and then they separated, the Wasp and Caterpillar accepting an invitation to visit the Cricket in his mansion behind the brick.

The next night, when the household had retired, the Kettle Club resumed their places about the hearth. The Teapot had been left beside the fire, fortunately; but the poor Saucepan, to her great vexation, still rested on the shelf. They had hoped to hear something of the fate of the Spider; but, although the Cricket had been out of doors, prowling about that day, he could find no trace of the missing member.

"Such an interesting Spider as he was, too," commented the Kettle.

"Yes, indeed," a.s.sented the Teapot amiably; "I did not suppose one of his race could be so agreeable."

"There is no use groaning, since it cannot bring him back again," said the Wasp sharply. "Who is to speak to-night?"

"We should be delighted to hear you," said the crafty Cricket, desirous of keeping the Wasp in a good humor.

"Perhaps you will not find my history interesting, after that of the Spider," said he with affected modesty: he thought it would be much more so all the time.

"I am sure we shall," cordially returned the Cricket.

THE AMBITIOUS WASP.

"To begin then," commenced the Wasp, "I must first describe to you how I was born. Did any of you ever see, very early in the spring, one of my tribe flying slowly about, pausing to examine every earth bank, now exploring the burrow of a field-mouse, or perhaps entering the tunnel of a boring insect, all the while buzzing in a fussy way?"

"I now remember watching a Wasp during my travels, that behaved in a very curious manner," said the Cricket. "It alighted upon a wood-pile, and gnawed off a quant.i.ty of fibres, which were kneaded together carefully into a ball; and then the Wasp flew away with the ball to a hole near by. I did not dare ask any questions; because I feared receiving a sting for my curiosity, and I have heard such a wound is most painful."

"Ah! that is always the way," said the other in an aggrieved tone. "We are thought by man to be good for nothing but to steal sugar, or other sweets; and gnaw holes in fruit, to disfigure the ripe beauty of peaches, plums, and apricots. We are called lazy fellows, going about to give any one a sharp thrust; when in reality a sting often causes death, by tearing the poison-bag. This belief is partly true; still not altogether, for we are also of some good in the world. We do not live solely upon the juices of flowers and fruits: we are very fond of the hosts of flies that swarm about and render themselves so annoying in the summer season. For instance, if you notice the pigs in the farm-yard any warm day, you will observe that the flies cl.u.s.ter thickly over their skins, tormenting the poor animals terribly. This torment is greatly lessened by the wasps, who skim over the fence every now and then, and capture a fly inevitably in their fatal grasp."

"Is it possible!" exclaimed the Teapot.

"Yes, indeed," returned the Wasp complacently. "But I must tell you how I was born. The Wasp you saw on the wood-pile was selecting a home, like a careful matron, and was bundling the fibres together to use in the construction of her nest. This she was obliged to do without any help whatever, for all the other wasps had died the previous autumn, while she was left to sleep through the winter in some warm nook, then found a new colony in the spring. Having brought the fibres to her burrow, she runs up the side of the chamber, clinging to the roof with the last pair of legs, while with the first pair aided by the jaws, she fixes the woody pulp to the roof, forming a little pillar. Other pellets are attached, until this pillar, like a stalact.i.te in a cave, is completed. At the end of the pillar she places three very shallow cups, lays an egg in each, and makes a roof over them. More cells are then added, eggs laid in them, and the roof extended over the whole. By the time all this is done, the eggs laid in the first three cells are hatched into tiny grubs, who are terribly hungry, requiring ever so many flies from the mother Wasp. At last they cease to feed; spin a silken cover over their cells; and, after spending a short time in this retirement, tear away the covering with their jaws, emerging perfect insects.

"They now repay the mother Wasp for her care, by a.s.sisting in all heavy labors, so that she really has little to do, but lay eggs as fast as cells can be made for their accommodation. Before long the first terrace is completely filled with cells, and more room is needed. The wasps next construct several more pillars exactly like the first one; and, by adding cells to these, another terrace is built below the first one.

Three or four more terraces continue to form, the cells of these last being so small, that the mother Wasp cannot put her head into them. The inmates of these cradles are very much smaller than their parent, and are known as the workers, their lives being devoted to labor. These workers make excellent nurses, always feeding and tending the baby wasps with jealous care. Towards the close of the summer their conduct changes, however; they feel that a quick death for those nurslings who will not have time to grow up before cold weather is best, so they pull the helpless white things out of their beds, and carry them outside to die. I am glad I was able to grow to wasphood."

"Please raise your voice a trifle," said the Saucepan, in a vexed tone.

"I cannot hear half that you say, over there."

"You had better use an ear-trumpet," remarked the Wasp impertinently. "I am already as hoa.r.s.e as a raven from shouting so loudly."

"When the nest is abandoned the workers die; and so do almost all of the others, save a few of the females."

"How is it that you are alive, then?" interrupted the Teapot.

"One thing at a time, if you please," said the Wasp pettishly; "I am telling you as fast as ever I can. When I first spread my wings to fly out into the warm, bright sunshine, I was half-wild with delight at my new strength and beauty. The world seemed such a wonderful place! The air was so fresh, the flowers so fragrant and varied in coloring, and the hills so grand in height, that I could only flutter from place to place, bewildered with happiness. I alighted finally upon a catalpa-tree, whose branches were covered with splendid blossoms."

"'You feel very gay,' rustled the tree.

"'Yes, I am only just born; so I may well be gay.' I answered.

"'Ah! dance while you may,' said the Catalpa gravely. 'Your life lasts a few hours, but mine for years.'

"My fine spirits were chilled in a moment, and I dropped to the gra.s.s, feeling utterly miserable. I could only enjoy all this pleasure for a few hours after all! There was so much to see, and so little time to see it in, where should I turn first? While I sat there thinking after this fashion, a pansy slowly unfolded, and out of it stepped a tiny figure, no longer than one of my legs. I was not very wise, but I knew it must be a fairy or elf that now stood before me. He wore knee-breeches, a jacket to match, and a funny little cobweb cap.

"'So we are sad, eh?' he said, winking one eye drolly.

"'I have such a short time to live, that I do not know which way to turn first,' I replied.

"'That is a pity,' said the sprite, rocking himself upon a stem of seed-gra.s.s, as if it were a hobby horse. 'What would you do if you could live longer?'

"'What would I not do?' I exclaimed. 'I should try to see every thing beautiful and curious in the whole world.'

"'Stop a bit,' he interposed. 'You shall do this if you desire it so much.' He took off his cobweb cap and threw it at me, saying, 'This will make you invisible, if you put it on your head, when any danger threatens.'

"Before I had time to thank him the elf turned a somersault in the air, and plunged head first into his pansy mansion, which closed upon him."

Just at this moment the Kettle Club was startled by a sudden thump, thump in the room.

"What was that?" whispered the Teapot; and all the others listened, without daring to look over their shoulders, for the fire was rather low.

"It is only I," said the Saucepan. "I have jumped off the shelf to hear better."

"You must have hurt yourself," said the Kettle.

"Oh, no: I only feel a trifle jarred. I am made of tin, you know."

How were they to move the Saucepan nearer to the hearth?

"I think I could be rolled over, if any one would be so kind as to push me," she suggested eagerly.