"The tree-toads and the katydids too. This is a katydid, or, perhaps, a
katydidn't; for people say they are divided in opinion, and that as soon
as one party begins to cry 'katydid,' the other shrieks louder still
'katydidn't,' which accounts for the noise they make."

"Oh, uncle! do they really?" cried George.

"You must listen, Georgy," replied his uncle, laughing.

"When we first came here" remarked Tom, "mother could not sleep for the
noise they and the tree-toads made."

"The voice of the tree-toad is very loud for so small a creature, but
the katydid has really no voice at all."

"No voice, uncle?"

"No, Annie; the chirp of all kinds of grasshoppers is produced by their
thighs rubbing against their wing-cases."

"How very curious!" exclaimed the children, and the katydid was examined
with still greater interest before it was released to rejoin its
companions on the sycamore.

* * * * *

"What do you think of our building a boat, Tom?" said his uncle to him,
a few days after he had finished the hen-house. "It seems to me that you
and I could manage it. What do you say?"