His wing-covers are nevertheless in rapid motion, but are no longer sounding, or at most emit but an unrhythmical rubbing sound.
Presumptuous declaration! The female Cricket does not run to hide herself in the folds of her lettuce leaves; but she lifts the curtain a little, and looks out, and wishes to be seen:-- _Et fugit ad salices, et se cupit ante videri._ She flies towards the brake, but hopes first to be perceived, said the poet of the delightful eclogue, two thousand years ago.

Sacred provocations of lovers, are they not in all ages the same?
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