What may be the meditations of a little hermit cicada during all these years we cannot even imagine. If any of the Junior Naturalists ever find out the secret they will be very popular indeed with the scientific men called psychologists. However, if we may judge by actions, the sixteenth summer after our hermit buried himself he began to feel stirring in his bosom aspirations toward a higher life. He surely had no memory of the beautiful world he had abandoned in his babyhood; but he became suddenly possessed with a desire to climb upward, and began digging his way toward the light. It might be a long journey through the hard earth; for during the many years he may have reached the depth of nearly two feet. He is now as industrious as he was shiftless before; and it takes him only a few weeks to climb out of the depths into which he had fallen through nearly seventeen years of inertia. If it should chance that he reaches the surface of the ground before he is ready to enjoy life, he hits upon a device for continuing his way upward without danger to himself. Sometimes his fellows have been known to crawl out of their burrows and seek safety under logs and sticks until the time came to gain their wings. But this is a very dangerous proceeding, since in forests there are many watchful eyes which belong to creatures who are very fond of bits of soft, white meat. So our cicada, still a hermit, may build him a tall cell out of mud above ground. How he builds this "hut," "cone," or "turret" as it is variously called, we do not know; but it is often two inches in height, and he keeps himself in the top of it. Under ordinary circumstances our cicada would not build a hut, but remain in his burrow.