All the plants are not expert musicians, which explains why they often seek to make up for their own deficiencies by hiring numerous birds and insects to make melody for them. These musicians are employed in the truest sense of the word and receive their pay in food, shelter and protection. In the air and on the ground, by day and by night, they sing and fiddle for their hosts. The broad leaves of the Water Lily (_Victoria Regia_) are veritable music schools of Frog practice. Every voice from croaking bass to youthful tenor is heard! Every tree has its Frogs and Birds--every bush and shrub innumerable insect warblers. The birds are the plants’ vocalists. Their songs and delightful twitterings are among the most familiar things in Nature. The music of the large body of insect-instrumentalists is carried on in such obscure places, and often so far down among the very roots of the plants, that a considerable investigation of their methods may not be amiss. They are especially active after sundown. The common Grasshoppers form a great corps of violinists. A large vein on the inside of their thighs makes an ideal bow. It is roughened not with resin but by a hundred minute spines. When this vein is rubbed to and fro on the serrated veins of the insect’s wing-cover, a shrill tone is produced. Sitting on its haunches, the Grasshopper saws away with both hind legs at a great rate. The interesting discovery has been made that the velocity of the strokes increases with the temperature. Grasshoppers in large swarms emit a low roar. The Locust is a near relative of the Grasshopper. His music is produced by scraping one wing across the other. The Cricket uses the same method. When he is a house species, he fiddles in a higher tone. The gold-green Muskback Beetle is an exquisite violinist. His instrumental methods are most peculiar. His sharp breast acts as a bow which he draws across a small group of veins on his wing covers. The resulting music is so faint as to be almost inaudible. To Bees, Wasps, Hornets, Flies and Mosquitoes we may ascribe reed instruments. They depend upon the rapid vibration of their tiny wings to get their effects. The respiration openings distributed over the body of a Bee, by giving resonance to the tone, aid in the process and turn the whole insect’s body into a small clarionet. The drowsy buzz of the honey-gatherer is only attained by swinging its wings at the rate of four hundred vibrations a minute. People who have good ears for music have observed that the ordinary Bee drones his song out on G sharp. The House-Fly is credited with singing at F with a preliminary grace note on E. Everyone is familiar with the high thin plaint of the Mosquito.