It is amongst the _locustidæ_ that we find the most musical of the grasshoppers, the Katydids—so well known and highly appreciated in the United States—standing on a far higher level in this respect than the comparatively unmusical locusts. Not that the _locustidæ_—however musical—use their long horns for blowing purposes. Properly speaking, these are only antennæ, and function as such, the musical apparatus being situated elsewhere. The Katydids, for instance, rasp their fore wings against each other, according to the general idea, three times in succession, producing the three syllables, Ka—ty—did, which have given the insect its name, but according to Mr. Scudder[25] only twice, which makes either “Katy,” or “She did”; that is to say, as a general rule, for he admits the three on occasions. The notes are uttered with great emphasis, and at the rate of some two hundred in the minute, the performance continuing, at least in the case of some species, all day and all night long. A number of grasshoppers go by the name of Katydids in America, but the general type of the insect is a graceful, green, fragile-looking creature, with very long, slender antennæ, and, in the female, a long ovipositor at the other end, as if to balance matters. There are many species, and all, or most of them, sing both by night and day, and what is very remarkable, or, at least, very interesting, they have a different note for either. Speaking of one—or, rather, of a long-horned grasshopper nearly related to the Katydids, but not actually a member of the sisterhood—which he had been watching in the sunshine, Mr. Scudder says: “As a cloud passed over the sun he suddenly changed his note to one with which I was already familiar, but without knowing to what insect it belonged. At the same time, all the individuals around, whose similar day-song I had heard, began to respond with the night-cry. The cloud passed away, and the original note was resumed on all sides.”[26] _Scudderia angustifolia_ is the name of this little musician, so called, perhaps, because so sensitive to scudding clouds. But the Katydids do more than merely play an individual tune, each on his own instrument. They hold concerts, at which many join together to make an elaborate musical display, a certain number commencing on one note, and others joining in harmoniously on another. There are leaders, whose business it is to hold the time-measure, and, by a steady insistence on the right note, to draw back any who may happen for a moment to get out of tune. The orchestra is divided into so many companies, who support and assist one another, so that the whole makes a concerted harmony, in which there are many different movements. As a rule the performance is most creditable, though occasionally the effect is marred by a careless player. Before commencing, the company always tunes up.