peril the health of the fish. The Gyropeltes,
however, regards this exudate as delicious food and rapidly removes and
devours it.

[70] Van Beneden, _Animal Parasites and Messmates_, pp. 71, 72.

All insects devote some of their time to the toilet, and there is
probably no one who has not, at some time or other, noticed the fly, or
some other insect, thus engaged. The greatest lover of bodily
cleanliness in the whole insect tribe, however, is, I believe, my pet
locust, "Whiskers"--so named by a little niece, on account of her long,
graceful antennae. "Whiskers" is one of the smallest of her family, and
is a dainty, lovely, agile little creature, light olive-green in color,
with red legs. She was reared from the egg, and has lived in my room all
her short life. She is quite tame and recognizes me as soon as I
approach, often hopping two feet or more in order to light on my
coat-sleeve or outstretched hand.[71]

[71] Shortly after the above was written, this interesting little
creature met an untimely fate at the hands of an Irish chambermaid,
who was a recent importation and who did not understand that all life
was held sacred in my house.--W.

The first thing she does, after reaching my hand, is to seek my little
finger and try her jaws on a diamond ring. The diamond seems to puzzle
her greatly. She sometimes spends several minutes closely examining it.
She will stand off at a little distance and pass her antennae over every
portion of it. Then she will come closer and make a more minute
examination, finally essaying another bite with her powerful jaws. A
great water drinker, she evidently thinks the stone is some strange kind
of dewdrop, hence her persistent efforts to bite it.

"Whiskers" has developed cannibalistic tastes, for the hardened skin
around my finger-nails is a favorite _morceau_ which she digs out with
her sharp jaws and masticates with seeming delight. She nips out a
piece of skin, cocks her head on one side, and, looking up at me with
her clear, emerald-tinted eyes, her masticatory apparatus working like a
grist-mill, she seems to say, "Well! old fellow, this is good."

She passes most of her time on a bit of turf, in a box on my table,
where the sun shines bright and warm. She is fond of water, however, and
makes frequent excursions to the water-pitcher across the room. How she
discovered that it contained water is more than I can tell; but she did,
and she visits it often.

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