[My first opportunity to examine an _o-semi_ was in Shidzuoka. Its utterance is much more complex than the j.a.panese onomatope implies; I should liken it to the noise of a sewing-machine in full operation.

There is a double sound: you hear not only the succession of sharp metallic clickings, but also, below these, a slower series of dull clanking tones. The stridulatory organs are light green, looking almost like a pair of tiny green leaves attached to the thorax.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLATE III.

_Aburazemi._]

III.--ABURAZeMI.

THE _aburazemi_, or "oil-semi," makes its appearance early in the summer. I am told that it owes its name to the fact that its shrilling resembles the sound of oil or grease frying in a pan. Some writers say that the shrilling resembles the sound of the syllables _gacharin-gacharin_; but others compare it to the noise of water boiling. The _aburazemi_ begins to chant about sunrise; then a great soft hissing seems to ascend from all the trees. At such an hour, when the foliage of woods and gardens still sparkles with dew, might have been composed the following verse,--the only one in my collection relating to the _aburazemi_:--

Ano koe de Tsuyu ga inochi ka?-- Aburazemi!

Speaking with that voice, has the dew taken life?--Only the _aburazemi_!

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLATE IV.

1-2, _Mugikari-Zemi_, also called _Goshiki-Zemi_.

3, _Higurashi_.

4, "_Min-Min-Zemi_."]

IV.--MUGI-KARI-ZeMI.

THE _mugi-kari-zemi_, or "barley-harvest semi," also called _goshiki-zemi_, or "five-colored semi," appears early in the summer. It makes two distinct sounds in different keys, resembling the syllables _shi-in, shin--chi-i, chi-i_.

V.--HIGURASHI, OR "KANA-KANA."

THIS insect, whose name signifies "day-darkening," is the most remarkable of all the j.a.panese cicadae. It is not the finest singer among them; but even as a melodist it ranks second only to the _tsuku-tsuku-boshi_. It is the special minstrel of twilight, singing only at dawn and sunset; whereas most of the other semi make their music only in the full blaze of day, pausing even when rain-clouds obscure the sun. In Tokyo the _higurashi_ usually appears about the end of June, or the beginning of July. Its wonderful cry,--_kana-kana-kana-kana-kana_,--beginning always in a very high clear key, and slowly descending, is almost exactly like the sound of a good hand-bell, very quickly rung. It is not a clashing sound, as of violent ringing; it is quick, steady, and of surprising sonority. I believe that a single _higurashi_ can be plainly heard a quarter of a mile away; yet, as the old j.a.panese poet Yayu observed, "no matter how many _higurashi_ be singing together, we never find them noisy."

Though powerful and penetrating as a resonance of metal, the _higurashi's_ call is musical even to the degree of sweetness; and there is a peculiar melancholy in it that accords with the hour of gloaming. But the most astonishing fact in regard to the cry of the _higurashi_ is the individual quality characterizing the note of each insect. No two _higurashi_ sing precisely in the same tone. If you hear a dozen of them singing at once, you will find that the timbre of each voice is recognizably different from every other. Certain notes ring like silver, others vibrate like bronze; and, besides varieties of timbre suggesting bells of various weight and composition, there are even differences in tone, that suggest different _forms_ of bell.

I have already said that the name _higurashi_ means "day-darkening,"--in the sense of twilight, gloaming, dusk; and there are many j.a.panese verses containing plays on the word,--the poets affecting to believe, as in the following example, that the crying of the insect hastens the coming of darkness:--

Higurashi ya!

Suteteoitemo Kururu hi wo.

O Higurashi!--even if you let it alone, day darkens fast enough!

This, intended to express a melancholy mood, may seem to the Western reader far-fetched. But another little poem--referring to the effect of the sound upon the conscience of an idler--will be appreciated by any one accustomed to hear the _higurashi_. I may observe, in this connection, that the first clear evening cry of the insect is quite as startling as the sudden ringing of a bell:--

Higurashi ya!

Kyo no ketai wo Omou-toki.

--RIKEI.

Already, O Higurashi, your call announces the evening!

Alas, for the pa.s.sing day, with its duties left undone!

VI.--"MINMIN"-ZeMI.

THE _minmin-zemi_ begins to sing in the Period of Greatest Heat. It is called "_min-min_" because its note is thought to resemble the syllable "_min_" repeated over and over again,--slowly at first, and very loudly; then more and more quickly and softly, till the utterance dies away in a sort of buzz: "_min--min--min-min-min-minminmin-dzzzzzzz_." The sound is plaintive, and not unpleasing. It is often compared to the sound of the voice of a priest chanting the _sutras_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLATE V.

1, _"Tsuku-tsuku-Boshi_," also called "_Kutsu-kutsu-Boshi_," etc.

(_Cosmopsaltria Opalifera?_)

2, _Tsurigane-Zemi_.

3, _The Phantom_.]

VII.--TSUKU-TSUKU-BoSHI.

ON the day immediately following the Festival of the Dead, by the old j.a.panese calendar[28] (which is incomparably more exact than our Western calendar in regard to nature-changes and manifestations), begins to sing the _tsuku-tsuku-boshi_. This creature may be said to sing like a bird. It is also called _kutsu-kutsu-boshi_, _choko-choko-uisu_, _tsuku-tsuku-hoshi_, _tsuku-tsuku-oishi_,--all onomatopoetic appellations. The sounds of its song have been imitated in different ways by various writers. In Izumo the common version is,--

Tsuku-tsuku-uisu, Tsuku-tsuku-uisu, Tsuku-tsuku-uisu:-- Ui-osu Ui-osu Ui-osu Ui-os-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-su.

[28] That is to say, upon the 16th day of the 7th month.

Another version runs,--

Tsuku-tsuku-uisu, Tsuku-tsuku-uisu, Tsuku-tsuku-uisu:-- Chi-i yara!

Chi-i yara!

Chi-i yara!

Chi-i, chi, chi, chi, chi, chiii.

But some say that the sound is _Tsukushi-koshi_. There is a legend that in old times a man of Tsukushi (the ancient name of Kyushu) fell sick and died while far away from home, and that the ghost of him became an autumn cicada, which cries unceasingly, _Tsukushi-koshi!--Tsukushi-koshi!_ ("I long for Tsukushi!--I want to see Tsukushi!")

It is a curious fact that the earlier semi have the harshest and simplest notes. The musical semi do not appear until summer; and the _tsuku-tsuku-boshi_, having the most complex and melodious utterance of all, is one of the latest to mature.

VIII.--TSURIGANe-SeMI.[29]

THE _tsurigane-semi_ is an autumn cicada. The word _tsurigane_ means a suspended bell,--especially the big bell of a Buddhist temple. I am somewhat puzzled by the name; for the insect's music really suggests the tones of a j.a.panese harp, or _koto_--as good authorities declare.

Perhaps the appellation refers not to the boom of the bell, but to those deep, sweet hummings which follow after the peal, wave upon wave.

[29] This semi appears to be chiefly known in Shikoku.

III

j.a.pANESE poems on semi are usually very brief; and my collection chiefly consists of _hokku_,--compositions of seventeen syllables. Most of these _hokku_ relate to the sound made by the semi,--or, rather, to the sensation which the sound produced within the poet's mind. The names attached to the following examples are nearly all names of old-time poets,--not the real names, of course, but the _go_, or literary names by which artists and men of letters are usually known.

Yokoi Yayu, a j.a.panese poet of the eighteenth century, celebrated as a composer of _hokku_, has left us this nave record of the feelings with which he heard the chirruping of cicadae in summer and in autumn:--