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There was once a young cricket who lived under a stone. The stone was on the side of a hill, and at the foot of the hill there was a town.
The cricket lived all by himself on the hill, and he was very lonely.
“Why should I live on this hill?” he said to himself. “Only cows come here, and they do not talk to me. I might as well not be here. If I lived in town, where there are many people, I am sure that I should have a fine time.”
So one morning he set out for the town at the foot of the hill. Hippity-hop, hippity-hop, he went, down the hill. Soon he met a grasshopper.
“Where are you going so fast?” asked the grasshopper.
“I’m going to the town,” answered the cricket. “I cannot have any fun on this hill.”
“You should stay here,” said the grass- hopper. “You can be just as happy in your home on the hill as anywhere. You will be contented when you learn to sing.”
But the little cricket thought that he knew better, and so on he went, hippity-hop, hippity-hop, down the hill.
In a little while a butterfly came flying along. He saw the young cricket, and stopped to talk to him.
“Where are you going so fast?” asked the butterfly.
“I’m going to the town” answered the little cricket. “I cannot have any fun on the hill.”
“You should stay here,” said the butterfly. “You can be happy and contented here if you will learn to sing.”
But the cricket just laughed at her, and went on, hippity-hop, hippity-hop, down the hill.
“Where are you going, little cricket?” asked a gray rabbit, looking out from his hole under a tree.
“I’m going to the town,” answered the little cricket. “I cannot have any fun on the hill.”
“You will be sorry if you go away,” said the gray rabbit. “You can be just as happy here.”
The cricket laughed again, and went on, hippity-hop, hippity-hop, down the hill.
After a while it began to grow dark, and still the cricket had not reached the town. Soon he came to a tree, where a little owl was sitting.
“Whoo, whoo!” called the little owl.
“It is I,” said the cricket.
“Where are you going?” asked the owl.
“I’m going to the town,” answered the little cricket.
“Stay here! Stay here!” said the owl. “Sing! Sing!”
But the cricket started on, hippity-hop, hippity-hop.
Just then a very old cricket came along. He told the little cricket not to go to the town.
“You will not be happy there,” he said. “I know, because I have been there. It is much better to stay here where you can cheer others by singing.”
And at once the old cricket began to sing.
He was so happy that the young cricket grew happy, too, and tried to sing. Soon he learned how to sing. Then he and the old cricket went back up the hill together, to the little cricket’s home. They sang as they went.
After that the young cricket sang every day. He said, “If you are not happy, just sing. When you sing, others will sing, too. Then you will be happy and contented at home.”
—— Blanche Elizabeth Wade