The Plague of Flies. 



3 1 



like little men, would have been bigger if they had had 

 enough to eat when they were babies. 



What ray of hope can the lamp of Science cast upon the 

 fly-ful gloom before us and our children? Will there 

 ever come a day when the 

 rubber band shall snap on the 

 wall for the last time, and the 

 resulting splash be glassed 

 over with a label pasted on 

 the under side reading: 

 " Here perished the last wild 

 fly, July 8, 19- " ? Science 

 shakes her head moodily. 

 Pressed for a categorical 

 answer, she says something 



6. Lucilia Ca-sar, the 

 green-bottle fly; a, adult; f>. head 

 from the front ; r, antenna. 



she groans. 



about screens, hearing which 

 the housewife smacks her 

 hands together and lets them 

 fall despairingly into her lap. ' Screens? 

 4 Screens? Haven't I got screens up all over the house? 

 And just look at it! Just look at that chandelier! You 

 know it never, nci'cr will come off of brass. I'd like to 

 know where they get in at. I'd just like to know." And 

 then she takes a paper in each hand and flaps it and makes 

 ungraceful leaps up to knock the impudent beasts from 

 the ceiling. She drives them out into the dining room 

 and thence out into the kitchen, and so on into the open 

 air. The flies scurry and dodge and flee back on one side 

 of the room while she is battling on the other. They get 

 their breath back and are ready for another run, but she 

 has no rest. After she has wrought herself into a gasping 

 perspiration and shut the house all up there are just as 

 many flies as before stippling the chandelier and buzzing: 

 " A-a-a-ah ! Did you ever get left ? ' 



