The Plague of Flies. 29 



out of it. If they want the rope so much, give it to 

 them suddenly and own up to Tertiary man. I will tell 

 you why. The fly is in the Early Tertiary. Preserved 

 in amber of undoubted Early Tertiary he is there, as large 

 as life and a mighty sight more desirable to have about 

 the house. Knowing the fly as we do, knowing his 

 irrepressible propensity for thrusting his society upon us, 

 no reasonable person can doubt that, when asked in 

 preceding ages to step into the world and make himself 

 at home, he waved a graceful negative to the Goniaster- 

 oidocnnus tuberosus and the rest of them. ' No," said 

 he, " no. You fellows go on. I'll wait for man. He'll 

 be along pretty soon." 



\Vhat he wants with us I declare I don't know. It 

 can't be the table we set. Considering his taste in comes- 

 tibles, that were a compliment of the most left-handed 

 kind. No. In a sunny dining room you see them flying 

 about, paying no particular attention to the food. Other 

 pests live all the time in the house, but the fly comes in 

 only when it is grown up. I think it does it out of pure 

 meanness. It knows we don't want it about and it comes 

 in just to tease. I am sure it recognizes man as existing 

 and gets used to having him around. A fly that is, as 

 you might say, house-broke, will let you come close 

 enough to it to snap a rubber band at it, but a wild fly 

 won't. 



It is faithfully believed by most people that, when 

 thoroughly infuriated, Mnsca domestica can bite. There 

 are enough bad things to say without resorting to calum- 

 nious falsehood. Tickle it may, but bite it cannot. 

 However, its second in numbers, the stable fly, Stomoxys 

 calcitrans, sharp-mouthed stinger, can and will unsheath 

 its dagger of a tongue and pierce through thin cloth, 

 giving what in Christian Science is called " an instantane- 



