The Plague of Flies. 27 



ligence and mental capacity, but I am inclined to think 

 that what there is must be all on the distaff side. The 

 male cannot amount to much intellectually, for his eyes 

 are so close together that they touch each other. That's 

 always a bad sign. I never saw anybody with eyes so 

 close together that was very bright. The male green- 

 head horse-fly has a wife that viciously nips the bare legs 

 of bathers, but he is a harmless, poetical little fellow, and 

 drinks nothing stronger than nectar, which he sips from 

 flow r er-cups. 



The fly has two sorts of eyes, the big compound ones, 

 four thousand in a bunch on each side of the head, for 

 knocking about in daylight, and three simple eyes on the 

 top of the head for use in a poor light, sewing, and fine 

 print. 



Before going into ecstasies of admiration of the 

 wonderful view a creature must have that has eight 

 thousand and odd eyes to see with, it might be well to 

 remember that they are not of much account. In the case 

 of old flies kept over winter the compound eyes are all 

 caved in and broken, yet they seem to get along tolerably 

 well. Just to test them a kind gentleman varnished over 

 the simple eyes of some flies whose wings he had plucked 

 off. He found that he might hold a candle close enough 

 to the compound eyes to burn them before the fly had 

 any notion that anything out of the common was going 

 on. In daylight they worked better, but even so, he 

 was able to bring a knitting needle close enough to 

 touch the fly's antennae before it dodged. When the 

 knitting needle was brought up on the side Mr. Fly 

 picked up his sticking-plasters quite lively. 



The fly has no biting apparatus to speak of. Its tongue 

 unlimbers and extends, its broad, knob-like end divides 

 into two flat muscular leaves \vhich suck up juices and 



