The Wicked Flea. 71 



taught, but when we see fleas forbear to jump; when we 

 see them hitched up to tiny carriages and drawing them 

 soberly ; when we see some of them waltz while others 

 go through the motions of playing on orchestral instru- 

 ments ; when two fleas fence with swords well, it begins 

 to look as if we might be wrong, after all.- 



But we aren't. To stop fleas from jumping they are 

 put into a round glass-covered box, and that is spun till 

 the fleas get giddy and stupid and bump themselves so 

 often that they give up trying to jump. When they take 

 a sufficiently gloomy and pessimistic view of life and say 

 to themselves, 'Oh, what's the use of anything?' then 

 they are ready for a public career. It is pretty hard to 

 hitch up a flea. He is a slippery customer. You can't 

 tie a string around him and have it stay on because he has 

 no waist to speak of, and he is very smooth. It would 

 never do to run a fine wire through him. (Or her, 

 rather. I believe females are most commonly used, being 

 larger.) So a fastening is cemented to the flea's back. 

 Fasten two of them back to back and they have to waltz. 

 They can't help themselves, if they are alive and trying 

 to get away. Fasten the others before tiny models of 

 orchestral instruments and they will kick as if they were 

 playing. If they don't, stir them up with a feather. 

 The fencers have little swords hitched to them, and in 

 their struggles it appears that they are fighting. 



The really interesting thing about such a performance 

 is the contemplation of the bother men will go to in 

 avoiding honest, productive work. If the flea-exhibitor 

 put all that planning and delicate handicraft into some- 

 thing useful, it would be worth something to mankind. 

 The human race would be better off. The world would 

 be the richer for it. The man would have something to 

 show for it, but now, every time Lizzie or Jennie or 



