Fig. 23. Phthirius ingni- 

 nalis, the crab-louse. 



We Never Speak Their Names, ici 



of him at church. T suppose it was considered a good 



joke in those days, but now just to think of it gives 



you a creeping feeling at the roots of your hair. 



B-r-r-r-r-r ! 



They have long fleshy beaks that turn inside out 



like a stocking and jab into a 



sweat-pore. Once they strike 



the blood the natural peristaltic 



action of their digestive tube 



keeps up the pumping. Their 



eggs are glued to the hairs and 



the infant, when hatched, is like 



the adult, except in size. They 



try the best they can to match the 



color of the skin of the person they live with, white man 



or negro or whatever. 



One kind stays in the hair of the head, another kind 



in the clothes, and still another kind has claws like a crab, 



and hangs on to a hair as if it grew 

 therp. For all these what an old Irish 

 lady I once knew called " Ann Quinlan," 

 and what the druggist calls " unguentum 

 mercurii," is said to be a good remedy. 

 Monkeys have a picturesque and econom- 

 ical method of ridding each other oi 

 them. In case you are inclined to be 

 Fig. 24. Pedicu- proud of your family and to brag about 



the three brothers that came over in 

 1640 and so on and so on, let me 



tell you that you do not have to go back much further 



than that date to find ancestors that did the very 



same trick as the monkeys. When the body of the 



martyred St. Thomas a Becket was laid out for burial a 



contemporary says the saint's haircloth shirt ' seethed 



lus vestimenti, the 

 body louse. 



