318 THE MAUSOLEUM. 



our work late in the autumn, when they disappear. 

 Hard wind is the only thing that quells them ; 

 but it simply drives them into the grass, to 

 return on its lulling, if possible, more savagely 

 hungry. Quaint old Spenser knew this ; he says, 

 speaking of gnats : 



No man nor beast may rest or take repast 



For their sharp sounds and noyous injuries, 

 Till the fierce northern wind with blustering blast 

 Doth blow them quite away, and in the ocean cast. 



My notebook, as I open it now, is a mausoleum 

 of scores of my enemies ; there they lay, dry and 

 flat; round some of them a stain of blood tells 

 how richly they merited their untimely end. 



One thing has always puzzled me in the history 

 of these ravenous cannibals what on earth can 

 they get to feed on, when there are no men or 

 animals ? I brought home specimens, of course ; 

 and I am by no means sure I feel any great 

 pleasure in finding my foe to be a new species, 

 but it is, and named Culex pinguis^ because it 

 was fatter and rounder than any of its known 

 brethren. 



The habits of this new mosquito are, in eveiy 

 detail, the same as all the known species. The 

 female lays her eggs, which are long and oval in 

 shape, in the water; then aided by her hind-legs, 



