THE ANTHRAX FLY 



for a moment on its marvellous instinct. Picture it as 

 having just left the egg, just awakened to life under 

 the fierce rays of the sun. The bare stone is its cradle; 

 there is no one to welcome it as it enters the world, a 

 mere thread of half-solid substance. Instantly it starts 

 on its struggle with the flint. Obstinately it sounds 

 each pore of the stone; it slips in, crawls on, retreats, 

 begins again. What inspiration urges it towards its 

 food, what compass guides it? What does it know of 

 those depths, or of what lies in them? Nothing. What 

 does the root of a plant know of the earth's fruitfulness? 

 Again, nothing. Yet both the root and the worm make 

 for the nourishing spot, Why? I do not understand. 

 I do not even try to understand. The question is far 

 above us. 



We have now followed the complete history of the 

 Anthrax. Its life is divided into four periods, each of 

 which has its special form and its special work. The 

 primary larva enters the Bees' nest, which contains pro- 

 visions; the secondary larva eats those provisions; the 

 pupa brings the insect to light by boring through the 

 enclosing wall ; the perfect insect strews its eggs. Then 

 the story starts afresh. 



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