The Life of the Fly 



me the structure of a Snail in a plate filled 

 with water. It was short and fruitful. From 

 that moment, I was initiated. Henceforth, I 

 was to wield the scalpel and decently to ex- 

 plore an animal's interior without any other 

 guidance from a master. The second lesson, 

 that of chemistry, was less fortunate. I will 

 tell you what happened. 



In my normal school, the scientific teaching 

 was on an exceedingly modest scale, consisting 

 mainly of arithmetic and odds and ends of 

 geometry. Physics was hardly touched. We 

 were taught a little meteorology, in a summary 

 fashion : a word or two about a red moon, a 

 white frost, dew, snow and wind; and, with 

 this smattering of rustic physics, we were con- 

 sidered to know enough of the subject to dis- 

 cuss the weather with the farmer and the 

 ploughman. 



Of natural history, absolutely nothing. No 

 one thought of telling us anything about flow- 

 ers and trees, which give such zest to one's 

 aimless rambles, nor about insects, with their 

 curious habits, nor about stones, so instructive 

 with their fossil records. That entrancing 

 glance through the windows of the world was 

 refused us. Grammar was allowed to strangle 

 life. 



