THE SMUDGE. PUNKY! 28 



murky air environed us, languor subdued us, and we were 

 content to throw ourselves down upon the grass. Forth- 

 with a ha/.y cloud gathered around my head, I experienced 

 burning sensations on my hands, wrists, face and neck. 

 My tars seemed atlame. Was I sick? Had "prickly 

 heal " attacked me? Did I need a doctor V I endeavored 

 to solve the mystery of the ha/e. 1 looked earnestly at my 

 hands, and discovered winged atoms of noiseless (light, 

 countless in numbers dull sparks with wings, that settled 

 quietly down upon me by the hundred and then bnrncil. 

 I had not been told of the phenomenon, and it was a reve 

 lation. Burn! burn! burn! How they burned! I was 

 almost frantic. 1 appealed to Benson again; "What is 

 ihK this these confounded things that I can't see but 

 which Itite so horribly?" 



" I'unky ! my hoy, tin- no see ems the 'cutest little 

 wretches in their line that this country up here product's. 

 They don't sound any horn when they go to business. Oh, 

 you'll get used to 'em. They 'n- not bad. Tar oil will li\ 

 Vm all right. And there's where the beauty of the smudge 

 comes in." 



" But I can't endure it ," said I, slapping mv lace, rubbing 

 my ears and hopping about in a transport of nervous 

 irritability. 



"Well, you just ru^h into that smudge, and the punkies 

 will leave you fast enough." 



So I rushed. The tierce little gnats left me. The low 

 smouldering lire in the kettle sent up clouds of half fragrant 

 and pungent smoke, which seemed for an instant as luxu- 



