THE MESSAGE OF A MIDGE. 95 



thy life, but only a short sketch of thy daily 

 movements. 



Sitting here, with thoughts afar off, I sud- 

 denly feel a twirk at one of the nerve cells in 

 the back of my hand. I look down and note a 

 minute gray midge a veritable "no-see-em" 

 with his proboscis deeply sunk into my skin. I 

 give him a gentle slap with the other hand and 

 another life is blotted out and enters the portals 

 of the great unknown. By that slight move of 

 mine, energy and matter were separated. The 

 one ceased on the instant to control the other. 

 How wonderful their combination in so minute 

 a mass as a midge! Yet not more wonderful 

 than the way in which the message was sent to 

 my brain of the twirk of the nerve cell on the 

 back of my hand by the midge's beak. 



XXII. 



June 28, 'OS. June in all her regal splendor 

 is almost gone and such a June! Cold and 

 gray have been most of her days. Bleak and 

 chilling the north winds have blown. The rays 

 of the father of all the sun have shone scant- 



