The Life of the Fly 



broad daylight In her wedding-dress. The 

 larva, on its side, is powerless to prepare the 

 way for the coming flight. That buttery little 

 cylinder, owning no tools but a sucker so flimsy 

 that it barely arrives at substance and so small 

 that it is almost a geometrical point, is even 

 weaker than the adult insect, which at least 

 flies and walks. The Mason-bee's cell repre- 

 sents to it a granite cave. How to get out? 

 The problem would be insoluble to those two 

 incapables, if nothing else played its part. 



Among insects, the nymph, or pupa, the 

 transition-stage between the larval and the 

 adult form, is generally a striking picture of 

 every weakness of a budding organism. A 

 sort of mummy tight-bound in swaddling- 

 clothes, motionless and impassive, it awaits the 

 resurrection. Its tender tissues flow in every 

 direction ; its limbs, transparent as crystal, are 

 held fixed in their place, along the side, lest a 

 movement should disturb the exquisite delicacy 

 of the work in course of accomplishment. 

 Even so, to secure his recovery, is a broken- 

 boned patient held captive in the surgeon's 

 bandages. Absolute stillness is necessary in 

 both cases, lest they be crippled or even die. 



Well, here, by a strange inversion that con- 

 fuses all our views on life, a Cyclopean task 



54 



