The Life of the Fly 



in avoiding the trap of the revolving card- 

 board. 



The track is only a short one: the card- 

 board measures three hand's-breadths in 

 length. Let us give more space. I settle the 

 grubs on the floor of the room ; with a hair- 

 pencil, I turn them with their heads pointing 

 towards the lighted aperture. The moment 

 they are free, they turn and run from the light. 

 With all the speed whereof their cripple's 

 shuffle allows, they cover the tiled floor of the 

 study and go and knock their heads against 

 the wall, twelve feet off, skirting it afterwards, 

 some to the right and some to the left. They 

 never feel far enough away from that hateful 

 illuminated opening. 



What they are escaping from is evidently 

 the light, for, if I make it dark with a screen, 

 the troop does not change its direction when 

 I turn the cardboard. It then progresses quite 

 readily towards the window; but, when I re- 

 move the screen, it turns tail at once. 



That a grub destined to live in the darkness, 

 under the shelter of a corpse, should avoid the 

 light is only natural; the strange part is its 

 very perception. The maggot is blind. Its 

 pointed fore-part, which we hesitate to call a 

 head, bears absolutely no trace of any optical 

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