The Life of the Fly 



your entrance among the despised ones, who 

 have not been nourished on Cicero and 

 Demosthenes ! 



I am authorized to move, once a week, the 

 material required for my ambitious plans. 

 From the first floor, the sacred dwelling of 

 the scientific things, I shall take them down to 

 a sort of cellar where I give my lessons. The 

 troublesome part is the pneumatic trough. It 

 has to be emptied before it is carried down- 

 stairs and to be filled again afterwards. A 

 day-scholar, a zealous acolyte, hurries over his 

 dinner and comes to lend me a hand an hour 

 or two before the class begins. We effect the 

 move between us. 



What I am after is oxygen, the gas which 

 I once saw fail so lamentably. I thought it 

 all out at my leisure, with the help of a book. 

 I will do this, I will do that, I will go to work 

 in this or the other fashion. Above all, we 

 will run no risks, perhaps of blinding our- 

 selves ; for it is once more a question of heat- 

 ing manganese dioxide with sulphuric acid. I 

 am filled with misgivings at the recollection of 

 my old school-fellow yelling like mad. Who 

 cares? Let us try for all that: fortune fa- 

 vours the brave ! Besides, we will make one 

 prudent condition, from which I shall never 

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