^06 FIVE ACRES TOO MUCH. 



their attacks, I endeavored to take a nap, they fell 

 upon me and banished sleep from my eyes. 



&quot; Flies !&quot; said &quot;Weeville, when he heard of my mis 

 eries ; &quot; why do you not kill them off ? I used to be 

 troubled with them, but I bought some of the gray 

 fly-paper Berensohn s lightning-killer and soon 

 brought matters to an issue. The very first day we 

 killed f orty or fifty, and the girl swept them up in the 

 kitchen by tea-cups full : the supply was not equal to 

 the demand, and I have not been waked by a fly 

 since. What a comfort it is to sleep through the 

 morning in peace, and not a single buzz !&quot; 



Before night I had the famous death-dealer, and, 

 according to directions, set it out in saucers, covered 

 with a little water, and watched complacently, and 

 with somewhat of an about-to-be-gratified revengeful 

 feeling in my breast, for the result. I waited and 

 waited; the flies buzzed, and crawled, and tickled, 

 but not one went near the fatal saucer ; in every part 

 of the room were they except in that spot. They 

 crawled up and down the walls, they perched on the 

 ceiling, they committed suicide in the water-pitcher, 

 they collected in masses on the crumbs lying about, 

 and chased one another around in playful and ama 

 tory mood, but touch that saucer they did not. I 

 moved it from place to place, and set it near where 



