MISCELLANEOUS. 305 



Ah, mosquito, mosquito ! " Requiscat in pieces, non est 

 cum eat us ! " 



MOSQUITO POETRY. 



" He lights upon your head, 

 A naughty word is said, 



As with a rap, 



A vicious slap, 

 You bang the spot where he is not. 



He stops and rubs his gauzy wings; 

 He soars aloft, and gently sings, 



He sits and grins, 



And then begins 

 To select a spot for another shot." 



The great rains and consequent high waters in Minnesota 

 and Wisconsin in the early part of June have produced the 

 largest crop of mosquitoes on record, or on earth, for that 

 matter. The old man with the long memory, the far-seeing 

 oracle, the o. h., has never seen anything like it. The mos- 

 quito of 1880 is no larger than his ancestor, but he has sev- 

 eral other marked characteristics that will keep his memory 

 green in the hearts of his countrymen when the high winds 

 of the North shall sing sad requiems o'er the graves of his 

 defamers. His most striking peculiarity is, as Mrs. Parting- 

 ton would say, his numerousness. 



Nomen illio legio, his name is legion. For days after the 

 " flood " you could look in any of the pools or ponds that 

 you encountered at every turn and you would find the water 

 literally alive with "wrigglers" the larvae of the mosquito. 

 In due time they got ripe. The myriads arose in their might, 

 clothed in the glory of their full plumage, and are now mak- 

 ing themselves felt as a power in the land. They recognize 

 the truth of our national motto ' ' In union there is strength. ' ' 

 They bite, not as the Chicago delegates voted, but all one 

 way. They enforce the unit rule strictly. They are yet 



