THE MOSQUITO. 197 



where until man has entered his muslin tent. Every 

 effort will, it knows, be made to dislodge it ; the curtains 

 will be shaken, towels will be flapped here and there, every 

 nook and corner will, as it seems, be examined, but the 

 mosquito will manage in one way or other to evade the 

 search. But even in the exceptional cases where it is routed 

 out, the mosquito knows that it is but for a time. If there is 

 a hole in the curtains, be it only the size of a knitting-needle, 

 it will find it and get through ; and in the event of the 

 curtains being absolutely new, it is sure to find some point 

 at which the tucking up has been imperfectly done. But 

 most of all it relies upon entering with the would-be sleeper. 

 The latter is well aware of this. He listens first for the 

 sound of wings, but at this moment the mosquito is dis- 

 creetly silent. Then he untucks a small portion of the 

 curtain, his attendant flaps a towel wildly, and under cover 

 of this he plunges hastily through the orifice, which is at 

 once closed behind him. Then, in spite of a thousand 

 similar experiences, the man flatters himself that this time 

 he has evaded the mosquito, and lies down to rest. Stronger 

 and stronger grows the hope as the minutes pass on, and at 

 last it almost blooms into certainty as he finally turns over 

 and composes himself for sleep. Drowsiness steals over him, 

 when, just as consciousness is leaving him, the mosquito 

 sounds a triumphant bugle-blast close to his ear. Then the 

 ordinary man sits up in bed as if he were shot, and swears. 

 This is, unfortunately, all but universal. The best and 

 most patient of men have found it absolutely impossible to 

 avoid using bad language at this crisis. There is a shout 

 for the attendant, a light is brought and placed on a table 

 near the curtain. Then the battle begins in grim earnest, the 



