The Life of the Fly 



to show its lack of deference for terms that 

 do not respect its ears. I, wishing to speak 

 like everybody else, so that I may be under- 

 stood by all, and persuaded that science has 

 no need of this Brobdignagian jargon, make 

 a point of avoiding technical nomenclature 

 when it becomes too barbarous, when it 

 threatens to lumber the page the moment my 

 pen attempts it. And so I abandon Mono- 

 dontomerus. 



It is a puny little insect, almost as tiny as 

 the Midges whom we see eddying in a ray 

 of sunshine at the end of autumn. Its dress is 

 golden-bronze; its eyes are coral-red. It car- 

 ries a naked sword, that is to say, the sheath 

 of its drill stands out slantwise at the tip of 

 its belly, instead of lying in a hollow groove 

 along the back, as it does with the Leucospis. 

 This scabbard holds the latter half of the 

 inoculating-filament, which extends below the 

 animal to the base of the abdomen. In short, 

 its utensil is that of the Leucospis, with this 

 difference, that its lower-half sticks out like a 

 rapier. 



This mite that bears a sword upon her 

 rump is yet another persecutor of the Mason- 

 bees and not one of the least formidable. 

 She exploits their nests at the same time as the 



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