The Life of the Fly 



garment; in theorems, plainness suffices. The 

 others, especially the naturalist, arc in duty 

 bound to drape a gauze tunic more or less 

 elegantly around her waist. 



Suppose I say: 



'Baptiste, give me my slippers.' 



I am expressing myself in plain language, 

 a little poor in variants. I know exactly what 

 I am saying and my speech is understood. 



Others — and they are numerous — contend 

 that this rudimentary method is the best in 

 all things. They talk science to their readers 

 as they might talk slippers to Baptiste. Kaf- 

 fir syntax does not shock them. Do not 

 speak to them of the value of a well-selected 

 term, set down in its right place, still less of 

 a lilting construction, sounding rather well. 

 Childish nonsense they call all that; the fid- 

 dling of a short-sighted mind! 



Perhaps they are right: the Baptiste idiom 

 is a great economiser of time and trouble. 

 This advantage does not tempt me; it seems 

 to me that an idea stands out better if ex- 

 pressed in lucid language, with sober imagery. 

 A suitable phrase, placed in its correct posi- 

 tion and sayirlg without fuss the things we 

 want to say, necessitates a choice, an often 

 laborious choice. There are drab words, the 



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