MY WATER-LOVERS. 37 



dinary mosquitoes, are quiet, black, round, and 

 rather Hard. 



No sooner did one such worm descend from his 

 height in order to make a voyage ~from one side 

 of the bottle to the other than his path was beset 

 with danger. The horns of the larvae pointed 

 toward him, and it became a question whether the 

 worm would be a successful mariner or whether 

 the dangers of the deep would be his undoing. If 

 the latter, some pair of tiny nippers closed upon 

 him, and the successful larva raised the victim 

 aloft. But one larva should not be greedy, and 

 his brethren all rushed to the feast, and soon the 

 unfortunate worm was claimed by a number of 

 larvae, and, until the last vestige of that worm 

 disappeared, the pulling and fighting went on. 

 Often, however, the voyage ended successfully, 

 and the worm would inch up the glass on the 

 other side, leaving the larvae wondering where he 

 had gone to. 



But murder of other creatures was not the only 

 crime committed in that jar. Fratricide pre- 

 vailed, until, at last, one larva remained, the sole 

 ruler of the bottle, the survivor of his brethren, 

 illustrating in himself the doctrine of the Survival 

 of the Fittest. 



The Fittest did not seem to be a very bright 

 infant. Perhaps he was more deficient in intel- 

 lect than Hydrophilidce children usually are, but, 

 at times in his career, I doubted whether, if he 





