XXVIII. 



ffifes, 



THIS is emphatically the heyday and holiday of the 

 flies ; and for the last half-hour my efforts to secure 

 an untroubled siesta have been frustrated by the blan- 

 dishments and attentions of a particularly energetic 

 member of that tribe of insects. Once upon a time I 

 was captivated by an enthralling account of the adven- 

 tures of a bald-headed man with a fly. Out of these in- 

 congruous elements the author evolved a most thrilling 

 recital. The bald-headed man lay asleep this was the 

 prologue to the drama. Act first was the descent of 

 the fly on his head, and his awakening himself from 

 slumber by the energetic slap which he gave his cranium 

 in the hope of killing the intruder and trespasser. 



Then began act second. This was the arousing of 

 vengeance. The bald-headed man procures a towel, 

 and lies in wait for his enemy. Effort after effort to 

 secure his prey fails. He then sinks to rest. The 

 final act of the drama witnesses his waking up once 

 again on the fly's invitation to combat, conveyed this 

 time by tickling the hairless man's nose. He seizes 

 his towel once again and pursues the insect. The 

 towel knocks over a pair of costly vases. Then the 

 inkstand is knocked over, and he mops up the ink from 

 his carpet with his towel. Off he goes again in hot 

 pursuit. He sends the end of his stick, to which 



