DARK WATER 73 



In this wood I sought and found the stream well 

 named the Dark Water; here, at all events, it is 

 grown over with old ivied oaks, with brambles and 

 briars that throw long branches from side to side, 

 making the almost hidden current in the deep shade 

 look black; but when the sunlight falls on it the 

 water is the colour of old sherry from the red soil 

 it flows over. No sooner had I sat down on the 

 bank, where I had a little space of sunlit water to 

 look upon, than the flies gathered thick about and 

 on me, and I began to pay some attention to indi- 

 viduals among them. Those that came to suck blood, 

 and settled at once in a business-like manner on my 

 legs, were some hairy and some smooth, and of various 

 colours grey, black, steel-blue, and barred and ringed 

 with bright tints ; and with these distinguished guests 

 came numberless others, small lean gnats mostly, with- 

 out colour, and of no consideration. 



I did not so much mind these as the others 

 that simply buzzed round without an object flies 

 that have no beauty, no lancet to stab you with, 

 and no distinction of any kind, yet will persist in 

 forcing themselves on your attention. They buzz 

 and buzz, and are loudest in your ear when you 

 are most anxious to listen to some distant faint 

 sound. If a blood-sucker hurts you, you can slap 

 him to death, and there's an end of the matter ; 

 but slap at one of these idle, aimless, teasing flies 

 as hard as you like, and he is gone like quick. 



