THE NATURALIST IN HIS VERANDAH. 25 



and flies are vile. The fly is bad enough in the plains, 

 but in the hills he is a thousand times worse. When I 

 walk through the bazaar all the shops appear to be draped 

 in mourning; and it is only on approaching close to them 

 that the mourning veil, composed of a phalanx of flies, 

 arises, and reveals what the shopman has for sale. I 

 cannot see the use of flies. I love animals from the amoeba 

 upwards. I, however, except the fly. It is no use point- 

 ing out to me his beautiful structure, the marvellous 

 formation of his mouth, and the wonderful build of his 

 feet, which enable him to walk upside down. I can see 

 nothing good in him. He does no work, he fritters away 

 his whole time, buzzing about to no purpose, and then 

 settling down on the spot most calculated to annoy a 

 human being. I take a savage delight in torturing and 

 killing him. The sight of a fly raises in me all my latent 

 savage instincts and passions. 



Having thus delivered myself of this tirade against the 

 most unwelcome occupant of my verandah, I can speak 

 with a calmer mind of its more interesting inhabitants. 

 Attached to the under side of the roof is a swift's nest. 

 This is a work of art. It is built chiefly of rubbish with 

 a sprinkling of feathers. Both birds work at the nest, 

 collecting pieces of straw, &c., from far and near. These 

 they glue to a rafter or to each other by means of their 

 viscid saliva. This pair of birds have commenced their 

 family cares early, for, as a rule, it is not until later in the 

 season that swifts begin to think of breeding. Neverthe- 

 less, this nest has been completed for some time, and 

 now contains two young birds which keep their parents 

 busy finding food for them. The entrance is close up 

 against a rafter, and it is marvellous how the birds manage 

 to fly straight into the nest without damaging it or without 

 knocking against the roof. 



The only other avine inhabitant of my verandah (for I 

 do not count the stray crows and other birds which some- 

 times venture in when I am not there) lives in a cage. He 



