ATTACKS OF THE GREAT GAD-FLY. Glo 



fierce hum, as if sounding the charge, they would dart at tre, 

 and in a moment bury their hmcets in the skin. So fierce 

 were their assaults that they even pierced a stout coat of 

 Scotch tweed and a flannel shirt, and, in spite of these protec- 

 tions, drew blood from my arms. For the first few days I 

 was so persecuted by these insects that I hardly dnred venture 

 into the Forest, and was seriously considering whether I should 

 not be obliged to go home again. 



Their favourite point of attack was just behind the ear. 

 There was no hope of resisting them, for they did Udt wait to 

 settle, as reasonable flies might be expected to do, but drove 

 straiuht at me with extended beaks, and buried their lancet- 

 armed beak so deeply that each prick felt as if a stout needle 

 had been run sharply into me. On returning to my lodging, 

 after a few hours in the .Forest, I have had the whole space 

 beliind my ears filled with clotted blood, my neck filled also 

 with blood, my collar glued to my neck, and long tracks of 

 blood running down my body and arms. The hands were 

 served in just the same way, and, if I had not worn leather 

 gauntleted gloves, and tied them at the wrists, I should scarcely 

 have been able to move a finger. 



At last I discovered a j^lan which enabled me to enjoy 

 comparative immunity from these and other insect pests. 

 Before starting into the Forest, I dipped a little spoisge in 

 paraffin and rubbed it well over my hands, face, and neck. I 

 also put some of the liquid into the gloves, and took a little 

 bottle with me, so that I might renew it as soon as the odour 

 began to decrease in strength. Thus armed, I went into the 

 Forest, and, hearing in the distance the well-known trumpet- 

 charge of the Breeze Fly, determined to await its onset without 

 flinching. 



The creature drove fiercely at my face until it was within a 

 foot or eighteen inches from me, when it came within the 

 vapour of the paraffin, and darted off like an arrow. Two or 

 three times it tried the assault, and as often had to check 

 itself, until at last it flew off in disgust and did not return. 

 After this glorious repulse of the enemy I never troubled 

 myself about the flies, but used to amuse myself by hearing 

 them in the distance, and then seeing them dart away, utterly 

 discomfited with the novel odour. Of course, the smell of the 



