or Mobile. It is May, but flies are in full
season.

Flies command a great deal of attention
everywhere, particularly during the summer
months in the American States. There, even
so far north as New York, an attendant does
not cease to wave the " fly-brush," a great
bunch of peacock's feathers, four feet long
perhaps, over the dinner-table for seven months
out of the twelve. And as fly-brushes, dark
rooms, impenetrable safes, refrigerators, and
gauze coverings are needful in forty degrees
of latitude north, we may be sure that the
need for them does not decrease as one goes
south. Therefore, requesting any Englishman
who does not travel, to multiply his experience
of common house flies—which Ugo Foscolo
pronounced to be one of the three miseries of life
even here—by five or five hundred thousand,
I leave him to judge of the strength of the
entomologist's opportunity of studying the ways
of foreign flies.

Then as to the mosquitoes: There are some
parts of Florida—the Everglades, and on the
Mosquito River, near the eastern coast—where
mosquitoes abound in such dense clouds that
they have been known to extinguish a great
blazing pine-wood fire in the open air, singeing
their wings, and falling into it so fast that the
fire, unable to consume them, they smother it.
The wayfarer is thus placed in the awkward
dilemma of having attracted his enemies by the
necessary fire and light, which he is yet unable
to keep burning.

The South gives the name " gnat" to a small,
fly-like insect, with no beauty except to the
entomologist; too small and too wingy even as
food for young woodpeckers. For the
pratical education of man in endurance, these
gnats must be useful, for they beset him
in swarms, in clouds, unwearied, exhaustless,
from " early morn till dewy eve." When
once you are received into their happy circle,
see if you can breathe without swallowing
half a score; fix your attention on something
else—if you can. They are not vicious; they
do not bite nor sting you. They are simply
foolish; they are devoted to you, and they love
the very air you breathe. They hover round
you, and do not forsake you. Not unless you
untiringly wield a huge fan, and make it the sole
business of the day to fan frantically morning,
noon, and night. Otherwise, bear with
them.

Here, then, at once, are three species for our
entomologist, who has only to sit, lens in hand,
and not wait long for an "object" to fly into his
mouth. A sharp sting on the neck. Down goes
the microscope, up goes the hand to dash away
a " yellow fly," a gay sprightly creature somewhat
less than a wasp; but with a loud pert
buzz at being disturbed, he insists on again
settling; for he has made up his little mind to
dine off an entomologist's ear. He has beautiful
iridescent wings, a head like a lovely emerald,
a bright yellow striped body. He is a perfect
gem of an insect, and if one is only patient, what
an opportunity of examining him one can have
if it is possible to tempt him with a bit of wrist.
He generally comes alone, but makes amends for
that by coming often. Everybody in the South
has probably his own devoted yellow fly as body
fly; and the young entomologist sums up his
observation of the creature's habits when he
says, " I don't believe the yellow flies eat
anything but people."

With June and its abundant fruits and
flowers, arrive fresh armies of winged creatures,
though our three hosts already in occupation
don't lower a spear. Wasps of various sizes,
such as are never seen in England, bring to
the entomologist new stores of recreation. They
are less troublesome and malicious than the
yellow flies, for they desire only the luscious
fig, or the peach in your hand, or its juice upon
your lip; and, if you let them gratify this very
civilised taste, they will forthwith depart without
trying to eat their benefactor. But the
yellow fly aspires to eat you up. It is your
blood he wants—fee, fa, fo, fum! Your blood
he will have, and withal he alights so stealthily
to ensure at least the first taste of his repast,
that you know nothing of his having dropped
in to dinner until he has stuck his fork of a
proboscis deep into a juicy bit of you. The great
merit of the yellow fly is that he does not get
into your eyes. He also takes care that you
shall not swallow him. He does not blow down
on us, as the gnats do, in dense clouds, enter
eyes, ears, nostrils, and set us sneezing, choking,
weeping, starting furiously all at once. The
entomologist can study him with his eyes
open.

Following all these excellent specimens and
opportunities, are other frequent visitors, of all
colours and sizes, to keep those unhappy
malcontents who are not entomologists in the
constant penal exercise of driving them away. The
yellow jacket vies with his brilliant cousin yellow
fly in glory. Some, like him, are furnished with
a poisonous proboscis, and, not being easily
alarmed, defy the fan. Others come only to
make your acquaintance; but, if not most
courteously received, will not depart without a
farewell sting.

These are only a few of the daily in-doors
opportunities of studying Diptera, Hymenoptera,
and Neuroptera, enjoyed by the entomologist
who has gone South. But let him not
suppose that his observations will be at all confined
to these. All the "apteras," and "ipteras,"
and " opteras" will, in their turn, come to
salute him; especially he will receive the attentions
of an exceedingly beautiful specimen of
the coleoptera, called chintz bug, which has a
hard skin and beetle-like wings, splendid
antennæ, and a most symmetrical form. He is an
elegant bug truly, and a perfect jewel under the
lens. He will be sure to make frequent excursions
about you during the day, glibly scampering
over your garments and under your sleeves.
So long as he is unmolested he will run about
quietly enough; but, should he unfortunately
become entangled in your dress, or lose his way,