ome the solution of my puzzle. A man must
have the devil in him to leave the shade at this time of the year. And
what for, pray? To write the story of a fly! The greater the heat, the
better my chance of success. What causes me to suffer torture fills the
insect with delight; what prostrates me braces the fly. Come along!

The road shimmers like a sheet of molten steel. From the dusty and
melancholy olive trees rises a mighty, throbbing hum, a great andante
whose executants have the whole sweep of woods for their orchestra. 'Tis
the concert of the Cicada, whose bellies sway and rustle with increasing
frenzy as the temperature rises. The strident scrapings of the Cicada of
the Ash, the Carcan of the district, lend their rhythm to the one note
symphony of the common cicada. This is the moment: come along! And, for
five or six weeks, oftenest in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon,
I set myself to explore the flinty plateau.

The Chalicodoma's nests abound, but I cannot see a single Anthrax make
a black speck upon their surface. Not one, busy with her laying, settles
in front of me. At most, from time to time, I can just see one passing
far away, with an impetuous rush. I lose her in the distance; and that
is all. It is impossible to be present at the laying of the egg. I know
the little that I learnt from the cliffs in the Legue and nothing more.

As soon as I recognize the difficulty, I hasten to enlist assistants.
Shepherds--mere small boys--keep the sheep in these stony meadows,
where the flocks graze, to the greater glory of our local mutton, on the
camphor saturated badafo, that is to say, spike lavender. I explain as
well as I can the object of my search; I talk to them of a big black Fly
and the nests on which she ought to settle, the clay nests so well
known to those who have learnt how to extract the honey with a straw in
springtime and spread it on a crust of bread. They are to watch that fly
and take good note of the nests on which they may see her alight; and,
on the same evening, when they bring their flocks back to the village,
they are to tell me the result of their day's work. On receiving
their favorable report, I will go with them, next day, to continue the
observations. They shall be paid for their trouble, of course. These
latter day Corydons have not the manners of antiquity: they reck little
of the seven holed flute cemented with wax, or of the beechen bowl,
preferring the coppers that will take