--I don't remember,--he said,--that I have heard of such a thing as that
before. Mighty curious creatures, these same house-flies! Talk about
miracles! Was there ever anything more miraculous, so far as our common
observation goes, than the coming and the going of these creatures? Why
didn't Job ask where the flies come from and where they go to? I did not
say that you and I don't know, but how many people do know anything about
it? Where are the cradles of the young flies? Where are the cemeteries
of the dead ones, or do they die at all except when we kill them? You
think all the flies of the year are dead and gone, and there comes a warm
day and all at once there is a general resurrection of 'em; they had been
taking a nap, that is all.
--I suppose you do not trust your spider in the Muscarium?--said I,
addressing the Scarabee.
--Not exactly,--he answered,--she is a terrible creature. She loves me,
I think, but she is a killer and a cannibal among other insects. I wanted
to pair her with a male spider, but it wouldn't do.
-Wouldn't do?--said I,--why not? Don't spiders have their mates as well
as other folks?
-Oh yes, sometimes; but the females are apt to be particular, and if they
don't like the mate you offer them they fall upon him and kill him and
eat him up. You see they are a great deal bigger and stronger than the
males, and they are always hungry and not always particularly anxious to
have one of the other sex bothering round.
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