IF the Bruce loved his instructive spider, for which history does not , why should not the public mosquito be dear to desponding minds, as a yet more of the value of and a set purpose? Who hath her? She laughs at all . She evades the soldier's gun, the physician's potion; the Sophi with his fleet cannot drive her away, nor the Czar her in any . What the mosquito came hitherward to do, that she does. The "moral runs at large."  
It is all very well to abuse her; one gets a poor, childish satisfaction out of such terms of as can be readily : unfledged Tamerlane! disturber of the sanctities of night! Satan of summer joys!—and so on. What avails all that? We have to bow our necks, and endure her diabolics. She is an evil which the Constitution cannot remedy; and as we are given to understand that she does not speak English, no protest in that tongue can pierce her horny and tyrannical heart.
 
The believing soul may picture her primarily in some sweet, decorous frolic through the of Eden (for charity would even accord to her the possibility of a state of first innocence), frisking airily with birds-of-Paradise, and given wholly to honorable practices. Ah! but what man is proof against violent thoughts of Father Noah, who, when she had already entered on her vein-glorious, flesh-loving, back-biting, and peace-disturbing career, gave her the shelter of his house through troublous days, and, like the short-sighted philanthropist that he was, cursed the four continents in befriending two insects?
 
I cannot consider any cosmic force more practical. The poet a river-bank, and sheds on a the of ; it is none other than Mosquito who induces you to hate and what you would fain be persuaded to consider fair. She it is who can make the greenest landscape , and the calm haunts of trees as if all were let loose under their outspread arms. She is your best circumnavigator. I cannot picture to my wildest a place where she is not. Nowhere is she an exile, but hath her native all over Christendom. She holds her cannibalistic orgies wherever human foot hath trodden. In that Land which, , is No Man's, methinks she prowleth still, looking for him. Howsoever a it be to ignore so great an influence on our personal behavior, so huge a factor in the reckoning of men's , little enough is recorded of this wretched anthropophaginian. Dante did weakly, inasmuch as she figured not as chief among his perpetually . The cricket, the glow-worm, the ant, the

Join or Log In! You need to log in to continue reading

Create a new account   I have a account already

	Create an New Account
Email:  (User Name)
Password:	Letters and numbers only. 6-20 characters.
Retype Password:
Screen Name:	Letters and numbers only. 6-50 Characters.
Confirmation Code:	(Please type in the characters in the green image.)

	Login into Your Account
Email:
Password:
	Remember me on this computer.