ing sterns
and pointed heads, which emerge, wriggle and dive in again. It suggests
a seething billow. It turns one's stomach. It is horrible, most
horrible. Let us steel ourselves against the sight: it will be worse
elsewhere.

Here is a fat snake. Rolled into a compact whorl, she fills the whole
pan. The greenbottles are plentiful. New ones arrive at every moment
and, without quarrel or strife, take their place among the others,
busily laying. The spiral furrow left by the reptile's curves is the
favorite spot. Here alone, in the narrow space between the folds, are
shelters against the heat of the sun. The glistening Flies take their
places, side by side, in rows; they strive to push their abdomen and
their ovipositor as far forward as possible, at the risk of rumpling
their wings and cocking them towards their heads. The care of the person
is neglected amid this serious business. Placidly, with their red eyes
turned outwards, they form a continuous cordon. Here and there, at
intervals, the rank is broken; layers leave their posts, come and
walk about upon the snake, what time their ovaries ripen for another
emission, and then hurry back, slip into the rank and resume the flow of
germs. Despite these interruptions, the work of breeding goes fast. In
the course of one morning, the depths of the spiral furrow are hung
with a continuous white bark, the heaped up eggs. They come off in great
slabs, free of any stain; they can be shoveled up, as it were, with
a paper scoop. It is a propitious moment if we wish to follow the
evolution at close quarters. I therefore gather a profusion of this
white manna and lodge it in glass tubes, test tubes and jars, with the
necessary provisions.

The eggs, about a millimeter long, are smooth cylinders, rounded at
both ends. They hatch within twenty-four hours. The first question that
presents itself is this: how do the greenbottle grubs feed? I know quite
well what to give them, but I do not in the least see how they manage to
consume it. Do they eat, in the strict sense of the word? I have reasons
to doubt it.

Let us consider the grub grown to a sufficient size. It is the usual
fly larva, the common maggot, shaped like an elongated cone, pointed in
front, truncated behind, where two little red spots show, level with the
skin: these are the breathing holes. The front, which is called the
head by stretching a word--for it is little more than the entrance to an
intestine--the front is