The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1869-01-02
[From Forney's Weekly Press.
THE LAST FLY OF THE SEASON.
BY JOHN HICKMAN.

There is Last Fly of the Season,
just as much as there was Last OF the
Mohcgans. Have you ever carefully
examined him, or have your readers
ever cxcmincd him, or seen hin! No;
neither you nor they have ever so far
performed the Naturalist, and conse-
qucntly the task of describing him is
imposed upon me and | undertake it
with reluctance, Notwithstanding l
know | am fully competent tothc task.
This Last Fly is singular-sui gen
eris. lie is not, like any other fly,
and wouldn't be if he could, because he
has large advantages over all his fel-
lows. He is president, aristocrat, king,
emperor, autocrat. His tribe is ephemc-
raj HE seems to be perpetual. He
will live at least until Christmas. He
would rule with more than dcspotic
sway if he had subjects, but being the
Last Fly, he is Robinson Crusoe, an
Alexander Sclkirk, without confinement
to an island, and without man Fri
day to dance attendance about and
around him. He is large, long-lcggged,
broad-winged, open-eyed, sharp-beakcd,
and increasingly buzzy. Being de-
privcd of his kind, he seeks human So
ciety, and when he once gains admit
lance to habitation he remains. BE
sure of that. Custer becomes impossi-
bic. He pcrverts the law of TRovER
AND CONVERSION in this wise: " | have
found and | will convert" Such is his
decision. He cares nothing for Black
stone or Supreme Courts. Your house
or mine he makes his home. Yes,
MAKES; and although we may have
millions of money, palace, wardrobes
rcplctc with the Paris fashions, works
of the highest art, wines ofall the years
and localities, indeed, every appliance
of luxury, he eats and drinks without
invitation; dcfilcs, annoys, and then
dcfes election. If he could speak, he
would undoubtedly say to the world
81 am monarch of all I survey,
My rights there are none to dispute
Or in more classical phrase
''Nec mihi deticiat calor hic hiemantibus
annis."
The Last Fly among other flies
would be as the gorilla among mon
KEYS, or the kangaroo among Oppos-
sums. He would soar above them,
look down upon them, and show his
ruling importance whilst he did. So
Feeling the pride of man, he would
stroke his beard, if he had one, and
twist his moustache in contempt of all
around him. He places no value upon
knowledge, but relies entirely upon the
physical He has thoughts or instincts
which are better. BY every act he eX-
presses this, Il am Fly, who is MORE !?
I am the Last Fly, who is as MUcH?"
When the first frost of autumn is
found, like light cause, upon the grass :;
when the last of the simmer birds COM
mence their journey south; when the
chipmonk is carrying to his hole the
last load of a winters supply of food /;
and when the woodchuck is drowsy,
halfdreamng of his Information when
the apples are all gathered in, and the
cider carefully stored away; when the
corn is huskcd, garnered, and the joy
Gus reposc of the winter begins, the
visitor about which we write is sure to
appear. You will know him on the in
slant. His dignity, selfassumcd though
it may be, is an introduction. His air
tells you who he is. He is the Last
Fly of the Season.
Is is a sad thing to lie taken down in
October with disease which is to last
until the close of November. Have you
ever experienced it Probably not.
No, your countcnancc, ruddy and trans
parent as the ruby, clearly indicates
you have not had pneumonia, with all
its accompaniment and concomitants ::
Pain under the shoulder-blade, down
the side, shortness of breath, exhaus-
tive sweats, loss of appetite, quick pull
SEES, doctors and doses, &C., &c. We'll,
gradually, very gradually, you regain
a minimum of strength, and you begin
to think of a sound sleep, such as once
was yours, but you have not had for
weeks when, just at that nick of time,
the Last Fly appcars-appears to YOU
as you are-sick, weak, half-conscious
yes, less. He appears to you bottle
bummed, noisy, stradley, and greedy.
He buzzes AROUND yon, squats ON you.
and nibblns AT you; YOU turn, HE turns;
you oppose. and be bites on. He
perches on the tip of your nose, or on
the fag-end of your ear, as the spring
blackbird on the out-cropping ivy
branch, and refuses to leave. If you
had not fever, he would give you one /;
if you were not nervous, he would make
you So; if YOU had an appetite, he
would take it away; is you were for
peace, he would make you for war if
you were pious, he would make you
swear; if you were for Grant, he would