The fly iz not only a domestik, but a friendly insek, without branes, but happily without guile.

They make their appearance amung mankind, a good deal az the wind duz, “whare it listeth.”

How they are exactly born, i haven’t been able yet tew investigate, but they are so universal at times, that i hav thought, they didn’t wait tew be born, but took the fust good chance that was offered, and cum just az they am.

They are sed tew be male and femail, but i dont think they konsider the marriage tie binding, for they look so mutch alike, that it would be a grate waste ov time, finding out wich waz who, and this would lead tew never ending fites, wich iz the rhubarb ov domestik life.

They make their annual visit about the first ov May, but don’t git tew buzzing good till the center ov August.

They stay with uz untill kold weather puts in an appearance, and then leave, a good deal az they cum, jist az they am.

Menny ov them are kut oph in the flower ov their yuth, and usefullness, but this don’t interfere with their census, for their iz another steps right into their place, and heirs their property.

Sum looze their lives bi lighting too near the rim ov a toad’s noze, and fall in, when the tud gaps, and others git badly stuck bi phooling with mollassis.

Sum visit the spiders, and are induced tew remain, and thousands find a watery grave, bi gitting drowned in milk cans.

The fly iz no respekter ov pussuns, he lights onto the pouting lips ov a sleeping darkey, jist az eazy az he duz onto the buzzum ov the queen ov buty, and will buzz an Alderman, or a hod-carrier, if they git in his way.

Flys, moraly konsidered, are like a large share ov the rest ov human folks, they wont settle on a good healthy spot in a man, not if they kan find a spot that iz a leetle raw.

Their principal food iz every thing, they will pitch into a ded snaik, or a quarter ov beef, with the same anxiety, and will eat from sun rise, till seven o’clock in the evening, without getting more than haff phull.

They will eat more, and hold less, than enny bug we kno ov.

The fly haz a remarkable impoverished memory, yu may drive him out ov yure ear; and he will land on yure forhed, hit him aginly, and he enters yure noze, the oftner yu git rid ov him in one spot, the more he gets onto another; the only way tew inculcate him with yure meaning, iz tew smash him up fine.

Naturalists dont tell us all about the soshull habits ov the fly, but i beleave they hav temprate habits, and altho they hang around grocerys a good deal, I never saw a fly the wuss for liquor, but i hav often seen liquor the wuss for flies.

They hav a big appetight for gitting into things, they are the fust at the dinner table, and alwus take soup, and dont leave untill the cloth iz removed.

Flys see a grate deal ov good sosiety, they are admitted into all circles, and if they remember one haff that they see and hear, what a world ov phunny sekrets they could unfold; but flys are perfekly honarable, and never betray a konfidence.

What would sum lovers giv, if they could only git a fly tew blab, but a fly iz a perfek gentleman, he eats oph from your plate, enjoys yure conversashun, sees sights, and haz more phun, and privilege, than a prime minister, or a dressing maid, but when yu cum tew pump him, he iz az dry in the mouth, az a salt codfish.

Thare iz sumthing a fly will blow, but he wont blow a sekret.

Flys i think, must be born whole, for i never saw a haff born fly, they are all ov a size when yu fust see them, like a paper ov pins, and never git enny smaller.

I dont kno ov a more happy, whole souled, honest critter, among the bug dispensation, than a hansum, square bilt fly, taking a free ride in central park, with the Mayor and hiz wife, or a free lunch at Delmonico’s, with the minister from England, and then finishing up the bizzness ov the day, by sleeping upside down, on the ceiling ov my ladys bed chamber.

But thare iz plenty ov pholks who kant see enny phun, or religion in a fly, whoze whole aim iz tew set molasses traps for them, tew chase them out ov the house with a sled stake, and then clear across a ploughed lot onto the next farm, tew git up nights in their stocking feet, tew worry them, with the tongs, tew drive them tew the brink ov despair, and finally ruin them, with deth.

I thank the Lord i ain’t one ov thoze, i don’t luv a fly enuff, tew leave mi vittles, and fall down flatt on mi stummuk, and worship them, but a fly may cum and sit on mi noze, all day, and chaw hiz cud in silence, if he will only sit still.

Flys tickle me, but they don’t make me sware, it takes a 143 bedd bug, at the hollow ov night, a mean, loafing bed bugg, who steals out ov a krack in the wall, az silently az the swet on a dog’s noze, and then creeps az soft az a shadder, on tew mi tenderest spot, and begins tew bore for my ile, it takes one ov theze foul fiends ov blood, and midnite, tew make me sware, a word ov two sillables.

A fly, the dear, little, social innocent, kant make me sware, not even an abreviated dam.

I dispize enny men who sware, it iz not only wicked, but always smells ov whiskey.

This essa, on the little fly, who visit us, in the spring ov the year, just az they am, will not interest the exceeding literary, or thoze who think they hav discovered poetry in their sile, it takes the essa on the life, and deth, ov an orphan rosebud, or the golden sheen ov a sassy moonbeam, dancing in a budoir tew the dreams ov a restive beauty, it takes sumthing ov this breed, tew fetch them.