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Banfield, E. J. (Edmund James), 1852-1923

"Confessions of a Beachcomber"

Are not the tenses of intoxication
infinite?
This is not a prohibition district, and if the happy, unreflective bird
chooses to partake even to excess of the free offering of Nature, the
quintessence of the flowers of the tree distilled by sunshine, why
should not he? Am I the only one to be "recompensed by the sweetness
and satisfaction of this retreat"?
When the melaleuca blossoms, bees seem to work with quite feverish
haste; but the honey gained is dark in colour and has a certain pungent,
almost acid, flavour. Holding a frame of comb to the light, you see the
clear gold of the bloodwood and the tawny tints of the melaleuca as
erratically defined as geographical distinctions in a tinted map. Bees
keep it apart to indulge in it, peradventure, at revolutionary epochs.
Italian bees are docile, at least less pugnacious than other species.
Does not the dark spirituous honey inspire them with that degree of
courage which we English call Dutch?


CHAPTER VII

"THE LORD AND MASTER OF FLIES"

Among the curious creatures native to the island is a fierce
cannibalistic fly. Fully an inch in length and bulky in proportion, it
somewhat resembles a house-fly on a gigantic scale, but is lustrous grey
in colour, with blond eyes, fawn legs, and transparent, iridescent
wings, with a brassy glint in them.


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