longed to the species culicidæ, genus culex. It had seven mouth parts concerned in drawing blood. As he had already taken up considerable time, the Judge said that he would not name the parts. (Cries of "Name them, name them!") No, continued the speaker, he would not. (Here the Secretary was asked by the President to write down each name as the Judge repeated it; the list might be of value to future generations.) After the Judge had looked in his pockets and absent-mindedly turned one of them inside out, he stated that he couldn't remember the names. But he often forgot his own name. Finally it was discovered that the list could be found in the Encyclopædia Britannica, of which the Klub had a paper-bound copy.

Guava Johnson read a short paper: "Nearly every one who has come to the islands speaks about the mosquito. Strange as it may seem, it is true. Our local historian says, 'During the year 1826 mosquitoes, hitherto unknown in the islands, were introduced at Lahaina by the ship Wellington, from San Blas, Mexico.' Only Jarvis, who came here in 1837, does not mention the pest. Mark Twain advises newcomers to wait outside of the net until all the mosquitoes have crawled into it; then to fasten it, and sleep peacefully on the floor till morning. The Rev. Mr. Cheever says that we ought to be thankful that the biting mosquito is not a male."

Professor Town arose to say that he had read in Jarvis' book that the flea was introduced by sailors at Waimea, Kauai, year not named. Shakespeare spoke of the "valiant flea." The Professor was ruled out of order, the President stating that while fleas might be troublesome they were not mosquitoes.

Mr. Thursday wondered if the Honolulu papers and the island people generally would like this discussion. It ventilated the subject, and might prevent tourists from coming or have its influence in delaying admission. Those who feared that a mere matter of legislation would bring leprosy

INTRODUCED BY THE SHIP WELLINGTON."

Burdette

nearer to the mainland might feel the same way about mosquitoes. He knew that the mosquito was persona non grata to most living systems. But the insect was here to stay, and the best thing we could do was to ignore it.

Mr. Epidel answered in his slow, decided way that we were not afraid of any truth about Hawaii, and if it had drawbacks, they had better be stated at the outset. The fact of the matter was, mosquitoes were a bugbear in anticipation only; in reality, they didn't cut any ice. He, the speaker, had suffered more from mosquito bites in Maine than he ever had here. Besides, the gnats and black flies that leave blood in their tracks were unknown in Hawaii. He believed in telling all there was to tell for and against; and if any person could be kept away by mosquitoes, the islands were that much better off. Of the two, mosquitoes were to be preferred. The class of men and women we wanted for settlers were those that had enough common sense not to be deterred by reports of mosquitoes, fleas, scorpions, spiders, centipedes, leprosy, lantana, gossip, revolutions, earthquakes, tidal waves, and the Japanese. These were bad enough, but not incompatible with a comfortable, lanai existence in the islands. A politician in Kansas wrote to him for some information in regard to Hawaii. He said that he had long intended to start for the islands and but one thing kept him back; he had read somewhere that all Hawaiians slept with their heads to the south, and if that were true, he would stay where he was born, because no country would advance whose people didn't sleep with their feet to the south. He had long tried to get a universal system adopted by the United States, but had failed. He said the hard times were because so many didn't do as he advised. He was a crank, and so are all the others.

Dr. Opu got up, and with a loud slap on his massive brow oratorically ended the life of a mosquito, then holding it at arm's length cried, "Sic semper tyrannis." The effect was magical, and you could have heard a mosquito drop.

He informed the meeting that the mosquito was a menace to the community upon which it thrived. It carried diseases. It was even believed that leprosy germs were thus transmitted from a diseased victim to the healthy; and it was known that the filaria was introduced by the mosquito's proboscis. Personally, he had no fear of the mosquito, because he smelt so strong of iodoform that they never came near him. There were others to regard. He had no doubt that some malevolent gnat had brought the cholera to us, as mosquitoes were more common than any other media that he knew. What were the annoyance, the bite, the pruritic welt that followed, to the fact that you were perhaps being inoculated with a poison that could never be eliminated but might continue to infect future generations? In the words of the poet, it might last "as long as life has woes."

The doctor then drew a graphic picture of the mosquito dipping his infected lance through the peach-bloom on some maiden's cheek.

The doctor was interrupted by Mr. Kruppy, who wished to inform the Klub that it was always the female which proved aggressive. We should say "her." Prof. Town said he supposed Dr. Opu thought we all knew that the female of any species was more aggressive than the male.

Mr. Burr modestly rose to his feet, and, pushing his hair into an electric hair-brush after the manner of other musicians, made a few thrilling remarks. He began by saying that music was his forte, the pianoforte his consolation; that he was unmarried, not because he loved woman less but because he loved harmony more. He said that the mosquito was harmonious, and had a song peculiar to itself. Sometimes it sang in minor key, and it loved grace notes. The music of its favorite buzz had been stolen by some musician in the time of Thucydides and given to the world as "Shall We Gather at the River?" The melody could be imitated by blowing through a fine comb covered with tissue paper. It was sweet, but like classical music could not be appre

ciated by the uneducated ear. Ever since he (Burr) had come to Honolulu, he had been trying to train a few thousand mosquitoes to sing together, and, in his observations on culex harmony, he had used Edison's new invention for intensifying sound. By means of this ingenious device the whirr of one musquito resembled the sound of a Chinese orchestra, clear, somewhat warlike, but still melodious. He had inclosed in a fine net Ico,000 mosquitoes, and kept the number from diminishing by placing them inside a barrel of rainwater, where he found that the sum of their combined, Edisonified burst, was grand; it was awful; it sounded like the priests and people encompassing the walls of Jericho. It was just as harmonically incomprehensible to the laity. Now the mosquito was susceptible to training, for he had played on a concertina with great expression, " We Won't Go Home till Morning," and a few days after the Culex Chorus sang it. He thought this music would do for church choirs.

Dr. Krane gave some valuable data in regard to the mosquito. Only the female sucked blood, but even she could get along without it; in fact, only a small proportion of the 165 varieties in existence ever tasted blood. Warm weather encouraged mosquitoes and made their bite worse, although no poison sac had been discovered. A tropical land was the home of the culex, but it got along very well in New Jersey, where his ancestors came from. In view of the annexation of so many tropical islands, he wondered why the mosquito menace had not been discussed. Were the people of the United States aware that they were annexing over 200 sextillions of mosquitoes, which would sooner or later demand the elective franchise? Did the anti-expansionists realize what such a heterogeneous horde might bring upon the country our forefathers had fought for in the days when mosquitoes were as bad in New England as they are in Honolulu ? In the words of an American prophet, "This will open the floodgates, and eventually drain the American Constitution of its life principle."