













THE PARASITE

A Story


BY

A. CONAN DOYLE


AUTHOR OF "THE REFUGEES" "MICAH CLARKE" ETC.




1894




THE PARASITE

I

March 24.  The spring is fairly with us now.  Outside my laboratory
window the great chestnut-tree is all covered with the big, glutinous,
gummy buds, some of which have already begun to break into little green
shuttlecocks.  As you walk down the lanes you are conscious of the
rich, silent forces of nature working all around you.  The wet earth
smells fruitful and luscious.  Green shoots are peeping out everywhere.
The twigs are stiff with their sap; and the moist, heavy English air is
laden with a faintly resinous perfume.  Buds in the hedges, lambs
beneath them--everywhere the work of