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 reproduction going forward!