It is said that the mosquito, if undisturbed until he has taken his fill, leaves a much less inflamed bite than if brushed away in the midst of his feast.
By day, the air was at this season filled with what is called the Green Bay fly, a species of dragon-fly, with which the outer walls of the houses are at times so covered that their color is hardly distinguishable.

Their existence is very ephemeral, scarcely lasting more than a day.

Their dead bodies are seen adhering to the walls and windows within, and they fall without in such numbers that after a high wind has gathered them into rows along the sides of the quarters, one may walk through them and toss them up with their feet like the dry leaves in autumn.
As we walked across the parade, our attention was sometimes called to a tapping upon the bars of the dungeon in which a criminal was confined--it was the murderer of Lieutenant Foster.
It may be remembered that this amiable young officer had been our travelling companion in our journey from Chicago the preceding year.
Some months after his arrival at Port Howard, he had occasion to order a soldier of his company, named Doyle, into confinement for intoxication.
The man, a few days afterwards, prevailed on the sergeant of the guard to escort him to Lieutenant Foster's quarters on the plea that he wished to speak to him.

He ascended the stairs to the young officer's room, while the sergeant and another soldier remained at the foot, near the door.
Doyle entered, and, addressing Lieutenant Foster, said, "Will you please tell me, lieutenant, what I am confined for ?" "No, sir," replied the officer; "you know your offence well enough; return to your place of confinement." The man ran down-stairs, wrenched the gun from the sergeant's hand, and, rushing back, discharged it at the heart of Lieutenant Foster.
He turned to go to his inner apartment, but exclaiming, "Ah me!" he fell dead before the entrance.
Doyle, having been tried by a civil court, was now under sentence, awaiting his execution.

He was a hardened villain, never exhibiting the slightest compunction for his crime.
The commanding officer, Major Clark, sent to him one day to inquire if he wanted anything for his comfort.
"If the Major pleased," he replied, "he should like to have a light and a copy of Byron's Works." Some fears were entertained that he would contrive to make way with himself before the day of execution, and, to guard against it, he was deprived of everything that could furnish him a weapon.