I don t _rejoice_ in insects at all, Alice explained, because I m
rather afraid of them at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the
names of some of them.
Of course they answer to their names? the Gnat remarked carelessly.
I never knew them to do it.
What s the use of their having names, the Gnat said, if they won t
answer to them?
No use to _them_, said Alice; but it s useful to the people who name
them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?
I can t say, the Gnat replied. Further on, in the wood down there,
they ve got no names however, go on with your list of insects: you re
wasting time.
Well, there s the Horse-fly, Alice began, counting off the names on
her fingers.
All right, said the Gnat: half way up that bush, you ll see a
Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It s made entirely of wood, and gets
about by swinging itself from branch to branch.
What does it live on? Alice asked, with great curiosity.
Sap and sawdust, said the Gnat. Go on with the list.
Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made
up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright
and sticky; and then she went on.
And there s the Dragon-fly.
Look on the branch above your head, said the Gnat, and there you ll
find a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of
holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.
And what does it live on?
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