But suppose the fly, small as he is, is too large to work his way
out through the flap, or too bewildered or stupid to find the
opening, or too exhausted after his futile efforts to get out
through the overhead route to persevere, or too weak with hunger
in case of long detention in a pistillate trap where no pollen
is, what then? Open a dozen of Jack's pulpits, and in several, at
least, dead victims will be found - pathetic little corpses
sacrificed to the imperfection of his executive system. Had the
flies entered mature spathes, whose walls had spread outward and
away from the polished column, flight through the overhead route
might have been possible. However glad we may be to make every
due allowance for this sacrifice of the higher life to the lower,
as only a temporary imperfection of mechanism incidental to the
plant's higher development, Jacks present cruelty shocks us no
less. Or, it may be, he will become insectivorous like the
pitcher plant in time. He comes from a rascally family, anyhow.
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