The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 6, Issue 5 (November 2, 1931)
There is a small insect, about one-quarter of an inch in length, well known to most people, and whose presence is greatly resented by them. In fact, so great is this feeling of resentment, so deeply rooted, that all possible means for getting rid of the insect's presence and attentions are made use of. It is the bete noir of the careful and thrifty housewife owing to its marked predilection for starched articles of wear such as collars, shirts, curtains and the like; this, strangely enough, when we consider that sugar is the insect's main diet; this will be explained later on. At times this deep aversion is carried to extremes, and, to quote an authentic case in point, one that ended in an action-at-law, to a ridiculous degree.
A “flat” was rented by a tenant, who, on entering into occupancy, found the premises infested with these creatures. So alarmed was he at the discovery, that he got out and went back on his agreements in refusing to pay any rental.
This pest appears to be ubiquitous in habitat, being prevalent in all parts of the world. How it came by the name of “silver fish” is difficult even of conjecture, as the insect does not possess a single “fishy” attribute.
The best known variety, generally, is the “silver fish,” Lepisma Saccharina (figure 2), which confines itself to “homes,” and is, in consequence, most frequently met with. It has many aliases—I use the term as it is a silent worker and non-advertiser—“Bristle tail,” sugar louse,” “sugar fish” and “silver witch.” Of these “sugar louse” and “sugar fish” seem the most appropriate from the dietary—“sugar.” This is procured in a round-about or second-hand fashion, from the underneath of linoleum, the back of wall papers, book-bindings, and starched clothes that are put away in drawers and dark places. There is enough “sugar” contained in the above-mentioned articles to suffice the insects' need; and it is owing to this method of obtaining their staple food supply that we consider them destructive enough to class as very undesirable, something to be destroyed or got rid of.
Another variety, not so well known, is the “fire bratt” (Thermobia Funorum), that infests bakehouses and ovens, and have received their name—again erroneous—from bakers. These greatly resemble Lepisma, and procure their “sugar” from flour, dough and paste.
These little creatures belong to a most primitive and interesting form, Thysanura, from which most of the world's insects have “evolved.” The mouth is most simple, as is also the breathing system; the body minutely and entirely scaled, giving the insect a soft silky and silvery appearance. Wings are completely absent, while the bristle-like objects at the tail are to be found in the lower insect types; in higher types these are developed into forceps.
The three forms touched upon in this article are Lepisma Saccharina, Thermobia Funorum, nd Campodea Staphylinus.” Of all these, Lepisma is certainly the most advanced.
The “scales” of Lepisma (figure 2) achieved fame for these insects; for, to meet the requirements of examination, the lenses of to-day's microscope were brought to their present perfection. As in moths and butterflies, these scales are of a hairlike formation, the surfaces broken up by lines and ridges from which the light-rays are turned, giving the bearer its metallic silver gloss.
The “fire bratt” (Thermobia Funorum) has already been sufficiently mentioned.
These fragile insects have no organ of sight, and may, therefore, be deemed blind; they entirely avoid and shun light of any description, and their delicate bodies are soft and white; the breathing tubes simpler even than those of Lepisma. Yet, in spite of this extreme fragility, they flourish and multiply where “higher” insects of hardier form die out or become extinct.
In The Old Days
The old time-tables of the pioneer railways carry evidence of the virtues of road-rail co-ordination, and the faith of our forefathers in those virtues. In the first time-table issued by the Great Western Railway of England, in 1839, it is recorded that no fewer than sixty-four stage-coaches were carried by rail each day between London and Maidenhead, twenty-five miles distant, to continue their journey by road from Maidenhead to Oxford, Bristol, Gloucester, Hereford, Monmouth and other distant points. In the reverse direction, stage-coaches arriving at the London rail terminus from Maidenhead took to the road at Paddington and proceeded as omnibuses to points in the City and West End. Other old railway time-tables contain references to the movement by rail of omnibuses and road vehicles carrying general merchandise, furnishing proof of early belief in the worth of rail-road co-ordination.—From Our London Correspondent.