Linnets, some with deep wounds, others almost intact, are placed one by one in paper envelopes similar to those in which the nursery-gardener keeps his seeds, envelopes just folded, without being stuck.

The paper is quite ordinary and of middling thickness.

Torn pieces of newspaper serve the purpose.
These sheaths with the corpses inside them are freely exposed to the air, on the table in my study, where they are visited, according to the time of day, in dense shade and in bright sunlight.

Attracted by the effluvia from the dead meat, the Bluebottles haunt my laboratory, the windows of which are always open.

I see them daily alighting on the envelopes and very busily exploring them, apprised of the contents by the gamy smell.