flfii Cattatlhuf Jrtt0mula0bt. 



VOL. XXVI. LONDON, JANUARY, 1894. 



No. 



January, 1894 



OUR QUARTER CENTENARY. 



How swift the flight of time appears — 



As t'were but yesterday 

 The fourth part of an hundred years 



Has winged its course away ! 



Through all these years our folded page 

 Has monthly shown its face ; 



So many moons of science sage 

 Succeeding in the race ! 



The story that we had to tell 



Of bee and butterfly, 

 Oiir story — have we told it well, 



With love and earnestly ? 



O, with the lapse of years, how small 



Do all our quarrels seem ! 

 Like children's play, or like the fall 



Of shadows on a stream ! 



This story of the spider's nest, 



Of beetles, black or gray. 

 Is but a story, at the best, 



Told by ephemera ! 



Still is it the pursuit of truth 

 Where all the pleasure lies, 



A perfect knowledge — that, in sooth 

 Is hidden from our eyes. 



Upon this quest our little barque 



Has bravely held its way, 

 On board a crew of men of mark 



As e'er sailed for Cathay ; 



And all our volumes, as they lie, 



Came ever opportune. 

 Thanks to the patient industry 



Of Saunders and Bethune ! 



A. R. Grote. 



