THE MAY-FLY. 49 



human observers. Occasionally indeed, as we are now doing, 

 we are led to amuse what we call an idle hour by bestowing a 

 little more than our wonted notice on the more fleeting and 

 fragile works of nature ; and then, as we admire the elegance 

 of form, the exquisite finish, the curious adaptation of parts, 

 so strikingly if not pre-eminently observable in the flower or 

 the insect of a day, there comes, mingled with our admiration, 

 a feeling somewhat akin to wondering regret that so much 

 pains should have been bestowed on the formation of an object 

 intended to exist but for so short a space. " It's almost a 

 pity ! It's scarcely worth the while !" are phrases which, 

 rising to our -lips, are checked only by the monstrous unfitness 

 of applying them to the works of an infinite Being, with whom 

 to will is to create, and to whom a day is as a thousand years, 

 a thousand years as a day. 



To return to our insect of a day, or, to speak with more 

 precision, of from four to five* hours, the supposed limit of 

 existence with those amongst the tribe of Ephemeras per- 

 mitted to reach a good old' age. These, however, form pro- 

 bably but a minor portion of their countless swarms, liable as 

 they are to continual accidents by flood and field : if, indeed, 

 we may regard as accidents those common catastrophes by 

 which, for the benefit of other animals, they are designed to 

 perish. Their dangers and disasters are thus pathetically 

 enumerated by a naturalist of note.* " Who," says he, " hath 



* Swammerdam. 



