56 STRAY MINUTES. 



seemed as if a shower of snow had fallen in the night, their 

 wings being white, and about the size of a broad snow-flake."* 



The remarkable brevity of the Ephemera's life seems to have 

 attracted the notice of the ancients, Aristotle speaking of little 

 animals on the river Hyparis which live but for a day : those 

 (he observes) among them which die at eight in the morning 

 die in their youth ; those which live to see five in the after- 

 noon, in their old age. 



With one more application to ourselves let us now review 

 the history, as, in the beginning, we examined the structure of 

 our little Day-fly : for in the former, no less than in the latter, is 

 contained a lesson written in characters Divine. What precious 

 time, made up of stray minutes and odd half hours, do we not 

 daily throw away, because " it is not worth while " to employ 

 them? How many useful works do we deem it not "worth 

 while " attempting, because life may probably be too short for 

 their completion ! How much of mind do we consider it not 

 " worth while " to cultivate, because hopeless perhaps of living 

 to reap the fruits of our mental labour, forgetting creatures 

 of a day, as we strive to make ourselves that we are sowing 

 not for time, but for Eternity ! In all these things an Ephem- 

 eral Fly may teach us wisdom. Although a few summer 

 hours constitute his all of life, not a moment of those hours 

 is thrown away : with him all is ceaseless activity and con- 

 sequent enjoyment ; and, early as he dies, it is not until he 

 has performed the purpose of his creation. 



* Insect Transformations, p. 316. 



