"And the ephemeride, that dies an instant after its birth, do you
suppose that it dies of grief?"

"Who knows, Master Jack?"

"The ephemeride does not die so quickly as you think," said Becker;
"it commences by living three years under water in the form of a
maggot. It afterwards becomes amphibious, when it has a horny
covering, on which the rudiments of wings may be observed. Then, four
or five months after this first metamorphosis, generally in the month
of August, it issues from its skin, almost as rapidly as we throw off
a jacket; attached to the rejected skin are the teeth, lips, horns,
and all the apparatus that the creature required as a water insect;
then it is no sooner winged, gay, and beautiful, than, as you observe,
it dies--hence it is called the day-fly, its existence being
terminated by the shades of night."

"I was certain of it," said Willis.

"Certain of what?"

"That it died of grief at being on land. When one has been accustomed
to the water, you see, under such circumstances life is not worth the
having."

"The day-fly," continued Becker, "is an epitome of those men who
spend a life-time hunting after wealth and glory, and who perish
themselves at the moment they reach the pinnacle of their ambitious
desires. Whence I conclude, my dear children, that there are nothing
but beginnings and endings of unhappiness in this world, and that true