THE PILGRIM AT THE WELL.

The fountain is gleaming in morning light,

But there kneels beside it a child of night;

For to her the summers no sunshine bring;

Oh! what doth she seek at that blessed spring?

The home of her youth she has left afar,

And the promise of light was her spirit’s star;

But her perils and pilgrimage all are past,

And that hallowed fount she hath found at last.

For they said that a spell in its waters lay,

To banish the blight of her life away.

And the prayer of her faith it grows fervent now,

While signing the cross upon breast and brow.

Oh stranger of darkness, kneel not there,

Tho’ the fountain with freshness fills the air,

And its waters are sweet as the summer rain,

But they cannot give thee the day again.

Yet, tell us, ye searching ones and wise,

Oh! whence did these ancient dreams arise

Of the holy and hidden things, which still

Were mighty to heal all human ill?

They were stars that blest in their hour of might,

And gems that shone with a saving light;

They were trees of life in the trackless wilds,

And the sea had its own immortal isles;

And through all her changes, the world’s hope clings

To the healing power of her sacred springs;

For around them the faith of nations hung,

And sages have trusted, and poets sung,

And pilgrims have sought them by night and day,

Over mountain and desert far away;

But they sought in vain in the earth or seas,

Oh, tell us whence are such dreams as these!

Say, are they of some far deathless clime,

Thus casting its shadows of hope on time;

Or voices of promise, sent before

The day when earth’s curse shall be no more?

We know not but life hath the cloud and pall,

And woe for the heart’s hope, more than all,

For its precious seed in the fruitless ground,

And its bread on the waters never found.

Oh! is there not many a weary heart,

That hath seen the greenness of life depart,

Yet muted in vain in a powerless spell,

Like her who knelt by the Holy Well!

F. B.

NATURE’S WONDERS.
THE GADFLY.

The study of natural history is one which, independent of the charm it possesses to the inquisitive and contemplative mind, in affording food for the cultivation of the highest qualities of the intellect, is also beneficial in a moral point of view, as it insensibly brings the cultivator of it to contemplate the power and goodness of his Creator. It leads his thoughts from the petty affairs of life, and, making him look with admiration and a feeling of love on every manifestation of the Divine power which surrounds him, instils into his mind one of the strongest principles of action desired by the Almighty—a feeling of universal benevolence.

There cannot be a better illustration of this latter effect which I have mentioned the study of natural history produces on the mind, than that afforded us by the history of the birth and after life of the insect I have headed this article with—“the Gadfly.” Strange and wonderful though the transformations be to which the butterfly and many other individuals of the insect world are subject, those of this little creature far surpass them all.

Many of my readers are well acquainted with that fly which in the latter part of summer is seen to be so annoying to the horse, buzzing about him, and every now and then dashing itself with some degree of violence against his sides and legs. This motion, to all appearance, is without design; but a closer study of the habits of the insect will show that, far from being the effect of chance, it is one of paramount importance to the existence of the fly, as on it depends the continuation of its species.

If attentively observed, it will be found that it is the female of this fly alone who resorts to this peculiar motion; this she does to deposit her eggs in the hair of the horse, to which they at once become attached by a gelatinous fluid surrounding them; by this mucus they are enabled to retain their hold for a few days, during which time they are fitted to be hatched, and the slightest touch will liberate a little worm they contain. The horse, in resorting to the common practice of licking himself, breaks the egg, and the small worm contained in it adhering to the tongue of the animal, is conveyed with the food into the stomach; there it clings by means of hooks placed at either side of its mouth, and its hold is so tenacious that it will be broken before it can be detached. Here, in this strange abode, changing as it were its nature in becoming a parasite, it remains for the whole of the winter, feeding on the mucus of the stomach. At the end of the ensuing spring, having reached its full perfection in this secondary state, led by that instinct which regulates all the animated creation, from man to a monad, it detaches itself from the cuticular coat, and is carried into the vilous portion of the stomach with the food, passes out of it with the chyme, and is at length evacuated with the feces. The larva or maggot, now a second time changing its nature, seeks shelter in the ground, and after some time becomes a chrysalis; in that helpless state it lies for some weeks, when, bursting from its deathlike sleep, it wakes into life and activity in the form of a perfect fly.

There is hardly a parallel to this wonderful chain of causes and effects, and effects and causes, to be met with in all the varied and mysterious workings of nature; scarcely one which exhibits so many acts apparently so unconnected with the ultimate results.

V.