"It was," says he, "the opinion of learned philosophers of our race, who lived and flourished long before my time, that this vast world, the _Moulin Joly_, could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours: and I think there was some foundation for that opinion; since, by the apparent motion of the great luminary, that gives life to all nature, and which in my time has evidently declined considerably towards the ocean at the end of the earth, it must then finish its course, be extinguished in the waters that surround us, and leave the world in cold and darkness, necessarily producing universal death and destruction. I have lived seven of those hours; a great age, being no less than 420 minutes of time! How very few of us continue so long! I have seen generations born, flourish and expire. My present friends are children and grand-children of the friends of my youth, who are now, alas, no more! And I must soon follow them; for by the common course of nature, though still in health, I cannot expect to live above seven or eight minutes longer. What now avails all my toil and labor, in amassing the honey dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy? What my political struggles I have been engaged in, for the good of my compatriot inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies, for the benefit of our race in general; for in politics (what can laws do without morals?) our present race of ephemeræ will in a course of minutes become corrupt like those of other and older bushes, and consequently as wretched! And in philosophy how small our progress! Alas! art is long, and life is short! My friends would comfort me with the idea of a name, they say, I shall leave behind me; and they tell me I have lived long enough to nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera who no longer exists? and what will become of all history in the eighteenth hour, when the world itself, even the whole _Moulin Joly_, shall come to its end, and be buried in a universal ruin?" To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now remain, but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephemeræ, and now and then a kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Brilliant B. FRANKLIN.