But to return to the Indian. Not only do his lantern-flies illuminate his path, but they go on before him, like an advance guard, to clear the road of its infecting mosquitoes, gnats, and other troublesome insects, which they seize and devour on the wing. No harm would the Indian do to his little torchbearer; for, besides the service he renders, does he not embody a portion of the sun god, the holy fire? And there are times, when, with reverent awe, these simple forest children think they see in the cucuie the souls of their departed friends. And now if we leave the forest and enter the gay ball-room of some tropical city, we shall find that the cucuie is a cosmopolitan, at home alike in palace and in hut, in forest and city. Not only does he, as a wise little four-year-old friend of mine said, "light the toads to bed," but, restrained by invisible folds of gauze, he flutters in the hair of the fairest ladies, and rivals those earth-stars the diamonds. But it is hardly fair to show only the bright side, even of a cucuie; and in justice I must tell that the sugar-planters see with dismay their little torches among the canes. For although mosquitoes and gnats will do for food in the forests where sugar is not to be had, who would taste them when a field of cane is all before you, where to choose? SIXTY-TWO LITTLE TADPOLES Look at this mass of white jelly floating in a bowl of pond water. It is clear and delicate, formed of little globes the size of pease, held together in one rounded mass. In each globe is a black dot. I have it all in my room, and I watch it every day. Before a week passes, the black dots have lengthened into little fishy bodies, each lying curled in his globe of jelly, for these globes are eggs, and these dots are soon to be little living animals; we will see of what kind. Presently they begin to jerk backwards and forwards, and perform such simple gymnastics as the small accommodations of the egg will allow; and at last one morning, to my delight, I find two or three of the little things free from the egg, and swimming like so many tiny fishes in my bowl of water. How fast they come out now; five this morning, but twenty to-night, and thrice as many to-morrow! The next day I conclude that the remaining eggs will not hatch, for they still show only dull, dead- looking dots: so reluctantly I throw them away, wash out my bowl, and fill it anew with pond water. But, before doing this, I had to catch all my little family, and put them safely into a tumbler to remain during their house-cleaning. This was hard work; but I accomplished it with the help of a teaspoon, and soon restored them to a fresh, clean home. It would be difficult to tell you all their history; for never did little things grow faster, or change more wonderfully, than they.