A Queer Little Fellow

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Sep 11, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 35.

A Queer Little Fellow.

Isn't it a queer little fellow who knows everything as soon as he's born, and builds a house for himself before he's one day old?

Everything about him is curious. To begin with, he lives at the bottom of a pond or river. At first he was nothing but a tiny atom of a green egg, stuck to the stem of some weeds under the water. After awhile the egg burst open, out crawled Mr. Worm, and proceeded at once to look for building materials.

You see, except his head and neck, which are protected by a hard covering, he is a soft little worm, and he wouldn't live long in the same pond with fish and bugs and spiders, who have nothing to do but eat, and are always hungry, unless he had a safe home. So of course he goes the first thing to building. He hunts up dead leaves and glues them together in such a way as to leave a nice cozy house between them. It's perfectly safe, for who would suspect an old dead leaf of being anybody's house?

No sooner is the house done than Mr. Worm moves in. He doesn't have to wait for painters and furniture men—happy fellow! He just goes in and fastens himself there by means of a pair of hooks he has at the end of his tail, and then he's ready to live. The next thing is something to eat. So he starts off, taking his house with him, to hunt up some bits of green stuff, or some atom of a worm smaller than he is.

But strange things happen to this bit of a worm at the bottom of the pond. His life is full of wonderful adventures. If he were bigger he would be the wonder of the world. After eating as much as he can, Mr. Worm thinks it is time to retire from the gay world; so he finishes his house by hanging before it a silk door—no loose curtain, but a tightly woven net-work, which he spins and fastens carefully on every side.

Whether he goes to sleep in his comical little home, or what he does, nobody knows, because nobody can peep in, you know. But something goes on there in the dark; for after a while the little prisoner opens the door, comes out of his house, crawls up the stem of some weeds till he is out of the water, and then—you'd never guess what happens! Why, his old skin splits open, and he pulls himself out—no longer a miserable little worm, but a gorgeous four-winged Caddice fly, dressed in a neat suit of brown. And he cares no more for the bottom of the pond and his old leaf house. He sails off on the air, a gay, dancing fly.—Little Folks.