11 



mysterious silences and shadowy vistas in the woods. Even 

 when the moths will no longer come to bait, one lingers, 

 waiting for some revelation. The moon has transformed the 

 prospect and in its weird light an uneasy spirit seizes one 

 to adventure farther yet. Beyond that tree, half in gloom 

 and half clothed in gauzy light, some forbidden procession 

 moves and we have forgotten our entomological quest in 

 remembering nursery tales and catch ourselves hoping to meet 

 the Old World Fairies, as if they, too, had emigrated, under 

 the pressure of these bad times of incredulity perhaps. But 

 oftenest I turn the shadows into Indians, and when the 

 Whip-poor-will is suddenly silent. I believe they are coming 

 at length, with King Phillip leading the last hope of these 

 ghosts who rebel at fate in their red graves and at the order 

 of things, the white man with his physical rifle and intellec- 

 tual cannon of Evolution among other. And then my favorite 

 Indian of them all, Wannalancet, warns me again in time 

 and I rout all these spectres, resolving them back into their 

 true shape with the heartless magic of reason. But I have 

 often been out all night in the woods, and slept, too, in my 

 blanket by a little fire, as good an Indian as any of them. 

 As such time I was not concerned chiefly about moths. I 

 was curious to find out what happened and how r the world 

 got along in the dark. It seemed on the whole very 

 well and without any necessity for a doctor. In the dead 

 of the dark, the pale Queen of the Night (Actias Luna) swept 

 by me, with the green moon-light reflected from her wings. 

 A strange life these insects lead and one feels like 

 asking the winged butterfly if it has any recollection of the 

 time when it crawled about as a worm, or clung tenaciously 

 to a leaf or branch, the very opposite of this final fantastic 

 life in the ether. And, again, if it remembers the days 

 which it passed cramped together in its clnysalis : 



Turpi clausus in area, contractum 



genibus tangas caput .... 



awaiting, mummy-like, with patience, its day of deliverance. 



The early Dawn is a profitable time for the collector 



of Lepidoptera, who may then surprise the moths on their 



