144 THE BUTTERFLY HUNTERS. 



began to show itself. The moth clung to the top of the 

 basket, opening its wings broader and broader, until it 

 seemed a marvel that so much could have been contained 

 in the small, colorless bunches which were all that indicated 

 the wings at the time of its birth. At first the wings 

 were crumpled like the leaves of a Poppy when it first 

 drops its calyx and opens to the warm rays of the sun, 

 but as the air gradually dried them they smoothed them- 

 selves out, and at last the perfect moth stood before me. 

 Poor fellow ; his was a short life. Fearful that in fluttering 

 to escape he might injure his delicate wings, I gave him 

 his first and last food, a drop of ether, and consigned him 

 to a prominent place in my collection." 



The boys had listened very eagerly to this description. 

 Soon as Mr. Benedict stopped talking little Frank burst 

 out with a question, which set the whole school into a 

 roar of laughter. 



" O teacher ! " said he, " do you really suppose my moth 

 was born that way .'* " 



"Yes, Frank, of course he was, only instead of a basket 

 he probably had a cosey green arbor among the leaves of 

 some bush in which to expand and dry his wings." 



The teacher then told the boys that he should wait until 

 the next meeting before telling them about the Qther 

 moths belonging to the genus Attacus. When they met 

 next time he thought he could finish all he intended to 



