l60 THE BUTTERFLY HUNTERS. 



pendicular. Graceful Birches intermixed with stately, un- 

 yielding Hemlocks, drooped over, and completely shut out 

 the sun. It was always damp and gloomy in the gorge, 

 and its walls were covered with exquisite moss. At the 

 bottom rushed the Mountain Stream. A fairy-like scene 

 it was to one standing just below the fall and looking up. 

 Down through the Birches and dark green Hemlocks at 

 the farther end of the ravine dashed the foamy water with 

 a clear, cheerful sound, and ran on over the rocky bed, 

 laughing merrily at its brave leap. Its spray rose lightly 

 into the sunlight, and played in rainbow colors among the 

 intricately woven boughs. 



The Festival day came at last. Early in the morning 

 the sun was quite concealed by a heavy white mist, but 

 soon it parted here and there, showing clear blue sky 

 beyond, and. by the time our young folks were all wide 

 awake the mist had rolled off down the valley out of sight. 



The arrangements for the Festival were all complete. 

 Annie had been chosen for the Queen of all the butter- 

 flies, and Rose Merton, Frank's cousin Mary, and two other 

 girls were to be her assistant fairies. The boys had built 

 a gorgeous throne in the grove. It was arched over with 

 boughs of scarlet Maple, and festooned with long wreaths 

 of evergreen, in which were fastened innumerable yellow 

 butterflies, which Tom and Hal had been collecting all 

 Summer for this very purpose. 



