MOTHS OF THE LIIMBERLOST 



conservatory doors, more on the heavy tapestry that 

 covered them, and she was chnging to a velvet cialain at a 

 library window, liberally dotting it with eggs, almost as yel- 

 low as her body. I turned a tumbler over those on the floor, 

 pinned folds in the curtains, and as soon as the light was 

 good, set up a camera and focused on a suitable location. 



She climbed on my finger when it was held before her, 

 and was carried, with no effort to fly, to the place I had 

 selected, though Molly-Cotton walked close with a spread 

 net, ready for the slightest impulse toward movement. 

 But female moths seldom fly until they have finished egg 

 depositing, and this one was transferred with no trouble 

 to the spot on which I had focused. On the back wall of 

 the Cabin, among some wild roses, she was placed on a 

 log, and immediately raised her wings, and started for 

 the shade of the vines. The picture made of her as she 

 walked is beautiful. After I had secured several studies 

 she was returned to the library curtain, where she re- 

 sumed egg placing. These were not counted, but there 

 were at least three hundred at a rough guess. 



I had thought her lovely in gas light, but day brought 

 forth marvels and wonders. When a child, I used to 

 gather cowslips in a bed of lush swale, beside a little creek 

 at the foot of a big hill on our farm. At the summit 

 was an old orchard, and in a brush-heap a browii thrush 

 nested. From a red winter pearmain the singer poured 

 out his own heart in song, and then reproduced the love 



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