THE KING OF THE WOODS. 35 



The peculiar cry of this bird, its mournful, melan- 

 choly call -note, has given rise to many stories among 

 the negroes, who are very superstitious, and think 

 that the bird itself is the embodied spirit of some de- 

 parted friend. 



It soon became quite dark in the gorge, the cry of 

 the night hawk sounding overhead, and from the 

 woods came strange and muffled noises. Slowly out 

 of the gloom came a great moth, flapping its broad 

 wings with measured sweeps, impressing me with its 

 immense size as it calmly beat the air, sailing first to 

 one side then to the other. Its wings above were the 

 purest azure ; below they were darker, with large eyes, 

 or beauty spots ; gleaming blue and gorgeously, as the 

 wings beat up and down. It came toward me, but 

 evaded the pass I made at it, and disappeared in the 

 gloom of the somber trees. 



It was then late, the lamps of night were alight in 

 the sky, while the earth lamps (the glowworms and 

 elaters) sparkled and twinkled around me. They 

 danced and gleamed through the gorge, and even 

 lighted up my pathway along the stream, as I stum- 

 bled homeward in the darkness. 



