WOODLAND PATHS 



long search among leaves to find a cocoon 

 of either this or the polyphemus, and have 

 the splendid privilege of seeing the lovely 

 inmate later emerge, spread its fairy-like 

 wings, and soar away into the soft spring 

 twilight. It is as great a wonder as it 

 would be to step some mid-summer mid- 

 night into a fairy ring and, after having 

 speech with Mab and Titania and Puck 

 and Ariel, see them flit daintily across the 

 face of the rising moon and vanish in the 

 purple dusk. The world of the polyphe- 

 mus and the tuna, the cecropia and the 

 promethea, is as far removed from ours 

 and as full of strange romance as that. 



Along the pond shore these mad March 

 days one gets glimpses of another world, 

 too, that is, I dare say, as regardless of 

 us as we are of that of the moths. This 

 morning in the dusk of young dawn the 

 pond was like a black mirror reflecting 



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