MARCH WINDS 



brown fellow that came flying across the 

 brook in the chill air of a sunset a night 

 or two ago and now lies dead on my 

 desk. 



I caught him, for I wanted to know 

 what moth dared come forth when the 

 ground was still frozen and no bud had 

 yet burst. But I would better have let 

 him fly along to work out his own destiny, 

 for in all the moth-book there is no men- 

 tion of this wee brown creature that dared 

 the frosty night with frail wings. I do 

 not think he was an uncommon speci- 

 men. Moths are so numerous that only 

 the most characteristic varieties of the 

 more important species can be noticed in 

 the text-books. 



On my way home I crossed a sunny 

 glade among the pines, and here I met 

 an old friend, and had another example 



of the workings of other lives whose wis- 

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