2 5 6 



SHARP EYES 



of cocoons that was the envy of my less- 

 favored entomological companions. 



Nor has the fever left me; even to-day I 

 cannot pass a cocoon and leave it alone. I 

 find my steps turning involuntarily towards 

 every thicket I meet in my winter walk. 



Only last week, from one small copse in 

 the suburbs of the city, I brought home a 

 bouquet of twigs bearing one hundred and 

 forty odd of the cocoons of these two 

 moths, mostly of the Cecropia ; also one 

 small branch with a dangling accom- 

 paniment of twenty- three cocoons of 

 the beautiful ailantus moth, which, 

 added to the stock gathered in pre- 

 vious recent walks, ran the total 

 number up to nearly four hun- 

 dred. 



What will I do with them? 

 I shall take the greatest pleas- 

 ure in dividing them around 

 among my friends, to most of 

 whom they will prove a real 

 curiosity and rarity, and who, 

 when June comes again, will 

 thank me most earnestly, as so 

 many have done already, for 



affording them a glimpse of that wondrous revelation 

 of the emerging moth. 



Gather the cocoons, then, my young friends. Gather 

 all you can, and distribute them among your neigh- 

 bors. It is good missionary work. There is a winged 

 sermon in every one of them. 



