A LINGERING GOOD-BY. 217 



sects that I remember at present, and yet I doubt 

 if their relations are prompted by kindness. 



Do not think that all is joy beside this brook. 

 To those who have eyes to read, there are records 

 here of many blighted hopes. A fence runs be- 

 side this brook, and on it, as on others around 

 here, you may find cocoons in their season. But 

 poke your stick into one, and you will find, not a 

 healthy-looking pupa of a caterpillar that shall 

 come out as a moth, but a number of little brown 

 pupae-cases, much smaller than the caterpillar. 

 The cocoon may also contain a remnant of the 

 caterpillar's dried up body. 



Many a caterpillar has crawled up these boards 

 and formed for himself a cocoon in some sheltered 

 nook, andj even while forming it, he must have 

 been aware of certain very queer and painful feel- 

 ings inside of himself. Awful things went on in- 

 side that cocoon, things never revealed save to 

 those persons who go out some day to gather co- 

 coons. 



If you wish to have a crop of flies in the spring, 

 shake the October pupae-cases from the cocoons 

 into your bottle, put it away covered with mos- 

 quito-bar. Some March day you will look into 

 the bottle and will see four or five flies longing 

 for freedom. They are about as large as house- 

 flies, and these villainous beings have lived as 

 maggots inside of the caterpillars and have pre- 

 vented some moths from ever appearing in the 



