AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



327 



A PATCH OF SUNSHINE. 



HAD been searching: all the morning 

 for a luna moth, but so far had been un- 

 successfulfand yet I knew that this was 

 a good hunting ground. I had often 

 found their cocoons among the dry 

 leaves or attached to a slender branch 

 of some low-growing shrub. And more 

 than once, during my evening rambles, 

 I had caught brief glimpses of green 

 wings floating indistinctly among the 

 shadows. Even by daylight it was dim 

 and cool in these woods, and the leafy 

 recesses were full of mysterious whis- 

 pers. Overhead the branches were 

 thickly interlocked, and from behind the 

 swaying lattices came the rich notes of 

 unseen choristers. I walked on as softly 

 as possible, and tried to separate my 

 favorites from the multitude of voices. 

 Occasionally squirrels chattered to me 

 from neighboring branches, and once 

 a rabbit scurried across my path and 

 paused for a moment to give me a timid 

 glance of inquiry ere he disappeared 

 under a dense mass of laurel. 

 Small white moths fluttered among the undergrowth, and now and 

 then made blundering excursions about my face. Presently I came to 

 a small open space where a stream of sunshine came glancing down 

 through the trees. A large chestnut had been overthrown by some 

 recent gale, and its upturned roots, and the irregular fringe of low blue 

 huckleberries which surrounded them were bathed in the golden shower; 

 and all the chirping and twittering birds of the neighborhood, and all 

 the butterflies and bugs and small insects, seemed to have gathered in 

 the sunshine to hold a carnival of joy. An Oriole held possession of 

 the highest root, and from this point of vantage was pouring down an 

 uninterrupted medley of brilliant notes. A pair of Wrens were hop- 

 ping from one point to another, or making swift circles about the trunk, 

 darting in here and there among the roots after some insect which the 

 warm sunshine had lured into danger. As I sat down as softly as pos- 

 sible, upon a mossy stone a few yards away, subdued twitters of satis- 

 faction came to me from a space under the roots. I could not see the 



