MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST 



word was gospel to me, and he had said that the best 

 place to keep my specimens was the cellar window, and 

 I must have thought the jar the nearest equivalent to 

 the cellar. The Half-luna did not mind in the least, but 

 went on lazily opening and closing its wings, yet making 

 no attempt to fly. If I had known what it was, or any- 

 thing of its condition, I would have understood that it 

 had emerged from the cocoon that morning, and never 

 had flown, but was establishing circulation preparatory 

 to taking wing. Being only a small, very ignorant 

 girl, the greatest thing I knew for sure was what I 

 loved. 



Tying my sunbonnet over the top of the jar, I sta- 

 tioned myseK on the horse block at the front gate. Every 

 passing team was hailed with lifted hand, just as I had 

 seen my father do, and in as perfect an imitation of his 

 voice as a scared httle girl making her first venture 

 alone in the big world could muster, I asked, "Which 

 way, Friend.''" 



For several long, hot hours people went to every point 

 of the compass, but at last a bony young farmer, with a 

 fat wife, and a fatter baby, in a big wagon, were going 

 to my city, and they said I might ride. With quaking 

 heart I handed up my jar, and climbed in, covering all 

 those ten miles in the June sunshine, on a board laid 

 across the wagon bed, tightly clasping the two-gallon 

 jar in my aching arms. The farmer's wife was quite 



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