MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST 



belated hummingbird, chilled with the first heavy frost 

 of autumn, or a wounded weazel caught in a trap set for 

 it near a chicken coop, or a family of baby birds whose 

 parents some vandal has killed. Again they carry a sick 

 or wounded bird that I am expected to doctor; and 

 butterflies, moths^ insects, and caterpillars of every 

 description. 



"I guess I won't stop," said the woman in answer to my 

 invitation to enter the Cabin. "I found this creature on 

 my front porch early this morning, and I sort of wanted to 

 know what it was, for one thing, and I thought you might 

 like to have it, for another." 



"Then of course you will come in, and we will see what 

 it is," I answered, leading the way into the library. 



There I lifted the lid slightly to take a peep, and then 

 with a cry of joy, opened it wide. That particular shoe- 

 box had brought me an Actias Luna, newly emerged, and 

 as yet unable to fly. I held down my finger, it climbed 

 on, and was hfted to the light. 



"Ain't it the prettiest thing.?" asked the woman, with 

 stars sparkling in her dark eyes. "Did you ever see 

 whiter white .f*" 



Together we studied that moth. Clinging to my finger, 

 the living creature was of such delicate beauty as to 

 impoverish my stock of adjectives at the beginning. Its 

 big, pursy body was covered with long, furry scales of 

 the purest white imaginable. The wings were of an ex- 



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