64 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
Reedsville, Wis., January 20, 1909. 
Dear Wayside: 
Once I found a cocoon in winter, 
took it into a warm place in a room. I 
watched this cocoon every day but it did 
not change. One morning as I went to 
look at it I found that the butterfly had 
gone out. I then looked all about the 
room and found it among some plants. 
The butterfly was large and its color was 
brown. The weather was cold and I 
kept it in the house among the plants. 
At last it became stiff and soon died. It 
made me feel very sorry. After that I 
kept it in a box where it still is. Another 
time a pair ol bluebirds built their«nests 
in a post near our house. They lined 
the nest with feathers. NV hen the nest 
was done the mother laid six oi seven 
blue eggs. Two weeks afterward some 
little downy birds crept out of the shells. 
They opened their mouths as far as pos¬ 
sible. The parent birds were kept very 
busy feeding them. Every morning 
when I got up they were at their work. 
These parent birds come back every 
spring. It would make me feel very glad 
if they should come this spring. 
Yours truly, 
Aged 14. Flora Thurow. 
An Audubon Wing. 
Continued from page 60. 
as expert as Nature. Audubon wings 
come to pieces. 
And so there was nothing more to be 
said. But there was no way to prevent 
one wondering what Audubon would 
think of the creation named after him;— 
or of the wearer ol the creation. 
Is there any real difference in spirit 
between the wearer of imitation plumage 
and real plumage? Is there any real dif¬ 
ference between the lady who demands 
the plumage and the killer who supplies 
it, and if so, in whose favor is the difler- 
ence? There are two other animals who 
kill through cruelty and not to satisfy 
hunger. They are the skunk and the 
wild cat. 
Bird Paradise. 
Continued from page 59. 
and where cows wade knee deep in water 
hvacinths? Tne hyacinth is a floating 
plant, but there is growing from a deeper 
source a mass of vines and shrubbery, 
above which stand towering pines, and 
palmettos arching far out over the stream, 
as if to gain the best possible reflection 
of their crowns of magnificent foliage. 
The moss which drapes the trees of 
the Florida peninsula is an interesting 
feature of every landscape. To the ma¬ 
jestic pine it adds grace, while to the live 
oak and water oak, already thick with 
green foliage, it gives an airiness very 
pleasing. When oak's in autumn colors 
of red and brown are mantled with moss, 
they look as if they were dressed for a 
festive occasion, and have a charm al¬ 
most bewitching. But when this moss 
covers like a shroud some bare dead tree, 
which it has killed by a smothering pro¬ 
cess, the sight is a gloomy one. Along 
the banks of the St. John’s river there 
are many such veiled skeletons, stretch¬ 
ing their branches high and wide, with 
the long gray moss swinging in the wind. 
The scene is one of the most desolate 
imaginable. It suggests to the mind 
lamentation and weeping,—mourning 
which can not be comforted. To make a 
sad picture wierd, a flock of crows lights 
on the highest branches and sits insilence. 
Other birds on the river banks are 
more cheerful. A flock of bobolinks 
rises from a brown rice field, and here 
and there a crane is seen stretching its 
neck, wings and legs in flight. A king¬ 
fisher sounds its signal and literally 
makes a “blue streak” through the air. 
Like a flavor of spice in something al¬ 
ready very good, the bright, little orange 
groves, richly green and gold, cheer the ! 
higher slopes of the river banks where 
civilization shows a happy face. All 
too soon the boat lands at Sanford. The 
tourists reluctantly leave it. many of them 
with the determination to make the river 
trig again when the time comes to turn 
northward. 
Eliza Harper Shaw. \ 
