The beautiful, brilliant Butterflies of the Meadow had many cousins
living in the forest, most of whom were Night Moths. They also were very
beautiful creatures, but they dressed in duller colors and did not have
slender waists. Some of the Butterflies, you know, wear whole gowns of
black and yellow, others have stripes of black and white, while some
have clear yellow with only a bit of black trimming the edges of the
wings.
The Moths usually wear brown and have it brightened with touches of buff
or dull blue. If they do wear bright colors, it is only on the back pair
of wings, and when the Moth alights, he slides his front pair of wings
over these and covers all the brightness. They do not rest with their
wings folded over their heads like the Butterflies, but leave them flat.
All the day long, when the sun is shining, the Moths have to rest on
trees and dead leaves. If they were dressed in yellow or red, any
passing bird would see them, and there is no telling what might happen.
As it is, their brown wings are so nearly the color of dead leaves or
bark that you might often look right at them without seeing them.
Yet even among Moths there are some more brightly colored than others,
and when you find part of the family quietly dressed you can know it is
because they have to lay the eggs. Moths are safer in dull colors, and
the egg-layers should always be the safest of all. If anything happened
to them, you know, there would be no Caterpillar babies.
One day a fine-looking Cecropia Moth came out of her chrysalis and clung
to the nearest twig while her wings grew and dried and flattened. At
first they had looked like tiny brown leaves all drenched with rain and
wrinkled by somebody's stepping on them. The fur on her fat body was
matted and wet, and even her feelers were damp and stuck to her head.
Her six beautiful legs were weak and trembling, and she moved her body
restlessly while she tried again and again to raise her crumpled wings.
She had not been there so very long before she noticed another Cecropia
Moth near her, clinging to the under side of a leaf. He was also just
out of the chrysalis and was drying himself. "Good morning!" he cried.
"I think I knew you when we were Caterpillars. Fine day to break the
chrysalis, isn't it?"
"Lovely," she answered. "I remember you very well. You were the
Caterpillar who showed me where to find food last summer when the hot
weather had withered so many of the plants."
"I thought you would recall me," he said. "And when we were spinning our
chrysalides we visited together. Do you remember that also?"
Miss Cecropia did. She had been thinking of that when she first spoke,
but she hoped he had forgotten. To tell the truth, he had been rather
fond of her the fall before, and she, thinking him the handsomest
Caterpillar of her acquaintance, had smiled upon him and suggested that
they spin their cocoons near together. During the long winter she had
regretted this. "I was very foolish," she thought, "to encourage him.
When I get my wings I may meet people who are better off than he. Now I
shall have to be polite to him for the sake of old friendship. I only
hope that he will make other acquaintances and leave me free. I must get
into the best society."
All this time her neighbor was thinking, "I am so glad to see her again,
so glad, so glad! When my wings are dry I will fly over to her and we
will go through the forest together." He was a kind, warm-hearted
fellow, who cared more for friendship than for beauty or family.
Meanwhile their wings were growing fast, and drying, and flattening, so
that by noon they could begin to raise them above their heads. They were
very large Moths and their wings were of a soft dust color with little
clear, transparent places in them and touches of the most beautiful
blue, quite the shade worn by the Peacock, who lived on the farm. There
was a brown and white border to their wings, and on their bodies and
legs the fur was white and dark orange. When the Cecropias rest, they
spread their wings out flat, and do not slide the front pair over the
others as their cousins, the Sphinxes, do. The most wonderful of all,
though, are their feelers.
The Butterflies have stiff feelers on their heads with little knobs on
the ends, or sometimes with part of them thick like tiny clubs. The
Night Moths have many kinds of feelers, most of them being curved, and
those of the Cecropias look like reddish-brown feathers pointed at the
end.
Miss Cecropia's feelers were perfect, and she waved them happily to and
fro. Those of her friend, she was troubled to see, were not what they
should have been. One of them was all right, the other was small and
crooked. "Oh dear," she said to herself, "how that does look! I hope he
will not try to be attentive to me." He did not mind it much. He thought
about other things than looks.
As night came, a Polyphemus Moth fluttered past. "Good evening!" cried
he. "Are you just out? There are a lot of Cecropias coming out to-day."
Miss Cecropia felt quite agitated when she heard this, and wondered if
she looked all right. Her friend flew over to her just as she raised her
wings for flight. "Let me go with you," he said.
While she was wondering how she could answer him, several other
Cecropias came along. They were all more brightly colered than she.
"Hullo!" cried one of them, as he alighted beside her. "First-rate
night, isn't it?"
He was a handsome fellow, and his feelers were perfect; but Miss
Cecropia did not like his ways, and she drew away from him just as her
friend knocked him off the branch. While they were fighting, another of
the strangers flew to her. "May I sit here?" he asked.
"Yes," she murmured, thinking her chance had come to get into society.
"I must say that it served the fellow right for his rudeness to you,"
said the stranger, in his sweetest way; "but who is the Moth who is
punishing him--that queer-looking one with a crooked feeler?"
"Sir," said she, moving farther from him, "he is a friend of mine, and I
do not think it matters to you if he is queer-looking."
"Oh!" said the stranger. "Oh! oh! oh! You have a bad temper, haven't
you? But you are very good-looking in spite of that." There is no
telling what he would have said next, for at this minute Miss Cecropia's
friend heard the mean things he was saying, and flew against him.
It was not long before this stranger also was punished, and then the
Moth with the crooked feeler turned to the others. "Do any of you want
to try it?" he said. "You must understand that you cannot be rude before
her." And he pointed his right fore leg at Miss Cecropia as she sat
trembling on the branch.
"Her!" they cried mockingly, as they flew away. "There are prettier
Moths than she. We don't care anything for her."
Miss Cecropia's friend would have gone after them to punish them for
this impoliteness, but she clung to him and begged him not to. "You will
be killed, I know you will," she sobbed. "And then what will become of
me?"
"Would you miss me?" he asked, as he felt of one of his wings, now
broken and bare.
"Yes," she cried. "You are the best friend I have. Please don't go."
"But I am such a homely fellow," he said. "I don't see how you can like
me since I broke my wing."
"Well, I do like you," she said. "Your wing isn't much broken after all,
and I _like_ your crooked feeler. It is so different from anybody
else's." Miss Cecropia looked very happy as she spoke, and she quite
forgot how she once decided to go away from him. There are some people,
you know, who can change their minds in such a sweet and easy way that
we almost love them the better for it. One certainly could love Miss
Cecropia for this, because it showed that she had learned to care more
for a warm heart and courage than for whole wings and straight feelers.
Mr. Cecropia did not live long after this, unfortunately, but they were
very, very happy together, and she often said to her friends, as she
laid her eggs in the best places, "I only hope that when my Caterpillar
babies are grown and have come out of their chrysalides, they may be as
good and as brave as their father was."
[Illustration]