t was no bigger than a bumble-bee. "No! It
was not a humming-bird," they said, "it was smaller by far, much more
beautiful, and it came and went so fast that no one could see it go."

[Illustration: The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)]

Every guess that I made seemed not to fit the wonderful bird, or help to
give it a name that would lead us to its history in the books. The
summer went by, several schoolmates saw the Wonderbird, and added
stories of its marvellous smallness and mysterious habits. Its body,
they said, was of green velvet with a satin-white throat; it had a
long beak--at least an inch long--a fan-tail of many feathers, two long
plumes from its head, "the littlest feet you ever have seen," and large
lustrous eyes that seemed filled with human intelligence. "It jest
looked right at you, and seemed like a fairy looking at you."

The wonder grew. I made a sketch embodying all the points that my
companions noted about the Fairy Bird. The first drawing shows what it
looked like, and also gives the exact size they said it was.

It seemed a cruel wrong that let so many of them see the thing that was
of chief interest to me, yet left me out. It clearly promised a real
fairy, an elfin bird, a wonderful messenger from the land I hungered to
believe in.

But at last my turn came. One afternoon two of the boys ran toward me,
shouting: "Here it is, the little Fairy Bird, right in the garden over
the honeysuckle. C'mon, quick!"

I rushed to the place, more excited than I can tell. Yes, there it was,
hovering over the open flowers--tiny, wonderful, humming as it swung on
misty wings. I made a quick sweep of my insect net and, marvellous to
relate, scooped up the Fairy Bird. I was trembling with excitement now,
not without a sense of wickedness that I should dare to net a
fairy--practically an angel. But I had done it, and I gloated over my
captive, in the meshes. Yes, the velvet body and snowy throat were
there, the fan-tail, the plumes and the big dark eyes, but the creature
was _not a bird_; it was an insect! Dimly now I remembered, and in a few
hours, learned, as I had feared, that I had not captured a young angel
or even a fairy--it was nothing but a Humming-bird Moth, a beautiful
insect--common in some regions, scarce in some, such as mine--but
perfectly well known to men of science and never afterward forgotten by
any of that eager schoolboy group.

TALE 33

Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot

If you live in the