, I saw for the first time the great miracle of the
insect world--the rag bundle was split open, and out came this glorious
creature with wings of red and brown velvet, embroidered with silver and
spots that looked like precious stones. It seemed the rarest thing in
the world, but I have found out since, that it is one of our common
moths, and any of you can get one, if you take the trouble.

* * * * *

Now listen, and you shall hear of what happened long ago to a green
crawler who was born to be a splendid Silk-Moth, but who spoiled it all
by a bad temper.

It had been a very cold, wet summer, and one day, when the wind was
whispering, he cried out: "Mother Carey, when I have done with my
working life, and go into the Great Sleep, grant that it may never rain
on me for I hate rain, and it has done nothing but pour all summer
long." And he shivered the red knobs on his head with peevishness.

"You silly little green crawler, don't you think I know better than you
what is good for you? Would you like there to be no rain?"

"Yes, I would," said the red-knobbed Samia rebelliously.

"Would _you_?" said the All-Mother to another green crawler, who hung on
a near-by limb.

"Mother Carey, we have had a wet, cold summer, and the rain has been
miserable, but I know you will take care of us."

"Good," said the All-Mother: "then, in this way it shall be. You little
Red-Knobs shall have what you so much wish, you shall hang up in a dry
loft where not a drop of dew even shall touch you in your bundle-baby
sleep. And you little Yellow-Knobs shall hang under a limb where every
rain that comes shall drench your outer skin." And she left them.

When the time came to hang up, Red-Knobs was led to a place as dry as
could be, under a shed and swung his bundle-baby hammock from the
rafters.

Yellow-Knobs hung up his hammock under a twig in the rose garden.

The winter passed, and the springtime came with the great awakening day.
Each of the bundle-babies awoke from his hammock and broke his bonds.
Each found his new wings, and set about shaking them out to full size
and shape. Those of the rain-baby came quickly to their proper form, and
away he flew to rejoice in perfect life. But though the other shook and
shook, his wings would not fluff out. They seemed dried up; they were
numbed and of stunted growth.

Shake as he would, the wings stayed small and twisted. And as he
struggled, a Butcher-bird