ks. It called for all his oldtime ingenuity. His tools, for
instance--at times their limitations irked him, and he made others
more satisfactory to himself; tools adjusted to an insect's frail
body, not to a time-lock. Before that summer ended he could handle
even the frailest and tiniest specimen with such nice care that it was
delightful to watch him at work. The time was to come when he could
mend a torn wing or fix a broken antennas with such exquisite fidelity
to detail that even the most expert eye might well be deceived.

I had only looked for a little temporary help, such as any intelligent
amateur might be able to furnish. But I was not long unaware that this
was more than a mere amateur. To quote himself, he had the goods, and
I realized with a mounting heart that I had made a find, if I could
only hold on to it. For the first time in years I could exchange
specimens. My cabinets began to fill out--with such perfect insects,
too! We added several rare ones, a circumstance to make any
entomologist look upon the world through rosy spectacles. Why, even
the scarce shy Cossus Centerensis came to our very doors, apparently
to fill a space awaiting him. Perhaps he was a Buddhist insect
undergoing reincarnation, and was anxious to acquire merit by
self-immolation. Anyhow, we acquired him, and I hope he acquired
merit.

We had scores of insects in the drying ovens. We had more and ever more
in the breeding cages,--in our case simple home-made affairs of a keg
or a box with a fine wire-netting over the food plant; or a lamp-chimney
slipped over a potted plant with a bit of mosquito-netting tied over the
top, for the smaller forms.

These cages were a never-failing source of delight and interest to the
children, and at their hands heaven rained caterpillars upon us that
season. Even my mother grew interested in the work, though Clelie
never ceased to look upon it as a horrid madness peculiar to white
people.

"All Buckrahs is funny in dey haids," Daddy January consoled her when
she complained to him about it. "Dey gets all kind o' fool notions
'bout all kind o' fool t'ings. You ain't got to feel so bad--de Jedge
is lots wuss'n yo' boss is. Yo' boss kin see de bugs he run atter, but
my boss talk 'bout some kind o' bug he call Germ. I ax um what kind o'
bug is dat; an' he 'low you can't see um wid yo' eye. I ain't say so
to de Jedge, but _I_ 'low when you see bug you can't see wid yo' eye,
you best not seem um 'tall-