- squirrel’s feet. I believe their right name is mountain beaver. Wherever we
went afterward in the mountains, as long as there was grass, we saw these
whistling dogs, as we got to call them. I liked to see them; they seemed to
make the place cheerful and lively, and were very amusing to watch. In winter
they have long burrows under the snow and their coats get a dark gray; in
summer they are yellow. Their skins should make good fur, and I think would
pay for being trapped in the winter months.

Ss
on"

Something About [)oths.

@Y little sister Allie found a chrysalis one day last fall, and brought
(e it into the house. It was a long, curious-looking thing, and we
5 examined it carefully and finally laid it away on top of the clock
in the dining-room, and forgot all about it. When the clock was
dusted Anna always put it back, not knowing what it was, but thinking it was
something she mustn’t throw away.

One Sunday in February we had all been to church, except Rob, who had
a cold, and Allie, who was too little. When we got home Allie was dancing up
and down, and Rob was so excited he could only shout: “Look there! look!”
We looked, and there on top of the clock was calmly sitting one of the most
beautiful moths we had ever seen. Its wings were gold and brown and black
and other colors, and it was over four inches from tip to tip of its wings.

We were all so excited we could scarcely eat our dinners. By and by it
spread out its wings and went ona voyage of discovery around the room, we five
children all following after; until it finally litona geranium plant inthe window.
It flew about a good deal during the afternoon, but came so near hitting the
stove-pipe and burning itself that we finally caged it under a large wire cover.
We fed it sweetened water, and it put out its tongue and ate several times.

We kept it for two days, but on the third day it refused to fly when we
took the wire cover away, and also would not eat; so, as we couldn't bear to
see it starve to death, we mercifully chloroformed it, and we have its body yet,
perched on the hanging basket. We think it came from a tomato-worm, as it
was found in the tomato-patch. We should like to know its name. Mary B.

That is a pretty story, and reminds me of a small, white butterfly which I
saw hatched from a chrysalis in March, and which was alive and doing well
when a week old. It was an object of great interest to the whole household,
but what became of it I never heard.

Now let us hear from some one else.

  

—PHEBE BIRD.