Half a dozen boys

by Anna Chapin Ray

"I am going to try to tell you a little bit about that fossil over there," he began, while Bess silently pointed to a superb fossil fish that lay on a side table. "It came from high up in the Rocky Mountains, and people used to wonder how it could get there, so high above water, but now they know. You see, the earth used to be just a great ball of melted rock, whirling around in the air, and growing cool over the outside. But as it grew cool and hard, deeper and deeper down, the core seemed to shrink, and so the outside began to wrinkle, just like a dried-up old winter apple. And because it was colder than the air, the water condensed on the earth like steam on a cold window, and it all ran down into the low places, so there was an ocean where the Rocky Mountains are now. That was where this fish lived. He died, and his body sank down, and the sand washed in on top of it and grew hard. But the earth kept shrinking and making new wrinkles, till by and by they had changed places, and the Rocky Mountains were high up out of the water, and the fish was left there in the rock."

There was a perfect quiet while Fred was speaking, for all those present knew the boy's sad story, and marvelled at the change in him. But as he turned back to his chair, there came a hearty burst of applause, not so much for the little talk, as for the boy himself who had made such a bold fight against his trouble.

"Master Robert Atkinson" was the next announcement from the mistress of ceremonies.

Rob shyly came forward and made his best bow, as he gave his subject.

"LEPIDOPTERA.

"That means moths and butterflies. It comes from two words that mean scale and wing, because the foundation of their wings is covered with little bits of scales that lap over each other like shingles on a roof, and give the color, instead of their being gray, like a fly. They are the prettiest of all the insects, and there are a great many kinds of them, but they all go in two classes: the butterflies, that fly in the daytime; and the moths, that come out at night. You can tell the difference when they settle, too, for the butterflies fold up their wings till they meet, straight up over their backs, and the moth's wings lie flat. Their 'feelers,' or antennæ, that are supposed to be to hear with, are different, too. In the butterflies, they are largest at the end; but in the moths they are larger in the middle or next the head, and sometimes they look just like two little feathers.

"All these moths and butterflies live twice. First they are a worm or caterpillar, and then in the fall they spin themselves up into a silk ball. It is very funny to see them. They hang themselves up head down from the corner of a fence, or some such place, and spin round and round, leaving themselves in the middle. They lie like that ever so long, and then they hatch out and eat their way through. They have to take good care of themselves while their wings are growing, for fear something will eat them up.

"In the silkworm, they wait till they have spun, and then they bake the cocoons to kill the animal inside, or else he would eat out. Then they unwind the silk. Each one lays about six or seven hundred eggs, so they can afford to kill a few.

"Some of the insects of this class are not so pleasant to have. The canker-worm belongs to it, and so does the moth that gets into houses and eats up woollen things.

"All caterpillars change their skins several times, getting a new one whenever it outgrows the old one. Some caterpillars have great appetites. One kind eats every day twice as much cabbage leaf as it weighs, as if I ate one hundred and seventy-five pounds of beef a day."