In the fall I had driven a nail through one corner of the board,
and tacked it against the south side of the Cabin, where I made
reproductions of the cocoons. The nail had been left, and now it
suggested the same place. A light stroke on the head of the nail,
covered with cloth to prevent jarring, fastened the board on a log.
Never in all my life did I hurry as on that day, and I called my
entire family into service. The Deacon stood at one elbow, Molly-Cotton
at the other, and the gardener in the rear. There was not a second
to be lost, and no time for an unnecessary movement; for in the heat
and bright sunshine those moths would emerge and develop with amazing
rapidity.
Molly-Cotton held an umbrella over them to prevent this as much as
possible; the Deacon handed plate holders, and Brenner ran errands.
Working as fast as I could make my fingers fly in setting up the camera,
and getting a focus, the second moth's head was out, its front feet
struggling to pull up the body; and its antennae beginning to lift,
when I was ready for the first snap at half-past eleven.
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