: The Stories Mother Nature Told Her Children

There were plenty of gold-green beetles in the forest. Their violet-

colored cousins also held royal state there; and scarlet or yellow with

black trimmings was the uniform of many a gay troop that careered in

splendor through the vine-hung aisles of the hot, damp woods. But

clinging to the gray bark of some tree, or lying concealed among the

damp leaves in a swamp, was the gayest and fairest of them all, if the

e told.

A little blackish-brown bug, dingy and hairy, not pleasant to look upon,

you will say; surely not related to such winged splendors as play in the

sunlight. Yet he is true first cousin to the green and gold, or to the

royal violet; has as fair a title to a place in your regard, and will

prove it, if you will only wait his time. He is like those plain people

whom we pass every day without notice, until some great trial or

difficulty calls out a hidden power within them, and they flash into

greatness in some noble action, and prove their kinship to God.

We need not wait long; for as soon as the sun has set, our dull,

blackish bug unfolds his wings and reveals his latent glory. He becomes

a star, a spark from the sun's very self. If you can prevail upon him to

condescend to attend you, you may read or write by his light alone.

But come with me to this Indian's hut, where instead of lamp, candle, or

torch, three or four of these luminous insects make all the dwelling

bright. See the Indian hunter preparing for a journey, or a raid upon

the forest beasts, by fastening to his hands and feet the little

lantern-flies that shall make the pathway light before him.

When the Indian wants his brilliant little servants, he goes out on some

little hillock, waving a lighted torch and calling them by name,

"cucuie, cucuie;" and quickly they crowd around him in troops.

And here I must tell you a little Japanese story. The young lady fire-

fly is courted by her many suitors, who themselves carry no light. She

is shy and reserved. She will not accept the attentions; but when so

importuned that she sees no other escape, she cries, "Let him who really

loves me, go bring me a light like my own, as a proof of his affection."

Then the daring lovers rush blindly at the nearest fire or candle, and

perish in the flame.

But to return to the Indian. Not only do his lantern-flies illuminate

his path, but they go on before him, like an advance guard, to clear the

road of its infecting mosquitoes, gnats, and other troublesome insects,

which they seize and devour on the wing.

No harm would the Indian do to his little torchbearer; for, besides the

service he renders, does he not embody a portion of the sun god, the

holy fire? And there are times, when, with reverent awe, these simple

forest children think they see in the cucuie the souls of their departed


And now if we leave the forest and enter the gay ball-room of some

tropical city, we shall find that the cucuie is a cosmopolitan, at home

alike in palace and in hut, in forest and city. Not only does he, as a

wise little four-year-old friend of mine said, "light the toads to bed,"

but, restrained by invisible folds of gauze, he flutters in the hair of

the fairest ladies, and rivals those earth-stars the diamonds.

But it is hardly fair to show only the bright side, even of a cucuie;

and in justice I must tell that the sugar-planters see with dismay their

little torches among the canes. For although mosquitoes and gnats will

do for food in the forests where sugar is not to be had, who would taste

them when a field of cane is all before you, where to choose?