Raymond had seen these moths clinging to the under side of a rail while riding.  He at once dismounted, coaxed them on a twig, and covering them with his hat, he weighted the brim with stones.  Then he rode to the nearest farm-house for a box, and brought the pair safely to me.  Several beautiful studies of them were made, into one of which I also introduced my last moth to emerge, in order to show the males in two different positions.

The date was June tenth.  The next day the female began egg placing.  A large box was lined with corrugated paper, so that she could find easy footing, and after she had deposited many eggs on this, fearing some element in it might not be healthful for them, I substituted hickory leaves.

Then the happy time began.  Soon there were heaps of pearly pale yellow eggs piled in pyramids on the leaves, and I made a study of them.  Then I gently lifted a leaf, carried it outdoors and, in full light, reproduced the female in the position in which she deposited her eggs, even in the act of placing them.  Of course, Molly-Cotton stood beside with a net in one hand to guard, and an umbrella in the other to shade the moth, except at the instant of exposure; but she made no movement indicative of flight.

I made every study of interest of which I could think.  Then I packed and mailed Professor Rowley about two hundred fine fertile eggs, with all scientific data.  I only kept about one dozen, as I could think of nothing more to record of this moth except the fact that I had raised its caterpillar.  As I explained in the first chapter, from information found in a work on moths supposed to be scientific and accurate, I depended on these caterpillars to emerge in sixteen days.  The season was unusually rainy and unfavourable for field work, and I had a large contract on hand for outdoor stuff.  I was so extremely busy, I was glad to box the eggs, and put them out of mind until the twenty-seventh.  By the merest chance I handled the box on the twentyfourth, and found six caterpillars starved to death, two more feeble, and four that seemed lively.  One of these was bitten by some insect that clung to a leaf placed in their box for food, in spite of the fact that all leaves were carefully washed.  One died from causes unknown.  One stuck in pupation, and moulded in its skin.  Three went through the succession of moults and feeding periods in fine shape, and the first week in September transformed into shiny pupa cases, not one of which was nearly as large as that of the caterpillar brought to me by Mr. Idlewine.  I fed these caterpillars on black walnut leaves, as they ate them in preference to hickory.

I am slightly troubled about this moth.  In Packard’s “Guide to the Study of Moths”, he writes:  “Citheronia Regalis expands five to six inches, and its fore-wings are olive coloured, spotted with yellow and veined with broad red lines, while the hind wings are orange-red, spotted with olive, green, and yellow.”