Heredity 



round her and listened to her with eager ears. 

 She told us stories, not greatly varied, it is 

 true, but still wonderful, for the wolf often 

 played a part in them. I should have very 

 much liked to see this wolf, the hero of so 

 many tales that made our flesh creep; but the 

 shepherd always refused to take me into his 

 straw hut, in the middle of the fold, at night. 

 When we had done talking about the horrid 

 wolf, the dragon and the serpent and when 

 the resinous splinters had given out their last 

 gleams, we went to sleep the sweet sleep that 

 toil gives. As the youngest of the household, 

 I had a right to the mattress, a sack stuffed 

 with oat-chaff. The others had to be content 

 with straw. 



I owe a great deal to you, dear grand- 

 mother: it was in your lap that I found con- 

 solation for my first sorrows. You have 

 handed down to me, perhaps, a little of your 

 physical vigour, a little of your love of work; 

 but certainly you were no more accountable 

 than grandfather for my passion for insects. 



Nor was either of my own parents. My 

 mother, who was quite illiterate, having 

 known no teacher than the bitter experience 

 of a harassed life, was the exact opposite of 

 what my tastes required for their develop- 

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