The Life of the Caterpillar 



spring in our part of the world. To- 

 day the temperature has suddenly grown 

 milder, but the wind is still blowing from the 

 north. 



Now at this first visit all the Moths hur- 

 rying to the prisoner enter the enclosure from 

 the north; they follow the movement of the 

 air; not one beats against it. If their compass 

 were a sense of smell similar to our own, if 

 they were guided by odoriferous particles dis- 

 solved in the air, they ought to arrive from 

 the opposite direction. If they came from the 

 south, we might believe them to be informed 

 by effluvia carried by the wind ; coming as they 

 do from the north, through the mistral, that 

 mighty sweeper of the atmosphere, how can 

 we suppose them to have perceived, at a great 

 distance, what we call a smell? This reflux 

 of scented atoms in a direction contrary to the 

 aerial current seems to me inadmissible. 



For a couple of hours, in radiant sun- 

 shine, the visitors come and go outside the 

 front of the study. Most of them search 

 for a long while, exploring the wall, flit- 

 ting along the ground. To see their hesita- 

 tion, one would think that they were at a loss 

 to discover the exact place of the bait that at- 

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