The Life of the Caterpillar 



their artless and picturesque nomenclature, 

 called him the Hedgehog. The term isworthy 

 of the creature, which, in the moment of 

 danger, rolls itself up like a Hedgehog, pre- 

 senting Its spiny armour on all sides to the 

 enemy. On Its back is a dense mixture of 

 black hairs and hairs of ashen-gray; while on 

 the sides and fore-part of the body is a stiff 

 mane of bright russet. Black, grey or russet, 

 all this fierce-looking coat is heavily barbed. 



One hesitates to touch this horror with the 

 finger-tips. Still, encouraged by my example, 

 seven-year-old Paul, with his tender child's 

 skin, gathers handfuls of the repulsive Insect 

 with no more apprehension than if he were 

 picking a bunch of violets. He fills his 

 boxes with it; he rears it on elm-leaves and 

 handles it daily, for he knows that from this 

 frightful creature he will one day obtain a 

 superb Moth {Chelonia caja, LiNN.), clad 

 in scarlet velvet, with the lower wings red and 

 the upper white, sprinkled with brown spots. 



What resulted from the child's familiarity 

 with the shaggy creature? Not even a trace 

 of itching on his delicate skin. I do not speak 

 of mine, which is tanned by the years. 



In the osier-beds of our local stream, the 



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