The Life of the Fly 



village. He had under his care an old castle 

 with four towers, which had become so many 

 pigeon-houses; he directed the getting-in of 

 the hay, the walnuts, the apples and the oats. 

 We used to help him during the summer, when 

 the school, which was well-attended in winter, 

 was almost deserted. All that remained, be- 

 cause they were not yet big enough to work 

 in the fields, were a few children, including him 

 who was one day to set down these memorable 

 facts. Lessons at that time were less dull. 

 They were often given on the hay or on the 

 straw; oftener still, lesson-time was spent in 

 cleaning out the dove-cot or stamping on the 

 snails that had sallied in rainy weather from 

 their fortresses, the tall box borders of the 

 garden belonging to the castle. 



Our master was a barber. With his light 

 hand, which was so clever at beautifying our 

 copies with curlicue birds, he shaved the nota- 

 bilities of the place: the mayor, the parish- 

 priest, the notary. Our master was a bell- 

 ringer. A wedding or a christening inter- 

 rupted the lessons: he had to ring a peal. A 

 gathering storm gave us a holiday: the great 

 bell must be tolled to ward off the lightning 

 and the hail. Our master was a choir-singer. 

 With his mighty voice, he filled the church 



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