The Life of the Fly 



taine's Fables, in a popular, cheap edition, 

 crammed with pictures, small, I admit, and 

 very inaccurate, but still delightful. Here 

 were the crow, the fox, the wolf, the magpie, 

 the frog, the rabbit, the ass, the dog, the 

 cat: all persons of my acquaintance. The glori- 

 ous book was immensely to my taste, with its 

 skimpy illustrations on which the animal 

 walked and talked. As to understanding what 

 it said, that was another story! Never mind, 

 my lad! Put together syllables that say no- 

 thing to you as yet; they will speak to you 

 later and La Fontaine will always remain your 

 friend. 



I come to the time when I was ten years old 

 and at Rodez College. My functions as a 

 serving-boy in the chapel entitled me to free 

 instruction as a day-boarder. There were four 

 of us in white surplices and red skull-caps and 

 cassocks. I was the youngest of the party and 

 did little more than walk on. I counted as a 

 unit; and that was about all, for I was never 

 certain when to ring the bell or move the 

 missal. I was all of a tremble when we 

 gathered two on this side and two on that, 

 with genuflexions, in the middle of the sanctu- 

 ary, to intone the Domine, salvitm fac regem 

 at the end of mass. Let me make a confes- 



iso 



