The Life of the Caterpillar 



day and for the greater part of the night. It 

 sallies forth in procession only in the late 

 hours of twilight, to browse upon the adjacent 

 foliage. This long internment leads to a con- 

 siderable accumulation of droppings in the 

 heart of the dwelling. 



From all the threads of this labyrinth hang 

 chaplets of these droppings; the walls are 

 upholstered with them in all the corridors; 

 the little narrow chambers are encumbered 

 with them. From a nest the size of a 

 man's head I have obtained, with a sieve, 

 over three-quarters of a pint of stercoral 

 pellets. 



Now it is in the midst of this ordure that 

 the caterpillars live and have their being; in 

 the midst of it they move, swarm and sleep. 

 The results of this utter contempt for the 

 rules of cleanliness are obvious. Certainly, 

 the Processionary does not soil his coat by 

 contact with those dry pellets; he leaves his 

 home with his costume neat and glossy, sug- 

 gesting not a suspicion of uncleanliness. No 

 matter: by constantly rubbing against the 

 droppings, his bristles are inevitably smeared 

 with virus and their barbs poisoned. The 

 caterpillar becomes irritant, because his man- 



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