The Life of the Caterpillar 



that nothing saleable was to be found, for, 

 in drawing up my botanical lists, I preferred 

 wretched and unmarketable products to the 

 choicest morsels, though these of course were 

 welcomed when they appeared. 



Thus conducted, the underground bota- 

 nizing was very fruitful. With his perspica- 

 cious nose, the Dog made me gather indif- 

 ferently the large and the small, the fresh and 

 the putrid, the scented and the unscented, the 

 fragrant and the stinking. I was amazed at 

 my collection, which comprised the greater 

 part of the hypogean fungi in my neighbour- 

 hood. 



What a variety of structure and above all 

 of odour, the primary quality in this question 

 of scent! There are some that have nothing 

 more noticeable than a vague fungous musti- 

 ness, which is more or less evident in all. 

 Some smell of turnips, of rotten cabbage; 

 some are fetid enough to fill the collector's 

 house with their stench. The real truffle 

 alone possesses the aroma dear to the epi- 

 cure. 



If smell, as we understand it, is the Dog's 

 only guide, how does he manage to find his 

 way through all these incongruous odours? 



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