The Capricorn 



ism combined with such a feeble set of 

 senses? A vain wish has often come to me 

 in my dreams: it is to be able to think, for a 

 few minutes, with the crude brain of my 

 Dog, to see the world with the faceted eyes 

 of a Gnat. How things would change in 

 appearance ! They would change much more 

 if interpreted by the intellect of the grub. 

 What have the lessons of touch and taste 

 contributed to that rudimentary receptacle of 

 impressions? Very little; almost nothing. 

 The animal knows that the best bits possess 

 an astringent flavour; that the sides of a 

 passage not carefully planed are painful to 

 the skin. This is the utmost limit of its ac- 

 quired wisdom. In comparison, the statue 

 with the sensitive nostrils was a marvel of 

 knowledge, a paragon too generously en- 

 dowed by its inventor. It remembered, com- 

 pared, judged, reasoned: does the drowsy, 

 digesting paunch remember? Does it com- 

 pare? Does it reason? I defined the Capri- 

 corn-grub as a bit of an intestine that crawls 

 about. The undeniable accuracy of this 

 definition provides me with my answer: the 

 grub has the aggregate of sense-impressions 

 that a bit of an intestine may hope to have. 

 And this nothing-at-all is capable of mar- 

 vellous acts of foresight; this belly, which 

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