[Contents]CHAPTER XXXIXTHE COMMON CATERPILLAR“I remember,” said Jules, “one Sunday last winter—it was some time in December or January, I think—the mayor had just posted a notice on the door of the town hall, and the people were reading it as they came from church. The notice was something about caterpillars, and the mayor had ordered their nests to be destroyed.”“Yes,” rejoined Uncle Paul, “the mayor had in mind, luckily for us, the caterpillar law.”“What! Is there a law about caterpillars, with a fine for disobeying it?”“Yes, my boy, there is a law about caterpillars, and I thank the legislature that had the wisdom to pass it. God grant it may become a more general statute and include a greater number of our insect enemies, the June-bug especially, and that it may be strictly enforced!”“But that would put people out, to have to leave their business and go and hunt for caterpillar-nests and burn them. At least, that’s what One-eyed John said when he read the mayor’s notice.”“Leave their business, you say? Is it leaving one’s business to go and save the crops when they are threatened? Laws, my young friend, are rules[301]made for the general good, and we should all obey them scrupulously. If there are any narrow-minded objectors or stupid grumblers—any One-eyed Johns, in short—that choose to take offense, so much the worse for them: they will have to obey in any event, for the common interest is not to be compromised by the foolishness of a few.“The mayor’s notice had especial reference to a caterpillar whose ravages are, in some seasons, truly calamitous. So abundant is this caterpillar in central and northern France that it is called, briefly, the common caterpillar. It is encountered everywhere, on fruit-trees and forest trees, in garden walks and on plants and hedges, and even on the bark of trees, sometimes in countless legions.“It is dark brown in color with six rows of little tubercles or pimples of the same hue, each bearing a tuft of long, red hair. The ring-like segment to which is attached the last pair of false legs, and also the following segment, have each a plump red nipple which can at the caterpillar’s pleasure recede under the skin or stand out prominently. The butterfly developing from this caterpillar is pure white except on the abdomen, which is brown. Furthermore, the female has a thick tuft of red hair at the end of the abdomen. Its purpose is shown when the eggs are laid: after these are deposited, to the number of three or four hundred, the butterfly rubs off the hair and places it over the eggs. The laying takes place in July and the eggs, deposited in a little heap on a leaf, are rose red.”[302]“But if they are on a leaf,” objected Emile, “they must fall from the tree when the leaves fall, and then the wind might blow them away.”“The butterfly that lays its eggs on a leaf knows very well what it is about. On the other hand, those butterflies that lay eggs that are to go through the winter and hatch in the spring are very careful not to entrust their eggs to a leaf, which will soon fall to the ground. They make their eggs fast to the bark. But whence do they get their knowledge of the future? Who told them the leaves would fall and therefore would be insecure resting-places for the eggs? They do not learn this by experience, for they have never seen the autumnal shedding of leaves, having been born when the foliage is already well advanced for their nourishment, and laying their eggs and dying while it is still on the trees. If, then, experience cannot account for it, we must ascribe the insect’s mysterious foreknowledge to the incomprehensible inspiration of instinct, which sees the invisible and knows the unknown because there is a Sovereign Intelligence that knows all and orders all.“Our common caterpillar likewise is led by instinct when it lays its eggs on a leaf, for long before the fall of that leaf they will hatch, in the last fortnight of July.”“A cunning rascal, that caterpillar,” said Emile; “it knows the order of the seasons as if it had the almanac by heart.”“I haven’t told you all. Another motive acts in[303]determining the butterfly’s course. In laying its eggs on a leaf the insect places them where the young caterpillars are sure to find food close at hand when they come out of the eggs, so that they will not have to go running about over the branches, a dangerous thing at their tender age. All anxiety as to food supply is thus removed at the outset, and this assurance against famine is so much to the good in this world of chance and uncertainty, whether for men or caterpillars.”“If the butterfly reasoned it all out,” said Jules, “it couldn’t do any better.”“Perhaps not so well, my child. Are there not plenty of people, alas, that show far less foresight? The butterfly leaves to its young a leaf as a heritage, a leaf to eat, whereas the spendthrift, the idler, leaves to his family nothing but poverty and suffering. He has not even the wisdom of an insect.”[304]
[Contents]CHAPTER XXXIXTHE COMMON CATERPILLAR“I remember,” said Jules, “one Sunday last winter—it was some time in December or January, I think—the mayor had just posted a notice on the door of the town hall, and the people were reading it as they came from church. The notice was something about caterpillars, and the mayor had ordered their nests to be destroyed.”“Yes,” rejoined Uncle Paul, “the mayor had in mind, luckily for us, the caterpillar law.”“What! Is there a law about caterpillars, with a fine for disobeying it?”“Yes, my boy, there is a law about caterpillars, and I thank the legislature that had the wisdom to pass it. God grant it may become a more general statute and include a greater number of our insect enemies, the June-bug especially, and that it may be strictly enforced!”“But that would put people out, to have to leave their business and go and hunt for caterpillar-nests and burn them. At least, that’s what One-eyed John said when he read the mayor’s notice.”“Leave their business, you say? Is it leaving one’s business to go and save the crops when they are threatened? Laws, my young friend, are rules[301]made for the general good, and we should all obey them scrupulously. If there are any narrow-minded objectors or stupid grumblers—any One-eyed Johns, in short—that choose to take offense, so much the worse for them: they will have to obey in any event, for the common interest is not to be compromised by the foolishness of a few.“The mayor’s notice had especial reference to a caterpillar whose ravages are, in some seasons, truly calamitous. So abundant is this caterpillar in central and northern France that it is called, briefly, the common caterpillar. It is encountered everywhere, on fruit-trees and forest trees, in garden walks and on plants and hedges, and even on the bark of trees, sometimes in countless legions.“It is dark brown in color with six rows of little tubercles or pimples of the same hue, each bearing a tuft of long, red hair. The ring-like segment to which is attached the last pair of false legs, and also the following segment, have each a plump red nipple which can at the caterpillar’s pleasure recede under the skin or stand out prominently. The butterfly developing from this caterpillar is pure white except on the abdomen, which is brown. Furthermore, the female has a thick tuft of red hair at the end of the abdomen. Its purpose is shown when the eggs are laid: after these are deposited, to the number of three or four hundred, the butterfly rubs off the hair and places it over the eggs. The laying takes place in July and the eggs, deposited in a little heap on a leaf, are rose red.”[302]“But if they are on a leaf,” objected Emile, “they must fall from the tree when the leaves fall, and then the wind might blow them away.”“The butterfly that lays its eggs on a leaf knows very well what it is about. On the other hand, those butterflies that lay eggs that are to go through the winter and hatch in the spring are very careful not to entrust their eggs to a leaf, which will soon fall to the ground. They make their eggs fast to the bark. But whence do they get their knowledge of the future? Who told them the leaves would fall and therefore would be insecure resting-places for the eggs? They do not learn this by experience, for they have never seen the autumnal shedding of leaves, having been born when the foliage is already well advanced for their nourishment, and laying their eggs and dying while it is still on the trees. If, then, experience cannot account for it, we must ascribe the insect’s mysterious foreknowledge to the incomprehensible inspiration of instinct, which sees the invisible and knows the unknown because there is a Sovereign Intelligence that knows all and orders all.“Our common caterpillar likewise is led by instinct when it lays its eggs on a leaf, for long before the fall of that leaf they will hatch, in the last fortnight of July.”“A cunning rascal, that caterpillar,” said Emile; “it knows the order of the seasons as if it had the almanac by heart.”“I haven’t told you all. Another motive acts in[303]determining the butterfly’s course. In laying its eggs on a leaf the insect places them where the young caterpillars are sure to find food close at hand when they come out of the eggs, so that they will not have to go running about over the branches, a dangerous thing at their tender age. All anxiety as to food supply is thus removed at the outset, and this assurance against famine is so much to the good in this world of chance and uncertainty, whether for men or caterpillars.”“If the butterfly reasoned it all out,” said Jules, “it couldn’t do any better.”“Perhaps not so well, my child. Are there not plenty of people, alas, that show far less foresight? The butterfly leaves to its young a leaf as a heritage, a leaf to eat, whereas the spendthrift, the idler, leaves to his family nothing but poverty and suffering. He has not even the wisdom of an insect.”[304]
CHAPTER XXXIXTHE COMMON CATERPILLAR
“I remember,” said Jules, “one Sunday last winter—it was some time in December or January, I think—the mayor had just posted a notice on the door of the town hall, and the people were reading it as they came from church. The notice was something about caterpillars, and the mayor had ordered their nests to be destroyed.”“Yes,” rejoined Uncle Paul, “the mayor had in mind, luckily for us, the caterpillar law.”“What! Is there a law about caterpillars, with a fine for disobeying it?”“Yes, my boy, there is a law about caterpillars, and I thank the legislature that had the wisdom to pass it. God grant it may become a more general statute and include a greater number of our insect enemies, the June-bug especially, and that it may be strictly enforced!”“But that would put people out, to have to leave their business and go and hunt for caterpillar-nests and burn them. At least, that’s what One-eyed John said when he read the mayor’s notice.”“Leave their business, you say? Is it leaving one’s business to go and save the crops when they are threatened? Laws, my young friend, are rules[301]made for the general good, and we should all obey them scrupulously. If there are any narrow-minded objectors or stupid grumblers—any One-eyed Johns, in short—that choose to take offense, so much the worse for them: they will have to obey in any event, for the common interest is not to be compromised by the foolishness of a few.“The mayor’s notice had especial reference to a caterpillar whose ravages are, in some seasons, truly calamitous. So abundant is this caterpillar in central and northern France that it is called, briefly, the common caterpillar. It is encountered everywhere, on fruit-trees and forest trees, in garden walks and on plants and hedges, and even on the bark of trees, sometimes in countless legions.“It is dark brown in color with six rows of little tubercles or pimples of the same hue, each bearing a tuft of long, red hair. The ring-like segment to which is attached the last pair of false legs, and also the following segment, have each a plump red nipple which can at the caterpillar’s pleasure recede under the skin or stand out prominently. The butterfly developing from this caterpillar is pure white except on the abdomen, which is brown. Furthermore, the female has a thick tuft of red hair at the end of the abdomen. Its purpose is shown when the eggs are laid: after these are deposited, to the number of three or four hundred, the butterfly rubs off the hair and places it over the eggs. The laying takes place in July and the eggs, deposited in a little heap on a leaf, are rose red.”[302]“But if they are on a leaf,” objected Emile, “they must fall from the tree when the leaves fall, and then the wind might blow them away.”“The butterfly that lays its eggs on a leaf knows very well what it is about. On the other hand, those butterflies that lay eggs that are to go through the winter and hatch in the spring are very careful not to entrust their eggs to a leaf, which will soon fall to the ground. They make their eggs fast to the bark. But whence do they get their knowledge of the future? Who told them the leaves would fall and therefore would be insecure resting-places for the eggs? They do not learn this by experience, for they have never seen the autumnal shedding of leaves, having been born when the foliage is already well advanced for their nourishment, and laying their eggs and dying while it is still on the trees. If, then, experience cannot account for it, we must ascribe the insect’s mysterious foreknowledge to the incomprehensible inspiration of instinct, which sees the invisible and knows the unknown because there is a Sovereign Intelligence that knows all and orders all.“Our common caterpillar likewise is led by instinct when it lays its eggs on a leaf, for long before the fall of that leaf they will hatch, in the last fortnight of July.”“A cunning rascal, that caterpillar,” said Emile; “it knows the order of the seasons as if it had the almanac by heart.”“I haven’t told you all. Another motive acts in[303]determining the butterfly’s course. In laying its eggs on a leaf the insect places them where the young caterpillars are sure to find food close at hand when they come out of the eggs, so that they will not have to go running about over the branches, a dangerous thing at their tender age. All anxiety as to food supply is thus removed at the outset, and this assurance against famine is so much to the good in this world of chance and uncertainty, whether for men or caterpillars.”“If the butterfly reasoned it all out,” said Jules, “it couldn’t do any better.”“Perhaps not so well, my child. Are there not plenty of people, alas, that show far less foresight? The butterfly leaves to its young a leaf as a heritage, a leaf to eat, whereas the spendthrift, the idler, leaves to his family nothing but poverty and suffering. He has not even the wisdom of an insect.”[304]
“I remember,” said Jules, “one Sunday last winter—it was some time in December or January, I think—the mayor had just posted a notice on the door of the town hall, and the people were reading it as they came from church. The notice was something about caterpillars, and the mayor had ordered their nests to be destroyed.”
“Yes,” rejoined Uncle Paul, “the mayor had in mind, luckily for us, the caterpillar law.”
“What! Is there a law about caterpillars, with a fine for disobeying it?”
“Yes, my boy, there is a law about caterpillars, and I thank the legislature that had the wisdom to pass it. God grant it may become a more general statute and include a greater number of our insect enemies, the June-bug especially, and that it may be strictly enforced!”
“But that would put people out, to have to leave their business and go and hunt for caterpillar-nests and burn them. At least, that’s what One-eyed John said when he read the mayor’s notice.”
“Leave their business, you say? Is it leaving one’s business to go and save the crops when they are threatened? Laws, my young friend, are rules[301]made for the general good, and we should all obey them scrupulously. If there are any narrow-minded objectors or stupid grumblers—any One-eyed Johns, in short—that choose to take offense, so much the worse for them: they will have to obey in any event, for the common interest is not to be compromised by the foolishness of a few.
“The mayor’s notice had especial reference to a caterpillar whose ravages are, in some seasons, truly calamitous. So abundant is this caterpillar in central and northern France that it is called, briefly, the common caterpillar. It is encountered everywhere, on fruit-trees and forest trees, in garden walks and on plants and hedges, and even on the bark of trees, sometimes in countless legions.
“It is dark brown in color with six rows of little tubercles or pimples of the same hue, each bearing a tuft of long, red hair. The ring-like segment to which is attached the last pair of false legs, and also the following segment, have each a plump red nipple which can at the caterpillar’s pleasure recede under the skin or stand out prominently. The butterfly developing from this caterpillar is pure white except on the abdomen, which is brown. Furthermore, the female has a thick tuft of red hair at the end of the abdomen. Its purpose is shown when the eggs are laid: after these are deposited, to the number of three or four hundred, the butterfly rubs off the hair and places it over the eggs. The laying takes place in July and the eggs, deposited in a little heap on a leaf, are rose red.”[302]
“But if they are on a leaf,” objected Emile, “they must fall from the tree when the leaves fall, and then the wind might blow them away.”
“The butterfly that lays its eggs on a leaf knows very well what it is about. On the other hand, those butterflies that lay eggs that are to go through the winter and hatch in the spring are very careful not to entrust their eggs to a leaf, which will soon fall to the ground. They make their eggs fast to the bark. But whence do they get their knowledge of the future? Who told them the leaves would fall and therefore would be insecure resting-places for the eggs? They do not learn this by experience, for they have never seen the autumnal shedding of leaves, having been born when the foliage is already well advanced for their nourishment, and laying their eggs and dying while it is still on the trees. If, then, experience cannot account for it, we must ascribe the insect’s mysterious foreknowledge to the incomprehensible inspiration of instinct, which sees the invisible and knows the unknown because there is a Sovereign Intelligence that knows all and orders all.
“Our common caterpillar likewise is led by instinct when it lays its eggs on a leaf, for long before the fall of that leaf they will hatch, in the last fortnight of July.”
“A cunning rascal, that caterpillar,” said Emile; “it knows the order of the seasons as if it had the almanac by heart.”
“I haven’t told you all. Another motive acts in[303]determining the butterfly’s course. In laying its eggs on a leaf the insect places them where the young caterpillars are sure to find food close at hand when they come out of the eggs, so that they will not have to go running about over the branches, a dangerous thing at their tender age. All anxiety as to food supply is thus removed at the outset, and this assurance against famine is so much to the good in this world of chance and uncertainty, whether for men or caterpillars.”
“If the butterfly reasoned it all out,” said Jules, “it couldn’t do any better.”
“Perhaps not so well, my child. Are there not plenty of people, alas, that show far less foresight? The butterfly leaves to its young a leaf as a heritage, a leaf to eat, whereas the spendthrift, the idler, leaves to his family nothing but poverty and suffering. He has not even the wisdom of an insect.”[304]