my childhood, as did also the flies, beetles and lady-bugs and all the
insects that are found upon flowers and in the grass. Although it gave
me a great deal of pain to kill them, I was making a collection of them,
and I was almost always seen with a butterfly net in my hand. Those
flying about in our yard, that had strayed our way from the country,
were not very beautiful it must be confessed, but I had the garden and
woods of Limoise which all the summer long was a hunting-ground ever
full of surprises and wonders.

But the caricatures by Topffer upon this subject made me thoughtful; and
when Lucette one day caught me with several butterflies in my hat, and
in her incomparably mocking voice called me, "Mr. Cryptogram," I was
much humiliated.




CHAPTER XVII.



The poor old grandmother who sang so constantly was dying.

We were all standing about her bed at nightfall one spring evening. She
had been ailing scarcely more than forty-eight hours; but the doctor
said that on account of her great age she could not rally, and he
pronounced her end to be very near.

Her mind had become clear; she no longer mistook our names, and in a
sweet calm voice she begged us to remain near her--it was doubtless the