I ought to add, moreover, that all the shipwrecked unfortunates of the latter end of autumn, guided by a very sure but very surprising instinct, willingly came to our house,--some on a temporary visit, others to remain with us. A young bullfinch, in a bad condition, and who had evidently met with more than one adventure, arrived all bewildered, and even on the first day ate from our hands. The same thing happened with a still more miserable creature,--a little tiny red-tail, which had been barbarously deprived of its head-feathers that it might be sold for a nightingale. This creature, so ill-treated by men, which might justly have been afraid of them, not only took at the very first the seed from our hands and lips, but would not sleep except on the mistress's finger. As for insects, their domestication is impossible. But many, nevertheless, seem able to live with man, to appreciate peaceable people and mildness of character. Last winter, two pretty red lady-birds had taken up their residence on our table, among our books and papers, which were being constantly moved about. What to give them, we knew not; they passed the whole season without eating, or appearing to receive any injury. The warmth of the apartment seemed agreeable to them. * * * * * A strong September wind is now blowing, and, this very day, has cast in upon us a beautiful reddish-coloured caterpillar. Though she had not come of her own accord, but in spite of herself, we felt that we ought to respect misfortune. We did not know from what plant she had been torn, but supposed from her motions that she had been carried away at the moment she had begun to spin. We presented her with a variety of leaves; but none of them pleased her taste. She moved to and fro, displaying an extraordinary agitation. We supposed she wished to find rest upon a branch, but the rain fell in torrents. As many caterpillars and larvæ work underground, we brought it some earth. But this, too, was useless. Thinking she might like a web at a time when she was engaged in weaving, we placed her on the lace-work of a cushion which lay in the window; but the lace was cold and coarse, and did not please her. Moreover, the wind, the little wind which entered, would have cruelly frozen her during a whole winter. Finally, by a feminine marvel of intuition, we concluded that, since she was about to weave silk, she would like the silk-velvet lining of our microscope. Plainly, it was the very thing she herself would have chosen. Installed in the evening, by the morning she had made herself at home in this soft, warm, and sheltered place. She had already spun, and hastily extended her threads to right and left, as if fearing she might be disturbed. Then, during the day, her work having been respected, she saw that she had miscalculated her measurements, and that her cocoon was too short; she destroyed a third of it, to resume the fabric from that point on better proportions.