"Oh, I believe everything I am told," said the Caterpillar. "Nay, but you do not," replied the Lark; "you won't believe me even about the food, and yet that is but a beginning of what I have to tell you. Why, Caterpillar, what do you think those little eggs will turn out to be?" "Butterflies, to be sure," said the Caterpillar. "_Caterpillars!_" sang the Lark; "and you'll find it out in time;" and the Lark flew away, for he did not want to stay and contest the point with his friend. "I thought the Lark had been wise and kind," observed the mild green Caterpillar, once more beginning to walk around the eggs, "but I find that he is foolish and saucy instead. Perhaps he went up _too_ high this time. I still wonder whom he sees, and what he does up yonder." "I would tell you if you would believe me," sang the Lark, descending once more. "I believe everything I am told," reiterated the Caterpillar, with as grave a face as if it were a fact. "Then I'll tell you something else," cried the Lark; "for the best of my news remains behind. _You will one day be a Butterfly yourself_." "Wretched bird!" exclaimed the Caterpillar, "you jest with my inferiority--now you are cruel as well as foolish. Go away! I will ask your advice no more." "I told you you would not believe me!" cried the Lark, nettled in his turn. "I believe everything that I am told" persisted the Caterpillar; "that is"--and she hesitated--"everything that it is _reasonable_ to believe. But to tell me that Butterflies' eggs are Caterpillars, and that Caterpillars leave off crawling and get wings, and become Butterflies!--Lark! you are too wise to believe such nonsense yourself, for you know it is impossible." "I know no such thing," said the Lark, warmly. "Whether I hover over the corn-fields of earth, or go up into the depths of the sky, I see so many wonderful things, I know no reason why there should not be more. Oh, Caterpillar! it is because you crawl, because you never get beyond your cabbage-leaf, that you call _any_ thing _impossible_." "Nonsense!" shouted the Caterpillar, "I know what's possible, and what's not possible, according to my experience and capacity, as well as you do. Look at my long green body and these endless legs, and then talk to me about having wings and a painted feathery coat! Fool!--" "And fool you!" cried the indignant Lark. "Fool, to attempt to reason about what you cannot understand! Do you not hear how my song swells with rejoicing as I soar upwards to the mysterious wonder-world above? Oh, Caterpillar; what comes to you from thence, receive, as _I_ do, upon trust." "That is what you call--" "_Faith_," interrupted the Lark. "How am I to learn Faith?" asked the Caterpillar. At that moment she felt something at her side. She looked round--eight or ten little green Caterpillars were moving about, and had already made a show of a hole in the cabbage-leaf. They had broken from the Butterfly's eggs!